#Arranged Marriage Au

[yeoyeoland]

I imagine general park with this high bun IOMT hairstyle in official assembly and at work but then when he's at his estate he goes the casual low bun and let's his hair flow 😩

The Way to His Heart [9]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 8 | Fic Masterlist | Part 10

Standing in front of the door to your former prison, all your insecurities came rushing back. Suddenly, your newfound identity seemed to evaporate, leaving you feeling like nothing more than a shell of your past self.

"What's wrong, my dear? Why do you keep staring at this storeroom, hm? You know you can tell me anything." Seonghwa asked in a gentle voice, sensing that you were far from okay. He cupped your cheek tenderly, urging you to meet his gaze.

Jongho and Eunsook stood anxiously behind you, waiting for you to reveal the truth to the general. Only then could they finally bring your family to justice for their misdeeds. The weight of everyone's expectations rested on your shoulders.

Please, mistress, just say it, and we will handle the rest.

No matter how hard your husband tried to capture your attention, all you could see was beyond his shoulder, where your family glowered at you. All the determination you had to confront your family diminished, and you were reminded of your true self.

Just a worthless, insignificant piece.

You felt undeserving of Seonghwa's love, too ashamed to confess that this pitiful excuse for a room was where you had spent your entire caged childhood. Would he still want you as his wife if he discovered the truth?

"Come on, my dear. Talk to me, please." The general leaned in, attempting to dominate your field of vision. He didn't like how you kept glancing nervously back at your family as if still afraid of what they could do to you.

Your husband's heart shattered as he gazed once more into your vacant, hopeless eyes. It felt as if he could never truly connect with you. Once again, he found himself lost, unable to reach you. It became clear that your biggest obstacle wasn't trusting him; it was trusting yourself. Despite all his efforts, your insecurities persisted.

Bringing you back to this place seemed like a colossal mistake, undoing all the progress you had made. The words Hongjoong had spoken to you were now pushed to the recesses of your mind, overshadowed by your demons.

Seonghwa's stomach sank when you averted your gaze, blinking your wet eyes with a shake of your head, "Nothing, it's nothing. I... I'm sorry, I don't know why I kept looking here; it's just an old storeroom, as you can see." Your family collectively sighed in relief, narrowly avoiding exposure. For once, they felt slightly thankful to you for not ratting them out.

Of course, it couldn't have been this easy.

Despite the internal frustration, the general flashed a reassuring smile down at you. His plan had crumbled, and you didn't speak up as he had hoped. The head maid and assistant couldn't conceal their disappointment at the missed opportunity.

Casting a glance at his assistant to silently acknowledge the failure of the plan, he squeezed your trembling hand, "It's alright, nothing to be sorry about. Well, if that is all, perhaps we can begin discussing the wedding arrangements then."

Minister Jang immediately brightened, "Of course, let us get on with it. I'm sure we have much to discuss."

With a subtle shake of his head, Jongho signalled to the private investigator that the plan wasn't unfolding as expected. Noticing the exchanged glances, your father raised an eyebrow, "Wooyoung, do you and the general's assistant know each other?"

Both froze momentarily, cursing inwardly at their lack of caution. The fake servant beamed innocently at the minister, "Oh yes, master! I thought he looked familiar; turns out we were from the same village!"

The assistant nodded along quickly with a wide smile, "Yes, what a small world."

Fortunately, the fabricated story seemed convincing, and your father nodded without suspicion, "Huh, what are the odds? Just don't let me catch you slacking off. If you want to catch up, do it after work."

Wooyoung grinned quickly, "Yes, master!" before bowing deeply. Glancing at the general for approval, he was relieved to see Seonghwa nodding lightly, silently expressing 'good job'. His heart raced, still finding it surreal that he was looking at his role model up close and being acknowledged.

Resettling into the main hall, your husband couldn't hide his concern for you. He maintained a firm grip on your hand, a constant reminder of his presence and an attempt to provide comfort despite your lack of reaction to anything. Eunsook, noting your distress, made a point to stay close behind you, silently assuring you of her support.

"Alright then, where should we begin?" Minister Jang clapped his hands together, eager to get it all over with as soon as possible.

Seated opposite you, your three sisters were still seething, their attention fixed on the general's unwavering touch on you. Refusing to concede defeat, they were determined to fight for Seonghwa, unwilling to witness you marrying their dream man in a grand wedding ceremony. He was too good for you.

She doesn't deserve him.

Before the two men could delve into any details, Jinhee, tired of her sisters always being a step ahead, seized the opportunity to speak up, "General Park, I believe I would make a better wife than unnie ever could. I urge you to change your mind and consider choosing me."

Jinah and Jinjoo scowled, feeling a sense of betrayal as they hadn't anticipated the sudden spiritedness from their middle sister. She had always been the calmest among the three. It appeared that the allure of the general was potent enough to pit them against each other for the first time.

The minister smacked a hand on his face in disbelief, growing tired of his stepdaughter's obnoxious behaviour. Just as he opened his mouth to reprimand her, the other two chimed in loudly, "No, I'd make a better wife!" before glaring at each other.

Pressing a kiss onto your knuckles to rile them up, your husband stared at the girls with an amused grin, "Really? Do you think you'd make a better wife? Why don't you each tell me why you think so? I'll consider it."

It was apparent that the general was merely toying with them, but the three were oblivious and engaged in a heated debate among themselves, striving to convince Seonghwa that each of them would make the ideal wife for him.

Meanwhile, you silently accepted your fate, believing that your husband was present to entertain the idea of replacing you with one of your stepsisters. If that's what he desired, who were you to object? You considered yourself fortunate to have been sent to him, and now that he had seen your sisters, perhaps he sought someone better than your useless self.

The general burst into a fit of vicious laughter, singling out the middle sister who promptly straightened up, "You," he pointed, "it seems like you have the most convincing argument. I suppose that makes you the most suitable for me, doesn't it?"

Jinhee vigorously nodded, "Yes, my lord!"

With a sly smile, he continued, "Very well, I'll consider marrying you, but on one condition that your father must agree to," Her eyes widened in excitement while her sisters clenched their fists in frustration, dissatisfied with her being chosen, "Anything! Just name it, and you shall have it!"

"If Minister Jang agrees to retire from his position and let me take over, then I guess I'll think about it."

Your father heaved a deep sigh, frowning at the foolish girl in irritation, "That's enough, Jinhee. Are you even hearing yourself? None of that will ever happen. I'm sure the general is only joking around."

Her stubbornness prevailed as she continued to press, "Father, this is for my happiness! If you loved me, you would agree to that!"

Even her own mother, finally sober enough, shook her head disapprovingly, "Stop it, Jinhee. Do you know what it would mean for the rest of us if your father were to retire?"

Having enjoyed the comedic display, Seonghwa chuckled darkly, "Your father's right; I was only playing with you. After all, I couldn't possibly marry you, even if he had agreed to that condition."

"Why is that?!" She questioned, still determined to have him for herself. She hated the sight of him cradling your hand; it should be her beside him. She had gotten so close to having him earlier that she refused to let the opportunity slip away so quickly.

For some reason, the minister couldn't shake off the ominous feeling he was getting from your husband's smugness. Something wasn't right; this felt oddly like a trap.

In a mock-innocent voice, the general answered, "Isn't it simple? Because you're not even Minister Jang's legitimate daughter; you do realise you're merely his stepdaughter, right?"

Your father and stepmother's eyes immediately widened, knowing exactly where this was going. Before they could do anything to stop it, Jinhee yelled out, "But I am father's real daughter!"

Gotcha, bitch.

Jongho and Eunsook did their best to suppress the growing grins on their faces, relieved that at least their master's plan B seemed to have worked out. During the assistant's time away from the estate, working with Wooyoung, they had managed to confirm the general's suspicions about the three being Minister Jang's actual daughters.

This revelation itself was enough to bring him down, as the three were born when your mother was still alive. And if they were, in fact, his, that would mean he had been disloyal to his wife and had fathered bastard children outside. This was more than enough to tarnish his reputation for good.

Rising abruptly from his seat, the minister cleared his throat loudly, "General Park, please don't take her words seriously. Clearly, she only said that out of desperation. The girl is still young and doesn't know when to stop; do not mind her. Come, let us take our discussion somewhere else."

"Save it, minister. If she isn't your daughter, where would she have gotten the confidence to voice that out loud? Don't make me laugh." Seonghwa retorted coldly.

Finally, you lifted your head to stare at the old man upon hearing the revelation. Could it be true? You didn't know if it was supposed to make you feel any better, but you used to question why your father had treated you so badly when you were his only real daughter. Now, it would make more sense, at least.

Scoffing, Minister Jang clenched his fists, "I would advise you to be careful with your words, general. After all, it wouldn't be too wise of you to slander your father-in-law and superior so carelessly like that. What would His Majesty think of you being unfilial and disrespectful to me?"

If your father thought that threat could save him, he was wrong; it seemed he was only digging himself a deeper grave.

The general peered amusingly at him through his lashes, "You know, it's really funny you should say that. Would it still be considered slander if I had evidence to back up my claims? Oh, minister, you should not have brought the King into this. He was already so disappointed in you when he learned of the truth about you and your dirty deeds throughout the years."

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" The minister stammered, visibly trembling in his spot, and his family could only sit back with terror in their eyes, not knowing what your husband had uncovered.

"Minister Jang, did you really think the King had allowed me to come here just to make wedding arrangements with you? I'd rather burn in hell than have you host my wedding, especially after what you had done to my wife in all the years she had been under your care. I'm only here for your confession, under His Majesty's orders."

A series of gasps rang across the hall as your stepmother and stepsisters froze in their seats, the realisation finally hitting them that they had been under scrutiny this whole time. It became apparent since the minister's suspicious behaviour at the assembly.

Little did everyone know that Seonghwa's investigative work had been funded by the King himself the entire time. The two had shared a deep conversation after the assembly; what initially started off as idle chatter regarding the general's new wife transitioned into a serious discussion as your husband revealed what he discovered about the minister thanks to your arrival.

Your eyes widened at Seonghwa's words, wondering if he had known all along about what had happened to you. Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to face you with a soft smile, "I told you I'd protect you."

Feeling your heart flutter and eyes tearing up with tears of relief, you finally squeezed his hand back, "Thank you, Seonghwa."

Cutting your moment short, your father shook his head in denial, "You're lying. Nice try, General Park. I'm not falling for your trick. If you were telling the truth, why would His Majesty have bothered to send you here when he could have just arrested me?"

Turning back to face the old man, your husband smirked, "Now, where would all the fun be in that? Of course, I didn't expect you to admit everything to me so easily. It was fun watching all of you panic in front of the so-called storeroom earlier. I hope you enjoyed the temporary relief, courtesy of my lovely wife. Someone, bring the minister a chair before we start recounting all the interesting things he's done so far."

Jongho was more than happy to help, "Yes, sir!" He promptly moved a chair to the centre of the hall where the minister stood before returning to his position behind his master.

Your stepmother and stepsisters remained glued to their seats, hearts filled with dread. Jinhee regretted her every action immediately, not that it made much difference. They were already doomed from the moment they delivered you to him.

"Will you not sit, Minister Jang?" Seonghwa teased, and when the old man glared at him, he shrugged, unbothered, "Suit yourself. Let us begin then."

The general stretched a waiting hand in his assistant's direction and waited as the younger man fished a few documents out from his pockets, "Here you go, sir."

"Alright, let's see, where should we start?"

With a devilish grin, your husband flipped through the pages, addressing the minister, "So, were you denying that these three are your biological daughters? Not to worry, I have just the thing to prove it. See, we have their birth certificates and the fake ones you forged right here. You bribed your physician quite a bit for these, huh? Well, it seems the amount you paid was not nearly enough since he spilt everything to us so easily."

The minister's wife pointed a shaky finger at the papers in Seonghwa's hands, "Th-that's not possible. How did you get your hands on those documents?"

"Ah, so you admit these are yours?" The general raised a brow, "I get it; it's hard not to when the only copies to exist were found in your private quarters, hm? I'll have precious Wooyoung to thank for these. Come here, boy. You should be so proud of yourself."

"Thank you, my lord! I'll work harder!"

In front of the minister and his family, the mole finally unveiled himself. All five of them could only gape at the new employee who had recently joined the estate. They praised him for his work and even thought of him as a hard worker. Suddenly, it all made sense why he always seemed too eager to help around. He had been snooping around for the enemy all along.

Your father pointed accusingly at the fake staff member of his estate, "Y-you traitor—"

"How can he be a traitor when he was never on your side to begin with? Let's not change the subject, alright? Now, let us conclude the number of crimes you've committed here; first, you've cheated on your wife and had not only one but three illegitimate children outside of your home. I must say, minister, you're setting a horrible example for the married men in all of Joseon." Seonghwa shook his head in disapproval.

"Next, you've bribed your physician to silence him and then get him to further commit the crime of forging official documents for you. I guess this could have been understandable if it had been a silly little commoner not knowing any better, but my goodness, you are our nation's Minister of Military Affairs! What would the people think of us if they knew their leaders were this unethical?"

"And the worst of it all, you kept my wife caged in that pathetic excuse of a room all her life. You all had a hand in her suffering and abused her endlessly, all for your own entertainment. And what had she done that was so wrong to deserve any of that? Just because she was born from the wife you did not choose and love?" The general spat, feeling his heart ache and anger rise.

It was your turn to rub a thumb softly over his skin to remind him that you were fine now; you were loved and cared for, all because of him. He tightened his hold on your hand, vowing to get you justice.

"Can any of you even call yourselves human?" He growled, glaring at your family. Your stepsisters trembled, avoiding his death stare, feeling like complete idiots, especially after their stupid little innocent act earlier. Why did they even believe for a second that they could have fooled him?

With a deep breath, Seonghwa put on a sarcastic smile, "And with all of that, it should be enough for you to be stripped of your title and for your entire family to be demoted from a noble house to commoners."

The old man's knees went weak, and he ended up plopping into the chair Jongho had placed behind him. Clenching his fists, he shook his head again, "No, you can't do this to us. You can't do this to me. I've dedicated my life to this job and this country. I have contributed so much—"

Smirking, the general cut him off, "Why? Are you unsatisfied with this conclusion? I expected no less from you, you ungrateful bastard. Fine, I guess we'll have no choice but to dive deeper and talk about your most severe crime then."

There's... more?

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what other horrible things your father could have possibly done. Everything that your husband had already listed seemed like a lot to you.

Your stepmother gasped loudly, clutching onto her chest as she took in the general's wicked grin, "He knows..."

Jinah frowned, grabbing her mother's arm in confusion, "What is it? What does he know? What else has father done?" The other two sisters stared at their parents, who looked scared for their lives.

"Yes, I do know, Lady Jang. Did you really think the two of you could keep your dirty little secret hidden forever? As if adultery and illegal document forgery weren't bad enough, you were both audacious enough to commit murder against an innocent person."

Minister Jang and his wife shared a horrified glance, realising that the veil of secrecy they had meticulously woven was now unravelling before them. The colour drained from their faces, and beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.

The mistress of the Jang estate stammered in fear, "N-no, that's not true! You're making baseless accusations, General Park. We haven't committed any murder!"

The general remained unfazed, a cold stare fixed upon them, "Really? You haven't? Then tell me, why do the two of you seem so afraid? You weren't trembling with fear when you poisoned the first Lady Jang to death, and you certainly weren't afraid when you robbed my wife of her mother."

Staring at your father and stepmother in horror, a wave of disbelief crashed over you. The revelation hit like a tidal wave, leaving you stunned and paralysed. The people you thought were simply cruel for torturing you all your life had now revealed a more sinister truth – they were the reason you never knew your own mother.

The shock and betrayal etched across your face, your eyes locked onto theirs as the weight of their sins settled in. It wasn't just about the abuse and mistreatment; they had orchestrated a tragedy that deprived you of the one person who could have brought warmth and love into your life.

"And what evidence do you have to prove that?" The minister finally mustered the courage to challenge the accusations, still putting up a fight. His three daughters, nearly as shocked as you were by the revelation, couldn't fathom that their parents might have actually taken someone's life.

Seonghwa remained unyielding, maintaining his cold gaze, "Not to worry, I have it all right here." He gestured to the documents Wooyoung held, revealing a series of letters exchanged between the couple all those years ago detailing the best way to end someone's life and make it look like a natural death, as though they had succumbed to an ordinary illness.

"Isn't it an uncanny coincidence that the physician confessed to the first Lady Jang dying from mandrake poisoning, and simultaneously, there is an abundance of mandrake planted in your garden? Alongside these incriminating letters, everything aligns seamlessly. There's nothing you can say to undermine this evidence, minister. Would you care to explain your actions now?"

Minister Jang's face contorted with defiance and anger. He took a deep breath before finally admitting, "Fine, it's true. I did it; I killed that woman. But you have to understand; the first Lady Jang ruined my life. I never wanted to marry her in the first place. It was a political arrangement forced upon me to please her influential family. They held more power than I did at the time."

His eyes darted around, gauging the reactions of those present, especially his daughters, "I clawed my way up, working tirelessly to reach my position as Minister of Military Affairs. I didn't need her family anymore. So, I did her a favour – I ended her unhappy marriage and made room for the person I truly loved."

He looked at his current wife with a twisted sense of affection, completely ignoring the horrified expressions around him, "I had to make a choice for my own happiness. No one understands the sacrifices I've made for this family and for the sake of my love. It was the only way."

"If you hated my mother so much, why did you bother having me then?" You finally croaked, voice breaking as you choked back tears. Seonghwa pulled you close to him, never wanting you to go through any more pain alone.

Your father let out a scoff of displeasure, "I never wanted you. You were just another duty to please your mother's family. When she died, I refused to let any of them near you out of spite. You were a constant reminder of her, a spitting image that angered me every time I looked at you. That's why I hated you so much."

His admission hung heavily in the air, each word cutting through the silence like a knife. Your eyes, filled with sorrow, met his cold, callous gaze. Your husband tightened his hold on you, offering silent comfort as the painful truth unravelled.

"And there we have it, the confession His Majesty wanted. Royal Secretary Choi, did you manage to get all of that?" The general called out with a smirk.

To the minister's horror, the King's closest and most trusted aide emerged from the entrance, flanked by a team of royal guards, "I sure did, General Park. You've done well; we'll take it from here. His Majesty shall decide the Jang family's final sentencing."

« Preview of Part 10 »

As Eunsook followed her master's orders to assist you out of the hall and to the waiting carriage at once, your husband stayed behind to express gratitude to the dedicated private investigator.

"You've worked hard, Wooyoung. I assure you we will compensate you for your excellent performance. You didn't have to help us this far, but you did, and I appreciate it."

The younger man enthusiastically bowed, "It's my pleasure, sir! I'm a huge fan of yours; I think people don't appreciate you enough for defending our country! Those who think you are heartless are clearly mistaken. If only they'd seen you today. You are a wonderful husband, my lord. It's reassuring to know Lady Park has you."

Clearing his throat, the general looked away and fought the faint blush dusting his cheeks, "I'm glad you think so. I can only hope she thinks the same."

Wooyoung grinned, "I'm sure she does, my lord. I've seen how Lady Park looks at you; I can tell you mean a lot to her too," Seeing Jongho approaching to escort his master out, the informant bowed one final time, "It was an honour working for you, sir. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you ever need my services again!"

Seonghwa nodded appreciatively, "I'll keep that in mind."

Just as he turned to leave, the royal secretary came up to him, "Before you go, General Park, His Majesty wishes to meet you and Lady Park soon to discuss your actual wedding arrangements."

Nodding lightly, the general replied, "Got it, I'll see you then."

"Oh, and one last thing; I know you've both been through a lot, but the worst is over. I wish you and your wife happiness."

"Thank you, San."

Y'all I'm not even gonna lie, this part literally gave me a whole ass headache LMFAO I hope this felt satisfying enough! Of course, we still don't know what consequences the evil family are about to suffer muahaha😈

Also, the second mood board depicting the general's estate is out! Go take a look if you haven't already!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 13)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Wife!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The grand dining hall of House Baenre was a feast for the senses, its dim yet radiant glow casting a rich tapestry of light and shadow across the cavernous space. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished blackstone walls, accentuating carvings of spiders spinning webs of power and intrigue. The dining table was a masterpiece of excess, heaped with a banquet of the Underdark's finest: tender rothé, glazed cave fish, and sugared fungi arranged alongside flasks of crimson wine poured into goblets adorned with amethyst spiders.

Tonight’s celebration was a rare reprieve, a moment of pride as the Baenre family gathered to honor Lira’s first kill—a rite of passage that carried with it the weight of both pride and consequence. Lira sat near the head of the table, her posture straight, her face carefully composed, but the faint tremor in her hands betrayed the thrill of achievement and the realization of what it meant. Her little ruby eyes burned with determination, a spark mirrored in her triplet siblings, Sarae and Viroen, who watched her with both admiration and a growing sense of rivalry.

The atmosphere was uncharacteristically light. Even Kyorlin, often reserved and aloof, had joined the festivities, his expression softened into a rare smile. Goblets were raised, and voices joined in a toast to Lira’s accomplishment, the sound reverberating through the hall like a hymn to ambition and survival.

Yet beneath the revelry, an unspoken truth lingered: Lira’s achievement painted a target on her back. In drow society, a first kill was more than a moment of triumph; it was a declaration of power, a signal that one had stepped onto the precarious path of political and familial ascension.

Lesaonar sat at the center of the table, his face a study in pride tempered by worry. He watched his children closely, particularly Sarae, who fiddled with her goblet, her lips twitching with the barely restrained urge to one-up her sister’s victory. When Lesaonar caught her gaze, his eyes softened, though his brow remained furrowed with a father’s quiet anxiety.

Kyorlin, seated beside him, leaned over to murmur something, his tone low and reassuring. Whatever he said seemed to ease Lesaonar’s tension, the faintest smile breaking through his guarded expression. It was a fleeting moment of familial solidarity, one that felt fragile but genuine.

The celebration held an air of inevitability. Sarae and Viroen, though outwardly congratulatory, were already measuring themselves against their sister. The rivalry between the triplets was palpable, but tonight, it was muted, their ambitions momentarily eclipsed by the unity of their house. This unity, however, would not last.

Days later, that fragile harmony shattered. The family was gathered again for the evening meal when Sarae limped into the hall, her movements stiff, her robes bloodied from a recent duel gone awry. Her head was bowed, and her crimson eyes glistened with humiliation as she took her place at the table.

The room fell silent, the once-celebratory atmosphere replaced by an oppressive weight. Melinoe, who oversaw the triplets’ training, fixed her daughter with a stern, unforgiving glare.

“A Baenre does not fail so miserably,” she declared, her voice sharp enough to cut through stone. “Especially not my daughter. I expected more from you, Sarae.”

Sarae flinched but said nothing, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. Lesaonar’s face tightened as he glanced at his wife, his jaw working silently. He remained quiet, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Melinoe’s critique grew sharper, her words dripping with disdain.

