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luveline · 1 month

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hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers.

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking.

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.”

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.”

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks.

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says.

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.”

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does.

She grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You all done?”

“Yep.”

“Not hungry anymore?”

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.”

“Thanks, beautiful.”

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?”

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night.

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch.

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests.

“I’m tired.”

“It’s not bed time.”

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat.

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it.

“That sound fun or what?”

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder.

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.”

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.”

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask.

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns.

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided.

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids.

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday.

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now.

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily.

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.”

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.”

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter.

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!”

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says.

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?”

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.”

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says.

“I didn’t say one!”

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.”

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.”

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks.

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?”

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips.

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying.

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says.

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?”

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest.

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out.

“Oh, no,” Avery says.

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.”

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else.

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks.

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.”

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.”

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say.

“Gonna get Beth changed.”

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.”

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed.

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?”

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask.

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?”

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.”

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says.

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?”

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately.

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.”

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!”

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.”

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.”

“Sorry,” she laughs.

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?”

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player.

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?”

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs.

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in.

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time.

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time.

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.”

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous.

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says.

You catch his hand. “I got you one.”

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth.

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter.

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?”

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?”

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin.

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff.

“Feels too good to be true.”

“My turn tonight,” he says.

“No, baby, it’s my turn.”

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say.

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke.

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.”

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back.

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

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You may be aware of the concept of “a rental car.” It’s where you go to a store that lives inside the airport, promise to give them some money, and they hand you the keys to a car. When you’re done with that car, you just give it back and you never have to see it again. No oil changes. No windshield washer fluid repair. No welding new body panels into it after driving on a particularly pointy gravel road.

The thing is, this is an incredibly expensive procedure. Before the world broke, even the cheapest rental agencies were gonna charge you more than just flying in, taking a taxi to the junkiest piece of shit on Craigslist, and then signing a fake name onto the title. Cops give you like a week’s leeway on getting it actually registered – even more if you are there for a “business trip” and are wearing Value Village’s finest two-piece Italian-cut dead salesman’s suit. You get to drive a new kind of car, it doesn’t cost you that much, and when you’re done you can just drive it back to the seller’s house in the middle of the night and take a taxi back to the airport.

So, being forced to rent a car during my recent trip to Philadelphia in order to give the keynote speech at the Bad Cars Monthly conference, I decided I would get the maximum amount of value out of my rental. I neutral-dropped the fucker at every light, started a small side business delivering heavy goods for cheap, and did my best impression of Petter Solberg on every even vaguely curvy road I could find. At one point, I took it to a drag strip and put down a weak fifteen-second pass, the transmission warning light shrieking the entire time as I force-fed it a couple gallons of nitrous oxide that I picked up at a shop near the hotel. Never before had a 2023 Hyundai Sonata been thrashed so thoroughly and without mercy, and I can assure you that the lot boys (and ladies) were impressed when I rolled the filthy, used-up chunk of Korean iron into the lot, parked it across four stalls, and threw the keys into a nearby storm drain after yelling “Catch!”

Friends, I cannot recommend that you purchase a new 2023 Hyundai Sonata. I can, however, assure you that I have depreciated this particular unit enough that it should be really cheap at auction.

#best of

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impactedfates · 3 months

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Hi hi I'm feeling so cruel right now >:]

So uuuh HCs for DH[IL], Jingyuan, Blade and Welt reacts how does their child [reader] dies... Like imagine how reader dies is like how the Genshin Playable characters die [they dusted away]

Please feed me a n gst

—🫶🏻 Anon

★ A/N: The way the reader dies reminds me of how one of my ocs species dies lmao. Hopefully this is up your ally :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial + Angst

★ Format: Bullet Pointed HeadCannons (It kinda turned into a mini story I think-)

☆ Warnings: Mentions of Death (Readers)

★ Extra: Adopted reader in all // Reader is under 12 for Dan Fengs, and in their teens for the rest // Giving Jing Yuan more of a sad life/hj // Wrote this in WellBeing class lmao // Characters may be OOC

Dan Feng as a High Elder doesn’t always have the time to really see you. Sure when he first adopted you he did spend a good chunk of his time with you but eventually his duties caught up.

He appointed someone to look after you. Someone that you knew and that he knew. Someone trustworthy.

So when he came back to his home early one day, the house dead silent. He grew worried. He called out to the person, to you. But there was no response.

He walked to your room, perhaps the both of you fell asleep. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But all he could witness was dust covering your room. And the man no where to be seen.

He knew instantly where that dust came from, he was quick to search for him. Found him hiding thinking he could get away, unaware that Dan Feng would be home early, unaware Dan Feng would catch him.

The man he had trusted to protect you, was the same man who ended the life you should’ve continued to have.

Dan Feng was quick to throw the man in the Shackling Prison, praying to whatever Aeon that can hear him that he gets what he deserves.

He collected as much of the dust that was still in his house, the last thing that he had of you. And carefully placed them in a jar.

Many question the High Elder why he holds a jar of dust so dearly to him, and all those times he refuses to answer. Not wanting to break down in front of the other Vidyadharas.

It was only a mission, a mission he sent you and Yanqing on. He had thought there were only a few Mara struck soldiers that had to be defeated.

He had wondered why Yanqing slowly entered the Seat of Divine Foresight without you. He had wondered why Yanqing was breathing rapidly and on the verge of tears.

Jing Yuan comforted Yanqing before asking about your whereabouts. Perhaps you were getting snacks after a successful mission? Yanqing could only try to explain in a shaky voice, clearly startled and upset.

But why would he be upset? You were his adopted sibling and was usually so kind to him. You wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him?

Yanqing tried his best to explain, stuttering over his words and needing to take a few deep breaths, the General listened carefully.

…Ambush? Well…Jing Yuan supposed he made an error in that. He only thought there were a few. Wow, if you and Yanqing didn’t know about that then you could’ve been caught off guard and…

Oh!

Oh…

Jing Yuan quickly connected the dots, he slowly held Yanqing closer, witnessing his own sibling fall to the hands of the Mara struck then be faced with dealing with the remaining enemies…he couldn’t imagine the stress.

A ceremony was held in your honour. Your dust already gone away like the wind so your memories will follow as he sends multiple starsciff at with gifts.

But he’ll always remember, he’ll remember the regret he felt that he couldn’t do anything nor could he have seen that an ambush would occur.

He wished he could’ve done something.

Are you dumb or something??

Blade could’ve taken that hit. Why’d you have to take it!?

He would’ve been fine. He wouldn’t been okay, a relief would’ve washed over him even though he knew he’d survive.

So then why did you have to take the hit that was meant for him, and leave him in a state of rage?

He quickly disposed of the pests that caused your demise, before trying to check on you. But all he could do was watch as your body dusts away.

He tried his best to grab any dust he could but most went with the wind. All he could do was stand there questioning why you would do that.

He said he’d protect you. Everyone else in the Stellaron Hunters were busy so he had to take you with him when he did his part. Yet it ended with you gone.

There was a small ceremony for your disappearance from the earth. Elio as much as he may not want too, he continued sending people on missions however allowed Blade to opt out of them he could properly mourn.

Blade still wonders why you decided to save him when he would’ve been fine, he wonders if he’d be able to save you if he noticed the enemy creepy behind him.

It was just a small argument. Welt felt bad but allowed you to storm off. You’d return eventually anyways. You’d return once dinner was ready back at the express, you knew what time that was.

But you never did return did you? Welt had thought long and hard and was ready to apologise for his words yet you weren’t back yet? Did you get dinner then go to your room?

He went to check, your room was the exact same you left it.

Did…anyone see you come back? He questioned the members of the express. None have seen you.

Finally he grabbed his coat and cane and went to look for you. Went in the direction you went and searched. As he walked his foot stepped in something. Looking down confused, his eyes widened.

Golden Dust. Dust that he knew belonged to you. Dust that told him you were gone.

And he wasn’t able to tell you he was sorry.

Welt is silent as he walks back, he let the wind take your dust elsewhere. A place he hopes you’d be happy in.

He was quiet but able to tell the express what happened. Each of them holding a small funeral for you. They kept your room intact, filled with things you loved before locking it. That room will no longer be filled with warmth but will soon grow cold.

Welt drew a picture of you, keeping it safe with him. And despite how it may seem that eventually he was over your death. He could never be.

Not until he was able to apologise for the argument.

But that won’t happen anytime soon now will it?

This was actually rlly fun to write!! Especially in well-being haha. This was meant to be posted yesterday but something came up so here it is now haha.

Might've missed some warnings, so as always. Please inform me if I did.

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

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THE 141 RESPONDING TO READER'S CRAVINGS (pregnant or not) SUSPICIOUSLY BUT STILL GETTING THEM WHAT THEY WANT cuz they love them 😭😭

Hehe, absolutely! I did this one just as pregnant readers cravings if that's okay! I've heard of some really interesting ones to say the least🤣

141's + König's Reactions To Pregnant Readers Cravings

Warnings: mentions of gagging, urge to throw up

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon awoke to an empty bed, groaning as he stretched his arms out to find your side of the bed cold. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched before swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

His brows furrowed slightly as he could smell the aroma of tomato sauce in the air. It was 8 am, what were you up to downstairs?

He made his way down to the kitchen and found you singing along your favorite song, cooking away at the stove.

"...babe?" He asked, approaching you slowly. "What, uh, what are you making?"

"Have you ever seen the movie ELF? With Will Farrell? That scene where he makes the spaghetti? It just sounded really good." You turned to him with a wide smile, as you giggled maniacally.

Simon swallowed thickly, slightly terrified at what was unfolding in front of him. He'd be lying, though, if he said he didn't find the sight of you adorable. You had a raging bedhead, your makeup still slightly smudged from yesterday, and were draped in one of his shirts, which practically dwarved you despite your growing belly.

He watched as you struggled with the pasta and chuckled slightly before making his way over to you, placing his hands on your waist as he kissed your forehead. "Need help?"

"Yes! Oh, that'd be great. The sauce is almost done. Can you get the syrup and the candy from the pantry?" You turned to him with a smile, and there was no way in hell Simon could ever say no to you.

He did as he was asked and felt his insides churn slightly as he watched you throw all of the ingredients together on the plate.

"Darn bottle won't open!" You huffed in frustration, prompting Simon to come to the rescue. "Thanks, Si. Once it's opened, can you pour it all over the pasta?"

"You want...syrup all over the pasta?" He suddenly realized you were being quite serious about the reference to the Christmas movie. "I uh.. okay."

He felt bile rise in his throat as he poured the syrup all over the pasta and tomato sauce, and it took everything in him not to puke as he watched you scarf it down. "It's SO good, Simon!"

"Sweetheart, I love you, but that looks dreadful." He chuckled, patting you on the head. "I'll go to the store and buy some TUMS, lord knows you'll need it later."

He gave a kiss to your head before grabbing his keys, stopping when you called out to him, waiving a small piece of paper. "Wait! I have a list. Can you get me these?"

"God, you're lucky I love you." He rolled his eyes playfully as he pressed a kiss to your lips. "Oh blood hell, that tastes horrid."

He grabbed the piece of paper and had to bite back a laugh as he looked at what was on the list. "Hot sauce? Ice cream? Tuna? Do I want to know?"

"Probably best not to ask."

John Price-

"Babe, I was going to order us some dinner, what did you want?" Your husband, John, called from the other room.

"I'm actually okay! Order for yourself. Found my new favorite snack." You shouted back, digging into the food in front of you.

Confused, given that you never turned down the chance to order food, John made his way into the kitchen, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you.

You were perched on the counter, 5 months pregnant, and in your lap was a carton of ice cream, with a jar of pickles right next to you. He watched as you scooped at the ice cream with one of the pickles in your hand.

John had to practice wicked self-restraint, as he tried desperately to not puke. "Love. Are you eating pickles... and ice cream?"

You nodded your head vigorously before biting off a chunk of pickle and spooning ice cream into your mouth seconds after. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a content sigh.

"Who knew! That pickles and ice cream would be SUCH a good combination?" You exclaimed, a wide smile on your face. "You should try it!"

"Oh. No, that's all you love. Wouldn't want to take it from you." He replied, trying to be polite. Though he found the idea utterly repulsive, he didn't want to make you feel bad about what you were craving.

John watched on, horrified, as you downed nearly the entire carton of ice cream and at least a half dozen pickles. How you weren't getting sick from it, he'd never know.

"Do you know if we have peanut butter?" You asked, turning to your husband with a hopeful gaze.

John blinked a few times before realizing you were talking to him. "Oh, yeah. Let me uh, grab it for you."

He reached in the cabinet next to you and slid you the jar of peanut butter. You grabbed at it and methodically dipped the pickle you were holding into the peanut butter. This time, Price couldn't hide the look of disgust on his face.

"Oh my God, this is incredible. I don't know why I didn't try this before!"

"I can think of quite a few reasons why a perfectly sane person wouldn't try it." He chuckled, and quickly dodged as you threw the spoon at him.

"Hey, Mister! You know better than to rile up a person when they are pregnant! It's not good for the baby!" You said playfully, as you flicked pickle juice at your husband. "Anyways, go ahead and order whatever you want!"

"Oh, sweetheart, my appetite is long gone."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Hey, when you're out... could you possibly get pickles... and jelly?" You approached your husband shyly as you twirled your hair between your fingers. You'd had this craving for weeks, and it was getting to the point where you could no longer ignore it.

Johnny stiffled a laugh before offering a mock salute. "No idea what you'll do with those, but sure thing. I'll be back soon."

You met Johnny at the door when he returned, and were quick to grab the bag from his hands and sprint to the kitchen. You tore through the bag to grab the jar of pickles, and the jelly, and made quick work of spending the jelly all across the pickle.

"So, you going to make a peanut butter and jelly sandy? I didn't know if we had bread so I bought it... I bought..." Johnny's words trailed off as his eyes landed on you, practically inhaling the jelly covered pickle.

You turned to him with a sheepish gaze as you swallowed the remainder of your concoction. "What?"

"You just...ate pickles and jelly?" He asked, his brows raising.

"Look, it sounds gross, but I promise you, it tastes amazing. Try it!" You held up the second jellied pickle to him with a proud smile.

Johnny shook his head, chuckling and against his better judgment, grabbed the pickle from you, and took a bite.

"Not.. Not terrible." He said, coughing slightly. "Have you heard of dipping chips in honey though? Heard that's a weird craving but am tempted to try it if you're down, we've got the ingredients for it."

From that moment on, Johnny helped you with any pregnancy craving you had, and even encouraged some of them. He'd find various combinations on social media and would try them along with you.

The two of you even made it a game to see who could come up with the tastiest, weirdest combination. Surprisingly, Johnny won nearly every time.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Hey, babeeee?" You called out to your husband, Kyle, who was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

"Yeah love, what's up?" Kyle asked, looking over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon.

"Could you possibly put a glob of Nutella on the side with my plate of bacon?" You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how Kyle would react to the unusual request.

"Sure, but what did you need it for? I don't have any toast made."

"I uh...dipping the bacon in it sounded rather good, so I wanted to try it."

"Well that's a new one, don't think I've heard that one before." Kyle chuckled.

He finished up cooking and put together a small plate of bacon and Nutella for you. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how you possibly could've come up with this concoction. To say he was curious of how it would taste, was an understatement.

He walked over to you with a smile and handed you the plate, laughing softly as you did a small happy dance. "One plate of bacon and Nutella for my love."

"Oh, it smells heavenly, thanks, Ky!" You dug right into the food, groaning loudly as it tasted even better than you thought it would. "Kyle, you have to take a bite. I know it looks gross, but it's so good."

Kyle couldn't help himself. The giant smile on your face had you looking adorable, and he'd do anything to make you happy. He walked over and took one of the slices of bacon before dipping it in the Nutella.

"Holy shit. This is so delicious, babe." His eyes lit up as the flavor exploded on his tongue. He grabbed another slice of bacon and used it to scoop up a large bit of the hazelnut spread.

You giggled as you moved the plate to the middle of the table, and gestured to the seat next to you.

Needless to say, the two of you spent the better part of that morning eating Nutella and bacon, not that either of you were complaining.

König-

"Maus, what's all this in the cart?" König asked as he watched you throw yet another thing into your overflowing shopping cart.

"Oh! I'm just super hungry. I had a few things I wanted to try out." You gave him an elated glance before barreling down another aisle to grab another ingredient.

König chuckled to himself before looking down at the array of ingredients in the cart. You had everything from hot sauce to ice cream to oranges. He swallowed thickly as he remembered reading something in one of the pregnancy books he bought about the weird cravings those who were pregnant got.

You both made it home about an hour later, and he watched as you bolted inside, with one of the bags tucked firmly in your arms. He followed behind you and nearly gagged when he watched you grab the bottle of hot sauce and the jar of peanut butter. Surely... you weren't going to..

"Kö, can you get me a spoon?" You asked sweetly as you opened the ingredients in front of you.

König stood there for a moment, unable to process what was happening before he shook himself. He walked over slowly, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and handing it to you hesitantly. He watched as you snatched it from his hands, got a spoonful of peanut butter, and drizzled a decent bit of hot sauce on top.

You put the spoonful in your mouth and licked the entire spoon clean, moaning as you absorbed the taste. You put the spoon back in the peanut butter, before repeating the process with the hot sauce. "This is just what I needed."

"It...it tastes good?" König asked, bewildered. In his life, he'd seen people eat some pretty weird shit, but this easily took the cake.

"Oh gosh, it so does. Try it?" You asked, beaming as you turned to him. He gulped audibly as he approached you, taking the outstretched spoon.

You watched him with a hopeful gaze, as he took a tiny bit of the concoction on the spoon. He did his best to keep a straight face as he processed the taste and was trying not to gag as he desperately did not want to hurt your feelings.

He cleared his throat a few times before darting over to the fridge to grab a drink. He grabbed the first beverage he could find and downed it. "Maus.."

You gave a small giggle as you watched your husband's struggles. "Not a fan?"

"Oh, no, it was.. it was good. I'm just very thirsty." He gasped out as he finished the last of his drink. "Perhaps, I could make you a better snack though? I don't know how filling this will be for you."

"What kind of snack did you have in mind?"

König gave a hearty chuckle. "Well considering we bought half the store today, I'm sure I could come up with something."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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xxblairexxss · 7 months

Text

Who are you p.3

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 2.2k

Part 1 Part 2

Is the country’s gem boy turning into your knight in shining armour? Was it a coincidence or on purpose?

I wasn’t really sure about this one but at least it’s something for the Charles’s girls after what happened last night. Anyway, CarLando healed my broken heart! 🥹🥰

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"What do you want?!"

"I accidentally called you." Charles laughed, propping his chin on hand with the good angle of you rushing to get your makeup. "Wait, don’t end the call. I would like to see."

"There’s nothing interesting to see here." The pointy finger that was a second away from the end call button was drawn back as the phone was propped against your dressing mirror while you went back to your makeup to not argue any longer because you only had 40 minutes left to get ready.

"I would like to see if you would make it on time to work." He gave a smile when you glared while your hands went to clip your hair back. "You look pretty, though."

"I haven’t done my makeup yet." Your gaze went back to the camera when he didn’t say anything, only to find him staring—more like gawking at you with a silly-looking smile.

"Still pretty. I like how you do your hair."

The morning was silence; no podcast from Linda regarding her ex-boyfriend because you didn’t know how, but the gem boy is staying on the video call with you, not so discreetly staring at you like a creep.

"Do you.." His voice came, halting the silence contest.

"Do you always get ready in silence? Like completely mute? You always had something to say. Even when I accidentally hit you, your mouth was still moving nonstop." He saw you scowl and shrug before continuing his words. "Gotta keep on reminding you I didn’t hit you on purpose."

"Do you always drive fast? Because, you know, you drive fast cars for a living." You asked the question you had been wanting to ask ever since you knew he was a Formula 1 driver, thinking this could be the perfect time to ask the question since he didn’t look like he had anything to say other than looking at you. The foundation brush was pulled back a little so you could look at him.

"Not really. Sometimes, yeah, but I know my limit. Why?"

"I have this one colleague who loves to—sorry." The sparkle in your eyes was gone when you saw him looking away, seemingly distracted or unbothered with your attempt to talk.

"No, sorry. I always have trouble ripping this off. Finish the story. What happened to your colleague?" The newly opened protein bar in his hand was half gone as he took a bite.

"My colleague, he—" The coral blush in your hand made a soft thud sound against the dressing table as you burst out laughing.

"Yeah, that’s funny." His sarcastic laugh pulled you back to your senses as you went back to the blush, no longer in the mood to talk.

"Okay, okay! I’m sorry. But let me join you laugh! What happened to your colleague?" Another chunk of the protein bar was bitten off as he fixed his way of sitting, eyes still on you.

Though it was early in the morning and he had no obligation to wake up this early, he was listening to every story of yours, laughing whenever you laughed and smiling when he found you got carried away with your emotions. It was adorable to him.