“You will be better,” she continued coldly, “or perhaps I’ve expected too much. A true Baenre would never—”

“Enough!” Lesaonar’s voice erupted, startling even the youngest at the table. His fists slammed onto the table, rattling the silverware. “She’s still a child. How can you expect perfection from her at every moment?”

The hall fell deathly quiet. All eyes turned to Lesaonar, his rare outburst hanging heavily in the air. Minthara, seated at the head of the table, turned her gaze to him, her crimson eyes narrowing.

“Remember your place, Lesaonar,” she said, her tone icy and controlled. The weight of her authority settled over him like a shroud, a reminder of the rigid matriarchy within House Baenre.

Lesaonar hesitated, his anger still simmering, but he relented, sinking back into his chair with a look of resignation. Minthara’s gaze swept over the room, her expression unreadable, before settling back on the meal before her.

The tension, however, did not dissipate. Melinoe, emboldened by Minthara’s rebuke, turned her scorn back to Sarae.

“Perhaps she has simply inherited her father’s weakness,” she said, her lips curling into a sneer. “One would hope she would be stronger than—”

“Enough, Melinoe.” Your voice, calm yet unyielding, cut through the rising storm. All eyes turned to you as you met Melinoe’s gaze with unwavering calm. “Is it not you who oversees their training?” you asked, your tone steady but pointed. “If Sarae falters, does it not reflect on the skill and wisdom of her teacher?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Melinoe’s expression twisted with outrage, but she was rendered momentarily speechless. Minthara’s gaze flickered between you and Melinoe, her face a mask of neutrality, though a spark of acknowledgment flashed in her eyes.

“You hold her to impossible standards,” you continued, your tone softening but remaining firm. “But if she stumbles, perhaps the fault lies not solely with her but with the one responsible for shaping her.”

Melinoe’s face flushed, her anger palpable, but she bit back her retort. For once, she had no words, her authority undermined by your own and the weight of your argument. Minthara finally spoke, her voice steady and authoritative.

“The expectations upon the Baenre children are high,” she said, her crimson eyes sweeping over the room. “We all bear responsibility for their success and their failures. There will be no more blame cast without it being shared.”

Her words reestablished a tenuous peace, the family settling into an uneasy quiet. Lesaonar’s shoulders relaxed, and he offered you a small, grateful nod. Melinoe, though seething, remained silent, her gaze fixed firmly on her plate. The triplets exchanged glances, their rivalry momentarily set aside as they absorbed the tension between their parents and the house’s matron.

The meal resumed, though the air remained heavy with unspoken tension. Forks scraped against plates, and goblets were refilled in silence, the once-celebratory atmosphere dampened by the earlier exchange. Lesaonar remained quiet, his focus seemingly on his plate, though his crimson eyes occasionally flickered toward Sarae with a mixture of concern and pride. Sarae sat stiffly, her head bowed as she poked at her food, while Viroen and Lira exchanged wary glances, uncertain of how to navigate the strained mood.

It was Kyorlin who finally broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the awkward stillness.

“I have received word from the barracks,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with cautious optimism. “The Seldarine threat might finally be ebbing. My old comrades say the extremists seem to be retreating. If it’s true, Menzoberranzan may finally see some reprieve.”

The statement hung in the air for a moment before anyone responded. Several gazes turned toward Minthara, whose expression remained impassive as she leaned back in her seat. Her eyes flicked to Kyorlin, and though she said nothing at first, the sharpness of her gaze spoke volumes.

“Reprieve?” Minthara’s voice carried a note of skepticism. She placed her goblet down with deliberate precision, the sound of the metal base meeting the table breaking the quiet. “If Eilistraee’s extremists have already joined their ranks, as we suspect, their retreat is nothing more than a feint. They won’t stop until we have every one of their heads severed on pikes and hearts served on silver plates."

Kyorlin tilted his head slightly, acknowledging her point. “Perhaps. But it’s possible their losses have weakened them enough to scatter. Not every enemy retreats with the intention of regrouping.”

Minthara’s gaze hardened. “And not every retreat is a sign of defeat. The Eilistraee worshippers don’t think like us. Their faith makes them reckless fools, but also dangerous. Until we are certain they’re eradicated, Menzoberranzan and this house, cannot afford to relax.”

Her words carried the weight of finality, and Kyorlin did not press the issue further. Around the table, the family listened in silence, each member considering the implications. Even Melinoe, who had spent much of the evening seething, seemed to pause it to nod subtly in agreement with Minthara’s assessment.

The meal concluded with little fanfare, the servants moving efficiently to clear the table as the Baenre family dispersed. Lira and Viroen left first, their hushed whispers trailing off as they exited. Lesaonar lingered a moment before gently guiding Sarae to her feet, offering her a quiet word of encouragement before the two departed. Kyorlin stood and bowed his head slightly toward Minthara, his departure marked by his usual quiet efficiency.

You, however, remained seated, your gaze fixed on Melinoe. She noticed your lingering presence and raised an eyebrow, her irritation from earlier still visible in the taut lines of her face.

“Melinoe,” you said softly, though your tone carried an undeniable authority. “A word. Alone.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded curtly, following you out of the dining hall and into an adjacent chamber. Minthara gave you a look but you murmured you would join her your chambers soon.

The room was small and dimly lit, its furnishings sparse—a stark contrast to the opulence of the hall. The quiet here was oppressive, the weight of what needed to be said hanging heavily in the air. Melinoe folded her arms across her chest, her ruby eyes narrowing as she regarded you.

“What is it?” she asked sharply, her tone defensive. “Come to reprimand me further?”

“No,” you replied evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching. “I came to speak plainly.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her posture remaining rigid. “Then speak.”

You took a step closer, your voice lowering. “I understand your frustrations, Melinoe. Your expectations for Sarae, for all of them, are high. And they should be. But tonight, your words went too far.”

She bristled, her lips parting to retort, but you raised a hand to stop her.

“I’m not here to argue,” you continued. “I’m here to remind you of something you seem to have forgotten. These are your children. Not soldiers. Not pawns. Children.”

Her crimson eyes flickered, a mixture of anger and something softer—something she worked hard to suppress.

“They’re Baenres,” she countered, her voice quieter now but still sharp. “They don’t have the luxury of being children. Not in this house. Not in this city.”

“And yet,” you said, your tone softening, “if you strip them of what little innocence they have left, what will they become? Weapons, perhaps. But weapons break, Melinoe. They shatter under the weight of what they’re forced to endure.”

She said nothing, her arms tightening around herself as she looked away. For a moment, the mask slipped, and you saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

“You are a brilliant tactician,” you said gently, stepping closer. “A formidable assassin. But you are also their mother. And they need you to be that, as much as they need your strength.”

Melinoe’s jaw tightened, but her gaze softened just slightly.

“You think I don’t care for them?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I don’t want them to succeed?”

“I know you care,” you said firmly. “But sometimes, in your pursuit of their success, you forget what it is they’re fighting for. They’re not just Baenres. They’re your children. And they need to know you believe in them, not just in their victories, but in their ability to rise after a fall.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not unbearable. Finally, Melinoe sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

“You speak as if you know better,” she said, though there was no venom in her words. “But perhaps… there’s truth in what you say.”

You nodded, offering her a small, genuine smile. “It’s not about knowing better. It’s about seeing what we often overlook. That is what keeps us alive.”

She glanced away, her expression thoughtful, and for the first time that evening, the walls she’d built around herself seemed to crack. Though she said nothing further, her silence spoke of a reluctant understanding. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but hope that tonight’s events had planted a seed—one that might, in time, bear fruit.

The long corridors of House Baenre were bathed in the dim, eerie glow of faerzress, their twisting paths quiet save for the soft click of your boots against the stone floor. One hand rested instinctively on your swollen belly, a protective gesture you scarcely noticed anymore. The baby within you shifted, their tiny movements stirring a warmth in your chest that momentarily eased the tension of the evening’s events. As you made your way toward your chambers, a particularly strong kick startled you, drawing a soft chuckle.

“Already restless, are you?” you murmured to yourself, your tone affectionate as you breathed through the sharp pang of pain, that had recently come with a bought of dizziness and a complete, albeit temporary cut off from your magic. As if the babe was taking it all for itself for a brief moment.

A faint sound from the shadows made you pause, your keen ears picking up the light tread of approaching footsteps. Turning your head slightly, continuing your breathing, you saw Kyorlin emerge from the shadows, his crimson eyes catching the faint light. His expression was unusually hesitant, a contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low but genuine. His gaze flickered briefly to your midsection before returning to your face, concern etched faintly in his features.

You smiled, the world coming back into focuse and the warmth of his concern a welcome respite after the tension of the meal.

“I’m fine, Kyorlin. Just tired,” you replied. Your hand drifted to your belly again as another small kick rippled beneath your palm, but this time you felt your magic return to you. “They’ve been particularly active tonight.”

Kyorlin’s eyes lingered on your bump, his usual stoicism faltering for a moment as curiosity—and something else, something unspoken—flashed across his face.

“Active?” he echoed, his voice tinged with a hint of bewilderment.

You hesitated for a moment before gesturing toward him with a small, encouraging smile. “Do you want to feel?”

His crimson eyes widened slightly, and he stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the offer.

“I—” he began, glancing away as if searching for an excuse to decline. But something in your expression, perhaps the gentle patience you extended toward him, made him pause. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “If… you don’t mind.”

You guided his hand to your belly, placing it carefully where the baby had been kicking. For a moment, nothing happened, and Kyorlin’s unease was almost palpable. Then, a tiny movement stirred beneath his palm—a faint but unmistakable sign of life.

His breath hitched ever so slightly, his crimson eyes widening as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d felt.

“It’s… strange,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was fleeting. Almost as quickly as he’d placed his hand, he withdrew it, his expression shifting back to something more reserved.

You laughed softly, brushing off his abrupt retreat as mere awkwardness.

“Strange, perhaps, but miraculous too,” you said warmly. “Thank you for humoring me.”

Kyorlin gave a small nod, his gaze flickering toward the ground for a moment before he straightened. His demeanor shifted slightly, becoming more purposeful.

“I wanted to speak with you about something,” he began, his tone carefully measured. “It’s about the guards.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What about them?”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the corridor as if to ensure no one else was listening.

“Minthara has them working endlessly. The soldiers, too. Drills, patrols, constant vigilance—it’s wearing them down.” His voice grew quieter, a rare hint of vulnerability seeping through. “I’ve seen it in their eyes. They won’t say anything, of course. They’re too disciplined for that. But it’s hard to watch them pushed to their limits.”

You listened intently, his words stirring a pang of sympathy. Kyorlin had always been closer to the rank-and-file than most within the noble circles, his years of service in the barracks leaving him attuned to the struggles of those beneath him and you valued him for it.

“You think security should be relaxed?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I think…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think balance is needed. The Seldarine may be retreating, as I said earlier. And if they’re not, the constant pressure will leave our forces vulnerable in other ways. Exhaustion is as dangerous as complacency.”

You considered his words, the truth in them undeniable. Minthara’s unwavering focus on strength and readiness was admirable, but even the strongest chain had its breaking point.

“I’ll speak to her,” you promised, your voice steady. “I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try to convince her to ease the burden, if only a little.”

Kyorlin inclined his head in gratitude, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. You felt a flicker of guilt, you would speak to MInthara but you can already picture her response - a mocking laugh and dismissal.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his tone sincere. He hesitated for a moment longer, as if there were more he wished to say, but then thought better of it. With a final nod, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving you alone once more.

When you return to your chambers, you find Minthara standing by the window, her arms crossed as she watches you approach. The faintest trace of impatience marks her features, and her eyes narrow as you close the door.

“Tell me,” she says, her voice low, “what you discussed with Melinoe.”

You lean against the door, your expression light, keeping your tone evasive. “We spoke of family matters.”

Minthara’s gaze sharpens, not missing your deflection.

“You softened her, didn’t you?” she accuses, her voice carrying an edge of irritation, as though the very idea rankles her.

You chuckle, walking past her to set aside the robes you’d worn to dinner, shaking your head. “Oh, don’t worry, my love. Whatever words I offered won’t be able to displace a lifetime of Baenre ruthlessness. She’s still herself, still the fierce creature you know.”

Minthara watches you closely, her eyes narrowing in appraisal, and though she opens her mouth to press further, she closes it again, grudgingly dropping the topic. She relaxes slightly, a faint, amused smirk tugging at her lips as she settles back against the edge of the bed, watching you with a new intensity. But before the silence between you grows too long, you turn to her with another matter on your mind.

“Have you tried dosing me with sussur lately?” you ask casually, though your eyes hold a trace of curiosity. "I’ve been feeling… off, as if my magic is distant. Sometimes it feels almost unreachable.”

Minthara arches a brow, clearly caught off-guard by the question. She meets your gaze, her own expression shifting briefly as though weighing how to answer.

“I have been giving you doses,” she admits after a pause, “but not of sussur.”

You hum thoughtfully, mulling this over. “Perhaps it’s just an odd reaction with my magic, then. Something seems different… more restrained.”

Minthara watches you, her gaze narrowing with concern for a fleeting moment before she recovers, her voice even and calm.

“I’ll look into it,” she promises, moving closer and resting her hands on your shoulders. “But it could be the child—magic thrives in the womb. Maybe they’re claiming it for themselves.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

“A strong child,” you say, a hint of pride filling your tone. “Likely siphoning my strength already.”

Minthara’s lips quirk in a faint smile, her hands sliding down your arms in a gesture of quiet reassurance.

“If that’s the case, then we’ll have nothing to worry about. They’ll come into the world with a power to rival the best of the Baenre.”

Her confidence and calm soothe you as she continues, her hands drifting to rest on your slightly rounded belly, her gaze filled with an unexpected tenderness. The quiet of your chambers was broken by a faint, trembling cry from down the room adjacent to you. Both you and Minthara turned your heads sharply, your attention drawn to the sound of distress.

“Lythaera,” you said softly, already moving toward the door. Minthara followed without a word, her usual sharpness replaced with maternal concern.

You found the child in her room, sitting up in her small, ornate bed. Tears streaked her pale cheeks, and her tiny hands clutched the blanket around her as though for protection. Her eyes were wide and frantic, darting around the room as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Lythaera,” Minthara said, her voice unusually gentle as she crossed the room swiftly. She scooped the child up into her arms, holding her close. “What’s wrong, my little one?”

Lythaera buried her face in Minthara’s shoulder, her sobs muffled but still audible. You moved closer, your heart aching at the sight of her distress. Gently, you reached out to stroke her hair, her small form trembling beneath your touch.

“Sweetheart,” you said softly, crouching to her eye level as Minthara held her. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Lythaera lifted her head slightly, her cheeks flushed and damp with tears. Her voice was shaky, her words stumbling over themselves in her panic.

“I-I was burning,” she babbled, her small hands gripping at Minthara’s robes. “It was hot, Mama. Am I still burning?”

Minthara’s arms tightened protectively around the girl, and her expression darkened briefly—though whether it was at the imagined threat or her daughter’s fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re not burning, Lythaera,” Minthara assured her, her tone firm yet soothing. “You’re safe. Mama and I are here.”

You nodded, brushing Lythaera’s hair back from her face. “There’s no fire here, my love. Just us. You’re alright.”

The little girl sniffled, her tears slowing as she leaned into Minthara’s chest, comforted by your combined presence. Minthara sat down on the edge of Lythaera’s bed, cradling the child against her as you settled beside them.

For a few moments, the room was quiet again, the weight of the nightmare slowly lifting. As Lythaera began to calm, you glanced at Minthara, your earlier conversation with Kyorlin still lingering in your mind.

“Kyorlin approached me earlier,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “He asked me to speak with you about easing security. He’s concerned about the toll it’s taking on the guards.”

Minthara scoffed, her grip on Lythaera tightening slightly as she adjusted the child in her lap.

“Kyorlin is a fool if he thinks we can afford to relax now,” she said bluntly. “You’re pregnant. The Seldarine threat is far from over, and those Eilistraee extremists are like vipers in the grass. They’ll strike the moment we let our guard down.”

You’d expected her response, but you still felt compelled to press.

“He’s not wrong about exhaustion being a danger,” you said carefully. “We’ve pushed them hard. Perhaps we could find a way to—”

“No,” Minthara interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “I won’t risk it. Not for their comfort, not for anything. Let them be tired. Better that than dead.”

At the mention of the Seldarine, Lythaera stirred, her small voice piping up hesitantly.

“S-sel-dar… Sel-darine?” she repeated, her tiny mouth stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

Minthara’s expression softened briefly as she looked down at her daughter, though her voice remained firm. “Yes, my little one. The Seldarine. They’re awful, terrible creatures. They would hurt us if they could.”

Lythaera blinked up at her, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Awful?” she echoed, her voice small.

Minthara nodded solemnly, her fingers brushing a stray curl from Lythaera’s face. “Very awful.”

Lythaera’s face scrunched up in concentration as she attempted another word she must have overheard. “And Eil… Eil-is-tree?”

You hid a small smile at her mispronunciation, but Minthara’s expression darkened slightly.

“Eilistraee,” Minthara corrected. “She’s just as bad, my love. Worse, even. Her followers want to destroy everything we’ve built.”

Lythaera’s little face twisted into a scowl, her crimson eyes flashing with childish indignation.

“I don’t like that name!” she declared, her small fists clenching. “Eil-is-tree is bad!”

Minthara’s lips quirked into a faint, approving smile, her fingers stroking Lythaera’s back soothingly.

“That’s right,” she said softly. “You’re a smart girl.”

You chuckled, leaning back slightly as you watched the exchange. Despite the tension of the conversation, there was something undeniably endearing about Lythaera’s fierce little declaration. Minthara’s protective hold on her daughter spoke volumes, her usual harshness tempered by a rare tenderness.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had worsened over the past tenday. Now at 25 weeks, the dizziness that had plagued you occasionally during your pregnancy now came more frequently, sometimes leaving you lightheaded for long stretches. The baby’s movements were strong—sometimes too strong—and though you cherished the proof of their vitality, each kick seemed to sap what little energy you had. A faint, ever-present ache had settled into your body, and even simple tasks like standing for too long or climbing the estate's many stairs left you winded.

It was Minthara who called the healers, her tone sharp and unyielding when she ordered them to assess you. Their examinations were thorough, their probing hands and incantations leaving you feeling even more drained by the time they finished. When they finally delivered their conclusions, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was no less frustrating.

“Stress,” the elder healer said, her lined face calm but firm. “The pregnancy is progressing normally, but the strain of your duties is taking its toll. If you continue like this, both you and the child may be at risk. I recommend stepping back from your responsibilities—earlier than planned.”

You bristled at the suggestion. Stepping back meant relinquishing control, even temporarily, and in Menzoberranzan, even a brief absence from power could invite ruin. Yet as the healer’s words settled in, you caught Minthara’s expression out of the corner of your eye. Her crimson eyes, sharp and assessing, left no room for argument.

“You’ll do as they say,” Minthara said bluntly, her voice brooking no dissent. “I won’t have you endangering yourself—or our child—because you’re too stubborn to rest.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Over the next few days, you began to withdraw from your usual duties as Mistress of the house. Council meetings carried on without you, though Minthara kept you informed of their outcomes. Head of staff reported to Lesaoanar instead of you and the presence of the mistress' guard became increasingly present. You had caught one of them outside of bath chamber you had visited after a bought of nausea. You were not even allowed to mentor the younger girls of the house like you used to, Minthara had insisted that their shrill tones and excited shrieks were too much for you - although you supposed that was projection on her behalf.

You hated the sense of helplessness that came with your forced rest, hated the thought that the intricate workings of your house were happening without your direct involvement. But you couldn’t deny the faint relief you felt as the weight of responsibility began to lift, if only slightly. T

The routine changed fully when an emergency council meeting was called. Whispers had spread of Seldarine infiltrating other noble houses, a potential threat that required immediate attention. You instinctively rose to prepare for the meeting - surely this was too important for you to be excluded from? But Minthara intercepted you before you could leave your chambers.

“You’re not going,” she said firmly, stepping into your path.

“I should be there,” you argued, but the weariness in your own voice betrayed you.

“And risk collapsing in the middle of the council chamber?” Minthara’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll stay here. Watch the children. They’ll benefit from your presence, and you’ll benefit from not overextending yourself.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but the faintest flicker of concern in her gaze silenced you. Reluctantly, you nodded, watching as she swept out of the room.

With only slight begrudging, you found yourself in the family common room, resting on a plush chaise as your child kicked within you. The triplets were already there, their usual boisterous energy filling the space. Sarae and Lira sat side by side, alight with mischief as they leaned toward Viroen. He stood a few paces away, his small arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to look defiant.

“You’re going to be sacrificed to Lolth next,” Lira said to Viroen, her crimson eyes gleaming with mock seriousness. Her delicate features, so much like her mother’s, were alight with amusement.

Sarae nodded solemnly, her expression an exaggerated mirror of her sister’s. “It’s true. The Priestess already said so.”

Viroen, to his credit, didn’t falter. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared them down with a defiance that belied his years.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We already sacrificed baby Kel’ren last tenday. Lolth doesn’t need another sacrifice so soon.”

The twins burst into laughter, their facade crumbling as their brother’s response only fueled their amusement. Even Viroen couldn’t suppress a small, smug smile, clearly pleased with his own retort.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, their morbid humor a testament to their Baenre upbringing. It was moments like these—brief flashes of innocence amid the cruelty of your world—that you cherished most.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a small figure approaching. Lythaera, clutching her favorite plush spider, toddled over with determination. She reached your side and tugged gently at your sleeve, her wide crimson eyes filled with curiosity.

“Play colours?” she asked, her voice sweet and hopeful.

You smiled down at her, though your body felt heavy with fatigue. The game she suggested was simple enough, and you welcomed the opportunity to keep her entertained without expending too much energy.

“Alright, little one,” you said, adjusting yourself in your seat. “Let’s play. Tell me what color everyone’s eyes are.”

Lythaera’s face lit up with delight as she began the game. She pointed to each of the triplets in turn, her tiny finger aimed with precision.

“Sarae… red!” she declared with confidence. “Lira… red. Viroen… red.”

You nodded along, your smile growing. “Very good. And what about Mother and Unlce Lesaonar?”

Lythaera turned toward the door where her mother had last been, her expression thoughtful.

“Red!” she announced after a moment, looking back at you with pride.

You nodded again, pleased with her enthusiasm. “That’s right. And now… what about Uncle Kyorlin?”

Lythaera paused, her little brows furrowing in concentration. She tapped her chin with a finger, mimicking the way she had seen adults ponder, before speaking with confidence.

“Blue!” she declared, her voice clear and unwavering. You froze, the word catching you off guard.

“No, darling,” you corrected gently, though a faint unease stirred in your chest. “Kyorlin’s eyes are red. Just like everyone else’s.”

But Lythaera shook her head, her expression resolute. “No! Blue. Kya-oralin blue eyes.”