"Are you going somewhere?" You asked, and the cap of the MAC lipstick was closed back as you pressed your lips together.

"Me? Nah, I’m going back to sleep after this." Charles replied, his eyes going back to the second protein bar.

"Am I keeping you up? I’m almost done." You stood up, getting your files, bag, and phone still in hand as you headed out of the house. "You can go back to sleep!"

"Do you have any plans tonight?" His voice came again through your phone speaker while you put on your heels.

"Yeah! I’m going out." The key pass was slipped into the bag as you headed to the elevator.

"With who?"

"My colleagues! They asked me to join them for a night out. It’s my first night out with them." After months of moving here, you would have thought you would get at least one friend from being born loquacious, but the language barrier set a limit to your friendliness.

"Where?" Charles asked.

It felt like being interrogated by your parents. The questions sounded like they were subtly wrapped in worry, but you were pretty sure he asked because he wasn’t expecting you to have friends. "Tch, it’s not your problem."

"Y/N, where?" His stern voice cut you off from your bantering mood.

"Jimmy’z! Got to go. Bye!"

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"Y/N! How will you go home?" You turned back, a little lightheaded from going over your limit today.

"Me? I’m going to walk! It’s not that far." You giggled, having been fully influenced by the alcohol.

"See you next week!"

"Bye!" You had your hand cave around your lips as you shouted back before waving to your colleagues before a soft thud from your back pulled your eyes away. "Oh, my bag." You mumbled, bending down to get your handbag that slipped off your arm, and let out another giggle.

There wasn’t anyone else in the street. The light barely shined bright enough to light your way. The time on your phone stated it was 15 minutes past midnight. It was a little scary for you to still be out here in a foreign country with a language you could barely speak at this hour, but at least you wouldn’t bump into strangers on your way home.

"Hey!"

You stopped, frowning, but still kept your gaze straight.

"You! The girl in the dark blue dress!"

The black-coloured sedan stopped by the side of the ride, moving a little as it copied your pace. "Me? Oh, hello!"

"Where are you going?" The window was rolled down as he peered from inside the car.

"I’m going home!"

"Do you want me to send you home?" The car was still left on, but he had hopped off and strode all the way to approach you.

"Oh, it’s okay! I can go home myself." His grip on your arm stunned you a little, but you were too drunk to fight back.

"I live nearby. It’s okay. Let me send you home."

"Oh, you live nearby?" He nodded to the question, which made you squeal in delight. "Okay, sure!"

The guy wasted no time and helped you get into the car while you kept on swaying, leaning against his body. You excitedly got in the car, thinking you were so lucky to not have to walk all the way home, when you realised your bag had fallen off, left at the side of the road where you were standing earlier.

"Wait, my bag." Groaning, you pushed the body that was hugging you earlier just so you could pick it up, but someone snatched it quicker than you. "Oh? It’s my bag! Give it back! Give it back, asshole!"

"I know! I know, it’s your bag, Y/N! Geez." Charles winced, and his free hand went to grab your wrist to stop you from hitting his chest.

"Charles Leclerc? Wait, you knew her?"

Charles switched his gaze from you in his arms to the guy who was standing at the car earlier. The guy who made him run like a crazy guy. Long gone was the smug on the face that he saw earlier, the guy be looking surprised to see him there.

"She actually came with me, so I’m taking her home." He replied, remaining calm with a smile while you leaned on him, mumbling whatever words he could barely hear.

"I thought she came alone; I was going to send her home. I’ll get going then." Charles saw it in the way he clenched his fist as he walked back into the car. Frustrated, probably, but he was too stressed to say anything because at least you were safe. No cut, no scratch.

"You scared me to death, Y/N." He heaved a sigh, eyes shut, while he tightened his grip on you. You had stopped punching, hitting him as he gave the handbag away, so he knew you might be falling asleep, more positive from your calm wave of breathing. His heart was still beating like crazy, too scared to imagine what would happen if he didn’t choose to go with his gut feelings tonight.

"I’m sleepy.." You whined, mustering every strength to push yourself away from the embrace so you could make your way home.

"I know. I know, Y/N. Let’s get you home." He spared no chance and picked you up as you leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a good thing there weren’t many cars or people on the road at this hour. Not that he didn’t want to be seen with you. In fact, he was actually happy to see candid pictures of you and him taken by the fans being uploaded on the Internet, but if it were at this hour, it would have caused everything but something beneficial, knowing very well you were here for an internship. He didn’t want to ruin anything involving your career or reputation.

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He jumped back when you sat up as soon as he put you on the bed. It was a good thing he managed to find your access card in the bag, or else he would have no other option than to bring you back to his apartment, and he was pretty sure if he did that, he might wake up the next morning barely alive because he wasn’t sure if you would remember what happened, and if you didn’t, he didn’t think he would have enough time to explain before your fist landed on his eye.

"Y/N, where are you going?" He grabbed your arm as you stood up, your head still too heavy for you to walk straight.

"My makeup!" You stumbled your way to the bathroom while the driver followed behind. His grip on your arm still stayed, though it went loose once you leaned your body against the sink.

He laughed, flipping open the packaging where it stored your makeup removed pad after seeing you struggling with it, and leaned against the sink, his arms folded as he looked at you in the eyes.

"Stop looking at me!"

"I have eyes. What am I supposed to do with it other than staring and judging people?" The driver leaned closer, now with a smirk plastered on his face as he saw you getting flustered.

"Okay, but I don’t need you to judge me right now."

"You are red." You took a step back when he moved his face even closer.

"I always get hot when I’m drunk." The cotton pad in hand was thrown into the small bin as you pushed him aside so you could wash your face.

"No. I don’t think so. I think you are red because you like me." He shrugged, and before you could walk out of the bathroom, he pulled you back by your waist, making you crash back into his body.

"Let me go! And I don’t like you. Maybe a little, but not much." The smirking face that was staring at you intensely with his arms around your waist made your knees weak. You would have dropped down on your knees here on the cold floor if he hadn’t held you up.

"Don’t do me like that anymore, Y/N. I’m serious."

You were going to step away from his embrace, but his words and his shift of tone snatched your full attention. "Do you what, driver?"

"Don’t scare me like that." The truth was, he didn’t have any other plans tonight. He was supposed to be in his apartment, playing truck simulator with George, but something in his heart kept on whispering, forcing him to head to Jimmy'z, and when he got there, he saw a guy tugging on your shoulders with a smug face that told him he had no other intention than to take advantage of your state. He nearly tripped; his face nearly fell straight on the path as he saw you getting in the car without any second thoughts, with a freaking smile on your pretty face, but thank God, your handbag slipped off your arm the last second before the car door closed. He didn’t know what he would do or how far he would go if he had to chase after you in the stranger’s car.

"Did I scare you?" You blinked, unable to grasp what he was trying to say.

"A lot. I kept on thinking about what would happen if I was a second late." His gaze on the bathroom floor was brought up to yours, and he ended up smiling after seeing your clueless expression.

"Would a hug help?" You were a little lost, actually, because you were so sure you didn’t do anything. Except for being blessed meeting someone who offered to send you home for free, but he looked fully disturbed by that, so you extended your arms, offering a hug.

"Yeah. A hug from you would help a lot." He brought his body closer, engulfing you in his arms, where he finally let his wall down. Charles brought one hand on the back of your hair, stroking it while he dipped his face on your neck, smiling when he felt the soft pat on his back from your hand.

"Thank you for taking me home." You mumbled against his shirt before breaking the hug.

"I’ll call you tomorrow. Get enough rest. I would like to hear your annoying little chatter about your first night out with your colleagues." He sent a reminder before taking his jacket back and heading out of the apartment. You were expecting a smirk and a cocky look on his face from earlier, but as he turned back, looking at you, you saw a smile. A genuine one that tugged at the strings of your heart.

✧.* tag list for p.3 @styles-sunflower @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @lexiecamposv @formulas-bitch

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff

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renjunphile · 4 days

Text

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."

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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.

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#eunseok #riize #riize au #eunseok au #song eunseok #riize fic #riize fanfic #riize x reader #eunseok x reader #eunseok fluff #riize fluff #riize angst #riize imagine #riize one shot #riize fic recs #eunseok fic recs #arranged marriage au

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radioisntdead · 23 days

Note

Ok. So…you can’t just put potential Rosie HeadCanons in my face like that and NOT expect me to start gushing girl.

Rosie with a reader who has a powerful instant regeneration ability. Just imaging they chop off a limb or some fingers and offer them up to Rosie like - “Flame grilled or Sushi?”

Being cute while she’s devouring their pinkie finger while having tea, and reader is SO nonchalant about it.

Good evening my dear! Rosie is just munchin' on the reader like a snack.

Warnings!!

Cannibalism [Fun fact, this is one of the main warnings in the fics I write, out of context this is concerning, EVEN WITH CONTEXT ITS KINDA CONCERNING??] mild gore for obvious reasons, temporary self mutilation??? The seasoning of limbs I don't know but this gets weird, as per usual this more then likely isn't proofread, I wrote headcanons and a drabble but this is somewhat short my apologies!

You and Rosie's relationship is odd to say the least, I mean y'all are in hell but still, but it's healthier then the majority of relationships down there,

I imagine you just carry around like a butcher knife so whenever Rosie is hungry you just go CHOP and hand her your hand or something,

Also if you carry around a bag I imagine you put some seasonings and sauces in for her to choose as well, because unseasoned meat is gross.

Rosie seems like the type to season her food.

The first time you popped off a limb you did with without warning and almost scared Rosie half to double death!

Give the gal a warning and tell her that you can regenerate limbs! She did enjoy munching on it afterwards though!

If you're an overlord you supply her with snacks at meetings,

She just whispers to you that she's hungry and that after the meeting you should get a meal,

And then you with zero discretion chop off a finger and offer it to her,

Carmilla Carmine wasn't pleased, neither were the other overlords [excluding Alastor, he finds it entertaining] and that's saying something since they've more then likely done horrendous things to get to their overlord status.

Rosie however is pleased with the snack, she would prefer if you didn't get blood on the table though,

Maybe in advance you go chop chop and put fingers in a Ziploc bag and hand it to her like it's baby carrots.

Less mess that way,

During tea time I imagine you do prep work in advance so you have an assortment of your fingers in different flavors, so your hand is mess free to be able to hold Rosie's hand while sipping tea,

Or maybe having a picnic, you just pop off an arm and thinly slice it and put it in a little sandwich, maybe some type of dessert? I don't know

Similar to the Alastor biting headcanons I did, Rosie bites you,

But unlike Alastor she doesn't just break skin, she takes CHUNKS OUT, I image you either have a really REALLY REALLY high pain tolerance or you can't feel pain because this has to be painful.

Also you probably need to have towels nearby because this gets messy, like it looks like a murder scene, but without the murder.

You are a snack, literally, a walking talking snack that Rosie adores with all her cannibalistic heart.

....................

You hummed as Rosie sat nearby sipping tea, it was a decent day in hell, the sky was red, sinners were screaming in the distance, and you were pulling back a meat cleaver to provide more fingers,

"Rosie darling, Should I take out the bone or leave it in this time?"

"Leave it in, it gives the fingers a nice crunch!"

Rosie said looking at you, grinning her sharp teeth shining like a razer sharp knife, eyes like a endless void of pitch black that one could get lost in, you could wander in and never escape.

You were completely and utterly in love with her,

Giving a lovely smile back you nodded before ramming down the cleaver, spattering blood across the counter, you pulled your now fingerless hand back, giving it a slight shake before a swirl of black smoke covered it and within seconds you had fingers again, you pull back the cleaver to repeat the process, after all your beloved Rosie was hungry and five fingers wasn't much!

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in!

I never thought I would be writing cannibal x readers but here we are, anyways I'm still working through requests! I got a Found family Rosie, an parental Alastor, an angsty Velvette and another one that I can't remember but It's in the drafts! Also Alrighty tune in time!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin rosie #hazbin rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie #rosie x reader #rosie x you

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floralcyanidee · 8 months

Text

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ - ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

Young!Cillian Murphy x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

A night over at your best friend, Cillian's, leads to something more than friendship but something less than romance. Will you ever tell him how you feel, or will you always just be friends with benefits?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, cock warming, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of choking, love confessions

word count: 4409

author’s note: I'm shadowbanned on my main account everyone please clap (not for nsfw, I was flagged for spam yay) so I'll be posting on this shiny new blog, ao3, and wattpad for the time being. (those are both linked on my masterpost) hopefully I'll be unbanned soon because I've had my main tumblr for a decade and it has 2.5k followers on it and I'll fr cry my eyes out if I can't get unbanned!!! anyway please enjoy this!! I wrote a good chunk of this while at work this week. the horny really unleashes in the second part haha. please leave feedback if you enjoy! <3

PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG. BUT ALSO, DO NOT UNFOLLOW MY MAIN BLOG!

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

Cillian’s lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath hitting your face. His eyelashes almost touch your cheeks, and his nose is beside yours, barely brushing against it.

“I want you so bad,” Cillian whispers, his hands finding your hips.

You have been friends since the 90s when Cillian first arrived in Hollywood, stumbling upon you at a local bar where you worked. Ever since, you’ve both been the best of friends. But tonight, that’s being challenged. The lights in Cillian’s place are dimmed, candles are lit, and wine is flowing through the two of you. Having a bit to drink in a comfortable setting isn’t out of the norm, but for some reason, tensions were high tonight. You could almost cut it with a knife. Everything about him is more mesmerizing tonight- his eyes, his freckles, the way he smiles. You needed him, and apparently, he needed you too.

“Then have me,” you mutter against Cillian’s lips.

He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t want to ruin us.”

“You won’t,” you look down at his lips- they’re so close to yours that you can feel them move whenever he speaks.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you breathe, grabbing hold of Cillian’s face as he finally puts his mouth on yours.

The kiss immediately becomes hungry, your teeth nearly clashing together as Cillian slips his tongue around yours. He’s gripping your hips fiercely, and his sideburns press pleasantly into your palms as you hold his head steady. Cillian pulls you onto his lap from your sitting position on the couch next to him, seating you firmly on his thighs. Your fingers find his hair, tugging it slightly as a small whimper vibrates in Cillian’s throat. The sound spurs you on, and you take over the kiss, dominating his tongue with yours. You explore his mouth and suck on his tongue harshly, pulling away from the embrace to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re good at this.”

You scoff, putting both your hands on his cheeks as you trace your thumb along his sharp cheekbones, “And to think you would’ve never known.”

“Not necessarily,” Cillian looks you in the eyes, “I would’ve gotten you one way or another.”

“Then why have you waited so long, then? Hmm?” you ask.

“I value our friendship,” Cillian admits.

“I do, too, Cill. But god, if I had known you were so good at kissing, I would’ve done it ages ago,” you smirk, running your finger across his bottom lip.

His eyes follow your movements before they flick up to yours, darkening, “I’m not just good at that.”

His words shoot straight to your lower belly, warmth spreading through you, “Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” Cillian pulls you closer to his chest, your core settling right on his.

“Show me.”

Cillian attacks your lips again, this time biting down on your lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. You watch his face as he does it, his icy eyes becoming a darker shade of blue. His hand moves from your hip to your hair, his fingers sliding through your locks before they tighten, pulling your head backward to expose your neck. Cillian leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he bites at the skin, leaving a small bruise to form below your jaw. You squirm slightly at the feeling of his teeth pressing into your skin, dangerously close to breaking its surface. Cillian then kisses your collarbones, stopping when he reaches the neck of your shirt, well, his shirt. You always took from his wardrobe, whether it was a beanie, t-shirt, or hoodie that he forgot he had. He slides his hand from your hip to underneath the shirt, pressing his palm to your feverish skin and pushing it up slowly until he reaches your breast.

“No bra?” Cillian asks, surprised.

“I never wear a bra when I’m over here,” you admit, “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”

“I’m glad I never noticed, or else I’d be underneath your shirt constantly,” Cillian pulls his hand from your hair to move it under the shirt along with the other.

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” you giggle, but it’s cut off by a quiet moan when Cillian grasps your breasts.

Cillian brushes his thumbs over your nipples, circling the buds as they harden under his touch. You hum, letting your head fall back at the sensation. Cillian pushes the shirt up and over your chest, and you help him pull it all the way off, tossing it somewhere in the living room. Immediately, Cillian latches onto one of your nipples, toying with the other one with his fingers. Electricity shoots to your still-clothed core, and you know that Cillian can feel you beginning to throb through your thin shorts. His playing with your breasts could get you off alone; his touch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s sometimes sensual and soft and rough and firm when needed. Cillian grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, pulling it toward him as you let out a yelp. You involuntarily bare down on his lap and feel him growing harder underneath you. He lands a slap to your breast, and you gasp, hands going to grip his biceps to ground yourself.

“I can feel you getting excited,” Cillian teases, raising his hips a little to let all your weight sit on him momentarily.

“What are you gonna do about it, then?” you stifle a moan at his bulge pressing into your clit harshly.

Cillian pushes you off his lap and onto the couch, where he spreads your legs and yanks your shorts down your thighs, discarding them wherever the shirt also previously went. He pulls your calves onto his shoulders, laying on his chest between your thighs. His breath hits your dampened underwear, sending goosebumps across your skin. You bite your lip as Cillian plays with the edges of your underwear right against where you need him most. He toys with the fabric, letting his fingers barely touch you underneath.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Cillian confesses, his intense eyes flickering up to your face.

You feel your cheeks burn, “Me too.”

Cillian smiles his typical beautiful smile, teeth and all, as he pulls your underwear down your legs painfully slow, “I’ve always imagined how wet you’d get just from me teasing you.”

You bite back a whimper as he removes your underwear from your legs, letting them fall to the floor.

“You’d get soaked from me playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit slowly, and eating you out until you cry,” Cillian lets his filthy words fall from his lips as you shiver from them, wanting to close your legs subconsciously.

But they were perched on Cillian’s shoulders, and he was about to go in for the kill. He kneads your thigh before pushing it to the side, letting it drape off the edge of the couch and opening you up further to him. Cillian’s fingers brush against your hardening clit like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, making you tremble as you grunt from the sensual feeling.

“Please,” you sigh, your hips jerking up when Cillian pulls his hand away.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me, Cill. God, I need you to touch me.”

Cillian strokes your entrance with his index finger, gathering your wetness before dragging it up to your clit. He circles the bundle of nerves slowly, making you whine above him.

“So wet already,” Cillian moans, “You’re so beautiful.”

You throw your head back against the arm of the couch when Cillian finally replaces his finger with the tip of his tongue, going around and around the sensitive bud, never coming directly in contact with it. He changes his mind about that and starts to lap at your clit, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers travel back to your now-dripping entrance. Cillian hums in satisfaction at the feeling of your arousal seeping out of you at his expense. He flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit before swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue still flat and giving your entire bundle of nerves attention. Cillian probes you with a single finger, pushing it in as you moan his name. He pumps it in and out of you, curling it against your g spot with every thrust. He adds a second finger, and the sound of your wetness grows louder, mixing with your breathy moans and Cillian’s pants.

“Say my name again,” Cillian bites his lip, watching as his soaked fingers move in and out of you.

“Cillian,” you whine, moving your hips along with his fingers.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers, darling,” he says, adding a third finger in you.

To say you‘re a mess is an understatement. You need Cillian inside you, as your walls are clenching around his fingers with desperation. You grab his shirt, “Fuck me, please.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Cillian smirks, lifting his shirt off his lean body before standing up to tug his pants and underwear down and off his legs.

Cillian teases your clit with his leaking head before lining himself up with you. He looks at you with an unsure expression, and you nod in response to the unspoken question. He slowly pushes himself into you, your warmth already fluttering around him. Cillian guides himself all the way to his hilt, letting out a throaty groan when he feels his entire length surrounded by your velvety walls. His hands run up and down your abdomen, stopping when he palms over your breasts. They’re still sensitive from the previous activity and your growing arousal, causing you to wriggle when Cillian’s fingers deftly pinch at both your nipples as he slowly pulls himself almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you. You cry out, your hands flying to where his back meets his shoulders, nails digging softly into his flesh. Cillian moans when you clench harshly around him when he tugs at your nipple particularly hard.

“You like these pretty titties to be played with, huh?” Cillian runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure when he pulls at the sensitive skin.

You nod, but he lets go of your breasts, running his hands over your body before his hand snakes between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. You let out a throaty moan, and Cillian curses under his breath as his hips snap against yours at a steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuck,” you drawl, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your body heaves into the couch from the velocity of Cillian’s perfect cock slamming into you without mercy, “You feel so good inside of me.”

You push Cillian up and off you, shoving him onto the couch behind him. You climb on his lap, throwing your legs over his thighs as you line him back up with your aching cunt. Feeling him stretch you out completely while at a different angle makes you moan uncontrollably as you set a pace, riding Cillian as if your life depended on it. Your ass slaps his hips as he guides them up and down, thrusting into you dead-on. Cillian’s tip hits your cervix flawlessly, and you feel that tightness in your belly.