Her insistence made you pause, the certainty in her tone more unnerving than her words. You tried to brush it off as childish stubbornness, but the conviction in her gaze—so steadfast for one so young—sent a chill through you.

“Are you sure, Lythaera?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with curiosity and a creeping sense of dread.

“Blue,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Kya-oralin blue.”

The room, filled with the distant sounds of the triplets’ laughter, seemed to grow colder. A faint knot formed in your stomach, tightening with each passing moment. You wanted to dismiss it as nothing—a child’s imagination, a harmless mistake—but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that her words held some deeper meaning, something just out of reach.

Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the baby stirring within you as though sensing your unease. The warmth of Lythaera’s small presence beside you did little to quell the strange, ominous tension that now hung in the air.

“Alright, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft but distant. “If you say so.”

Lythaera smiled, satisfied with your response, and toddled back to her siblings, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The weight of her words lingered, echoing in your mind as a whisper of something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.

The disquieting comment from Lythaera lingered, an unwelcome shadow in the back of your mind. Kyorlin’s eyes were red—of course they were red. Everyone’s eyes in your family were red. Yet the conviction in Lythaera’s voice refused to be dismissed. You told yourself she was just a child, prone to mistakes, but Lythaera was no ordinary child. She was sharp, perceptive beyond her years, often noticing details others overlooked. Her insistence nagged at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

To quiet your unease, you called the triplets over.

The unease gnawed at you, refusing to abate. Finally, as if to silence your own doubts, you turned to the triplets, who were still playing in the corner of the room.

“Viroen,” you said, your voice light, masking your unease. “What color are Kyorlin’s eyes?”

Viroen glanced at you, his expression incredulous. “Red, of course, Auntie. What else would they be?”

“And you, Sarae? Lira?” you pressed, your tone remaining casual. The girls looked up from their game, identical smirks on their faces.

“Red,” they said in unison, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The answer eased you somewhat, though the doubt still clawed at the edge of your thoughts. When Lesaonar, Melinoe, and Minthara returned to the family room, you welcomed the distraction. They entered with a presence that commanded attention, their expressions grim. The tension in the air was palpable.

“What happened?” you asked, sitting up straighter despite your fatigue.

Minthara’s gaze softened slightly as it settled on you. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she said firmly. “It’s being handled.”

You frowned, frustration flickering to life. “I deserve to know. If this is about—”

Minthara raised a hand, silencing you with a look. “Rest, my love. Stress will only harm you and the baby. Trust that we are taking care of it.”

The dismissal rankled, but you held your tongue, unwilling to press the issue in front of the others. Minthara picked up Lythaera, and from that simple act you could tell the meeting had not gone well. Minthara was not one to seek out comfort but there were ways she showed when she required it. Picking up Lythaera was one of those ways.

You wanted to continue to pry about the meeting but had no desire for an argument, so instead, you turned your attention to Lesaonar. “Where’s Kyorlin?”

Lesaonar shrugged, his usual relaxed demeanor returning. “He’s sulking in the training yard. Probably sharpening his swords or brooding over something ridiculous. You know how he gets.”

Melinoe smirked. “Especially when somebody didn't get their way in the meeting."

"But no surprise there," Lesaonar chuckled before turning back to you. “Do you want me to fetch him for you?”

You shook your head, rising carefully to your feet. “No, I could use the walk. It will do me good.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze pinned you briefly, assessing. Finally, she nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t,” you promised, resting a hand briefly on her arm before making your way toward the corridor.

The estate was quieter now, the weight of the emergency meeting casting a somber mood over the halls. Your footsteps echoed softly as you moved, your hands resting protectively over your abdomen. You were tired, but the walk felt grounding, helping to dispel the restless energy that had clung to you all day. It was silly really, checking if the brother you have known all your life actually had red eyes just because of a toddler. Call it pregnancy paranoia or a lapse in sanity, but you just had to check.

You caught sight of Kyorlin just ahead, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. He was facing away from you, his shoulders tense as he leaned against the wall.

“Kyorlin,” you called softly, your voice carrying through the stillness.

He turned toward you, and in that moment, it was as though a veil had been lifted. His eyes—Lolth save you—were not red. Not the ones that beamed up at you when you first held him as a babe when he was brought into the world. Not the same red, you would dab tears from when your family's torment of him got too much. Not the red that had looked upon you in pain on your wedding day. They were a piercing, unnatural blue, glowing faintly in the dim light, almost unnatural. The sight hit you like a physical blow, and you stumbled back a step, your breath catching in your throat.

“Kyorlin…” The word was barely a whisper, your mind racing to make sense of the impossible. He’s not Lolth-sworn. Lolth has left him. He’s light-eyed. Seldarine. A traitor.

Before you could react, Kyorlin closed the distance between you with startling speed. His hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the cry that rose in your throat. His other hand flashed, and you felt the sharp sting of a blade piercing your side. The pain bloomed, hot and searing, as your legs buckled beneath you.

“This shouldn't have happened, not yet,” Kyorlin murmured, his voice low and regretful. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Your magic surged instinctively, but the energy fizzled uselessly as though snuffed out. Panic flared in your chest as Kyorlin smiled faintly.

“Seems the sussur is finally doing its job,” he said, his tone almost apologetic.

Your vision blurred, and you fought desperately to stay conscious, your hands scrabbling weakly against his arm. The poison from his blade spread quickly, leaving your limbs heavy and unresponsive. Kyorlin leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“All will be right,” he whispered, his voice laced with fervor. “Under Eilistraee’s light, we will all be free.”

Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and the last thing you heard before the world went black was Kyorlin’s voice, raised in a desperate, panicked yell.

“Help! Someone help! She’s been attacked!”

The urgency that filled the corridor was palpable as servants and guards clustered around your unconscious form. The whispers and rustling movements of their panic blurred together, creating a low hum of chaos. Kyorlin, still kneeling beside you, played his part with masterful precision. His hands trembled slightly as they cradled your head, his face drawn with just enough worry to seem genuine.

“Quickly! She needs the healers now!” he barked at the nearest servant, his voice breaking with carefully calculated urgency. “She said she felt tired, and then she just... collapsed!”

The gathered crowd accepted his explanation without question. After all, your recent ill health had been a topic of quiet concern throughout the household. You had been seen withdrawing from your duties, stepping away from council meetings, and struggling with exhaustion. That someone in your condition might faint was hardly surprising.

Several guards lifted you gently onto a stretcher, their movements precise and practiced. No one noticed the tiny cut beneath your robes, hidden and insignificant in appearance. To their eyes, it was nothing more than another bout of your worsening fatigue.

Minthara’s appearance silenced the murmurs. She strode into the corridor like a storm, her crimson eyes scanning the scene with a mix of confusion and barely restrained panic. Her grip on Lythaera tightened, the little girl held protectively against her chest.

“What happened?” Minthara demanded, her voice cutting through the noise. Kyorlin stood, his posture straightening as he met her gaze. His face was the perfect mask of concern and helplessness.

“We were speaking,” he explained, his voice low and calm. “She told me she was tired, and then she just collapsed. I called for help immediately.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze flicked to you, now being carried away by the servants. Her jaw clenched, her usual composure cracking at the edges. Lythaera squirmed in her arms, her wide eyes darting from her mother to you.

“I’m going with her,” Minthara said firmly, her tone brooking no argument as she took a step toward the retreating stretcher.

Kyorlin intercepted her, his movements careful, his voice soothing. “Minthara, wait. Let me take Lythaera. She shouldn’t see her mother like this—it will only upset her more.”

Minthara hesitated, her maternal instincts warring with her desire to stay at your side. Lythaera, perceptive even for her young age, looked up at her with wide, questioning eyes.

“She’ll be safe with me,” Kyorlin added, his tone softening as he held out his arms. “I’ll take her to Lesaonar and Melinoe’s quarters. You need to focus on my sister right now. She needs you.”

Minthara’s crimson eyes lingered on him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. She leaned down to kiss Lythaera’s forehead before handing her over.

“Look after her,” she said, her voice low and firm.

“Of course,” Kyorlin promised, his tone earnest. He cradled Lythaera gently, his grip firm but comforting. Minthara cast one last glance at you before hurrying after the stretcher, disappearing down the corridor toward the healers.

As soon as she was gone, Kyorlin’s expression changed. The concern evaporated, replaced by a cold smirk. He shifted Lythaera slightly in his arms, adjusting his hold as he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. His steps were measured, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. Lythaera, ever observant, tilted her head.

“Wrong way!” she said, her voice filled with the blunt curiosity only a child could manage. Kyorlin’s smirk widened, but his tone remained light and cheerful.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “We’re going on a little adventure instead.”

Lythaera’s brow furrowed, her small hands gripping the front of his tunic. “Adventure? Where?”

“You’ll see,” Kyorlin replied smoothly, his pace quickening. The shadows of the estate seemed to close in around them, and Lythaera’s unease grew as the familiar halls gave way to lesser-used corridors.

“Don’t like this way,” she mumbled, her voice growing quieter as her eyes darted nervously around.

Kyorlin’s smile turned cold, his blue eyes even colder, but he kept his voice gentle. “Don’t worry, little one. Soon, everything will be better. You’ll see.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Things were getting a little bit too chummy around here. Mwhahaha!

I hope you all enjoyed it, I think this chapter is a little shorter than others but don't worry lots to come!

Please let me know your thoughts and theories down below. I really love reading them and again, they are such amazing motivators for this series! Love you all! - Seluney xox

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[retiredteabag]

Wishful thinking

Arranged marriage with Nanami… part one?

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Nanami Kento was not in a sorcerer clan. In fact, he was the only sorcerer in his family. You had met him only once before you had been informed of the engagement, and in that brief interaction you had decided you knew exactly what type of man he was.

"It's a pain." had been his harsh words. Vitriol clear as day in his tone.

When asked what he felt about being a sorcerer his response had been that it was…a pain? Being the reserved individual he was, he didn't take the time to elaborate despite the questions of the sorcerers surrounding him.

You had rolled your eyes in that moment. Clearly, he had no sense of responsibility. No duty. I suppose that's what it means to not be in a clan. You had thought. He’s got no idea how good he has it.

And even though you chalked his image up in your mind as an irresponsible and pretentious git. The memory of his brutal gaze stuck in your mind. You knew deep down that it was simply jealousy.

Sorcery was a pain, there had been many instances where you wished you could put it aside and leave this world, but that was simply not what you were born for.

All those months ago, you had left the meeting with the Jujutsu higher-ups resentful. How lucky that man in the suit was, to not have an obligation to fulfill exactly what the clan heads asked of him. How free he must feel.

But, oh, how wrong you had been.

--

You had known your marriage was impending, having had meetings with your father and his subordinates on several occasions to discuss the offers from other clans.

Offers for your hand.

Offers for the rest of your miserable life, for your body, for your fertility, offers to impregnate you, and nothing much else.

You had been picky, of course, having known all your life this was forthcoming you were expecting to not have to rely on Zenin blood to uphold the family name.

Your father was no kind man but if there was one thing he was, it was prideful. If even his measly daughter could brush aside an important clan born man, he too could wait for a finer offer to come.

Back then, you had no idea that would lead to this.

You stood before a full-length mirror. Your dress came below your ankle, the neckline nothing short of chic modesty.

By all accounts and by the people serving you, you were expected to be prepared.

Your wedding was nothing special, a formality, nothing more. Clans from across Japan were here to see the ceremony. Still, your heart pounded as you gulped at your reflection. A shakily deep breath brought you little comfort as you squeezed your hand into a fist.

You knew little of the man you were to marry.

Here was what you had:

He was NOT a Zenin. Hallelujah.

He was not from any clan. (This had come as a shock to you, your father having only explored offers from fellow clan heads, you had no idea how this arrangement was to be made until Gakuganji, the principal of your school, Kyoto Jujutsu High, and one of the more powerfully cruel higher-ups, had arrived at your families estate, enlisting a "fine candidate" for your immanent marriage. He had seemed certain. Immovable.)

And last of the information you had, he was seemingly strong enough for your father to deem his ability to produce "quality children" acceptable. He was a grade 1 sorcerer, nothing to scoff at.

You knew your father would not have accepted the offer of a man without heritage if the higher-up’s had not endorsed it. Even now you wondered why they were so keen on this matrimony.

And that was all you had.

"You look beautiful." A maid from the estate was arranging your hair, she moved quickly, with a soft hand. You hardly noticed her. "I've heard he is a very gentle man," She starts up again after your eyes narrowed in the reflection of the mirror, "if that's any consolation." The women ends in a whisper.

You huff out a breath, "Thank you."

That's what they all say.

You wonder if she was lying to you. This morning you had heard your mother crying in your bedroom after you had made up your sheets for the last time. It made you sad, knowing she was afraid for you.

Afraid you would turn out like her.

You swallow with some effort and look up to the maid at your side, she smiled at you.

"It looks lovely." You say, assuming she wanted praise.

She lays a hand on your shoulder and her smile crinkles in a funny way, "He is very handsome." Her eyebrows tilt in a telling fashion, she almost giggles.

Great.

What were you to say to that?

"I... see." You look at the floor and turn away from your reflection. All that was left was for your father to arrive. To take your hand in an uncomfortably tight grip and lead you down the aisle to the man that was decided to be the father of your children.

"Is there anything you would like, before I leave you? It won't be long now..." The maid tries to meet your gaze so you look up to her face once more.

"No, there's nothing, thank you for helping me." You try to smile at her but your throat hurts from the brief amount of talking you have already done.

The women nods her head, she turns to go but hesitates at the door, for a moment you think she is going to turn and speak to you, to say something as a comfort perhaps, but just as her body holts to grip the door, the hinges swing away and your father steps in.

"Move out of my way. Move! Out!” Your father shoves at the women who had been by the threshold and she escapes out the door with a hushed apology and not a glance at yourself.

You stand before him. Resolved to not shutter in these moments. Neither of you speak until he swings his arms and says,

"Well, are you coming?"

You almost want to laugh. How you wish you could look up at the domineering man and say, no I don't think I am, but you knew better, and although he extends no arm to you, you take the few steps to his presence and heave a sign.

"Stand up straight. Serve us well."

You knew those would be all the words you heard from him tonight, as unhappy as you were to be married to a strange man, you felt pleased to know you would no longer be living in your clans estate, just as you knew your father would be glad to be rid of you.

Your fathers movements seemed all too fast. His steps, his reaching for your arm, his pulling you out the door and into the hall.

You felt as if time was slowing but those around you weren't effected. Your father huffed angrily, tugging you along. This was happening too fast. You didn't want this. You weren't ready.

You wiped the sweat from your palms over the satin dress hanging on your waist. The collar that once seemed elegant was starting to choke you. The door to the ceremony was drawing closer, you could hear music but it was almost as if the closer you came, the foggier it sounded.

Echos of your mother’s cries this morning permeated your brain. You knew you were asking for too much. But in those last moments before your autonomy would be taken from you, you had only one wish.

That the maid was right. That the man at the alter would truly be a gentle creature...would be tender....would be mild?

The doors were swinging open. The light was bright, but you did not dare to raise a hand to block its assault. You walked slowly, arm tightly locked in your fathers grasp. You noticed the clan leaders in the audience, but as your eyes tried to take in the man at the front of the room, you stuttered in your steps.

Hoping your father would take no notice, you tried to recall how you knew the man who was meeting your eye.

You began to put together who this man was, having met him before, though you hadn't been introduced. That one interaction had showed you he would not have been a man you would want to live the rest of your days with. He had seemed unhappy in those moment.

Fear shot through you.

An unhappy husband was more dangerous than any curse you had faced.

Having stared long enough, you drop your gaze from his own piercing one. You almost want to smile, but you're unable to.

Maybe he isn't as free as you thought he was. Poor him.

You wonder how he even managed to get in this predicament as the music began to come to its end. You're stepping up onto the platform that your future husband stood upon, your ankle wobbles in the heels that were chosen for you.

In a flash you see his arm reach out for you but you’re only confused, shrinking back a bit father from him.

You look to meet his gaze once more. He's barely a few breaths from you. His eyes seem focused on your face.

The officiant is talking but you cannot hear him.

You realize one of two things in this particular moment, one, the maid was right about something, this man was remarkably handsome. And second, you realize you're feeling quite faint.

The dress had not been so hot before you were standing before this man in front of all these people under the shine of all these lights. You swallow, dig your nails into your palms, the officiant seems to be speaking to the man before you and it isn't long before your husband speaks out a low, "I do."

You feel as though you must pay attention, your bit is coming up now and you would hate to embarrass your family, but you can hardly hear the man over the pounding in your ears. A prick of sweat starts to form on the back of your neck.

There is a pause in the mans speech, he looks at you intently, after a moment he raises a brow.

Oh, right. "I do." You say.

You look anywhere but your husband. Knowing you weren't expected to kiss, you try to take in some more air. This was it.

The officiant hands something to the man before you.

He's so tall. The suit he is wearing seems to fit him perfectly, and you can’t help wondering who helped him here today if he had no clan members.

His arm is suddenly in front of you, palm up. It takes you but a moment to know what he is asking for. You brace yourself and set your hand within his own.

He places his other hand onto yours for a moment, engulfing your hand in his grasp. You are shaking, you know you are, but with everything going on in this very moment, you are hoping he won't notice.

A ring is being slipped onto your finger. Good, now your turn.

He hands you his own, a plain ring of gold.

Don't drop it. Do not drop it. Don't-

You miss his ring finger once before finally sliding it on. You hope no one noticed. You pull your hand free of his first and look to your father in the crowd.

This was it, right?

There was an echo of the efficient, "I now pronounce you husband and wife", and the group before you claps in respect.

The man who you had just married is bending down to your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You look him from your peripheral vision, and he is tilting his head down the aisle a bit.

Ah, yes. Your hand is in his own as you go back down where you just came. Your life is forever changed now.

So much lay before you, so much for you to worry about, but the one thing on your mind in this moment is how the grip of your husbands hand is infinitely more pleasant than the aggressive clasp your father had on you.

You hope against hope, that maybe, you would never feel the harsh grip of a man again.

But that was too wishful, was it not?

[bunnyrafe]

𓊆ྀིRULES OF ENGAGEMENT𓊇ྀི — rafe & reader make their official debut at midsummers, but things can never seem to go to plan.

♥︎ 𝓃otes: so excited to share this one with everyone— i adore playing around with AUs and dynamics. enjoy xoxo

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. 900. arranged marriage AU. f!reader, kook!reader, mean!rafe, drinking, violence.

from your understanding, it was more or less ward's last wish. it was something him and rafe had privately discussed with your parents while you were somewhere twiddling your thumbs, you suppose. you were to marry into the cameron family and there was very little you could do about it— even after ward's passing.

it’s the way things go. it’s what the island needs.

your mother and father were more than happy to send you off to tannyhill, helping you pack up your childhood bedroom into designer duffle bags. from your stuffed animals and comfort items, to your prettiest sundresses and most expensive heels.

that night while you unpacked everything you were inconsolable. shivering in your new room that seemed uncomfortably vacant despite the vintage furniture and floral wallpaper. you could feel rafe’s gaze on your back. it burned right through your blouse— it made your frame tremble and shake more than your sobs ever could, all while he silently stood in the doorway like a sociopath.

“things aren’t so bad here, y’know?” rafe almost sounded like he was lamenting— like he was trying to convince himself more so than you.. but his next words were like a dagger to your chest, “i can guarantee i’ll treat you better than your parents did— they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

he was gone before you could say anything in return. although it would have been tearful nonsense.

for the first time since you entered the house, you felt like you could breathe due to his sudden absence.

midsummers— you almost wonder if this was all coordinated. it can’t be a coincidence that your first sighting as an “engaged couple” is at midsummers. yet you try not to dwell on it, because it’s too late now anyway as rafe helps you out of his truck.

you land on your heeled feet with a squeak, quickly fixing the skirt of your dress while he scoffs at you, “could you have worn a shorter fuckin’ dress?”

“fuck off.”

you bite back with zero hesitation, snatching your hand away from his own and grabbing your clutch out of the passenger seat where you left it. you stomp away with a clicking sound every time your feet fall on the pavement, and rafe can’t help but grin before he slams the truck door shut and follows behind you.

it takes you all of two minutes to find a glass of champagne and your friends. you ignore rafe's fond gaze on you from the bar, assuming it's nothing but an act for all of the other kooks around the two of you to fall for and fawn over. you're trying to have a good night— you haven't had that luxury in months.

rafe is content at the bar. until he feels an unwanted presence. some guy he vaguely remembers from the private school you all went to. he has the nerve to eye rafe up and down, leaning over the bar right next to him and slurring on his words—

“you got a good one— huh, cameron?” rafe watches this bastard’s gaze travel to you. you, who’s giggling with your group of girls and lighting up the whole room… but you're still causing trouble in that dress— “hate to say it, but i can’t believe i didn’t get a chance with her before you got to her. bet she's real sweet... right?”

rafe cocks his head to the side, breathing in deeply before he brings his scotch glass to his lips, shooting the rest of his whiskey in a single second before he slams the crystal down on the wooden bartop. in an instant, he has this guy’s collar balled up in his fists. nearly choking him with the stiff cotton making up his dress shirt with not an ounce of remorse as he threatens him, meaning it with every fiber of his being— “y’ever even think about her again i’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out— you hear me?”

when rafe lets go, he falls backwards.

a strong hand wraps around your bare arm, yanking you in whichever direction it wants you to go in while your eyebrows furrow and your face scrunches up.

rafe's voice meets your ears— "we gotta go."

at that your eyes meet his own. his irises are dark and his pupils are blown out with what you can only imagine is anger. his grip on your arm doesn't relent for a single second. especially now that he's dragging you out of the country club so fast that you're tripping over your feet. you feel dizzy with confusion, and the alcohol in your system only exacerbates the issue.

you throw your head over your shoulder, watching the fairy lights twinkle around the patio while both you and rafe get farther and farther away from them, "i haven't even talked to my parents yet..."

rafe only shoves you towards the car.

"why do you have to ruin everything?" you whisper as the waterworks start, just as rafe expected.

he grumbles in return, "shut the fuck up and get in the truck already."

the ride “home” is quiet. aside from your sniffles and tipsy babbles about how you want to go back. rafe grips the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles ache due to the tension, jaw locked even though there’s so much he would die to say to you.

if only you knew that he would kill for you.

[marshmallowdarling]

John Price got the letter early dawn, up just before the sun rises. A habit he and his boys can’t seem to shake after being at war for years, even if they had time to ‘relax’ now. 

John’s arm lazily wrapped around Kyle’s waist as he peers over the younger man’s shoulder to look at the recruit assessment forms with the sound of Simon’s cooking behind them, and the smell makes his mouth water. Food, actual food without the fear of living off rations around the corner, all of them had packed a few more pounds but John told them it was good, healthy weight covering their muscles and fuelling their bodies. 

A knock on the door breaks the soft morning atmosphere and all the men tense up, Johnny even pops his head in the doorframe from around the corner where he was still brushing his teeth. 