“Cum inside me, Cillian,” you swivel your hips, “Fill me up and make me yours.”

“Gonna cum around my cock first?” Cillian’s lips are swollen from incessantly biting as he watches you fuck yourself on him.

You decide you’ll milk him for all he’s got and lean down to land a bruising kiss on his lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths as you near your peak, reaching underneath you to flick your clit. Cillian grips your ass as you feel yourself unravel, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls cave in on CIllian’s length, causing him to reach his own orgasm before he’s ready. He squirms underneath you as you continue to bounce on his cock, coaxing every drop of cum out of him.

“Fuck,” Cillian exhales as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking just as fucked out as you.

You lay down on his chest, him still inside you. He doesn’t bother moving either; the feeling of you still cloaked around him made him dizzy. Cillian is still trying to wrap his head around how this is real. He also is trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s terrified of telling you his true feelings for you, fearing you won’t want to be friends anymore. Obviously, tonight the dynamic has changed from just friendship between the two of you.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you trace shapes into Cillian’s bare chest, peering up at him when he doesn’t answer.

He appears deep in thought.

“Everything okay?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man underneath you.

Cillian nods, his hand finding your hair before stroking it softly, “Just thinking.”

“About?” you rest your chest on his collarbone.

“How much I’d like to do this again,” Cillian says, and you chuckle.

“That can be arranged,” you leave a kiss on his neck, his eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, though,” Cillian says worriedly.

“You haven’t ruined anything. And I’ve had just as much to do with this as you,” you say, putting your finger under Cillian’s chin to look at him directly, “You’re still my best friend.”

“And you’re fine with whatever this is?”

“It’s the best of both worlds,” you shrug with a smile.

Cillian moves to sit up against the couch's armrest still sheathed inside you. And as you start yet another make out session and begin to rock your hips with your walls still hugging his cock, you try not to think. The idea that you must hide your feelings for Cillian even more is hard to wrap your mind around.

But little did you know, he was having the same problem. He tries not to think about it as he thrusts into you sloppily, letting you ride him as you please.

—

“Jesus, shit!”

“God, you’re so fucking drenched. All of this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, letting out a pornographic moan as one of Cillian’s hands holds your swollen cunt open while the other rubs at it vigorously.

“Just like that-” Cillian moans at the sounds you’re letting out, “Need you to cum on my face, pretty thing.”

You cry out, rocking your hips against Cillian’s merciless hand as it flies across your pussy with no sign of stopping. He pokes out his middle finger to catch your clit with every swipe of his hand. Your orgasm explodes in your stomach, your core gushing cum as Cillian hurries to dip his face down. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, flicking his tongue over your bundle of nerves, causing you to squirt again.

“Fuuuck,” you squeal, your hands gripping Cillian’s hair like a vice.

Cillian can’t get enough. He’s not gonna lie, he thinks he’s absolutely obsessed with making you squirt. He could do it all night and still get off at the sight. Cillian laps at your pussy, spreading his tongue around your folds, stimulating the sensitive area further.

“Cill, I’m gonna cum again,” you warn, but Cillian just keeps his eyes closed as he sneaks two fingers inside you.

His fingertips brush against your g spot and send you over the edge a third time, and Cillian’s nipping at your clit causes you to gush again. You were slightly embarrassed but incredibly turned on by it. And you know Cillian is relishing in it, literally and figuratively. He pulls away from you, a little reluctantly, and wipes his mouth and face with the back of his arm. You grab his face and pull him into you as he collapses on your naked, heaving chest. You stare at Cillian, the light from the side table’s lamp shining into his eyes just right. They’re returning to an arctic blue as his heart rate calms, his pupils going back to normal size. Cillian stares back at you, studying your features just as you are his. Freckles sprinkle Cillian’s cheeks and nose, dotting along his forehead and chin as well. His lips are red and swollen, and he’s sporting a lopsided smile as he looks at you.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, “Literally everything you do, say, and how you look is just flawless. Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” you joke.

A smile spreads upon Cillian’s face as his cheeks tinge pink, the warmth traveling to his ears, “I’m not perfect by any means, and no, I’m not an angel,” he says, his accent thick and raspy from the previous exertion.

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that,” you say as CIllian softly kisses your neck.

God, I love you, you want to say. Because you do; you love him. You always have, but sharing such intimate moments with Cillian has just strengthened the feeling you already had. You’re honestly exhausted but still blissed out from Cillian going absolutely feral on you. You have never squirted before, and if you could, you’d let him make you squirt all night. You’d watch as your arousal covers his pretty face, delighting him much like it did earlier. Cillian looked like a kid in a candy store as you gushed for him.

“I’ve never squirted before, so,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands, “Yeah, I’d consider that angelic.”

“Really?” Cillian asks incredulously, “Never? Not even by yourself?”

“Especially not by myself,” you chuckle, uncovering your face to look at Cillian, “You’re better than any vibrator or dildo I own.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cillian bites your jaw playfully before reaching down and grabbing the duvet, covering the both of you with it.

He rolls off you, much to your dismay. But he immediately pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly with his arms as if you’ll disappear. Cillian slides a leg between yours, his knee pressed against you softly. He rubs his nose against your ear, “Still wet, pretty?”

“Shut up,” you mutter shyly, burying your face in his arms.

“Only if you make me,” Cillian teases you, nipping at your earlobe.

You groan, “Too tired,” you feel Cillian’s hand travel down your navel to gauge how wet you still are, “I don’t think I can move.”

“Who said you had to move?” Cillian asks, pulling your thigh up until your leg is draped over his hip, spreading you open for perfect access.

Before you can ask him to touch you, Cillian lines his length up with your still-needy cunt. You’re surprised you had any remainder of horniness left in you. But there’s something about Cillian that naturally turns you on. You’ve noticed it’s gotten more intense now that he’s your sexual partner. It’s like you can’t get enough of him, and he can’t get enough of you, either. Cillian nudges his tip into you before letting it glide in without a hitch. The way you’re laying makes the angle at which he’s inside of you feel irresistible. You let Cillian play with your still-sensitive clit as his hips snap into your ass. His hot, heavy breath is in your ear as he fucks you slowly. You toss your arm behind you, grabbing the back of Cillian’s neck for leverage as you turn your head around. His lips meet yours hungrily, and he swallows your guttural moans as you fuck yourself on his cock. Cillian’s other hand snakes from underneath you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t press them into your skin but lets them rest there, almost possessively.

You’ve been exploring each other’s bodies ever since the first night you had sex- trying different angles and positions. But you told Cillian that you didn’t want anything rough. That was reserved for a romantic relationship. Cillian felt a twinge of hurt in his chest when you said that, as if you had meant you weren’t planning on a romantic relationship with him specifically. But he understood and respected your boundaries despite his weird sadness about not being able to do certain things with you. Cillian thought it odd because you were not his, so he had no right to hurt you consensually or mark you as his. So, he shouldn’t be so upset about it. Yet he is because he wants you to trust him with everything you have, and he wants to take care of you after the roughness. Cillian wants you to be taken care of. But he knows his limits and that he can’t break the rules of the friends-with-benefits situation. So Cillian doesn’t choke you during sex, or slap you, or kiss you outside the bedroom- especially in public. He bites his tongue every time you do something that melts his heart. He refrains from saying those three little words every day. Cillian has no idea how much you wished he would break the rules just once or how you wished he’d say he loves you.

Something comes over you, though. You reach a hand up and cover Cillian’s that is on your neck and press his fingers into the sides of your throat. You sigh contently as your head becomes cloudy from the lack of blood flow to your head. Cillian stops rubbing your clit and takes your hand from over his, slipping his fingers between yours and pinning it in front of you.

You whimper in detest, and Cillian nips at the skin behind your ear, “Naughty thing. Don’t break your own rules, sweetheart.”

You sigh in defeat, but before you can pout, a moan rips through your chest. Cillian pushed your clave up into your thigh, thus making it easier for him to ram his cock against your cervix in a way that sends stars floating across your vision. Your hand squeezes his as you feel your release creeping up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, watching as Cillian’s length moves in and out of you quickly.

It was erotic yet romantic, him being so close to you and inside you. You and Cillian are now one, but you wish things were different.

“Good,” Cillian kisses the back of your neck, his nose drawing circles in your skin delicately.

You breathe deeply, feeling your stomach clench. You cry out Cillian’s name as you unravel, his fingers pressing to your clit. Your body trembles and shakes as he continues his assault on the bundle of nerves, still chasing after his own high as he keeps thrusting into you. Your back arches, toes curling as another wave of pleasure hits you.

“You’re doing so good, angel,” Cillian praises in your ear, “Taking my cock so well. I’m almost there, just hold on.”

The feeling of Cillian exploding inside you sends you over the edge for the third and final time. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your body convulsing from pleasure. Your pussy clenches around him as he rides out his orgasm, panting in your ear. He almost doesn’t hear you say it. Almost.

“Fuck, I love you,” you whine quietly.

You gasp, immediately realizing what’s slipped from your mouth in a shroud of cloudy pleasure. But you hide your gasp as you catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You pray to whatever is out there that Cillian didn’t hear you proclaim your feelings in a vulnerable moment.

Cillian grunts as he pulls out of you, letting your leg go limp and relax back on the bed. He keeps his hand entangled with yours. But you pull your grasp out of his, turning around and facing him. You hurriedly bury your face in his chest so you can’t look at him and see how he’s possibly reacting to your words. Cillian wordlessly wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him. You fight the urge to cry at the silence of the dimly lit room as Cillian tugs the duvet over your sweaty, naked bodies. You try and steady your breath and keep your heart from racing.

“Can you say it again?” Cillian finally asks after several minutes of dead silence.

You lift your head from his chest, looking at him confused, “Say what?”

Cillian looks at you seriously before lifting his hand to touch your face gingerly, “What you said a moment ago.”

“You didn’t hear that, did y-”

“I did. But I want you to say again.”

Tears brim your eyes as you feel heaviness in your chest- will he make fun of you? Did you just ruin everything?

You let out a choked sob, hiding your face in his neck, “I love you. I fucking love you. There, I said it,” you slam your fist against his chest. “Feel free to hate me, but it’s true.”

“I could never hate you, gorgeous,” Cillian pulls away from you, his hands grabbing your cheeks so you’re looking directly at him.

His eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, much like they did the first time you kissed him weeks ago. You blink away your tears, but Cillian wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I love you too,” Cillian confesses, “I love you so much. You know that?”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but Cillian presses his forehead against yours, and you try to ground yourself. He loves you. Cillian loves you back. Cillian kisses your lips gently as if he’d break you. You grasp his hair, kissing him back passionately.