John pats Kyle’s waist and gives the others a soft reassuring nod before heading to the door, the others can hear soft muffled voices before John comes back with a letter in his hands and the boys can see the unmistakeable golden imperial seal, one they were all too familiar with. 

All of them had spent hours talking after finding out about the wedding, but a Knight couldn’t refuse an order and an agreement had been put in place after. Keep you safe even through their own emotions.

A few days and a multiple meetings later the boys are trying to tidy up the house, keeping their weapons that were strewn in every room in only a few now to not seem intimidating. The manor had originally came with help but John had let them all go, wanting his own privacy and knowing his boys wanted that too. 

John thought he had more time, way more time since the King hadn’t said anything about the actual wedding date or day or meeting you or your family…. But then you show up at their door with an imperial knight, your bags next to you and a letter in your hands with the golden imperial golden seal and John can tell it’s a marriage certificate without even opening it. 

He snaps into work-mode, his brain going a million miles per hour but his body nods to the Knight and opens the door wider for you to step inside, picking up your heavy luggage like its nothing to bring in after you as he kicks the door closed behind him. 

✮✮✮✮

It’s weird at first for everybody, obviously, but the boys get a big surprise. They had all brainstormed various of ideas on what you would be like, maybe a pompous spoilt brat, or scared out of your mind living with four blood-stained men, or maybe you would fight back and make their life hell but… 

You don’t care…. You *don’t* seem to care about their reputation. Your polite enough, only taking as much as you need, making little conversation but keeping to yourself, seeing that they already had a system. 

They had tried to keep their secret around you, they really did. Not wanting to make you seem like an outsider and not wanting to feel your judgement but all of them get restless. 

Simon was training most of the time with his balaclava on always even thought he had been finally working on letting himself relax a bit after being retired before you came along. 

Kyle was at work pulling more over time, training the recruits harder and before to try and get his frustrations of keeping his emotions at bay out. 

Johnny was at the local blacksmith, forging the same piece of metal over and over again while zoned out, hitting the same piece of hot metal with a cross peen hammer with all of his force. Feeling so pent up he was going to burst. 

And John Price, their ‘General’ who had always seemed to be so collected in every situation for all of them, is hit the worst. Wanting to stay around to make sure you were okay and settling in and he never thought he was a needy man but *Gods* did he seem to have taken for granted the small touches and praised words they all would share, especially since he saw how much it affected *his* boys and everything in him screamed at him to go make sure they were okay. 

Until the secret gets out when you walk into the kitchen late at night, having drank all of the water on your bedside table, to see John on top of Simon. Not having seen Simon’s face with his Balaclava half rolled up to only reveal his lips since it was dark with one a small candle lit. 

John rushes and stumbles over his words to try and say something but Simon stays silent, just wrapping his arms tighter around his captain’s waist almost possessively.  “It’s fine, I don’t know why you think I would care. I already knew.” You say so casually it wipes John out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DID YOU GUYS LIKE IT?! I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY RAHHHHH AND I WILL FEED YOU MY RAMBLES IF YOU WANT!!!

Also this MIGHT turn into dark content later down the line so please be careful with my profile! Also its 1am, ignore any mistakes.

Tag list (omg look at me mom, ive made it) : @sheep-from-rad

[seafoamdew]

Always gotta go the extra mile for the favs ✌🏼

[k0yaz]

shackled.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.

A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️

Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.

You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.

Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?

Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.

There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.

“I’m home.”

You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.

Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.

“You got some-“

“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.

Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.

Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.

A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.

Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.

Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.

“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”

She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.

However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.

Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.

Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment

“You didn’t want this either did you?”

Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.

“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.

“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.

“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”

You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.

“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.

“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”

Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.

Maybe, you could warm up to her.

A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: 18+ only! strong language, slightly aggressive!rafe, heated kissing, fingering, rafe is honestly super sweet n cute in this.

— note: it’s getting sexy in here😏

prev parts: one, two, three

series masterlist ⤑ taglist form

Y/N

I wake the next morning, my head throbbing and the smell of coffee filtering in through my bedroom door. I yawn, going to stretch my limbs but the feel of a strong set of arms draped across my waist has me stilling, my mind racing a hundred miles a minute.

What the fuck….?

I glance to the right of my bed, the sound of slow and steady breathing I hadn’t heard at first now hitting my ears. Oh fuck. Rafe. What is he doing in my bed? What the hell happened last night?

The last thing I remembered was him kissing me after our parents announced the engagement, and then he lead me into the kitchen where we both indulged in the copious amounts of alcohol my parents had provided for the night. I remembered the two us of finding his friends, Topper and Kelce, talking to them for a while before we had wandered off somewhere else within the house.

We’d gotten along fairly well last night. We weren’t fighting, or acting like we’d hated each other, but that didn’t mean anything… Right? Nothing happened between Rafe and I. It couldn’t have..

I softly lift his arm up and off my waist, letting it fall onto the bed before I lifted the covers, taking an inventory of my clothes. I still had my dress on, my underwear and bra hadn’t been removed… I felt fine. So why is Rafe in my bed? From what I’ve been told, — and just from what I’ve seen — Rafe didn’t sleep in bed with a girl unless he was fucking her.. But then again, he also never publicly showed affection towards any female, and last night he’d kissed me in front of a large crowd.

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I plant my feet on the ground, slowly and quietly trying to slip out the bed. I make it out of the bed, tiptoeing to my bathroom, but when my hand hits the knob, Rafe’s voice has my body tensing up.

“Trying to sneak out on me, huh?”

Fuck, he sounds sexy in the morning. His voice is low and raspy and thick with sleep. I release the door knob, slowly turning to face him. He’s laid on his side, his right elbow propped up on the bed with his right hand holding his face as he stares back at me. I rub my thighs together, trying to shake away the throb that’d formed between my legs from just looking at him.

I clear my throat, “Uh, no. I just.. I just need to brush.. Just need to brush my teeth.”

Fuck, I sound like a fucking idiot. Stumbling over my words like a fucking high school girl with a crush… Why is he making me feel things like this? I’ve always hated him, but now… Now I’m seeing him in a slightly different light, and I can’t shake the feelings that are digging their way up.

He smirks at me, breathing out a small laugh before he turns and lets his head fall back into my pillows. I watch as he makes himself comfortable in my bed, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline in confusion and shock. Rafe Cameron in my bed? If you would have told me this would be happening just a week ago, I’d laugh in your fucking face and say “Only in his dreams.”

Rafe turns his head to the side, bright blue eyes scanning the length of my body before he says, “Go brush your teeth and change into something more comfortable, then come back in here. We should talk.”

I open my mouth to respond, tell him that he can’t tell me what to do. But nothing comes out. I just clamp my mouth shut and turn, opening the bathroom door and quickly shutting myself inside.

My back hits the door, sliding down until my ass hits the cool tiled floors. I run my hands through my hair, something scraping against my scalp when as I do. I pull my left hand down, holding it out in front of my face. My eyes go wide when I notice the large diamond that sat on my finger. Holy shit? This wasn’t here last night… Is this? Of course it is, how could I not think that there’d be a ring? We’re getting married for Christ’s sake.

I begin sucking in large gasps of air, trying to mentally calm myself. It’s happening. He’s not so bad, is he? When the fuck did he put this ring on my finger? Why the fuck is this my life? What does he want to talk about? All the annoying, but valid thoughts run rampant in my mind. I shake my head, trying to shove all the incessant thoughts away as I will my shaky legs to stand again.

Quickly brushing my teeth and taking three ibuprofen, I push open my bathroom door and make my way back into my bedroom. Rafe still lays on my bed, but he’s on his phone now. He slowly turns his head, his icy blue gaze slowly moving from my feet and up to my face.

My face heats up under his intense stare. “What?” I ask, my voice slightly shaking. Damnit.

He locks his phone, placing it on the nightstand and sitting himself up in my bed, his back rested up against the headboard.

“You gonna change? That dress cannot be comfortable.”

I glance down at the tight fitted white dress my mom had chosen for me to wear last night. “Uh.. Yeah.”

I slowly make my way to my dresser, opening it and pulling out a pair of pink silk shorts and a white tank top. I slowly inch toward the bathroom again, but Rafe clears his throat, stopping me in my tracks.

“You don’t have to be shy around me. I’m gonna be your husband after all.”

My brows pinch together in confusion. “What do you want from me? You went from hating me to… not hating me… so fast. So what’s the catch?”

Rafe chuckles. “Who said I didn’t still hate you? You’re stuck up. You have this ‘I’m better than you’ complex. You don’t like fun,” He pauses, his blue eyes searching my face. “Honestly, you’re not my first choice for a wife. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever wanted to be married. But here we are. I guess you can say I’ve just accepted the situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

My entire body heats up. Of course he still hates me, I didn’t expect a week to change anything. But what does he want from me? “You don’t have to be shy around me.” What the fuck does that even mean? Does he think that just because we’re supposed to be married in three weeks that I’ll just throw all my morals away and let him have his way with me? Fuck that, he’ll have to work for me, even if all I want to do is bare myself to him and let him touch me.

I nod my head once. “Understood. So tell me then, Rafe. What is it you want from me? You want me to strip for you? You want me to just give myself to you because you’re set to be my husband? I’ve gone twenty-one years without letting a man see me or touch me, and believe me when I say, I can go another twenty-one. I won’t give into you so easily, I’m not one of your many girls that will just drop to her knees when you ask. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to change, and I’d like it if you’re gone by the time I come back out.”

I turn and grasp the doorknob, pushing open the bathroom door but Rafe’s hand gripping the back of my neck has my clothes falling to the floor, a sharp gasp pulled from my chest.

He spins me around, keeping a firm hold on my neck as his cold, blue eyes stare down at me.

“Princess, you will give into me. You will drop to your knees when I ask. And you will love every second of it, because I can promise you one thing, of all the men that could be your first, you’re lucky it’ll be me.”

I yank myself free from his grasp. My right hand lands a sharp slap across his cheek before I can process what I was doing. Oh shit. Did I just do that? Fuck fuck fuck. He’s definitely going to make me pay for that, and although I’m not necessarily afraid of Rafe Cameron, I can’t help but fear what he might do to me for such a stupid mistake.

His wild blue eyes stare down at me. I can’t quite read the expression on his face, but I can see the fire blazing behind those cool blue eyes, and it’s frightening. I open my mouth to apologize, but Rafe’s right hand grips the back of my neck tightly again, his lips crushing mine in a searing kiss.

I try and fight him off of me, but to no avail. He’s much stronger than me, and his grip on the back of my neck is bruising this time. He kisses me with so much force and passion it has my knees going weak and my heart thrumming wildly in my chest.

Rafe’s tongue flicks my upper lip, and I absentmindedly part my lips for him, allowing him to shove the pink muscle into my mouth. His left hand runs up my side, squeezing at my hip tightly before it continues its way up and around to the zipper on the back of my dress.

He breaks the kiss, his darkened over eyes staring down into mine. Slowly, he tugs the zipper down, the straps of my dress falling loosely down my shoulders as he does. He never takes his eyes off mine as he pushes the dress down my body, leaving me in nothing but the silky white bra and panties I’d chose to wear last night.

Releasing the grip on my neck, he steps back, planting both hands on my hips as his eyes take in my body. My heart picks up in my chest, beating wildly now, I don’t think I breathe as he continues staring down at me.

“Rafe… What’re you-”

He dips his head down, claiming my lips with his again as his hands run down my hips and to my ass. He grips the flesh in his hands, a small gasp escaping me at the unknown feeling. The spot between my legs is throbbing, my thighs rubbing together to try and ease the ache I felt.

Rafe breaks the kiss once more. “You’re very beautiful. Why do you hide? Why have you never let a man touch you?”

My cheeks burn from his question. It’s not that I’ve never wanted to be touched, and it’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity, I just didn’t like any of the men who threw themselves at me. I didn’t want to be just another notch in someone’s belt, and that’s exactly what I would’ve been to any man on this island.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Rafe’s soft but firm voice pulls me out of my own head, and I raise my eyes to meet his. Deep blue pools stare down at me, and something in my heart swells. I don’t know when I’d started feeling for Rafe within the last week, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it…

“I- I’m fine..”

His brow pinches together, a look of confusion etched into his beautiful face. He thankfully didn’t push the subject though.

His hands roam the expanse of my body, a trail of goosebumps left in the wake of his fingers. He digs his fingertips into the waistband of my panties, his eyes meeting mine once more. “Can I?”

My hands shake, and a large knot has formed in my throat. I knew I shouldn’t give in, I told myself not to give in, but something inside me had my head nodding a silent ‘yes’ to him.

His fingers dip down and into the silky material before the pushed down, letting the soft material fall around my ankles. My hands fell, instinctively covering myself from his eyes, but his large hands come down and slowly grip my wrists, pulling them away.

“Rafe..”

“Shhh, just let me make you feel good, alright?”

I slowly nodded my head, averting my eyes to the ground. He takes my right hand in his, pulling us toward my bed. He sits down first, still clad in his dress slacks but no shirt, pulling me down next and situating me between his thighs.

His left hand pushes my legs further apart, and every muscle in my body tenses. My nerves were on high alert, was I really about to let Rafe Cameron touch me? Yes. Was I nervous about what this meant after? Yes and no. He was going to be my husband after all, may as well get used to him now, right?

His fingers slowly run down my thigh, sending a shiver down my spine at the soft touch. He slowly inches down, down, down until his fingers reach the most sensitive part of my body. I gasp as his index finger lightly brushes against my clit, the sensitive bud throbbing with need.

Rafe’s lips kiss softly on my shoulder and up to my neck, the heat of his breath on my skin making my body tingle. “‘M gonna insert a finger now, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

My eyes squeeze shut, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as I nod my head once more. He slowly pushes his index finger inside me, groaning once he’s knuckle deep. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess.”

Slow and steady pushes of his finger has my breath catching in my throat, this felt unreal, like nothing I’d ever been able to do for myself. His lips left soft, wet kisses on the skin of my neck and shoulder as he continued to push his thick finger in and out of my arousal slick core, our uneven breaths mixing together in the air.

“Gonna add another, okay?” Rafe warned before his ring finger slowly pushed its way inside as well.

The feeling, the stretch, it felt amazing. Tears welled in the back of my eyes as he slowly thrusted his fingers inside of me, his thumb pressing firmly against my clit, slow torturous circles being rubbed against it.

A tight feeling brewed in my lower belly as his fingers picked up pace, his thumb still slowly rubbing against my sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Rafe… Oh, God.. I-”

My brain was fuzzy, this unfamiliar feeling growing inside me, white hot pleasure threatening to rush through me.

“You’re close,” Rafe whispered against my neck, “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. You can let go, baby. Make a mess on my hand.”

Strangled “mmphs” and “ahhh’s” fell from my lips, the pressure building up more and more until it exploded. Pure euphoria rushed through my entire body from my head to the tips of my toes, my body shaking and small, quiet whimpers escaping me.

Rafe didn’t let up, he continued to finger me through my high, his teeth nipping at my shoulder, earlobe and neck as he did. My body fell limp in his arms, his fingers finally slowing in pace before he removed them completely. I turned my head to face him, his eyes on mine as he shoved the two arousal soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“I… Thank you..” I said softly, trying to ignore the slight awkward tension that now crowded my room.

Rafe smiled, a real, genuine smile for once. “You’re welcome. I just believe we should get used to being around one another, I mean.. We’re getting married right? And I’ve always found you beautiful, I was just too stuck in my ways of hating you that I would never admit that shit out loud.”

His hard dick pressed into my ass, serving as a reminder that he’d just taken care of me, and I should probably return the favor.

“Do you… Uh.. Do you want me to, help you…” I asked awkwardly, my eyes darting from his face down to his lower region.

He chuckled. “Nah. Another day, sweet girl. We have a lot to do today.”

Oh shit. That’s right, today was food and cake tasting for the wedding, Rafe and I had to pick what entrées, appetizers, cake, et cetera we wanted to have for the wedding. I quickly jumped off my bed, grabbing my phone and checking the time. Shit. It’s ten-thirty. I had an hour and a half to shower and get ready to go.

“I’m uh.. I’m gonna shower.. You gonna be here when I get out?”

“Nah, I’m gonna head home and get ready myself, but I’ll be back here in an hour to pick you up. Please be ready?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah yeah, I’ll be ready. Um.. Thanks, again.”

He nods his head once, grabbing his shirt off my floor and tossing it on. I watch as he makes his way out of my room before I kick it into high gear and begin getting ready. I tried to shake the feelings I felt from my mind, but nothing worked. As much as I hated to admit it, I was falling for Rafe and his charm. The next hour, hell even the weeks to come, my mind was plagued with thoughts of the one person I never in a million years thought I could tolerate. Rafe Cameron.

RAFE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafesthroatbaby @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel @lovelysturnioloos @maybankslover @bellbottombaby @simars3 @rafesgiirl @urbimom @heartsforrafecameron @antagonize-me-motherfucker @araminsstufff @chaneydoll @bi-zowee @uraesthete @rafemotherfuckingcameron @gibbsgirl7 @queenvane @anobsessedwoman @sunny1616 @princesssuki21

[elysianightsss]

I BURN FOR YOU | MASTERLIST

Pairing | Duke Simon Riley x reader

Summary | Your parents and Simon’s arrange for the two of you to be betrothed against your will. Simon is away when all of this happens and when he’s back it’s already his wedding day. Your families have agreed if, when the London Season finishes in three months, your feelings remain unchanged for one another, you may separate. Simon never planned on getting married to anyone, and he certainly never planned on falling in love either.

Tags | Regency era au, arranged marriage, Simon being a douchebag, Simon being his grumpy self, panic attack, Simon slowly becoming sweet, smut, virgin reader, butler Johnny, slow burn, fluffy, angst.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Fin

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

Taglist | @watyousayin @corvusmorte @callmecurious97 @lilynotdilly @lunamoonbby @xheera @captainsarcasmandsass @c1garette-nightmares @myspaceisra @lucinda-reads @emmylous-world @svnh6021 @lucifers-demonic-breast-milk @alucardsdaddyissues @fruitymoonbeams-blog @stupid-little-birdie @misscaller06 @vivanlasbaleadas

[renjunphile]

for the rest of ours ᡣ𐭩 song eunseok

୨♡୧ WORD COUNT: 13.4k ୨♡୧ PAIRING: riize's song eunseok x female!reader ୨♡୧ TAGS & WARNINGS: chaebol heirs!au, rich kids!au, one sided enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, angsty at the start, overall fluff, reader is selfish and mean to eunseok for a good chunk of the story, brief unrequited love but y/n is an unreliable narrator tbh, second chance romance, she fell first but he fell harder trope, drinking, partying, non linear narrative

୨♡୧ SYNOPSIS: you find song eunseok to be utterly and despicably insufferable. too bad he's your fiancé since birth! and there was nothing you could do about it!

୨♡୧ NOTES: OHHHH im having such an intense eunseok rot that i had to write the most gut wrenching and nonsensical piece that becomes to sickeningly fluffy at the end. theyre just so in love with each other and there's literally no plot at all!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey one of the worst pieces i've written in recent times since i rushed it but i will edit and add scenes and plot in the future :> but for now, enjoy! ♡ i.b let my by zayn at the end :)

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

It may be disturbing for some and horrifying to say, but your eyes hadn't even fully formed in the womb to open and your limbs weren't even well defined enough to have joints when your life was signed off to another's. For goodness' sake, it had barely even been a month since your tiny, minuscule heart started beating! What would the Song's have done if you grew up ugly?

You sighed to yourself, muttering under your breath how Korea's third richest family should be grateful you were akin to art in anyone's eyes. You were looking through the dusty photo albums that the housekeeper found while tidying the primary study of the mansion, and you grimaced at the photos of your fiancé that appeared from even the very first page.

It was bad enough that you were engaged before you were born, but did he really have to attend your birth? He probably didn't even have memories then! But there it was, under your fingertips: a perfectly preserved photo of a 3-month old Eunseok bundled up in sleep suit being posed next to where the nurses placed you after they literally just took you out of your mother. You don't even think the umbilical cord had been cut yet.

"Y/N, Mr. Song is outside," your favourite housekeeper coos at you from the double doors going into the study. You give her a terse smile and stand up from your father's office chair, straightening your silk gown before taking her hand as she helped you down the marble stairs of your home.

You roll your eyes (mostly to yourself, but you didn't mind if he noticed) as you saw his car parked at the bottom of the stairs leading to your front door.

"You can't even be bothered to come and collect me? Or open the door for me?" you sneer as soon as you settled yourself into the passenger seat.

"Well hello to you too, my lovely wife," Eunseok smirks, immediately revving and setting off around the fountain of your courtyard.

"I'm not your wife," you snap, deciding to ignore when the word 'yet' seems to slip under his breath, "But seriously Eunseok? This car? I'm going to look so stupid trying to get out of this car in my dress and heels. Why do you love sitting on the floor so much?"

Eunseok has an extensive car range. One that any car junkie would envy, but Song Eunseok knew nothing about cars. He just had them because he could. This car was a sports car where you had to sit in such a ridiculous position just so the car could look cool on the outside.

"It's white!" he defends himself, slightly whining in a cute way to which you swallow down a positive reaction. His eyes flicker over to you momentarily and his tongue traces across his bottom lip, "You look gorgeous, by the way. Very bridal."

You're wearing a white silk dress that looks like it's made for your body. It's draped so beautifully around your hips and hugs every part that needs to be accentuated. You loved this dress the second you saw it in Paris, but you never thought then that it would be used for this occasion. 

"Just shut up and drive," you quip. It takes a few moments of silence for you to feel bad even though his expression remains neutral and you sigh, "I guess you don't look too bad."

"Aw, I knew you were in love with me!" he teases again, a phrase he liked to use every time you said something to him that wasn't snarky, sarcastic or an insult.

You choose not to reply, instead taking in the bright lights of Seoul as he pulls into a main road. You haven't been back in a while, holing yourself up in your penthouse in Manhattan, but you always loved the sight of home.

"But seriously, Y/N," Eunseok coughs to get your attention, his voice dropping down low and suddenly serious, "This actually might be your last chance to back out of this. Just say the word and I'll turn this car around and take you straight to Incheon and you can run away around the world long enough until they find me a new bride."

You turn to look at him, perplexed by his words, "And you? You actually want to get hitched off to some random?"

Eunseok shrugs, not meeting your eyes, "You're not some random. I've known you since you were born. I've known you'd be my wife since the day I could understand what that meant. But if I have to find a replacement because you don't want to do it anymore, I will."

"Gee, ever the gentleman," you deadpan, "I think want is a pretty strong word. I don't want to marry you, but I guess I will."

"You're not backing out? Not leaving me looking stupid up on the altar?" Eunseok taps his finger on the leather steering wheel.

You think about his words sincerely. There's really nothing more in the world that you'd love than to run away to a small little town on the southern coast of Italy- somewhere quaint and quiet where you'd find love and spend the rest of your days cooking, cleaning, baking and finding peace in the ocean. There's nothing more in the world that you want more than for someone to ask to marry you because they were in love with your soul and not having you by their side would be like torture in the cruelest form.