“I love you,” you say, pulling away from his lips and kissing his eyelids instead.

“I love everything about you,” you brush your lips across his cheeks, then kiss his nose, “Your angel kisses. Your beautiful eyes. Everything about you. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re perfect.”

Cillian laughs, and you melt at his smile.

“You,” Cillian says, “Are everything to me. Everything that brings me joy, everything that makes me happy.”

You wrap your arms around Cillian’s neck, pulling him close to you as you tuck your face into his neck.

“Never let go,” Cillian says, his arms snaking around your waist and holding you close.

“I won’t,” you say, a heaviness lifting from your chest at last, “I never will.”

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d10nyx · 3 months

Text

meant to be yours

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, unwilling cannibalism - reciever doesn't know! self-mutilation. obsessive, creepy, delusional reader. no real sex but masturbation n fantasies. very little smut and also a lil vomit.

a/n: idk why, but i... could not get this out of my head. been writing this the past few hours n it's now 1am... all i'm gonna say is read at your own discretion

word count: 1.9k words

There wasn't much good in your life. Not really. You'd never been one to talk much. No family, no friends. You spent most of your life working, dropping out of school, and saving money from a young age in order to pursue your one true passion - baking.

Opening up your own shop was hard. You went hungry most nights in order to skim a little cash from your dead-end job to be able to afford the down payment. But it worked. You had your own bakery, and business was booming.

For once in your life, you felt happy.

The day Leon came into the bakery for the first time changed everything. A festering desire found its way into your mind, an itch that wouldn't leave. He was your soul mate, you knew it. He was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. So pure and untouched.

He made your skin crawl. You needed to be closer to him, to corrupt him in a way that no one would ever come close to you. You needed to be his, mind, body and soul. His smile made you nauseous. How many others had received that same smile?

No. You had to have him in a way no one else could.

You started experimenting. Simple things, really. Your love for him was all consuming, and you're sure in time he'd come to understand how much you worshipped him. He'd be appreciative of all you'd done for him once he found out.

It made it all worth it as you carved into your flesh for the first time. Your teeth clamped down on an old leather belt of yours to stiffle your screams, a piece of fabric tied tight around your thigh to slow the bleeding as you cut chunks of your flesh out.

The pain almost made you pass out, but you wouldn't let your weakness get in the way of showing devotion to Leon. You swallowed your bile as it rose up your throat, blinked past the blurriness of your tears.

You did your best to treat the wounds efficiently after. YouTube can only teach you so much, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking, so you couldn't wrap the bandage as tight as you should have. But that was okay. You couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk someone stopping your plan.

You swallowed some painkillers and went to bed, content with the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. That meant Leon would be coming. You had something really special for him.

You wake up with a hop in your step the next morning despite the excruciating pain you were in. You down more painkillers and pop the pack in your pocket, although it does little to dull your pain.

You grind the carefully harvested flesh down. You had already made the dough which had expanded nicely. This would have to be your best work, after all. You carefully lay out the necessary ingredients, combining them before placing the filling neatly into the dough.

You gather up the edges of the disc you'd made, folding them over the seasoned flesh and tucking them in to form a nice ball. You smile at yourself, feeling like you deserved a pat on the back. Once the egg wash is on, you place them into the oven and glance at the clock.

Perfect timing.

You smile and set up the rest of the bakery for opening. Once the buns are cooked, you take them out and place them in the back. You greet all the customers as friendly as always despite the burning in your thigh and the obsession making itself known in the forefront of your brain.

The closer it gets to Leon's usual entrance time, the more antsy you get. You can't keep still, shifting your weight between your feet as it becomes increasingly more difficult not to snap at every customer that walks in. They were all wasting your time.

Your eyes flick over to the clock on your wall constantly. The quiet ticking makes your eyes twitch and keeps your nerves on edge. You want to rip the clock from the wall and-

“Hey.” Your head snaps to the door. A smile makes its way to your face as you relax. Finally. You lean on the counter, your gaze trailing Leon's face appreciatively.

“Leon. Hi.” You breathe out, all the tension seeping out of your muscles. He makes all the pain you endured worth it, just to see his smile. “The usual?”

He nods softly, and you get to work packing his order. He likes to treat himself to a slice of cake and a pastry at the end of the week. It's the cutest thing ever to you, and you always like to throw in an extra little snack. On the house, of course.

“Hey, I tried something new today. Saved some for my favourite customer. Want to try it?” The festering in your mind returns tenfold. You didn't know what you'd do if he didn't accept. Your mind was screaming at you, wanting nothing more than to see him eat your flesh. To become one with you.

Please. Your mind supplies, your breathing growing shallow as you wait for his reply. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours, your nails digging into your palms and leaving little crescent shaped marks in the flesh.

“Sure! What did you make?” He asks, sweet as ever. The air you suck in after that satisfies your whole body, like the first breath of air after you'd been drowning. Your lungs stop burning, your mind stops screaming.

“I'm trying out some more savoury stuff. Trying to broaden my horizons, you know?” You say with a chuckle, stepping back to retrieve the tray. “I made some pork buns. Saved them just for you. They're all yours, if you like them.”

He lets out a laugh himself, eyes examining the food in front of him. “You're too good to me. These look amazing.”

Take one. Please. Just one.

“Ah, it's nothing.” You say causally, your eyes locked on his hands as they reach out for one of the buns. Your heart beats faster, feeling like it's about to break free past the cage of your ribs. “You're an officer. Just giving back.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He says with an amused smile, finally picking up one of them.

Yesyesyesyes. Just a little longer.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to make a noise as he takes a bite. It's even harder to keep a neutral expression as he chews it, his eyes widening slightly. He swallows the bite, looks at you and grins. You lean forward, watching with morbid curiosity as his Adam's apple bobs, picturing the chunks of your flesh sliding down his throat.

“Wow! These are, like… really good. You should definitely start selling them.” He compliments, taking another bite. You watch him finish up the bun with increasing interest, your eyes practically sparkling with joy and your pussy throbbing with need.

“That's, um…” Your words come out shaky, so you clear your throat and try again. “Thank you. That means a lot. I'm really glad you liked it.”

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed.

If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

“No, no. I think that's it.” He says with a head tilt, not looking unlike a puppy in that moment. You want to keep him in a little room, safe from the cruelty in the world. Maybe a cute little display case you dust off every day.

“Alright, no problem, then.” You say as you start to ring up his order, telling him the price and taking the money. “Let me just wrap these up, and you can be on your way.”

With practised ease, you quickly wrapped the ordered items in paper, making sure the wrapping is secure. Once done, you carefully place them into a brown paper bag, double checking everything was intact. Reaching out, you held it out towards Leon, a kind smile on your face as you tried to ignore the aggressive beating of your heart. Your hand shook slightly, yearning for contact. For just a tiny moment of skin on skin. "Here you go.”

“Thank you so much! I'll see you next week.” He tells you as he reaches for the bag, his fingers brushing yours lightly as he takes it, getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Have a wonderful day." You reply, your voice breaking slightly as you watch him walk away. Your eyes follow his form disappearing down the street until he was out of sight before you let out a ragged breath, collapsing against the counter. Today had been... too close. Too much contact. You needed to calm down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your mind wanders for the rest of the day, thinking about how satisfying it would be when you were finally his. You'd get him to accept your gifts with open arms. How could he not love you when he'd realised how much you'd sacrificed for him?

You wanted him to dip his tongue in your wounds, to thank you properly for the pain you'd sustained for him. You'd worship every inch of his body, give everything you'd had to him.

Oh, how good it would feel when he sunk his cock into you for the first time. You'd be perfect for him, open up so easily for him. You'd take every inch without complaint, let him fuck you as often as he wanted.

Maybe he'd sink his teeth directly into your neck when he realised how much he craved your flesh. You'd make him crave another taste. The thought made you shiver, arousal pooling into the gusset of your panties, making the fabric stick to you.

You closed up early to return to your apartment. You find your bed instantly, flopping down and stripping within seconds. You shove two fingers deep into your cunt as you pictured Leon fucking you. The sloppy wet noises fill your room as your moans echo off the empty walls.

Your free hand shifts to the wound on your thigh, and you press down harshly. You scream in pain, nausea hitting you instantly at the agonising pain. It's enough to make you cum, your pussy gushing around your fingers. You lean over the edge of the bed, throwing up onto the hardwood floor. You'd deal with it later.

You curl up into a ball, breathing heavily through tears and mucus as the burning sensation worsens. You can barely breathe through the acrid scent assaulting your senses. It was all worth it. You'd tear every muscle fibre of your body apart to show your reverence to Leon. No one can love him like you can.

You wouldn't be content until he devoured you whole. Not until your souls became intertwined and you were sure you'd plague his thoughts like he had plagued yours. His teeth would sink deep into the flesh of your still beating heart, and only then would he understand the extent to which you adored him.

His innocent appearance meant nothing when he could ruin you so completely with one simple look. One touch. One smile.

He already had.

#dark content #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #seriously... don't read this!

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marlynnofmany · 6 months

Text

Seeing Faces

It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.

They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.

“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.

“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.

“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”

Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.

“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”

“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”

“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”

“We could.”

The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.

“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.

“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”

They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.

The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.

“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”

I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.

I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.

This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.

I burst out laughing.

“What?” Paint demanded.

“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”

“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”

“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”

Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”

I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.

“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.

Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”

“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”

Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.

“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”

“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”

“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”

“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”

Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.

“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”

Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.

I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.

Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”

Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.

Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.

Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.

“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”

Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”

“Agreed!” I said.

After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.

Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.

Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

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meaningofaeons · 11 months

Text

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ unbearable

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.7k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, angsty, hurt/comfort?? possibly slightly ooc sampo sorry </3, unedited

ugh I rlly couldn't help myself making my first work on this account sampo (tho I really did consider svarog LMAO he's grown on me a lot) but I hope you all like!! this is like. my redebut onto tumblr writing hehe ^w^

Surely, there couldn't be a more unbearable man on this planet — no, maybe in the entire universe — than Sampo Koski.

Perhaps he had his good sides, though, you would find yourself musing every once in a while.

Sure, he was a filthy conman, always tunnel-visioned on his next profit. Not much consideration for strangers aside from their pockets, not to mention that terrible habit of his to spam anyone whose contact he could get his hands on with scam ads and malware links he was paid a pretty sum to spread. Even his own 'friends' wouldn't be spared from his constant phishing attempts.