Alas, you're Kang Y/N of the powerful Kang family, the eldest child of your father and the next heir waiting to take over the conglomerate. And because you're Kang Y/N, the eldest daughter of the second richest family in Korea, you were contracted to marry the first son of the third richest family in Korea. After that, your companies would merge and you would overtake the Kim's as the sole ruler of the country.

"It's my duty," you swallow nervously as you begin to recognise the streets of where you were driving, signalling that you were soon approaching the venue, "It's fine, Eunseok."

"I wish it wasn't just fine. I wish this was what you wanted." he breathes out and your heart stops beating for a second before anger seeps in through the cracks of your heart.

"Do you think it's any girl's dream to marry someone that doesn't love them?"

Eunseok sighs as he presses on the breaks, moving through the lifted barrier where they had closed a portion of the street in anticipation for his car and your arrival. He twists his body to look at you, "Y/N-"

"It's fine, Eunseok," you grit your teeth as you repeat your words, eyes trained on the paparazzi camped out on the steps of the venue, eager to get a glimpse of you, "Let's just get this engagement party over with."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

Song Eunseok had to follow you around the world like a lost puppy.

When you said that you wanted to go to that boarding school in Switzerland where only the richest sent their kids, Eunseok was in the seat next to you on that first class flight. When you said that you were going to Oxford to study for your undergraduate degree, Eunseok was tossing away his dream to study at Harvard to join you getting drunk at 18 under the grey British sky. When you said that you wanted to do your masters at Columbia so you could live in New York City, Eunseok was moving into the apartment across yours while he worked at the company his dad created in New York just for him to have something to do there.

If you said jump, Eunseok had to say how high?

That was just the name of the game considering the Song's had more to gain from this arrangement. Your family was richer. Your family was in a greater range of industries. Your family's money went back a lot further than the Song's. And you- you were the most stunning woman in Eunseok's eyes and because of him, you were stripped of your choice to fall in love. That's why the Song family gave you princess treatment from the second you were able to demand things. 

You had protested until your vocal cords went raw when they found out that they were sending Eunseok to university with you. For years up until you turned 18, you had imagined finally getting away from Eunseok for once, even if just for 3 years. He had always talked about Harvard and with the grades to boot, you thought that you'd finally have an ocean separating you.

It certainly wasn't an easy fight at the airport as you threatened to drop out of university the second that you even stepped foot into the new country. All your father did was bat his eyelashes and give you a heartfelt, "Please, princess? Just do this for us."

The phrase 'just do this for us' nearly knocked you sick nowadays after over 2 decades of hearing it spew out of your father's mouth. Ultimately, yes, you were lucky to have such a loving family that never pushed anything evil or truly despicable onto you. This was the one thing they needed from you. They obliged every want and wish for the trade-off of giving your hand in marriage to the Song's first born son.

In June of your third year of university, a couple months out from your graduation, Eunseok turned up at your door completely drunk.

"What are you doing here?" your arms were crossed tightly, trying to cover as much of yourself as possible as you were clad in the smallest pyjamas for the British summer heat.

He grinned goofily up at you, eyes lazily fluttering open and closed, "Hi, Y/N. I'm drunk." He was leaning against the doorway, nearly making out with the frame.

"I can see that," you sniffed the air and grimaced, "And smell it. But what are you doing here?"

"Can't I visit my lovely fiancée on her 21st birthday?" he batted his long eyelashes sweetly at you, taking one step into the apartment. You gazed at him hesitantly, taking one step back.

"I don't think anyone would appreciate their fiancé turning up on their doorstep piss drunk at 2am," you spat, "If you truly wanted to wish me a happy birthday, you would have left me alone."

"I lost my keys," Eunseok groaned, "I didn't know where else to go."

It should be sweet that out of all the places he could have chosen to go to in the city, he went to yours. Instead, it made you feel angrier.

"Eunseok, stop bothering me," your words contrasted your actions as you pulled him into your apartment and locked the door behind him, "Go sleep in the spare bedroom and leave as soon as you wake up. I'm going out for breakfast with my friends tomorrow so lock the door behind you and keep the key with you 'til you see me next." You pulled the spare key out of the drawer and placed it in his pocket.

Like a pathetic dog, Eunseok followed behind you as you led him through the apartment your parents had bought for you.

"Can I sleep with you?" he murmured.

"In your dreams, Song," you retorted, stopping in front of the spare room door, "Plus, you stink like shit."

"Ah, it's okay," he sighed dreamily, resting his head against the door, "We have the rest of forever to sleep beside each other."

You let out a frustrated screech, shoving his chest, "Can you let me live in peace? Why do you have to keep reminding me?"

"In the hopes that one day the thought of it won't make you sick or angry," he replied, opening the door of the room.

Your strong gaze faltered, "What are you- in love with me?"

"No," Eunseok shook his head, "I could learn to though, if you wanted me to."

"The only thing I want from you is to be far away from me," you ran your hands through your hair to soothe yourself, "And even that you can't do."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Thanks for letting me stay," Eunseok gave up on his tyranny and dropped his voice, "Happy birthday."

You muster up a near half-smile, turning to return to your bed where you'd be tossing and turning until your alarm went off, "Goodnight Eunseok."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

The worst thing about your arrangement with Eunseok was that it was kept secret.

Of course, it was an open secret in your families and to the company- and there were always rumours about it since you two ended up always together around the world. But it wasn't like it was announced to the world at any point to protect the prospective merger happening when you and Eunseok came of age.

That made relationships very hard indeed. It always had to end in heartbreak, at least for the other person.

The two of you agreed that you could see other people if you wanted to, and you agreed on this the same day you had your very first heartbreak.

"Eunseok, can we talk?" you poked his side to catch his attention. Eunseok was bouncing his basketball up and down while he spoke with his friends just outside the school courts. It had been 2 months since you moved back to Korea after spending 3 years in Switzerland at boarding school, where you quickly became homesick. Eunseok followed you home immediately.

Your fiancé bid his friends goodbye and gave you a sweet smile, "Yeah of course. What's up?"

You led him to the adjacent square that was thankfully deserted and settled just under the bloomed cherry blossom tree in the middle, "Um."

Eunseok giggled at your hesitancy and pushed your hair behind your ear, "What is it?"

16 year old you blushed terrifically at that moment, highlighting your plump cheeks and shining eyes as Eunseok peered down at you.

"I know this is um, pretty stupid," you began, breaking his stare and looking down at your Prada loafers, "Well basically, my friend Jimin- you know Jimin?- she told me to-"

"Just say it, Y/N."

"I like you?"

It came out more of a question as you quirked your eyebrow up at your fiancé.

His eyes went wide, taking in a deep breath, "Y/N. You," he paused, "You like me?"

"Yeah," you exhaled, "Is that so bad? We're going to get married someday."

Eunseok looked around and noticed his friends turning the corner to the courtyard, presumably to look for him, "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry but I thought we were going to, you know, try experience life like how others do and meet people and do whatever we want to until they tell us we need to get married. I didn't think we were obliged to date."

Your eyes began to water and your lips began to quiver as sheer embarrassment sunk into your bones, "So what? You want to date around?"

Eunseok reached out to cup your face but you quickly took a step back, feeling humiliated and slightly bettayed, "I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't know you felt like this towards me. Look, can we talk later? I'll swing by your house after basketball practice, okay?"

From the ages of 0-16, you would say that you and Eunseok were close childhood friends. Even though you had no concept of marriage or love, your parents had forced the two of you to be together through every occasion with weekly play dates and attending the same schools. When you finally understood what being engaged to each other meant at around 12 years old, it made you swoon that you were going to spend the rest of your life with your best friend, who you'd always found endearingly cute. He became more handsome as the years went by and at 16, he was the object of all of your desires.

He was manly, he was protective, he was sporty and most of all, he treated you so well. He would run around town with you no question to go shopping and indulge you in all of your cravings even if you needed to have ice cream at 10pm in the dead of winter. He would take the train with you all around Switzerland to see different lakes and ski resorts. He would help you study in the library and pass you your favourite snacks whenever it seemed you were getting tired. He would give you his jacket on the breezy nights watching the local sports matches.

You were so blinded with your affection towards him that you had convinced yourself that he did those things because he liked you back. Because he wanted to treat his future wife well.

The day Eunseok stamped all over your little heart was the day you waged a one-sided war against him. Eventually, Eunseok began reciprocating your snarky attitude and the rest had been history.

You told your maids and house security to refuse entry to the grounds to Eunseok that night, but because of your parents' unconditional offer to Eunseok to make your house also his home, he had spent a good part of the night on the other side of your bedroom door trying to get you to open it so he could apologise. For a man you were once smitten for, it was easy to put on your headphones and drown him out until he got exhausted and left.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

Eunseok opens the car door for you and offers out his hand. In the darkness of his car, you grimace slightly, but force yourself to take his hand and use your free hand to smooth your dress out as you exit the car. The flashes from the press are blinding and carry on all the way up to the bottom of the staircase leading into the venue your parents had hired for the evening.

You try to keep a pleasant smile on your face as Eunseok passes his keys to the valet men before wrapping his arms around your waist. It comes nearly naturally to him, from all the photos your parents had made you pose together in dating back a decade or two. But it's your first official public appearance together, so the flashes intensify and you're taken aback. Eunseok feels you stumble slightly and begins to lead you along the carpet rolled out up to the stairs.

There's shouting from every direction- asking where your dress was from, asking if you were dating, asking why you were with the 'rival' company's son all the time- nothing new to you. After you traverse up the stairs, the two of you turn around and give a small wave at the cameras. You feel Eunseok drop his head down to yours, so you nestle yourself into him a bit more. How sweet, you thought to yourself, pushing down the urge to throw up at all this fakeness.

"Last chance to run," Eunseok murmurs as the doorman opens the glass doors into the foyer.

"Are you begging me to?" you counter, "Why do you keep insisting I back out?"

"I'm not. I just feel guilty, so I'll make up a solution if you want to stop all of this," he whispers into your ear. To others, it's an endearing moment as you keep your face neutral.

"It is all your fault. You should feel guilty. I'm not doing this for you or your family, but for my family. If this is what they want, then I'll oblige," you nod your head firmly.

While Eunseok's family was definitely benefiting more from the merger, it did come with some advantages for your family too: less competition in the market, combined success superseding the current top conglomerate, and for your parents: the knowledge that their first born child was going to have someone that was born to and raised from a good and rich family- someone that would be able to take care of you no matter what and understand your life in a way no other civilian could.

You know that your parents' argument for you to marry this guy was weak- there were plenty of good, rich guys from other companies- but you had been happy with the arrangement at the start and by the time you were 16 and he was breaking your heart, the companies had already started slowly merging or putting the plans into place. It was honestly a shame to your parents that other than rejecting you, Eunseok really had no faults. He was always polite, always courteous and intelligent enough to take over the conglomerate with you when the time would come.

Eunseok drops his arm from your waist, instead sliding his finger between yours.

"Miss. Y/L/N, Mr. Song," your family's general assistant approaches you in the foyer with a tight smile, "The event is about to begin. Please follow me to the stage. Are your speeches prepared?"

"Mhm," you hum, tugging Eunseok with you behind your assistant, "The rest of the family are here?"

"Yes. They're waiting by the stage," she replies as nerves finally settle into your stomach. You suddenly can't even look at Eunseok anymore as the gravity of the situation clicks into your mind. After this, you were going to be officially engaged in front of the world and you were going to be his bride in no less than a year from now. There was no turning back anymore.

Eunseok has to shoot you a look to stop you shaking on the stage as your father and his begin their speeches about their company, and the new era and blah, blah, blah. You tune them out in order to focus on your breathing and make sure you don't barf the second you step up to the podium. After minutes of nonsense, you feel Eunseok place his hand on the small of your back, signalling you to take to the stand.

"Um," you began, suddenly losing all the lessons you had learned in your public speaking classes growing up, "Thank you all for joining us on this occassion. As my father said, we are transitioning into a new era of our company and as I take on the role of COO, we believe it's important to have good people by your side to support you. While my family and the Songs are joining together in business, we are also joining together in family," you look over at Eunseok, who gives you a reassuring nod, "Song Eunseok and I are to be wed in one year's time. We have been close friends and partners since we were born and I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be by my side. We can go into this business partnership fully trusting each other and our companies and we would be grateful if you could give us your support. Thank you."

You step away from the podiums as gasps ring through the crowd. The business venture was nearly an open secret in the industry, but your relationship with Eunseok was based on rumours only, having never confirmed it. Now that you have, it would stir up all these new rumours- were you only getting married for the merger? Did you two actually love each other? What about all the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes that had been conniving to get even a bit of your or Eunseok's time to beg for your hand in marriage?

Eunseok takes his place beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist again as your families smile together for the pictures. The engagement party also doubled as a celebration for the merger, so at least all of the spotlight wasn't on you.

You're glad that your friends are here. They're all business heirs too, since like attracted like at your school. Your best friend Minjeong attacks you with a hug the second you step down from the stage.

"Ah, my best friend is getting married," she sighs dreamily into your ear, "You know what, Y/N, at least he's handsome. It's harder to hate someone when they look that good."

"Then you marry him," you chide, half-joking, "The problem has never been his looks. It's the situation."

"He doesn't hate you half as much as you hate him," Minjeong tuts, "And he's in the same situation. He never got a choice either."

You know deep down that she's right, but you're committed to making his life hell until the ends of the earth for breaking your heart. If anyone could say anything about you, it was that you could hold a grudge.

"Whose side are you on?" you prod her arm, but she rolls her eyes and links arms with you to join Eunseok and his friends.

"Happy engagement, lovebirds," Sungchan greets you with two kisses on your cheeks, "So excited to be at your wedding."

"I'm sitting you at the back," you retort, sticking your tongue out. You hated that Eunseok's friends were genuinely nice and funny people. It was so hard to distance yourself from Eunseok when your friendship groups had been deeply intertwined since you all could walk.

"Not when I'm a groomsman, right Eunseok-ie?" Sungchan swings his arm around his friend's shoulder, pulling him close, "Now tell me, who's the best man?"

Eunseok shoves his arm off, "You can just draw straws for it."

"I'll be the best man, hyung," Seunghan grins cheekily, "I'll make sure to give a really good speech, okay?"

"It's almost as if it's a real wedding," you smile bitterly, "Jeong, you'll be my maid of honour right?"

"You have to ask me properly," Minjeong whines, "We're going to do this wedding right, okay? My best friend will only get married once. I'm not letting you let your wedding planner do everything; we've been planning our dream weddings since we were 10 so we'll do it according to that."

"C'mon Y/N," Wonbin bumps his shoulder with yours, "We can make it fun. We know you'd rather not marry hyung, but he had always been the groom in all the weddings you'd plan when you were young. Now it's like a dream come true."

"Yah, Park Wonbin," Eunseok grits his teeth at his friend for bringing up the past. You wince at the reminder as Minjeong slaps his arm.

"Y/N, I think your mother is calling over you and Eunseok to dance," Shotaro calls for you softly, and you turn around to see your mother desperately signalling to you to join her on the dance floor.

"I'll see you guys later," you bid your friends a goodbye as you follow Eunseok into the crowd.

The night crawls by. It's nearly painful as you fake a smile with every passerby and acquaintance who congratulates you for your engagement. It feels like you're getting stabbed in the heart over and over again as everyone coos over how in love the two of you seem and how they always knew you were going to end up together. It crushes you as Eunseok leans down to your ear while you dance, apologising for how this was your life.

You get into his car after the party. The ride home is silent, apart from the noise of the city around you that seeps in even through the rolled up windows. Eunseok won't even dare breathe too loud in fear of making your life even less like what you had dreamed it to be.

He pulls up to your house and you make a quick move to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door in one motion, but Eunseok wraps his hand around your wrist gently, bringing you back down.

"What is it now, Song?" you sigh in frustration, closing your eyes in defeat.

"I know this night has made your hatred for me 10 times worse," Eunseok begins, shuffling in his seat to reach into his inside pocket, "And I know that what we have isn't real to you, but I thought you at least deserved this."

Your eyes flutter open and you look over to him. He uncurls his clenched hand, unveiling a shiny ring in the middle of his palm. You bite back the gasp that bubbles up through your throat, and you reluctantly take the ring between your fingers without looking at him.

It's exactly your dream ring. It's what you imagined the love of your life to propose with when you were younger. It's what you wanted to be someone's physical manifestation of their love and devotion to you. That makes it all the worse when it comes from Eunseok.

"I remembered," Eunseok reads your mind, "When we went ring shopping when we were young for fun because you wanted to make sure I would propose with the right ring. I hope it's still what you want."

You can't bear to look at Eunseok at all, so you clench the ring in your hand and open the door, "Goodnight Eunseok. Thank you. Get home safely."

There's 100 steps between your front door and your bedroom. It takes what's left of your energy to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape prematurely. As soon as your bedroom door clicks shut, you collapse against your floor and break down in tears.

Why did Song Eunseok have to be such a good man? Why did you have to hate him? He was yours now, and that was what younger you wanted all along. Why were you taking it out on him? You had been holding onto a grudge for so long and he had been trying to make amends in private ever since, despite going along with your whole enemies thing for his own fun.

You hated how you knew that Song Eunseok could and would give you the life you wanted. You hated how all you wanted to do was love him like it was your choice and for him to love you back like it was his. But in this world, you were privileged enough to have everything you ever wanted, aside from the choice to love whoever you wanted to.

You hated how you didn't even have a choice in loving someone who didn't love you back.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

You fought with Eunseok nearly every time that you saw him through your university years. You found problems in the way he positioned himself too close to you and problems in the way he would distance himself and act like strangers when you did complain about that. You found problems in the way he didn't talk to other girls despite rejecting you and found problems when he would go on dates after you said that.

In short, Song Eunseok was a problem to you.

Yizhuo was forcing shots into your hands and demanding that you downed them with her as you tried to tune back in to the party going on around you. You couldn't think of anything else the second that Song Eunseok walked through the door arm in arm with some girl.

It was the last party of your undergraduate university days, since exams had finished and you were going to graduate in just a couple of weeks. Someone had rented out some kind of manor in the outskirts of Oxford, dedicated for everyone to stay at and party for a weekend. You knew the organiser through a friend of a friend, but everyone that had been invited was someone you either knew personally or knew of. The spoilt brats community at your university was large, but tight.

You obliged Yizhuo's request and bitterly downed the drink, hissing as it burned through your tracts, "What is this? It tastes disgusting."

"Alcohol isn't made to taste nice," she tutted at you, following your line of sight before sighing, "I guess it's time to get you more so you don't have to be sober looking at that."

Minjeong shook her head on the other side of you, "I can't believe he would bring someone here. He knew you'd be here. So disrespectful."

You saw that Eunseok was about to turn, so you quickly spin away in order to avoid eye contact, "It doesn't matter to me. We're not dating."

"But he's your fiancé," Yizhuo stomped in defiance, "He should have some respect for you."

"Since he didn't want to date me, i'd rather him date other people. Then it just looks like he rejected me because he didn't like me as a person," you affirmed, taking another shot with Minjeong.

"Y/N, please. You were 16 when you confessed and 16 year old boys don't have the most mature outlook on life," Minjeong argued, coughing after the bitter shot, "I'm sure he's not stupid anymore. You grew up hot and he's practically tripping over his own feet trying to chase after you."

"He's not chasing me," you scoffed, "He brought a girl here."

"Oh, you're impossible, Y/N," Yizhuo cried out, beginning to slur, "What do you actually want that poor boy to do? Even I would be confused with the way you act."

Your best friends have been trying to knock sense into you since you turned 18 and Eunseok gave up his dream to study at Harvard to be with you in England. They had claimed that Eunseok realised his feelings for you and wanted to make up for rejecting you. You claimed that if that was his intention, he would have told you that by now instead of pestering you by inserting himself into your new life without reason.

"He can do whatever he wants," you turned your nose up, "I don't care about him."

"Well you better act that way. He's coming," Minjeong warned you, suddenly disappearing with Yizhuo and leaving you stranded with your fiancé walking towards you.

It honestly felt like the grim reaper floating over in slow motion before he came to collect your soul. You fought hard to control the grimace on your face as he stopped in front of you.

"Y/N," he greeted softly, leaning in to give you a hug. You stood still, but you don't push him away. You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat when he pressed his cheek gently against the top of your head.

"Eunseok,"

"How were exams? You're graduating this year, right?" his head is tilted at you, eyes focused into yours.

"Why are you even asking? I'm sure you know my plans for the next 10 years considering you're still following me around," you scoffed, "Does your new girl know you're moving to New York after graduation so you can stalk me while I do my masters?"

"Are you jealous?" he smirked suddenly, gentle demeanour disappearing, "She's just a friend."

"Does she know that? I don't care what you do, Song. I just feel bad for the poor girl whose heart you're going to break when you tell her you're engaged," you feigned nonchalance, pouring yourself another shot, "I guess it's my fault for telling you to have your fun and experience things since apparently you'll be so devoid of love when you get married."

"Y/N," he trailed off, grabbing the soju bottle that had appeared in your hands, "You know it's not like that. I didn't mean it like that when I reject-"

"Save it, Song," you rolled your eyes, "Your girl is coming. Don't go blaming me when time comes to break her heart."

You turned away in time and managed to snatch back your alcohol before arms wrap around Eunseok's and a high pitch voice squeals to him about how she lost him. You find Sungchan somewhere in the crowd and convince him to call you a taxi to take you back into the town where your apartment was. Before he could even confirm the booking, you had already disappeared into the crowd, the shots you had taken truly seeping into your blood and making your head spin.

You don't really remember what happened the rest of that night, but if you try hard enough, you can remember being tucked into a bed on the third floor, big eyes peering down at you as you tossed under the duvet, a hunched figure sat at the end of the bed on the floor and a soft voice singing you to a deep slumber.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

"It's gorgeous, darling," your mother's voice takes you out of the focus mode you're in. The sunlight seeps through the stained glass, illuminating the sunroom at the back of your house. If you look down through the windows, you'd find the garden that your mother has been cultivating for decades. The rose garden with its arches and its vines was where you'd dreamed to get proposed to when you were young.

"You think so?" you showed her the sketch in full, turning the pad, "Do you think it's easy enough to create in real life?"

"We can make anything you want happen," your mother takes a seat in the lounge chair next to yours.

"Can you make Eunseok love me back?" you hum dejectedly, shading in the corset of what would be your wedding dress.

"He does, sweetheart. You just refuse to see it," your mother swiftly utters, and you stop your drawing, clenching the pencil tightly in your fist.

"Why does everyone say that?" you growl, "Everyone but Eunseok."

"Because you act like you hate him. You act like marrying him is the worst thing in the world. You act like there's nothing he could say or do that would bring him back into your favour despite you loving him all these years," your mother is lecturing you now, "He follows your lead, my darling. He will go to the ends of the earth for you and he always has. What more does he have to do for you to accept the way he shows his love? What more can he do to have your forgiveness?"

There's tears welling up in your eyes and your mother takes the drawing pad away from you to examine the dress you had envisioned. She carries on while you chew your lip and fight back the tears.

"You're going to be beautiful in this dress. One year's time will fly by, so make amends with Eunseok by then. Even if you don't go into this marriage as lovers, at least go into it as friends. That will make your life easier."

"I don't want to be friends," you grit out.

"Mhm, you want all or nothing. Why don't you ask him, then? He threw the ball in your court when he asked you if this marriage is what you want. Someone who doesn't love you or care about you wouldn't give you the option to run away to save yourself, you know?" you hate how insightful your mother is as she grabs your left hand, "This ring is beautiful, Y/N. He knows your heart like it's his."

"Cause it is his," you choke as the tears begin falling, "And he stamped all over it 8 years ago."

"He was just a young boy back then. He's followed you all over the world to be by your side ever since. He's sacrificed his own life to make your dreams come true. You have no choice but to marry each other, but he's been making choices to give you the life you wanted," she strokes your hair gently, "Can you give the boy a chance?"

Over the years, your parents had apologised to you for putting you in such a situation. They had told you that if you truly, inside your heart, didn't want to get married to Song Eunseok, they would call the whole thing off. The marriage was a way to ensure the merger wouldn't go awry by putting you and Eunseok as collateral if one side ever did try to betray the other. Tying the two of you together in marriage was a way to prevent either families from ruining the other.

You considered putting a stop to things more times than you could count on your fingers, but selfishly, you would imagine yourself on a rocking chair on a porch, hair grey and skin wrinkly and when you would look over to see who would be on the other chair, Eunseok was the only one you could imagine with you.

"But I've treated him so horribly all these years," you hiccup, trying to stop your crying, "There's no way that Eunseok would love someone like me."

"Because you won't let him," she stands up and places the drawing pad back in your lap, "Y/N, your father and I love you very much and all we want is your happiness. We haven't opposed this marriage despite how hard you've tried to push Eunseok away because we know that if you let him, he would make you truly happy. You're the only person stopping that happiness."

You ponder on her words for a while after she leaves, adding little details to your dress. For someone who was acting like this wedding was going to ruin their life, you sure were investing a lot of your free time into it. Maybe Minjeong had gotten into your head; unless you planned to divorce Eunseok (after the 5 year clause, per the contract), you were only going to get married once, so you should at least do it in your style.

Wonbin was right at your engagement party. You'd been planning your wedding since young. You knew exactly which flowers you wanted to adorn the aisle, which flavour of cake you wanted to eat, which song was going to play while you walked down the aisle, and whose eyes you wanted on you on the other side as you did. Eunseok had always been your dream man- he was your first crush, your first love and your first heartbreak all rolled up into one devastatingly handsome package. You imagined him in his crisp suit, laughing through his tears because you just looked so beautiful, and the thought of that takes you out of your fantasy and back into the room that was filled not with tears of happiness, but of silence.

You look down at the ring. The sun is hitting it perfectly, making the diamond shimmer in the beam. You slide it off and inspect the band for the first time, wondering what size he got since you didn't even know your size. Your heart stops when you first notice it. It's so small that if you blinked at that moment, you probably wouldn't have even noticed it and you would've lived the rest of your life not knowing it was there.

You run your nail against the engraving, your breath hitched as you read it.

To the one I'll always choose.

It's always been about choice. This whole time, it's been about your freedom to choose.

You and Eunseok weren't born with the privilege of choosing the one who was going to love you so hard that it would drive you crazy. You were instead born with a silver spoon in your mouth and a signed contract that because your family was going to have a girl first, that girl would be married to the Song's first born when the time came.

There was no question or argument about it. You grew up beside Eunseok knowing you were going to spend the rest of your life together, so you chose to learn everything about him. You chose to learn that he loved playing basketball with his friends and that he became silly and unserious when around them. You chose to learn that he doted on his much younger baby brother and that he would fight anyone and anything that could bring harm to him. You chose to learn that Eunseok had a soft heart that had its very own soft spot reserved just for you- one that grew bigger after your hatred for him did as well.

While you chose to hate Eunseok for rejecting you, he chose to stick by your side anyways. He chose to join you in Oxford, even if most of his friends went to America to study. He chose to live at the block just down the street from yours, so he could walk behind you to lectures and check that you were okay every day without overwhelming you. He chose to sleep on hard floors and wake up with kinks in his neck because he chose to sing you to sleep while you were drunk and then refused to leave to sleep in a nice bed so he could watch over you and protect you in your state. He chose to take on a job in New York for two years instead of joining his father's company straight out of business school so that you had someone to accompany you on your midnight walks through New York City. He chose to give you the choice to leave if marrying him was truly a burden you couldn't bear, because your happiness was the grand reward of the consequences that he would bear in your place.

When you chose to hate him, Eunseok let love grow in the emptiness that you left behind instead. He would choose you a million times over and over again until the day you'd finally see it. Your hatred for the situation stemmed from the fact that you thought your choices were stripped away in being arranged to marry. You wanted Eunseok to love you not because he had to, but because it was his choice to.

You were too blind by your rage to see that Eunseok had been choosing you over and over again not because of the arrangement, but in spite of it. That was the greatest love of them all.

-

On the next sunny day, Eunseok joins you on the bench in the middle of the rose garden. You'd been sketching up ideas on how you want the aisle to look like. You were thinking light flowers along the bottom with candles dispersed to illuminate it. In your dreams, you'd get married at sunset in a glass pavilion that could hold only your closest friends and families. As the sun started dipping, the candles would take over as the source of light and bathe everyone in a soft, golden glow. In your dreams, the light would reflect onto Eunseok's face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and large, round eyes that were peering down into yours.

"What did you call me over for?" Eunseok sits on his hands and looks around. It's spring time and the garden is at its most vibrant and beautiful.

You hold out your hand in front of you, "I found the engraving on the ring."

Eunseok takes a sharp breath in, "Ah you did?"

"Did you not want me to see it?"

"I had just hoped that whenever you did see it, you would believe it," Eunseok whispered, "It's true, by the way."

"I know," your response has Eunseok turning his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash.

"You do?"

"Mhm. You chose to follow me around the world despite me hating you and you having to give up on your dream schools just so you could try to prove yourself to me. You chose to keep giving me gifts on birthdays when we were abroad since my family often couldn't make it. You always choose me. Why?"

"In part to make amends for the mistake I made when I was young pushing away your feelings like that without thought," Eunseok explained, "But for the most part because I care about you and I want to make the best of a bad situation we're in. I know that no one wants to be in an arranged marriage. I just wanted to show you that I could give you the life you wanted. That you could be happy with me."

Your heart aches at his words as you realise how truly misguided your perception of him was. You had thought that he was following you around to torment you and to remind you that you could never be free, but all this time, he was letting you live your dreams and staying by your side to show that he was supporting you.

"I've treated you so badly over the years and you still want to marry me?" you meet his eyes that have been trained on you since the moment he sat down.

Eunseok giggles and reaches up his warm palm to your cold face, "Hm, your words are harmless Y/N. You've shown your affection to me in other ways; I know you love me."

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, "In your dreams, Song."

"Mhm, actually in your dreams," Eunseok teases, "Considering you've been dreaming about marrying me for 10 years."

"And I don't know why. I must be sick in the head for that. Did you hit me in the head when we were young or something?" you retort, trying to move away from him.

Eunseok lets out a full-bodied laugh that sends butterflies through you instead of the burning rage that usually ensued whenever he was having fun in front of you. He stretched his arm around you behind the bench and pulled you closer to him, "Just admit it, Y/N. Everyone knows you've had a fat crush on me since we were teens and it's only ever grown. There's a very, very fine line between love and hate."

"I still hate you," you grumble, "This doesn't mean anything."

Eunseok drops his head down, pushing your head into his shoulder. Your first instinct is to recoil away and grimace, but Eunseok's grip on your shoulder is tight, so you try to relax in his hold.

"You'll always be my girl, Y/N. You just have to accept that."

You hum and watch the bees buzz around the rose garden, "I've always wanted the whole ordeal- the crushing, the pining, the courting, going on dates, having your firsts, moving in together, proposing how you want. I feel like that was taken away from me before I even knew what they were and even if we do those things, how would I know what's real and what's fake? What you're doing because of me and what you're doing because of the arrangement- that kind of stuff."

Eunseok's heartbeat is slow and strong, "The arrangement only brought us to each other. How can I make you believe that everything I do for you is because I want to?"

"How about we start with when you rejected me and left poor little 16 year old me heartbroken?"

Eunseok scoffs, "Y/N, I was stupid, okay? It was a mistake, I was young and I was too blind to see what was in front of me. You were still special to me back then and I have always cared for you, but I didn't know what I wanted back then. I grew up and haven't looked back since."

"And the girls you brought around at university?"

"Because you were demanding that I dated other people," Eunseok rolls his eyes, thinking about your past explosive arguments about relationships, "I just went on dates here and there, but never anything serious. I always let them know that I couldn't commit, but you know there was a line wrapping around Oxford wanting to date me."

You chuckle at that. Everyone was falling over their feet for the chance to get just a second of Song Eunseok's time, the same way he was doing to you. He was incredibly popular and girls would approach you to ask you to set them up, but you would always growl and send them on their way.

"You were only the most eligible bachelor because you're the son of the third richest family in Korea," you sneer, jokingly.

"And I'm handsome, charming, intelligent and kind," Eunseok lists off his traits on his fingers, "But everyone knows you've always had my heart."

"I don't know if I can believe that."

He shrugs simply beside you, "Doesn't matter. I can show you now."

"What?"

"We can date from now on. I'll show you how I feel. Then in one year's time, you'll be gladly getting married to me instead of having to be dragged up the aisle kicking and screaming by your family," he says it so casually that you question if the shocked reaction you're having is the abnormal one.

"Date?" you splutter out, completely bewildered, pulling away from him, "Us two? Now?"

"Why are you saying it like it's crazy? I basically just confessed to you," Eunseok crosses his arms in front of his chest and tilts his head in confusion, "Are you rejecting me? Is this payback?"

You wave your hand in dismissal, "Yah, you're really confusing me here, Eunseok. I don't know what I'm feeling right now."

He laughs again, and he's glad that he can finally laugh with you for the first time in years. He takes your hand between his and squeezes assuringly, "It's okay. We can figure it out together as we go. Just stay by my side, okay?"

You sigh into the breeze. The air was crisping up as the sky began to illuminate in visions of pink and purple. You look over at Eunseok and the reflection of the sun makes his eyes look iridescent. One thing you've always known about Eunseok is that with him, you felt safe, so you nod and squeeze his hand back, "Yeah."

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The first time you saw Eunseok again after your undergraduate graduation, it was in New York City at the end of summer.

You had spent the entire summer travelling nearly every country in Europe with your friends, while Eunseok was forced to come home and start learning how to actually work in his father's company before he started his role at the New York branch. You were glad to have this summer without him considering the two of you spent your summers together as children and as teens, your friendship groups overlapped so you also had to hang out with him.

There were endless boxes in your apartment since decorating your space was one of your life's great pleasures. The boxes were organised by room and had been shipped out from England at the start of the summer when you moved out. They'd been collecting dust, so all your windows were thrown open in the summer heat to air out the apartment and the dust. Of course you had AC, but there was something about the noise of the city traffic and the hustle and bustle travelling up to your apartment that made you feel like you were truly in the city.

The knock on your door made you groan instantly and you had to suppress the urge of banging your head into the coffee table you were decorating. You took small and slow steps to the front door, but the pattering on the door wasn't letting up.

"Already here to bother me on my first day? It's only been like 3 hours since I got off the plane," you sighed as you came face to face with your dreaded fiancé.

Eunseok rolled his eyes and pushed past your shoulders into your kitchen, "I know you missed me. I brought takeout since you probably haven't eaten and don't have any food yet." Eunseok held up a bag of his favourite Korean food in the city and placed it on your dining table, dishing out the styrofoam boxes.

He arrived in the city a week and a half before you did, moving into the apartment across the hall so he had been able to get himself settled into both his job and his city before you came to rain down terror on him.

"What makes you think I want to eat with you?"

"I bought it, so I'm gonna eat it. Up to you if you wanna starve or not," Eunseok shrugged, already making himself comfy in one of your expensive dining chairs. He took out some plastic cutlery from the bag and began to dig in to the beef bibimbap he had ordered for himself. There was another few boxes of food in the bag, all of which smelling amazing and instantly causing your stomach to grumble.

Sheepishly, you took the seat across from him and scavenged through the food. He had ordered you some tteokbokki and a stew with some rice. Either he knew you too well or it was a lucky guess. For the sake of your heart, you settled on the latter choice.

The two of you ate in silence for a while, not really looking up at each other and just staring passively at your food. Silence was few and far between when it came to you and Eunseok. It was always hushed arguing or full blown insulting between the two of you no matter where you went or how inappropriate it may have seemed to others. You were sure there were rumours that the two of you didn't always get on despite being photographed together so often, but your families' PR teams were experts in mangling all those 'rumours'. 

You broke the silence first, "How's the new job?"

The heir in front of you coughs and looks at you strangely, as if he couldn't believe you would ask him that, "It's... work. Not horrible and met a couple friendly colleagues. Having this job does make me feel so grown up and responsible, though," after the initial shock of you initiating a conversation, Eunseok began blabbering about his new position at his family's company.

"Well then hopefully it makes you more mature," you snide.

Eunseok scoffed, "Trust me, Y/N, when I say that I'm the more mature one out of us. You'll find out what I mean one day."

"If you were mature enough, you'd know to oppose this crazy marriage with me," you turned your head away from him, feeling the anger bubble up again.

"And it's because I'm mature enough that I'm not," he shrugged, "Unlike you, I don't think this marriage will be the worst thing that can happen to me."

"I'm honoured," you retorted, "I don't know why you think that when all I've done is make your life difficult. Why would you think I can't continue for the rest of our lives?"

He smiled coyly at you, pushing a drink that appeared in the bag towards you, "You'll get tired, sweetheart. Then you'll fall in love with me."

You feel sick at how he's all entirely wrong. Despite that, you appreciate how he's always able to diffuse any tension between the two of you even if his words are always cocky and arrogant. z

You don't say anything to him for a long while. When you finished up your food in silence, he packed everything anyway and placed it in the correct bins. Wordlessly, he began to unpack your boxes with you, unwrapping everything bubble wrapped and placing it on the kitchen counters for you to organise. You would have protested this act of service, but he's right- fighting him all the time does get tiring.

In this light from the living room as the sun setting made your apartment glow and burst with light, Eunseok looks radiant. You hope he can't see you admiring him from the next room. It's almost as if you're a normal couple, moving into their first home and starting their new life together. It's a melancholy sight as you ponder the what if's.

He breaks down all of your boxes flat, humming to himself a song that you think you've heard at the end of parties when you'd be sat on someone's bedroom floor just talking or playing cards half-drunk. Eunseok turned his head towards you and you whipped your head away so fast it hurts your neck.

"You still have this?" he held up a mug that instantly flashed you back to 6 years ago. The mug is majority a light pink and wonky in places since you made it yourself from clay. It was a few months process making and painting the mug, but when you were 15 with the biggest crush on him, having a mug brandishing "Y/N + EUNSEOK" on it made you feel giddy inside.

"All my other mugs broke," you lied through your teeth, snatching it from his grip and placing it in a random empty cupboard, "My mother packed it for me when I moved to Oxford."

"Mhm, okay," you could tell he was smirking but you made yourself busy with the plates, "I'm gonna take the boxes down to the recycling. Do you want any more help?"

"I've had enough of you for today," you breathed out. Too much time with him truly drove you crazy, "But thanks."

"Anytime, princess. I'm just across the hall if you need me and I'll get your number whenever you get it set up." he wiped his hands on his jeans and have you that charming smile that made you fall in the first place.

You see him out wordlessly. You don't argue when he turns up the next day demanding for your number in case you ever needed anything from him (or if he wanted to come and bother you). You feign annoyance when one morning he's insisting that he ran out of coffee in his apartment and wanted some of yours. You leave him in your apartment because you were running late to class, but when you get home, you open the cupboard and try not to fall all over again when you see a matching, much lumpier, handmade blue mug that brandished the words "TO FOREVER <3" on it next to yours.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

You're tossing and turning in your seat as Eunseok shakes you gently. He laughs when you groan under your breath as he wakes you up, "Sit up. We're landing soon."

The sleep you got on the flight was long, but you still woke up incredibly tired since you kept getting woken up for meals. You were grateful that you could fly first class with separate seats and beds, otherwise you'd be much more groggy than you already were.

Buckling yourself in the seat next to Eunseok's, you yawn, "Eunseok, what the fuck is an engagement trip?"

"A trip celebrating our engagement, duh," he looks at you like you're stupid, so you shove him as hard as your tired body could muster, "Like a honeymoon but before. Never too many excuses to take a vacation. Plus, we're going to be busy this trip."

You've never taken a vacation with just Eunseok before. Sure, you've lived in three different countries together outside of Korea and gone on a couple of vacations as children and with a large group of friends, but never just the two of you with a purpose.

"I don't understand why our wedding planner couldn't just pick a venue for herself and call it a day. Why must we go all the way to Italy and do it ourselves?" you're up to your neck in work, but you couldn't protest when you found a week blocked off in your calendar by your assistant, telling you it was 'orders from above' AKA your father.

"It was my idea," he confesses with a shrug, "Won't it be nice if we actually like where we're getting married? If we chose it ourselves because we can see ourselves getting married there?"

It feels like your heart is clenching at the insinuations behind his words. He wants to get involved with your wedding planning, like it's a real wedding. You sniff and turn away from him. It is a real wedding, you remind yourself. You were going to get married legally and this wedding was real, no matter the intention behind it. No matter if you loved or hated each other, it was a real wedding.

"Yeah. Everywhere in Italy is nice so at leadt it'll be a good trip," the past couple of months since you've been officially engaged to Eunseok, you've been attempting to be nicer and hold back your retorts. You've made an effort to argue less and he's been trying to get on your good side. You've both been busy with work considering the news of the merger brought a whole new wave of problems, so you've had no time to interrogate his profession to "date" you. Thank gosh, because your heart would not be able to take that.

The plane lands soon enough and before you know it, you're in a private car going to your hotel. You were staying in Milan, but driving around Lake Como and Tuscany to tour the list of potential venues that your wedding planner had come up with. You were definitely going to be exhausted by the end of it.

The drive was relatively silent, just listening to music and looking out of the window, but when you arrive at the hotel, Eunseok opens the car door for you and snakes his arm around your waist as you walk up to the front desk, "Hello. We're checking in to the penthouse suite. For Song?"

The hotel clerk smiles sweetly, handing over your keys swiftly, "All ready for you both, Mr Song. Congratulations on your engagement."

You're spluttering a thank you with flushed cheeks as Eunseok drags you over to the elevator, "You told them?"

"I just wanted the free champagne that I assume will be up there," he grins cheekily and you roll your eyes. As if he couldn't afford it.

You are however delighted to find a small cake beside the bucket of ice cold champagne and you dig into the red velvet goodness as you watch Eunseok open up your suitcases and hang your clothes up in the master bedroom wardrobe meticulously. You're halfway into the cake when he drags his suitcases out of the room.

"Wait, where are you going?" you frown.

Eunseok snickers, "To the other bedroom? Why? Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Oh. I just didn't know there were two rooms." you say sheepishly.

Eunseok stops in his tracks, hand on his suitcase loosening, "So you went into this trip okay with the thought of sleeping with me? If so, I'll stay here with you then."

"No!" you call out, "Just- just shut up and go."

The smirk on his face is smug as he nods and continues his leave, "Alright, sweetheart, but let me know if you get nightmares and want company."

You bear the butter knife at him and he laughs melodically on his way out. You pop the champagne yourself and drown a glass down, hoping you'd be able to make it out the trip unscathed. He's running into the room with a pout after hearing the loud pop of the corkscrew, so you pour the both of you a glass and you clink them together as you chugged them back.

The days pass by similarly. You wake up and have breakfast together before embarking on a sleepy drive to a venue. You have lunch in endless terraces and gardens under the sun, basking in the heat and evaluating the venue you saw that morning. You both ooh and ahh at different venues that all look the same before you find a flaw in it that stops you from making the decision to host one of the most important days of your lives there. Some are too big, some too small, too pretentious, not pretty enough, the flowers aren't the ones you envisioned, the location too secluded or not enough. You always agree on the flaws of the venues and it's the penultimate full day when you make it to the final venue on the list.

"If I don't like this venue then I'm not marrying you," you huff in the car as it pulls up the driveway.

"Who knew wedding venues were so complicated?" Eunseok exhales in frustration, "Should we just get married in Seoul?"

You puff out your lips, "Italy was always my dream, but I was naive to the process."

Eunseok smiles and takes your hand, "I have faith in this one. At least I hope." The commitment he has to giving you your dream wedding despite it all is unwavering.

When you enter the final venue, you think that maybe it was the last on the list for a reason, since you're blown away every step you take through the grounds. The hallways to the main room is ornate and delicate at the same time, with pretty floral paintings wrapping the walls and big windows letting in the golden light. The room where your reception could be held is stunning with murals all over the walls and a dome ceiling that compliments it perfectly. It's neither too big, nor too small and there's little nooks and crannies for guests to nestle themselves in. You could see yourself in the middle, slow dancing with your head on your husband's shoulder.

"This is nice," Eunseok awes, coming up behind you with the grounds manager, "Very pretty."

You nod in agreement and ask to see the gardens, since you always wanted to get married outside in the sun. The manager gushes over the outside while she leads you out and your heart is pounding in anticipation. Eunseok probably guessed how giddy you were, because he joins you by your side and gives you a hopeful look.

"We're here. Most brides start from here and have the aisle straight down to the arch."

She throws open the double doors and you gasp in admiration at the sight in front of you. The stairs going down to the garden seen steep, but grand. You envision that your father could probably help you hobble down to the garden, where it was staged as a wedding venue. There's chairs laid out in rows, decorated in tulle and bows with an aisle adorned in flowers. At the end of the garden, there's an arch with vines wrapped around it and flowers creeping up. From where you were standing, you could see that this garden was actually on a balcony overlooking a lake that seemed to be glowing and sparkling as the slight wind caused some ripples on the surface

"I'll give you two some time to explore?" she proposes, to which Eunseok nods and wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you down the stairs.

"First impressions?" he's looking around with blown out pupils as the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs and the beginning of the aisle.

"I like this one a lot," you shyly admit, "It's exactly what I imagined."

"I love it as well. Why don't you walk down the aisle and see how you feel. Imagine yourself on the day," he's taking off in front of you, running swiftly to the arch before you could even take a breath and get a word out.