Maybe he did get a bit too reckless if the job was especially large, especially profitable, and maybe he did sometimes ditch just before the bill at a restaurant would arrive, and maybe he did piss off a group of automatons, causing them to chase you two to the edge of town until —

You sighed irritably, pinching your temple as you tried to refocus your thoughts.

In spite of all that, Sampo did have his benefits, you surmised.

He had ended up dropping in at just the right time during that automaton chase, even though you'd assumed mere moments earlier that his disappearance from your side meant he had run for the hills and left you behind. You avoided a lot worse injuries thanks to him that day.

And yeah, he did stop that miner from scamming you out of a good chunk of your paycheck that one time — albeit at the cost of another group of naïve victims who he led the man directly to. 'The only one who can swindle you out of all your pocket money is me!' he had claimed, and promptly received a beating over the head.

But once you opened your eyes again, beholding the sight of Sampo Koski sat on his knees before you in shame, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced to the side with a guilty smile...

You weren't quite sure his positive aspects could completely abate your wrath.

On this very day, the man before you had asked you to come with him to Rivet Town to assist with a 'very important business discussion'. You, foolishly, decided to trust him again.

'Give him the benefit of the doubt,' you'd thought. 'Maybe this time it's actually something honest. Maybe this'll really help him.'

Rather than a discussion, though, the foxlike man had instead led you right to a large group of automatons.

'It'll be fine,' he'd said, shrugging. 'Just need some scrap metal for a client! It's technically still a business discussion, we're just discussing with our weapons rather than our mouths!'

So he'd left you to dismantle the automaton pile, until another group of very much active robots had spotted you two and barreled towards you for vengeance.

The man hadn't even noticed in your collective fleeing that one of the bots had managed a sizable gash on your leg, hindering your escape until the two of you finally stumbled back into town.

Of course, the filthy scammer escaped unscathed himself.

Just recalling the incident sent you into further distress as the pain ached in your leg — you hadn't bothered to get it treated by Natasha yet, too focused on giving your 'business partner' a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

Sampo didn't dare speak a word himself. Your stormy expression was enough for him to keep his trap shut tight, too afraid of your mood to risk worsening it.

He had really done it with his latest stunt — a little 'prank gone wrong', as he put it, until he saw just how upset you were — and he knew it, too.

"I just..." Green eyes immediately shot over towards you as you began to speak, but your words only cut off into a heavy sigh, leading you to slump into a chair in the corner of your dingy apartment. Seeing you kneading your forehead with a look of exhaustion more so than anything else, the sly man took his chances with a conversation.

"L-Like I said, Y/N, it was all in good fun!" he laughed anxiously, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "I wasn't actually going to leave you to get all the parts by yourself, or ditch you when the bots came running, or anything —"

"Quiet."

Your voice shut him up once again.

Sampo was exceedingly nervous today. Usually, you'd just get angry with him, expression twisting into that cute, flushed pout that he'd gotten so fond of.

You'd hit him over the head, scold him loudly, drag him by the ear... but you were never silently angry. Not like this.

"Does it really make you happy?" your voice echoed through the room at last, your face still hidden beneath your exasperated hands. "Is it really that fun? Are you getting a good laugh at my expense?"

Sampo's smile, though nervous, fell.

"You know, Sampo Koski," His spine straightened at his full name being used, rare shame filling his cheeks. He felt like he was being scolded like a toddler. "You always pull something or other over me. Usually, it's bearable. But it's gotten to be too much."

"Y-Y/N —"

"I choose to offer you my trust in so many ways, and you just...!" Your hands clutched onto your hair in complete vexation. "You always take advantage of it! Always! Even when I try to help you, or give you the benefit of the doubt, try to convince myself you're being honest for once!"

You peered through your fingers at him with one eye.

"I can count on two hands the amount of times you've shockingly come through for me, and yet, I don't even have enough hairs on my head to equal the amount of times you've swindled or betrayed me! This is the last straw, Sampo Koski!"

"Y/N, l-listen —"

"I'm going to Nat's."

His mouth fell agape as you just got up and began walking towards the door as you'd said.

"Wait!"

"What?" you sneered as the man half-rose to his feet, frozen by your glare. "Worried that I'll tattle to her and you'll get another earful to ignore? Don't worry. She knows that every injury I get is your doing, so she's going to find out one way or another."

"...Injury?" Sampo asked, dumbfounded. You raised a brow, thoroughly ticked as you turned and walked away again.

It was then that he noticed the blood soaking your pants, the torn material of your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the gnashed skin. Your limp was more pronounced than he'd like to admit, considering he clearly hadn't noticed it prior to now.

The door slamming brought the man back to his senses, and he immediately pursued you, grabbing onto your wrist before you could make it ten steps away from your home.

"Let go, Sampo! While I'm still being nice!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't want to hear it! I —" Upon processing his words, you turned, a look of mild horror washing over your features as you raised a brow again. "...Eh?"

Sure enough, the Sampo Koski had just said the words 'I'm sorry' in a tone that sounded more genuine than anything he'd ever pushed past his lips — that is, if his souring expression was anything to go by.

He'd never said that to you before, not in the several incidents before this, so you certainly hadn't expected it now.

He looked gutted.

"I should've — I shouldn't've — Urgh..." Sampo scratched the back of his neck. You narrowed your eyes.

"Don't tell me this is just you being too afraid of Nat to let me get treated by her."

"No, no, listen," he waved his hands around wildly. "I'm... sure, I'm afraid of Miss Natasha, plenty afraid, in fact! But... being real honest, I'm way more afraid of you walking out on me for good."

His head bowed, and he looked completely downtrodden at this point.

"Y-You've been better to me than most, and I guess... I don't know. I just thought you'd always be there, sorta... Which was wrong of me to assume!" Sampo's speech was jumping all over the place as he hastily attempted to keep your attention, worried a single wrong word would send you walking away again. "Very wrong! I took advantage of ya a lot, and... Well, I'm sorry."

You stood there in silence for a good, long while.

It was plenty of time to make even Sampo nervous. You couldn't deny reveling in the way his fingers twitched anxiously, his eyes darting to you and back to the floor as he awaited your response — or lack of one — to his apology.

Finally, you sighed again. A very long, drawn-out, wrongdoing-emphasizing sigh.

"Well, I assume you can't promise that this will never happen again."

"Heheh... Well, if we're being really, really honest..." he simpered, not meeting your eye. "I can at least promise that I'll never let you get hurt on my watch again, though! Not ever! Koski's honor!"

The comical way he put a fist to his chest, as though mimicking a Silvermane Guard, put a reluctant smile on your face. Finally, you snorted out a laugh, bringing his infamous smile back again as well. This time, however, it was more relieved than mischievous.

"I really hate you sometimes," you murmured, pulling him into a hug as you buried your face in his shoulder. "But I'll let it slide. Last time, Sampo Koski. Don't you mess up again."

"I won't!" he shouted, perhaps a bit too eager. Still-shaky hands found your figure as he gently returned your embrace, something a bit more tender in his eyes when you pulled away. "I won't."

"Fine."

"Now, then, why don't we mosey back on into your house and get that leg patched up, eh?"

"Sorry, Mr. Koski," you teased, folding your hands behind your back as you continued your trek towards Natasha's clinic. "As much as we just shared a heartfelt moment of emotional growth, I don't trust your shoddy patchwork first-aid, not for something that hurts this bad. You'll just have to deal."

Sampo trailed after you like a puppy, rubbing his hands together like the shady businessman he was, familiar swindling smirk back already — though it grew more anxious by the minute as you neared Natasha's.

"Ah, come on! Can't we work out a deal? A bargain?! I said I won't let you get hurt again! We're both reasonable people, right...?"

"Y/N...? Y/N, come on!"

#hsr #honkai star rail #sampo #sampo koski #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sampo x reader #sampo koski x reader #hsr fanfic

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ghostgorlsworld · 5 months

Text

Johnny Boy (Chapter 1) Werewolf! Soap x reader

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until one day, he decides to knock on your door.

Warnings: this will be dark Johnny, he's a werewolf so in my fics they don't really have the same morals. There will be smut in the future, and this will be quite a slowburn.

PS. shoutout to @ceilidho for inspiring this Johnny fic, especially in the future you will see Johnny calls reader "kitty" and ceilidho absolutely came up with that amazing nickname and I love them for it :) Read their stuff for more Johnny fics!

You couldn’t remember the last time Emma had slept through the night.

She was always a restless little thing, even as a baby. She hardly cried during her first year of life, quiet as a lamb with her wide blue eyes and pursed mouth, squirming out of swaddles and cradles with a single-minded determination. Your wee old man, you used to say, always looking out at the world and finding it lacking.

She didn’t get those blue eyes from you, though you wish she had. It was as if you weren’t allowed to forget him.

Emma was curled around you like a cat, her dark hair sprawled across your pillow. She didn’t like to be alone at night, but that was common for baby wolves, always searching for the closest source of warmth.

You spent half your time researching, reading books like How to Raise a Wolf Pup 101, or Ensuring Your Child Stays Connected to Their Inner Animal and enrolling her into a mixed kindergarten, where pups and children co-mingled (usually) without incident. It helped that you had grown up with a werewolf, you could look at his early life and see the flaws in the way his parents raised him.

You always worried, worried that you weren’t doing as good a job as someone like her would, worried that you weren’t feeding her a proper diet despite the fact that you spent another good chunk of your time preparing raw meat to mix with her school lunch. She was so small for her age, but she had John’s spirit, all wild-hair and quick temper.

Today was going to be a hard day for you both. Today was the day of the funeral.

Emma’s great grandfather took a turn last week and died at a rather impressive age, considering his history. He was a charming old wolf, but back in the day had belonged to the underground fighting rings London used to harbor, where wolves and humans alike ripped each other apart in grimy warehouses and subway tunnels. You had a suspicion that he had involved John in it a handful of times, when Johnny was just a skinny teenager with bruised knuckles.

But Emma loved Grandpa Jack, and the funeral wasn’t going to be easy for her. She understood death in a way you hadn’t when you were six, hearing the old man’s heart stop from across the hospital lobby during your visit last week.

Emma shifted against your neck, breathing in your smell. It was as comforting for you as it was for her , her hair tickling your nose.

“Emma?” You whispered, jostling her. “Emma, it’s time to get up.” It was already eight, and the funeral was going to be at ten. You needed a shower and Emma needed breakfast–nothing put her in a worse mood than skipping breakfast.

Emma grumbled, tucking herself deeper in the blankets. You smiled to yourself, sliding out of the blankets. “Fine, but you’re getting up when I’m out of the shower.”

She nodded, tucking her head under the pillows. In another life, John used to do the same thing, growling whenever you tried to wake him before ten.

You had thought of him often lately. You blamed it on Jack’s death, the scary thought that John might actually turn up at the funeral–but Tom had reassured you that the last he had heard from John was that he was in the Middle East, a half a world away.

You undressed, laying out the neat black dress and ballet flats you had chosen the night before. You kept the door cracked, so you could keep an eye on Emma.

If Jack hadn’t been Emma’s grandfather figure, you would simply not go. John’s mother liked you well enough, at least, more than she liked her son, but you understood why he left.

Not enough to forgive him for it, of course, but that was probably because he spent one night with you, knocked you up, and then disappeared completely for four years. He resurfaced two years ago, reaching out to Tom, your brother and his best friend, by sending an expletive-filled letter about the violent and bloody years he had spent in the military. Tommy came to you first and asked if you wanted him to know about Emma.

That was the kicker. When you learned you were pregnant, you spent months and months trying to reach him, calling whatever high-ranking officer you could find–but they all said the same thing: John Mctavish agreed to have his life before the military erased in the records, therefore he no longer existed.

He had no intention of coming back. And he didn’t even attempt to contact you along with Tommy, the girl that he had grown up with, the girl that used to love him more than anything in the world.

Emma was awake by the time you were out and dressed, her eyes bright at the thought of breakfast.

“Cereal?” She asked hopefully.

You opened your mouth to refuse, thinking of the sugar but then you remembered that she was going to have to see her grandfather’s corpse today. You shrugged, “Sure, Em, as long as you have eggs too.” Emma nodded eagerly. She had the appetite of a grown man, and wasn’t particularly picky–something you were grateful for every day.

She was quiet as you cooked, her eyes focused on your black dress. “Do you think Grandpa Jack is going to haunt us?”

You paused, halfway through flipping a fried egg. With Emma, it was best to really think about your answer. “Well,” you said, gesturing for her to start on her plate of raw, sliced liver. “Do you want him to?” “I think so. He could just stay in his armchair like he always used to,” Emma said thoughtfully. “We should leave one of his books out for him, just in case.” Her obsession with ghosts started when bloody Tom let her watch one of those cheesy ghost-hunting shows. Instead of being terrified, she found it exciting, the thought that people can remain even in death.

To tell her that Grandpa Jack wasn’t going to prop his ghostly specter up on your ratty armchair and read his ancient western novels would break her heart. So you nodded, scraping two eggs onto her plate with the liver. “Alright. We’ll pick one before the funeral. I’m sure he’ll need a break from your cousins bickering by now.” She smiled and dove into the liver. It was good for her, of course, the vitamins and the minerals in organ meat, but that didn’t make you any less squeamish watching your child tearing into the raw flesh.

Your own breakfast was a cup of black coffee and nerves, your stomach twisting into knots. He wasn’t going to be there, you told yourself. He had stayed away for this long, your idyllic little life with your daughter and your job at the library wasn’t going to be interrupted by the man that had abandoned you.

You didn’t want things to change. You didn’t want him here, in your space, with your daughter that you raised alone.

Jack and Tom had helped of course. The old man had done his best to teach your little girl to not chew on the furniture or chase the squirrels up the tree, and your parents and Tom spoiled her endlessly.

Emma helped you wash and dry the dishes, nuzzling your hip affectionately. “You smell like you did when you went to work at the book place,” she said, sensing your anxiety. “How come? Do you think Grandpa Jack’s family’ll ruin things?”

Jack’s family, not John’s. You hadn’t told her much about her biological father, and Emma was observant enough to understand that he wasn’t ever going to be around. It didn’t seem to bother her, she had enough males in her life patting her head and teaching her how to play rugby.

“No, of course not, bear,” you said, tweaking one of her dark pigtails. “I’m just…I’m really sad. I’m going to miss your grandfather.”

She nodded, her mouth pursing in that mournful way she did when she was a baby. Back then, you had convinced herself it meant that she somehow knew her father wasn’t there, that you were doing this all alone and she knew you would fuck it up. “I still smell him in the living room.”

You kissed the soft crown of her head. “I know, bear, I’m sorry.” Together, you picked one of his Louis L’Amour novels off your rickety little bookshelf. “This was the one he was reading,” Emma said, carefully opening it to the page he had dog-eared. “We’ve got to remember to turn the pages every day, Mommy. He always reads so slow.”

“Once in the morning and once in the evening,” you agreed, patting the worn-down leather. His imprint was still in the cushions, a big, tall man worn down by years of violence.

You were going to miss him. He had come to your door shortly after Emma was born, a suitcase in hand. “I’m moving in, love,” he said. “She’ll need a wolf in her life and I’m all you’ve got.” You could have cried with relief back then. He had had such a way with her, always shushing her cries by cupping her in his big, callused hands and bringing her to his barrel chest.

“I raised Johnny and fucked it up,” he had said, following the tiny whorl of her ear with the tip of his finger. “I’ll do my best to help you with her, pup, you loved my boy more than he deserved.”

You helped Emma into her frilly black dress, the one Jack had chosen himself. He wanted to buy her something nice, to be his darling little granddaughter for him one last time.

She sat quietly while you braided her hair, uncharacteristically still. “Ready?” You asked.

She nodded, glancing one last time to the Louis L’Amour on the armchair.

Tom greeted the two of you at the door, a tall, skinny man that still looked like the stubborn big brother you knew. He had retired from the military last year to settle down in the house across from yours and got a job doing the only thing he really liked doing–which was cooking french dishes for eight hours a day and shouting until he was blue in the face.

He smiled sadly, sweeping Emma up in a hug. “Hullo, bear,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You look dashing.”

“Grandpa Jack made me wear it,” she said, frowning disapprovingly at the ruffles on the sleeves.

Tom laughed, but it was hollow, his eyes shifting to you before swiftly flitting away. “Of course he did. Here, I’ll watch Em for a bit if you want to mingle, Johnny’s mother was looking for you.”

Of course she was. Anxiety twisted deeper in your gut, the coffee bubbling up your throat. “Alright,” you said lightly, forcing a nod. “I’ll be inside if you need me, bear.” She nodded, turning to her uncle with a single minded purpose–to convince him to let her have some of the biscuits in the tin he had brought.

Susan, John’s mum, was sitting in the lobby of the funeral home, sorting the trays of casserole into neat rows. She was a thin, tired woman with the same blue eyes as your daughter.

“Susan,” you said, “I heard you were looking for me.” You opened your arms as she came in for a hug, her body brittle against yours. She had been sober for a few years now, mostly because you had refused to let her near Emma while she was drinking–which used to be every day.

“I need to tell you something,” Susan said, gripping your palms in a hard grip. “I just…I don’t know with Daddy gone now…” her eyes welled up.

You hugged her again, shushing her gently. “It’s alright, Susan,” you said, “Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

Looking back, you were a right bloody idiot. Susan pulled away from you, joy sparking her face as she smiled. “Honey, he’s home.” Stupidly, you thought she was talking about Jack.

She wasn’t.

The hair prickled at the back of your neck, your body aware before your brain could catch up. Your stomach twisted, dread spilling down your spine like ice.

He was behind you.

You refused to look, your eyes still locked with Susan’s teary gaze. “No,” you said quietly. “No, tell me you didn’t just let me walk into this.”

She had understood when you asked her not to tell John. She understood that her son had chosen war over you once again and that he didn’t deserve to be in your life.

“I’m sorry,” Susan said, squeezing your arm apologetically.

A hand brushed against your shoulder, big and warm and so familiar it hurt.

“Hey, bonnie,” John said roughly, his voice deeper than it used to be.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to see.

You pushed away from Susan, looking up into the familiar face of John Mctavish.

He looked ten years older, but no less handsome, scars turning his face into something you didn’t recognize, something like a predator. He was still keeping his hair in that stupid fucking mowhawk, but he had gained an impressive amount of mass, so tall and thick he looked like a stranger.

You couldn’t breathe.

Johnny. The only man you’ve ever loved. The father of your child.

The man that took your virginity and abandoned you, all in one night.

“It’s been awhile,” he said, his accent twisting up his words.

You blinked.

Emma.

Emma was outside and he had no idea. You had to leave, take her away from him.

“It could have been longer, John,” you said, your voice so cold it stung your tongue as you spoke. The ache in your chest was overtaken by rage, pure and hot. “Excuse me.” You pushed past him, suddenly grateful you hadn’t worn the heels when your knees gave a funny little tremble.

He moved, as if to catch you, as if to hold you still while he came up with whatever bullshit excuse he could think of–but you were faster, putting the crowd and tables between the two of you as you made a break for the door.

Emma, Emma, Emma.

Tom was with her, her skinny knees in his lap as they split a delicate almond biscuit.

“Mum?” Her head went up, sniffing the air. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

Tom knew. He looked at you, guilty as sin. “Love,” he began, but you were already ripping her out of his arms, her arms and legs flailing as you made a break for the parking lot.

The funeral home’s door burst open, slamming against the wall with a crash that had you shoving your daughter into the back of your car, utterly deaf to her squawking.

But John had already seen her. Smelled her. He stood in front of you, frozen in place.

“How old is she?” He asked, deadly calm. His blue eyes burned, like they used to when he was a teen, hormonal and angry. Always so angry.

“Go fuck yourself, Mctavish,” you snapped, reaching for your door.

He was already there, hand slamming against your car door with a crack that split the air. Johnny really was different now, confidence stiffening his spine, his sheer size making you take a step back.

What did they do to him overseas? He looked like he was about to eat you alive.

“No,” John said, sounding like a wounded animal. “Ye wouldn’t keep something like this from me.” “You’re right,” you said coldly. “I wouldn’t have. Then I spent three years of her life waiting for you to get your head out of your fucking arse. I called. I emailed. I sent a hundred fucking letters.” He made a noise like you gutted him, his eyes going to Emma.

She was curled up in the back of your car, wide-eyed and staring at John. Her father.

Of course she would know. She could smell it on him, her own flesh and blood.

“I…I didn’t know,” John said, “Hen, look at me-”

“I don’t care.” You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin and hurt him like he hurt you. “We don’t need you, we never needed you. I loved you, and you left for years. Deal with the consequences.”

Johnny Mctavish, a wolf, a soldier, flinched from you.

It wasn’t the victory you thought it would be.

You ripped your door open, and he let you. You put the car in reverse and sped out of the parking lot, and he let you.

“Mum?” Emma said cautiously. “Mum was that…”

“We’ll never see him again, Em,” you said, utterly sure of that fact. “Forget him. John always runs.”

#soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod mw3 #soap x reader #john soap mactavish

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