At his antics, you let out a full-belly laugh and straighten out the ivory dress you happened to be wearing. You look down at the slip dress hitting your ankles and think it might be fate you chose to wear this specific dress on this specific day. You look up and find Eunseok suddenly frozen still at the other end, hands intertwined in front of him and his eyes trained solely on you.

When he notices that you meet his eyes, he gives you a gentle smile as he mouths to you, "Come here."

It takes you a few breaths to actually muster up the courage to follow his direction. You think that walking down a straight path shouldn't be such a big deal, but the thought that this could be the very steps you take to marry the same man at the end in less than a year's time strikes your heart.

The aisle is a soft and smooth stone, perfect for walking on in high heels. It's wide enough that a wedding dress wouldn't drag along the sides and knock over the flowers and long enough for anticipation to build as Eunseok gazes down at you from afar.

"Y/N," Eunseok calls over.

You take the first step and your breath catches in your throat. All you can look at is Eunseok now, with his shirt unbuttoned at the first three to expose some chest and his hair falling over his eyes. He keeps fidgeting with his fingers, as if he couldn't stand still and his lips are puckering and stretching as if he had much more to say.

The second step is easier than the first and the third one even more so. By the fifth step, Eunseok is chewing on his bottom lip and you're ridden with anticipation to meet him at the end.

With each step you take down the aisle, you're flashed back to all the crucial moments in your life with Song Eunseok so far.

You were sandbox best friends. You learned to walk together, and then ride bikes with each other. You learned to swim in the same swimming pool that still remained in your garden. You learned to ski and snowboard with each other in the blustery mountains of the alps. You were each other's first heartbreaks when you were teens. You took your first alcoholic drink together with your friends by the Han river, faces flushed red and hearts beating out of your chests at the prospect of getting caught. You got blackout drunk together for the first time during your first week of university. You posed together as you threw your graduation caps up in the air at the end of the three years. You chased each other around New York City, running around in blocks after he snatched your phone from your grasp when you would ignore him. You begrudgingly invited him to ride swan paddle boats with you in every lake and river around the city since he was the only person that would drop everything for you at a moment's notice. You would leave containers of home cooked food outside his doors when you noticed he was getting swamped with work, knowing he had the tendency to either order too much unhealthy takeout or stop eating altogether when busy.

With every step you take to meet Eunseok at the bottom of the aisle, you accept that Eunseok has been with you for every step of your life.

He's an arm's length away when you notice his eyes are glossier than usual. Eunseok refuses to break the stare between the two of you as you arrive in front of him, exactly where you would stand under the arch if you got married at this very space.

"Are you crying?" you whisper, afraid of your own voice.

He chortles and dabs at his eyes, "It's just the wind."

"Mhm," you hum, fighting back the smile threatening to expose your emotions, "What do you think?"

Eunseok takes a bold step towards you and closes the gap between your bodies. He's closer than you've ever had him and you can nearly feel his breath on your skin. It's making you dizzy but all you can do is keep your eyes on him.

"Eunseok," you murmur in a hushed tone.

His head is drifting closer down to yours, forehead nearly touching. If you moved your face even just by a centimetre, your noses would bump and you knew you wouldn't be able to stop yourself.

"Let's get married here," Eunseok nudges his face forwards. You have to stop yourself from pulling back even with the drumming in your chest, "You're going to look so beautiful. You do already."

"I like this place. Our parents would like it here too."

Eunseok's eyes flutter shut as he sighs and shakes his head gently, "No, let's get married here because we want to, not because our parents would like it. Let's get married because we want to."

"Eunseok," his name falls out of your mouth like it's the most sacred word you can say.

His forehead is still pressed against yours, his eyes squeezed tight and his palm comes up to make home on your cheek, "I love you. I always have."

Sincerity drips from his words and you know that this time, it's the real thing. It's the words you'd been dying to hear him say sincerely for a decade. It's the words that underlined every fight and argument you've had as adults. He finally and bravely bares his heart to you for the first time, still considerate as he always had been by giving you the choice to determine what will end up of the two of you.

There's something different about his profession of love after all you'd experienced together. Back then, when you confessed that you liked him, the world would probably say it was just some puppy love- a silly high school crush. Something that would fizzle over and dissolve when you would experience the real hardships of life and what it could throw at you. You think that a late confession carries a profound and heartfelt meaning like no other.

"Seok-"

He cuts you off before you could finish, pulling away from you and causing you to open your eyes, "I don't need an answer yet, Y/N. I just need you to know that I want to be with you. I want to be your boyfriend, your husband, your partner- whatever you want me to be. I want to make you only happy from now on, instead of angry or resentful. I want to be by your side and keep following you around the world. I want everything with you."

You've never felt more sure of anything else in the world when you bounce up on your tiptoes and capture his face between your hands, pressing your lips against his. It feels like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, but at the same time feeling relief as if this was the one thing in the world that could finally relieve you from all the anger and bitterness you had been displaying and trying to internalise for all these years. Deep down, you could never ever hate Song Eunseok, the boy who has had your heart since you were just young.

He's rigid for a split second while he processes your own confession, but he quickly regains enough composure to part his lips and deepen the kiss, moulding your lips to each other's. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before and he finally understood the real pleasure of kissing someone you really love. As he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, Eunseok knows that he could do this for the rest of his life.

"Song Eunseok, I love you too," your eyes are glistening with adoration as you pull away from his kiss, "Let's get married?"

When he finally looks you in the eye at the moment you give yourself back to him, he can't help the tears that finally break free from their barrier. He's laughing as he finally pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your body in desperation of keeping you close to him. You nuzzle deeper into him and he tucks his head into your neck. His body is shaking with the laughter of relief and his heartstrings tug when he feels his shirt dampening at the exact spot where your face laid.

"You're the one I'll always choose to love," he coo's into your ear words that travel straight into your heart, "For the rest of my life, for the rest of yours."

You look down at your hand and breathe deeply as the ring glistens on your finger. The Italian sun makes it shine bright as the symbol of your love. You start thinking of what you want to engrave on the inside of the ring that you want to get him. You start thinking of the dress and suit you'll be wearing at this very spot soon enough. You're dreaming of the house you move into together and of the company you'll spearhead by each other's side. You fantasise over your future kids- the kids you hope will have his eyes and your nose. You yearn for the life you know Eunseok will give you and your heart is finally at peace, knowing it will always be him.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

[edenesth]

TWTHH Bonus: The Little Lotus Blooms

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: This takes place after all of the members' spinoffs. It's probably best for you to finish everything before reading this, but it can also be read if you do not mind spoilers and have no intention of reading the spinoffs.

Fic Masterlist | Spinoff Masterlist

"Still stuck on the baby's name, I see," came the familiar voice that never failed to both irritate and amuse your husband. Seonghwa smirked, his hand still gently rubbing your tummy. "And what does that have anything to do with you?"

The dressmaker scoffed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense as he approached. "It has everything to do with me, especially since I'm clearly going to be the godfather of this little one."

You smiled, but before you could respond, the general spoke first. "In your dreams, Kim Hongjoong. You won't be this one's godfather, so it's time to let go of that fantasy. If you're so eager to be a father, I suggest you focus on having one of your own. After all, you're about to have a Mrs. of your own soon enough."

Before Hongjoong could form a coherent response, he sputtered and flailed, completely caught off guard by the mention of his upcoming wedding. His face flushed a deep crimson, and for a moment, he looked utterly lost. After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to find his voice.

"T-that's… none of your business!" he stammered, clearly flustered. After all, it had taken him forever to gather the courage to propose to poor Miss Baek. The lengthy courtship had almost convinced the girl's family that the dressmaker had no real intention of marriage, leading to whispered doubts that he was just stringing their daughter along. He hadn't heard the end of it until the day he finally asked for her hand.

Just as he opened his mouth to shoot back a retort at Seonghwa, another voice broke into the conversation.

"About damn time, Kim!" Yunho called out, his deep laughter filling the room as he approached. The physician looked far too smug, and the gleam of amusement in his eyes only made Hongjoong's face burn brighter. The dressmaker shot him a glare.

"Don't get all cocky just because you got married slightly earlier than I did!" the older male of the two snapped, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "What are you even doing here?! The dinner isn't for hours."

The general and his wife shared a knowing look, unable to stifle their chuckles as the doctor raised a brow at the accusation.

"I could ask you the same," Yunho replied, unfazed. He gestured to the bags of medical supplies at his feet. "I'm here to ensure the mistress is in optimal condition before meeting everyone, of course."

Hongjoong sniffed, waving a dismissive hand before gesturing to the garments draped over his arm—a collection of beautifully embroidered hanboks. "And I'm here to ensure she looks as stunning as always. Just as important as you, Jung. Don't flatter yourself. I understand good health is essential," he added, glancing the taller man up and down pointedly. "But clearly, a complete lack of fashion sense can be just as problematic."

Yunho's eyes widened in sheer offence. "Excuse me? What do you mean, a lack of fashion sense?! My wife said I looked—"

The dressmaker lifted a hand, silencing him immediately. "Of course she did, my friend. She's your wife; she has to say that. But I'm not, so I can be brutally honest."

Yunho's mouth opened, then closed again, clearly affronted. "You—"

"Don't take it too personally," Seonghwa interjected, his smirk deepening as he rested a protective hand over your belly. "You know how he is. The moment there's even a whiff of competition, he'll immediately declare himself the best at whatever it is."

"Which is everything," Hongjoong sniffed, lifting his chin proudly.

"That's debatable," the general drawled with a pointed look.

Hongjoong's mouth opened, ready with a comeback, but the doctor raised a hand to cut him off, the irritation from earlier melting into weary acceptance. "Alright, alright, let's get back to why I'm actually here—to make sure our dear Lady Park and the baby are doing well."

The dressmaker rolled his eyes dramatically, waving Yunho off with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Fine, do your little check-up. But once you're done, it's my turn. I have real work to attend to—unlike some people who just poke needles into others all day."

Yunho sighed, dragging a hand down his face in feigned exasperation, while Seonghwa and you exchanged amused looks. They were always like this—bickering, teasing, and turning even the simplest interactions into a spectacle of humour and banter.

You smiled softly. Thinking back to when you first met them all, you never could have imagined that your husband's closest friends would become yours too, filling your life with such unexpected warmth.

Jongho sighed heavily as he stepped into the room, his gaze zeroing in on the dressmaker with a look of pure exasperation. "I swear, there can never be peace with you around. I told you to come an hour later, but you never listen—"

Hongjoong immediately raised a fist, eyes narrowing in mock indignation. "Watch your tone! I'm still older than you," he warned, but the assistant only rolled his eyes, unfazed as he reached out and unceremoniously grabbed the dressmaker by the sleeve.

"And if you don't cooperate, I'll tell Miss Baek you were being difficult again."

That instantly shut him up. The effect was almost comical—the once-feisty designer went rigid, then muttered something unintelligible under his breath before letting the younger man drag him out of the room. The rest of you couldn't hold back your laughter, chuckling at how quickly Hongjoong folded at the mere mention of his fiancée. It was a sight that never got old.

"Well," the physician grinned, shaking his head in amusement, "looks like we've finally found his weakness."

The general chuckled, his gaze lingering on the doorway where the two had vanished. "It's not just him. Look at the rest of us," he said, raising a brow knowingly.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle a smile as Yunho continued his check-up, his touch gentle and practised as he listened for the baby's heartbeat. He looked so different now compared to when you'd first met—less guarded, more at ease. The once-serious physician now wore a relaxed smile as he worked. Miss Ryu truly had softened him, just like Miss Kwon had done for Jongho.

Your heart swelled at the thought. Absentmindedly, you rubbed your belly, glancing up at your husband with a soft expression. "They've all changed, haven't they?" you murmured quietly.

His eyes warmed as they met yours, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. "Yes, they have. Just like I have," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. "All thanks to you."

Warmth spread through your chest, and you shifted your gaze back to Yunho, then to the door where Hongjoong and Jongho had disappeared moments before. A sense of anticipation bubbled within you as you thought of the others you'd be seeing later—San, Mingi, and Wooyoung, who had become like brothers to you, and, of course... Prince Yeosang, your dearest friend.

As you imagined future gatherings, you could already see a bustling and heartwarming scene filled with little ones running around, laughter and shouts echoing through the halls, and these men transforming into doting fathers and playful uncles.

Gosh, you could hardly wait to see it all unfold. The future seemed so bright and full of promise, and you knew, deep in your heart, that it would only get better from here.

"What's got you so deep in thought, my lady?" the dressmaker asked with a gentle smile as he carefully painted the signature flower on your forehead—the perfect final touch, as always.

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Do you think His Highness will come?"

Hongjoong scoffed lightly. "I genuinely have no idea, my lady. He seems awfully busy with his new princess," he remarked, and you nodded, a wide smile blooming on your lips.

"He is, and I'm so happy he's finally found someone."

"Then why does it matter if the prince is here?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone already knows I'm going to be this little one's godfather anyway."

You clicked your tongue playfully, rolling your eyes. "Here we go again. I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."

He placed his hands on his hips, feigning offence. "I'm your idiot husband's oldest friend; it only makes sense that I get the title. The rest should just accept it and fall in line."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at his stubbornness. When he finally finished, he stepped back, giving you a once-over before softening, then moved to sit across from you. "You look stunning, my lady."

"Thank you, Joong, for always reminding me of that," you said warmly. "But flattery won't get you anywhere—I've already made up my mind, and it won't be you."

He shot up from his seat, gasping dramatically. "What do you mean it won't be me?! You can't do this to me!"

Before you could respond, the doors to the House of Lotus swung open, and your husband entered. This time, however, he wasn't alone. In his arms, nestled close and bundled in delicate silks, was a little something—or rather, someone—very dear to your heart.

"That's enough, Kim Hongjoong," Seonghwa drawled, his voice tinged with mock annoyance as he stepped forward. "How greedy can you be, huh? You're already Yeonjoo's godfather. I'm not giving you the title again for our next child."

Your heart swelled at the sight—the way it always did whenever you saw your little princess cradled in her father's loving embrace. Her soft giggles filled the room as her tiny fingers curled around his sleeve, and a smile spread across your face. That's right—Hongjoong had been named godfather to your firstborn two years ago. Much to your disappointment, the prince hadn't been able to attend her birth celebration despite his promise, but you understood. He had new priorities and commitments. Still, a small part of you hoped he'd be here this time—for the sake of old memories, and perhaps to provide a sense of closure.

The dressmaker's eyes lit up, and his earlier sulkiness vanished as he nearly skipped forward, excitement radiating off him. "Oh, my little Yeonjoo!" he cooed, his face softening as he reached out to take her carefully from your husband's arms.

"Ugh, fine," he muttered, holding her close and gently stroking her hair as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. "I bet you're just trying to spare my precious Yeonjoo from getting jealous. I suppose one of those other losers can have the honour for the next one," he grumbled, pouting slightly as he gazed down at the little girl.

You chuckled softly at his dramatic tone. Titles aside, it was clear Hongjoong adored your daughter deeply. She looked up at him with wide, shining eyes and a bright smile that could melt even the sternest of hearts, and it was obvious she shared that affection. You watched, warmth flooding your chest, as she patted his cheek clumsily, babbling a string of sweet nonsense that made the man's expression melt into a delighted grin.

"See? Even she agrees," he sniffed proudly, shooting a triumphant look at Seonghwa.

The general rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, but the fondness in his gaze was unmistakable. "Just because my daughter doesn't know better yet doesn't mean I'll indulge you."

"Your appa's just being mean," Hongjoong murmured softly to Yeonjoo, his voice filled with exaggerated sympathy. The little girl giggled, her laughter bright and clear. "But don't worry, sweetheart. You'll always be godfather's number one."

You shook your head, laughter bubbling in your chest as you watched them. "Honestly, Joong, you're going to spoil her rotten."

"Going to?" Seonghwa quirked a brow, looking amused. "He already has." Then he turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening. "But I think our princess deserves to be spoiled a little, don't you?"

You smiled up at him. "Of course. Only the best for our little girl."

"Well, since I won't be the next one's godfather," Hongjoong said, feigning indifference, "who are you going to pick? Don't tell me you're actually considering one of those blockheads."

You exchanged a knowing look with your husband before turning back to the dressmaker, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Maybe. Or maybe I have someone else in mind entirely."

As if on cue, Eunsook, your head maid, appeared at the entrance and offered a respectful bow, her smile warm. Right beside her was Miss Kwon, the ever-diligent maternity expert, who immediately stepped forward, carefully guiding you to your feet.

"The guests have arrived, master and mistress," Eunsook announced softly.

Hongjoong sighed dramatically but complied, reluctantly handing Yeonjoo back to her father. "I suppose I should join the rest of those ruffians then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the child's cheek before straightening up with a smirk. "See you out there, General and Lady Park."

With one last playful wink, the dressmaker slipped out, leaving the room with a swirl of elegant robes. Your heart fluttered in anticipation, excitement bubbling up within you. You were going to see all your friends again—the people who had become your family over the years.

As Seonghwa cradled your daughter close, his free hand reached for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You glanced up at him, smiling softly, and he returned the look, his gaze brimming with unspoken emotions. Together, you made your way toward the hall.

"You look well, my lady. Did the medication I recommended help with your sleep disturbances?" Royal Physician Ahn asked as she approached, her voice gentle yet laced with the attentiveness of a true healer. It was the first chance she'd had to speak with you after the initial rounds of greetings exchanged. You had grown fond of her since meeting her at the royal banquet, and especially so after Mingi had begun openly courting her. Since then, she'd been a constant presence in your life, whether by her own will or by His Majesty's orders, assisting in your care both during the last birth and your current pregnancy.

You nodded warmly, squeezing her hand in return. "It did, Physician Ahn. It worked like magic. I've been sleeping like a baby lately, all thanks to you."

Her shoulders relaxed visibly, and she let out a soft sigh of relief. You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, your tone turning mischievous. "Congratulations on your engagement, by the way. Who would have thought Officer Song had it in him to win you over, hm?"

A delicate blush painted her cheeks as she stammered, utterly flustered. But before you could tease her further, a tall shadow loomed beside her, and Mingi stepped in, a broad grin spreading across his face as he slid an arm around his fiancée's shoulders. "Now, now, Lady Park, let's not overwhelm her," he chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You know she's still not used to all the attention."

"I'm simply complimenting your success, Officer Song," you shot back playfully. "It's not every day someone catches the interest of the Royal Physician."

Mingi's grin widened, but before he could respond, another voice interjected, stealing your attention.

"Look at you, Lady Park. It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating little Yeonjoo's birth, and now, here we are again, awaiting another mini Park. You and the general certainly don't waste time, do you?" Scholar Moon's teasing tone cut through the room as she approached, linked arm-in-arm with her husband, Royal Secretary Choi.

You felt your cheeks flame at the comment, especially when San shot his wife a chiding look and squeezed her arm as if to gently rein her in. "Darling, don't embarrass the lady," he murmured softly, though the amusement in his eyes belied his words.

You tried to sputter a reply, mortified, but before you could get a word out, a familiar warmth appeared at your side. Your husband was suddenly there, his presence solid and reassuring, a small, amused smirk playing at his lips. He looked so effortlessly charming, and it made your heart flutter just looking at him.

"Indeed, we don't waste time," he agreed smoothly, his gaze shifting playfully to Scholar Moon. "But perhaps it's time you and San hurry up and have one of your own as well, Scholar Moon."

Her mouth fell open in shock, eyes widening as she spluttered, "I—! We're not—!"

"I don't think we're quite there yet," Secretary Choi intervened gently, though his strained smile hinted at his own embarrassment. His eyes flicked between you and the general before landing back on his wife, whose face was now a bright shade of red.

Stifling a laugh, you nudged Seonghwa lightly. "Behave, Hwa," you murmured, though your grin betrayed your halfhearted scolding.

"But it's true, isn't it?" he persisted with mock innocence, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone knows San's eager to start a family. Why not make it official?" He cast the secretary's wife a pointed look, making her blush deepen to an alarming shade.

"You—!" she started, but before she could finish, a joyful peal of laughter rang out from across the room. You turned your head just in time to see Investigator Jung cradling Yeonjoo in his arms with his partner hovering close beside him with an adoring look on her face as she watched the two of them.

"Yeonjoo certainly knows how to charm everyone, doesn't she?" Miss Han remarked warmly, her gaze softening as she looked up at the little girl. "Just look at her. She's going to be quite the heartbreaker one day."

Wooyoung chuckled, gently bouncing the child and eliciting a delighted squeal from her. "With parents like these two? There's no doubt about it." He glanced over at you and Seonghwa, his playful expression turning sincere. "Congratulations again, General, Lady Park. Your family is truly blessed."

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you replied softly, watching as your daughter gurgled happily in his arms. Your gaze shifted to Miss Han, her presence calm and grounding beside him. "And I hope it's not long before we're congratulating the two of you as well."

She blushed, her eyes darting to Wooyoung, who just laughed, the sound rich and unburdened. "Perhaps soon," he murmured, a hint of promise in his voice. "But for now, let's focus on celebrating you."

It was then that you caught Miss Ryu's gaze from across the room—her smile brightening the moment your eyes met. Now officially Yunho's wife, she looked radiant as ever as she hurried over, her husband trailing behind her with a knowing grin.

"Oh, you're glowing, my lady. I'm convinced this one's a son," she said, her voice lilting with excitement.

The physician chuckled softly beside her. "She's been saying that for months now," he teased, gently squeezing her shoulder.

You shared a hopeful glance with Seonghwa before turning back to her. "Thank you. We've been hoping for a boy too," you admitted, warmth filling your chest at the thought.

Before anyone could say more, Hongjoong sauntered over, his arm loosely wrapped around his fiancée's back. "I'm sure having a son is nice and all," he scoffed lightly, "but are you positive that's why she's glowing?" His gaze turned mischievous as he leaned forward, clearly fishing for compliments.

Miss Baek's eyes widened, and she gave him a small nudge, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Joong, please…"

But the dressmaker, being himself, merely shot her a wink. He cast a playful look at the physician's wife, who raised a brow in challenge. The teasing rivalry between them was no secret, and it extended to their spouses as well.

"If you think it's your makeup skills making her glow, I'm going to have to scientifically explain to you why it's a lot more than just your artificial tools enhancing her appearance," the herbalist shot back with a laugh, her words soft yet precise. Her analytical nature was showing, and it made Yunho's smile grow wider.

Hongjoong's jaw dropped, feigning outrage. "Excuse me? Are you doubting my artistic abilities, Mrs. Jung?"

Just then, Jongho appeared, his hand linked with Miss Kwon's as they joined the growing circle. He rolled his eyes, already looking exasperated. "Please, don't start. I swear, every time you two are in the same room, it turns into a debate."

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head as you glanced around at the gathered group. Yet, despite the lively chatter and warm company, there was still a lingering sense of something—someone—missing. You found yourself scanning the room again, your heart dipping slightly as you realised that perhaps he truly wasn't coming after all. Maybe the promises of friendship had been nothing more than a polite white lie to comfort you back then. Perhaps…

"Apologies for our tardiness! It felt like the entire city decided to celebrate with us today—the crowds made it nearly impossible for our carriage to get through smoothly."

The deep, familiar voice cut through the air, and everyone's heads whipped around in unison. After a moment of stunned silence, they quickly bowed deeply, voices mingling in a respectful murmur.

"These subjects greet Your Highnesses."

Yeosang and his wife exchanged quick, flustered glances before raising their hands to stop the gesture. "Oh no, please! There's no need for such formality," the newly minted fourth princess said warmly. "We're here as friends today."

It was your first time meeting her, but her grace and kindness were immediately apparent, and you found yourself thinking how perfectly she complemented the prince. Your heart, which had felt heavy just moments ago, lightened at the sight of the couple as they stepped forward to join the circle.

The fourth prince's gaze found yours, and he flashed you a familiar, boyish grin. "I hope we haven't missed too much. Please, let the princess and me know how we can make up for our tardiness."

Your smile softened warmly. "Better late than never, Your Highnesses." You glanced at your husband, a sense of peace washing over you as he gave you a gentle, encouraging nod.

"No need to worry," you continued with a welcoming tone. "You haven't missed anything major. After all, the main event can't truly begin without the new baby's godparents present." The royal couple's eyes widened in surprise at your words, while the rest of your friends cheered.

"And you can make up for being late by accepting the role," General Park added with a teasing smile.

And that is all, folks. This is the final chapter and it officially concludes the TWTHH series. It's a bittersweet feeling to end it; it's undoubtedly one of my proudest creations, but I'm also super excited to finally be able to work on newer things!

Once again, I just want to thank each and every one of you for being with me on this journey. I hope this epilogue was decent! Perhaps some of you might not agree with who I've chosen to be little Park's godfather (but my heart wants what it wants lmfao). Y'all, let me know your thoughts! It'd be awesome if you could share a bit about how you stumbled upon this story and what you liked about it! <3

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[seongwars]

strangers by nature | masterlist

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever.

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chapter i ⋆ chapter ii ⋆ chapter iii ⋆ chapter iv ⋆ chapter v ⋆ chapter vi ⋆ chapter vii

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

The silence that permeates the car you were shuffled into with your husband is suffocating.

Your life partner had let go of your hand the moment he had reached to buckle you into your seat. You strain your fingers now, hoping the sweat on your palms hadn't been noticeable.

A driver from your clan's estate had been tasked with dropping you and your husband off at your newly arranged space. You knew this man, the man who was seated directly to your left, was not affiliated with any clan, this meant you had no idea where you were headed.

Several shipments of your belongings had been retrieved over the weeks since the higher-up's declaration of marriage for you had been in place. A steady and simple move-in awaited you. Something you weren't particularly happy about.

You thought through a list of things to occupy yourself with instead of awkwardly standing in this stranger mans presence.

As curious as you were about your future arrangements, you truly could not ignore the silence in this vehicle much longer. Had you married any of the expected bachelors, you were sure your ear would be talked off at this point, yet, you did not even know this mans name.

You took in a deep breath, preparing to speak, the blonde fellow, (your literal husband) turned to meet your eyes, likely having expected you to say something. His eyes shock you, and you turn away once more to stare out the window.

You strain your hand into a fist and work up the courage. Turning with an inhale once more, you force out words before you can change your mind, "Terribly sorry..." You start, looking him in the eyes, "Could you remind me of your name?"

You had never been given it to begin with. Perhaps the officiant at your wedding had recited it in his speech, but you had been a little distracted at the time.

"I'm sorry?" He strains his neck in your direction, eyebrows raised.

"Your name? Sorry... I think I ought to know it, right?"

"You don't know my name?" His head shakes a little as he speaks, incredulous.

You hesitate, "...No? I wasn't paying the most attention for it during the ceremony..." You mumble the last bit, waiting for him to cut you off, but he just stares at you.

"I'm sorry-" His hand hovers mid-air, "You weren't given my name?"

Oh no, you've offended him.

"Oh! It's not like that! My family is....very fond of you! And the higher-ups speak very well of you as well! I...well...I erm..." How do you fix this? Stroke his ego?

His hand is firmly on his forehead now. "That is not what I meant. I'm asking you - you were not informed of my name? Who I am? Were you even aware you were to be wed?"

You fumble a bit with the skirt of your dress, "Of course! Yes, I just... well, I didn't know who, but the marriage bit was no surprise."

"But the rest, that is all true? You had no idea you would be marrying me?" He looks frustrated, to say the least. You had no idea this would come as shocking news, someone should have informed you.

He is peeking at you through his hand, "Well...no, but-" He cuts you off now, but he seems to not be speaking to you.

"No wonder you looked so ill up there..."

Okay ouch.

"When did you agree to this marriage? Was this simply... decided for you?

You weren't sure what to say. Had this not been decided for him as well? Speaking frankly, you were not entirely sure of why he had been chosen as your partner, he had no duty to his name. Even so, he looked repulsed at the realization, eyes shot wide.

"Well... it was-" Were you supposed to be talking about this? Should you say this to your husband? "Umm... Well, I'm sure you know the higher-ups are involved with the clans..."

He shifted in his seat to face you fully now, "You...were forced?" He almost looks frighted at the concept. You want to laugh.

Of course, you were. How else did he think marriage worked?

Despite your thoughts, all you said was, "No, it was a mutual understanding that I would be married."

"Yet you know nothing about me." He looks forward at the road.

Was that what this was about? "I'm a quick learner, if you're concerned about that."

He sighs and smacks a hand to his face again. "No...No that is not what concerns me."

You have a litany of responses ranging from, 'I see...' to 'what does concern you then?' but you say none of them. You just sit forward and stare at your palms.

Oddly enough, it does not take long for the silence to be broken once more.

"Nanami." He says.

"I'm sorry?" You hadn't expected him to speak, eyes wide, you turn to him again.

"Nanami Kento. That's-" He sighs, as if it's a real chore to introduce himself, "my name is Nanami Kento."

You look to one another for a moment before you quickly break the connection, gazing out your window, deigning to not look again until you arrived.

"Mmm...thank you." You finally say.

--

Although you knew the house was not terribly far from your family estate, it felt like hours had passed before you allowed yourself to move once more.

Mr. Nanami had climbed from his seat once the car had halted.

Eager to be away from me it seems.

Only, he had seemed surprised as you climbed from your door as well, having walked around to greet you.

"Allow me," He had said, reaching for the small train case in the back of the car, it had been filled with small wedding gifts and your husband insisted on carrying it for you.

I wonder how long he will keep up this act. You found yourself thinking. Your new residence was sizable. Nice, in an uncomfortably clean way. Perhaps that is how your husband liked it.

As you stepped over the threshold, moving out of "the man of the house's" way. You took it in.

This place must have been chosen by the higher-ups. Your father would not have bought you a home, nor did you expect a man without clan connections to have been able to purchase such a plot of land.

It was only mid-afternoon. Yet your life was impossibly different than it had been only a few hours prior. You had expected the driver to stay and discuss the honeymoon with the two of you but it seemed he had not been instructed with that information.

As many frightening realizations occurred to you, you were able to resign yourself to acceptance, putting aside the...bedding...situation... the concern that stuck with you was dinner plans.

Were you expected to have that prepared? You didn't know what he preferred though....

Thoughts of your...marital duties swam in your head while Nanami was making his way towards the living room.

"Of course," He was saying, "You're free to use whatever you like, these things are as much yours as they are mine..." He had rounded through the sitting area and around the kitchen into the master bedroom, never once turning to look at you.

It was clear that people had come to prepare the area for you two. On his bedside table, you see a comfortable pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose grey shirt. You had not been presented with such. No, on the bed, strewn out for the both of you to see was a... sordid... set of black lacy lingerie.

You stood in silence. A resigned look on your face. Your husband on the other hand, had coughed, spun around, and fully walked from the room in moments.

What was he doing? Was he sickened by you? Did he expect you to appreciate his apprehension? If you were being honest, you would like for him to get this act over with as quickly as possible.

Looking at your marital bed, you were once again reminded of your mother's sobs only this morning. You looked down at the gown that clung to your waist. You had felt pretty today, despite the occasion. You knew you would not feel beautiful in that raunchy piece of string.

How long do I have? You wondered.

Finally moving yourself, you come before the undergarments, sit next to them, and run your hand along the bed's silky duvet.

You sat in silence for longer than you expected to be given. You finally reached your hand up your spine. Unzipping the dress, unbuttoning the clasp at your neck.

You slid it off your body. Walking around the room near-nude to lay the dress along the ladder of a bookcase. It was nice, actually. Maybe you wouldn't mind it here.

You did not rush to dress in the sexy, frilly, underthings. You might not have been perfectly comfortable in your body, but that didn't matter. Not when you had knowledge of the intentions behind your wedding for years.

It was a bit of a challenge to get it on. You weren't sure how to get your arms through at first, and then you swapped them around when you couldn't figure out the neck bit.

What did it matter, it would be coming off anyway.

After dressing, you sat in the same spot on the bed for a while, staring at your hands. You wondered if he was expecting to eat first. Seeing as he had left you alone, however, you figured he would return eventually.

It was cold like this, you hopped he would hurry.

Just as you were beginning to consider moving to look at the bookcase, (panty clad and all) your spine snapped into place when you heard him calling for you. When had you given him your name? You weren't sure.

He was speaking loudly so you might hear through the wall, but not in a frustrated manner, "The kitchen staff is arranging something for us to eat-" He had slowly began to open the door, when his eyes landed on you. Not a moment passed before he dropped whatever he had in his hands. It loudly clattered to the floor and he slammed the door shut. The noise echoed in the room.

"What-??!" He stuttered, "What are you doing?!!"

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. What were you doing? What did he mean? And how exactly do you respond?

"I... uhh-" You looked down at yourself in the ridiculous lace.

You had not been trained in much regarding sex, having been told that the man you would marry would be well aware of how to educate you when it came to your actions. Suddenly self-conscious, you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Nanami calls your name from outside your new bedroom, then repeats it. Firm and unmoving. "What-are-you-doing?"

Your hands flounce around. Stuttering for a response, "I- I don't know!?" You finally force out, the tone coming off a little too questioning for an answer.

After a moment there is a dull *bonk* against the door. You hear no response for a long while. The room is so silent, you can hear your heart pounding. It was so painfully uncomfortable, you reached a hand to your chest to try and calm it. Finally, he clears his throat and calls out to you from behind the door again.

He speaks your name gently, as if calling to a child, "I'm going to come in now, okay?"

You sit upon the bed once more, back straight. "Alright." You nod to yourself.

Unsure of what to expect, you watch the door handle tilt to allow for your husbands entry, but your eyes narrow as he shifts into the room, avoiding your gaze - in fact - avoiding your presence completely.

His arm is shaking off his nicely tailored suit jacket. Still turned to look at the closet, he comes before you, jacket in hand, and reaches out for your shoulders. You almost want to shrink back from this odd behavior but remain still as he wraps you up in his clothing.

After a few awkward seconds, he turns to look at you. "What are you doing?" He repeats, low and calm.

You raise your brows, "What... are you doing?" You reach up to feel the jacket covering your collar and torso, instantly, he drops his hands from your shoulders.

He shakes his head, a hand tugging at his loose blond hair. "I don't... understand." He is no longer looking in your vicinity. His voice shakes and all the air leaves his lungs.

"I'm sorry." You wrap yourself tighter in his jacket, shifting to stare at him, "Was this not... expected?" His apprehension certainly came as a surprise to you.

Suddenly he's back, fully facing you, "Expected?" He raises his brows, "What is this? You're... what? Doing what is expected of you?". Despite the severity of the moment, it is now that you recognize how expressive his features are. His neck, up to his cheeks, up to even his ears are a warm pink. It wouldn't be improbable to assume his chest is a rosy shade right about now as well.

You decide to push the boundary, share your frustration. Why is he upset? If he does not want you, he should just say. It's not as if you desire him in that way. This has been an incredibly stressful and tense day, at least he knew who you were before all of this, you did not have that liberty. If anything, you should be upset with him!

"Is it not?" You speak up, "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that...this" You pull your arm out from under his jacket to motion between you two, "was how this worked."

He makes a face. Revolted.

"You are- we-" He cuts himself off, waving his hands before himself, then covers his face, "no." He gets out, "This is not how this works."

"Well." Now you're flushing, embarrassed. You straighten yourself, balling his suit jacket in your firsts. "What... would you like for me to do? I told you in the car that I learn quickly, if thats-"

"Stop." He spits out, voice suddenly higher than before, "Just...stop."

You swallow. What does he want from you? "Okay." You whisper.

He calls for you gently, and motions for you to stand. He turns away from the bathroom now and shifts in the other direction, looking at your wedding gown strewn across the bookcase ladder. He purses his lips. "Please.... dress yourself." He swallows, motions towards the wardrobes along the wall. "Something comfortable in there. I was... going to ask your preferences, for a meal-for dinner. Let me-"

He clears his throat, moving away now toward the bedroom door, he drops to the floor and picks up what must be his phone, having been dropped earlier, he rubs the screen on his pant leg. "What would you like?"

You stare at him, straight-faced. "Anything you like." You're not a picky eater.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, "No. What do you like to eat?

You shrug, "Anything. I don't mind." You shake your head at him and he just looks you up and down. The stupidly large jacket comes mid-thigh.

He takes a deep breath. Then exhales dramatically. Nods. And he's gone. This time, when closing the door, he makes an effort to do so gently.

--

You had found a soft cotton pajama set in one of the dresser drawers. Having long since removed your previous attire, you wonder what your husband is thinking of as he silently serves two plates of Chinese food.

You wonder what your father would say if he saw Mr. Nanami serving up dinner for his wife as you sat on the living room couch.

You're taken from your thoughts as Nanami places a large wooden tray on the couch, he places the food on it.

It seems you will very much be eating together.

"I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you don't." He murmurs, seating himself near you in the dimly lit room.

In no world would you complain about the food your husband served you. Even if you disposed it, luckily, you liked Chinese cuisine. Before you can even get out a word of appreciation he is speaking again, "I think we should talk."

You sit up straight. "Alright."

He motions for you to eat, "Feel free. I think we ought to have an open discussion."

You grab your utensils but don't reach for anything until after he takes a bite. Awaiting his words.

"Well... I believe we ought to be on the same page about this. I had been under the impression that we were... but as I can see, that is not the case." He stares at you intently.

He is not speaking down to you, but rather, making space for an open conversation. You set down your chopsticks, and await further explanation.

"I suppose I should know what exactly the higher-ups asked of you."

You raise your brows, "Sorry?"

An apology has become a common synonym for many of your reactions.

"Earlier, you asked me for my name. And just then-" He flushes a little, motioning to the bedroom, "well- you mentioned expectations and I feel I ought to ask you what is is that has been requested of you."

Is this man daft? Is he playing with you?

Before you respond, you test the waters, "What did the higher-ups demand of you?"

The man sighs.

"I am terribly sorry," he calls your name again like its easy, a habit that makes your stomach flip, "It seems that people have not been honest with you, you deserve an explanation. I just expected you to be aware of this before our union."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes watch you and the chopsticks laying on the wooden tray.

Ah.

You reach to take a bite. It's good, and oddly puts the man before you at ease.

"Before this, I was intending to leave sorcery."

He states it as if it is nothing. Your eyes bug out and he pauses, allowing for you to ensure you heard correctly.

"The higher-ups have a large amount of sway in Tokyo, I'm not sure about Kyoto, but they were not fond of this plan."

I can't imagine why that would be. You thought as you recalled the moment you had first seen this Nanami Kento.

It had been an annual meeting between the Kyoto and Tokyo branches. You had heard him refer to sorcery as "a pain". Had he been considering retirement even then?

You simply nod, listening quietly. "It was their intention to find me...a wife." He huffs, "Maintaining a life in sorcery was highly important to them."

Oh, you see. Perhaps he wasn't so different from you after all.

The higher-ups have only had one expectation for you, even since showing promise in the world of sorcery, even after moving up the ranks at Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Your job was plain and simple.

To have babies.

Sorcerer babies.

Had they been so afraid of losing one sorcerer to the regular world that he was cornered into loveless marriage? All to keep him from departure? Was that why Gakuganji had been so immediate with his instatement of your husband?

"I see..." You nod once more.

"I would like to know your experience as well. What was it that they asked of you?" He had both hands laid flat on the makeshift table between the pair of you.

You consider what to say. "I...have known-" you try again, "My duty has been laid out for some time now." You tilt your head, he's squinting at you.

"Please. Just tell me. They... forced you - to - to do that?" He points his head in the direction of your room once more.

Now you're confused. You want to speak in a way that doesn't insult his intelligence but he's making is difficult for you. "Did you not... marry me for children?"

He chokes.

Coughing to clear his throat, he wipes his mouth. "That is not- eugh-" he tries again, "They cannot ask that of you. I will not do anything that you are not explicitly requesting of me." He pauses effecting a moment of silence before, "Do you understand?"

But you don't. "Mr. Nanami, are you... not expected to produce children? Is that not why you were chosen to be in this situation?"

He responds quickly and with precision, "I did not marry you for what you could give me. No."

You can't hold in your confused laugh, "Then...why?"

"Was it not the easiest for the both of us?" He smirks at you, his shoulders have eased only slightly after hearing your laugh, "I was informed that your other options were not the most savory."

"You knew you would be marrying me?" You ask, ignoring his reference to your suitors and flummoxed by how easy it is to speak comfortably with a man you had been so recently adverse to.

"Yes. I... cannot believe you were not provided the same..." He pauses, "I was under the impression that this was a mutual decision..."

"Oh." It's all you can say.

Nanami takes in a deep breath from across the couch cushions. "I'm sorry." And you really believe that he means it. "I would not have agreed if I knew." He forms a flat line with his lips.

"I think you're right, though..." He looks at you, addled, so you continue, “This was the easiest choice. I think so too." You're unsure of how else to conclude.

Your wedding dinner had not been what you would have expected and the night, unlike anything you could have predicted.

Nanami Kento, no matter how you denied and tried to shuffle from the bedroom, had sworn himself to a guestroom after collecting the night clothes laid out for him on the bedside table.

He had gently grabbed your shoulders, maneuvering you towards the bed and away from the exit. Pleading with you to remain in the master bedroom. Claiming that he had intended to sleep in a separate bedroom since the beginning.

Though you pulled at his arms to try and swap your standing, telling him adamantly to take the bigger of the bed options, he simply drew close to you, shifted farther from the door and blocked your sights. He lead you softly to the bed, and when you attempted to side step him and make your way to the guestroom, he took one arm, catching you by the waist, and swiftly lifted you from the floor.

"Please. Do not ask me again. Sleep here, alright? All of your things are here. I will be very comfortable in the guestroom."

And before you could get out any complaint, he had you placed upon the duvet. His hands were off you in an instant, but he remained looking in your direction as he backed to the door you had been fighting over.

"Do sleep well." His long strides had brought him to the rooms entrance with no delay, you were still caught up with the fact that he had lifted you like a sack of potatoes, with one arm no less. "We will likely have to arrange the...trip tomorrow."

The honeymoon, that's right.

He said it in a way that sounded like, 'just to warn you' or 'you should know'. But all you could reply with was, "Right."

"Right." He echo's, turning to walk through the door, and looks to you once more. "Sleep well." And there's your name again, leaving his lips as though you are long time friends.

"You too."

But the door has been silently shut.

His touch lingers on your waist from where he had lifted you. Not in the way your fathers hand would linger after he drug you to and from meetings, not the way his fingers would remain painfully on your neck after he would steer you into conference rooms. But rather, in an almost ticklish way.

You shiver.

And run your hands over your new duvet.

When you had made up your childhood bed and left this morning, you had listened to your mothers cries, sure that last night would be the last time you would have the peace of your own bed. Your heart swelled with the knowledge that you had been wrong.

Your fingers traced the stitching on the comforter. Swung your legs from the mattress, and almost-almost grinned.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

tag list @longlivegojo @kitkatlover015 @l0v3rgirl-owo @smailaway (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

[bunnyrafe]

old money!reader who has trouble sleeping, even more so now that she’s living with rafe. her room is so full but so empty all at once— every sound is hollow and every comfort item she has isn’t doing it’s job correctly. she has no choice but to sniffle and rub her eyes as she wanders to rafe’s room on wobbly legs, not even bothering to knock before she pitter-patters her way to his bed.

she climbs under his duvet as if that’s where she belongs, and all that meets her ears is a heavy inhale— then she’s being pulled against his sturdy chest.

rafe doesn’t say anything. partly because he’s not sure what to say, and mostly because his heart beats terrifyingly fast when she pulls stuff like this. he’s afraid it’ll crawl up his throat to escape. but minutes pass and his strong arms squeeze around her, his eyes falling to examine her now relaxed and sleepy features as she snuggles into him further, lashes fluttering and fanning over the tops of her cheeks while he whispers— “get some sleep, petal”

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ IS THIS REALLY MEANT TO BE? ~ enemies to lovers arranged marriage PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous request: Would you do arranged marriage prompts but they like hate each other? Aka enemies to lovers arranged marriage. Like they bicker and fight a lot at the start but are like "damn them for actually having a point" idk I really love all your prompts and I am forever in your debt for the amount of writers blocks they've/you've gotten me out of!!! ❤️❤️

Feel free to use and reblog!

Part 1: 10 marriage of convenience prompts Part 2: ~ IT'S FATE, RIGHT? ~ ARRANGED MARRIAGE PROMPTS

"I hate you and I won't even pretend to like you." "Well, you're in a pretty shitty situation then. We're stuck together."

"You're the worst person. I can't believe I have to spend the rest of my life with you."

"If you weren't so disagreeable you'd actually make a good spouse."

"I would like spending time with you if you weren't my spouse/wife/husband."

"I need some time for myself FOR ONCE!"

"Why did it have to be you? Anyone really would have been a better choice!"

"Do you think you can let me speak for once? It's not just your marriage. We're both in it. Unfortunately."

"Stop suffocating me! It won't make me like you more."

"But is the prospect of a life shared really only horrible? Can't we find something good in it?"

"Do you sense that? Is it possible that this is the first nice moment we spend together?" "Don't jinx it!"

they feel aggravated whenever their spouse is there but when their spouse is gone they feel strangely empty

they notice how they want to tell their spouse everything that's happening, even though they don't like them

they hate the forced proximity but they hate it even more to be alone

their spouse is so different from them but over time, they learn to appreciate their spouse's unique strengths

they realise that they might actually make a good team

when they have to spend time together they stay silent because every conversation would turn into a big fight

they have strangely romantic dreams about their spouse, even though they can't stand them

after a while, they write nice things about their spouse into their diary

^ their spouse finds the diary and reads it (bonus: they're confronting their spouse and an argument about trust-breaking and hidden feelings ensues)

they would never call it love but they're having these strange butterflies in their stomach whenever their spouse enters the room

[seafoamdew]

When your betrothed is a dragon obsessed nerd and you just wanna give him flowers but don’t want to interrupt him.