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honeyhhearted · 11 months

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Hold My Hand - Chapter 3

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A/N: A longer one this time! I decided to try and get the chapters to a better length so there's more to read per update. :) Still no Loki, but I promise he's coming! Little more drama this time though ;)

Warnings: None!

You returned home quickly.

As you thought, your mother was waiting by the front window. It had been over an hour since you left, and she worried that you had been taken or lost.

“Where have you been?” She hissed as she swung the door open, grabbing your arm tightly. She yanked you inside, shutting and latching it behind you.

You looked at your feet. “I am sorry, mother. I didn’t mean to worry you. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time? The sun is merely fully set! How am I to believe you simply lost track of time?” She looked angry, but you recognized the look of fear in her eyes. You had truly worried her.

Guilt tore through you. How could you just leave your family in the morning? If this was how your mother reacted when you arrived home late, how would she cope with you being taken from her as she had feared your entire life? How could you stand here and reassure her, knowing that when the sun rose next, everything would change?

“I truly apologize. But I am okay.” You soothed, trying to ignore the way your heart ached. “Everything is fine.”

You slept fitfully. Thoughts of the palace dungeons, your parents’ arrests, and your siblings being sent to an orphanage or adopted away filled your mind in cruel spirals.

I can’t believe how irresponsible I was.

The only thing you had ever been asked was to be careful. To be sure that no one was around. But you had become careless after years of routine. You’d become used to and spoiled by the uneventful nature of your practice. Why wouldn’t you? After so long of being in complete solitude, you had never expected the young Prince of all people to stumble upon your little spot in the forest. Why had he been there in the first place? Perhaps you could ask in the morning, when he arrived to whisk you away from your family, your life.

You listened to the soft breeze coming through your window. The sky was a soft indigo. You had barely been able to close your eyes before the sun began to rise again. How soon will he arrive? Will my mother see him, as she enjoys her sunbathing in the early hours before work? Will my father spot the carriage and run home, hoping he would not return for the day missing his eldest child? Will the village all watch as you are escorted away, and inundate my family with questions?

Before you knew, the calming indigo turned into the sunrise blue you’d been dreading.

You sat straight up in bed, your hair a tangled mess from tossing and turning all night.

The distant sound of a carriage was the first you heard of your impending doom. You ran through your regular morning routine: a freezing bath – you were far too anxious to wait for it to warm of all things – carefully brushed your hair and changed your clothes. While you were certain imprisonment waited for you on the other side of an opulent horse drawn carriage and the palace doors, you at least did not want to give the Allfamily reason to see you as nothing more than dirt on their shoes.

The carriage drew closer, and you knew it was time.

You quietly moved across the house, careful not to step on the spots you knew the floorboards would creak. As expected, your mother was out front, enjoying the early sun. Nerves slithered up your spine as you straightened, prepared to face her fear.

As you stepped out the door, she spoke without turning. “They are coming for you. Am I wrong?”

You paused, heart in your throat. “How did you know?”

At that, she turned, a sad smile curving her lips. Her eyes, you saw, were glistening. “I saw the royal carriage last night and…I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew that we would have heard if something happened in the village, and when you arrived so late…” She trailed off, blinking away some of the moisture in her eyes, before continuing, “I knew. Who found you?”

You finally allowed your eyes to well up, a tear escaping before you are even able to force it away. “Prince Thor. Prince Thor saw me, mother. But I swear, I promise you I did not realize he was present with me in those woods. You know I have vowed to you to be careful and I was, but he was there anyway…I didn’t know what to do. His Highness should be nearly here by now, and I will be taken to the Palace. He promised no harm would come to me, or to our family.”

As you stared back at your mother, you realized how tired she seemed. The beginnings of wrinkles around her lips from frowning, the creases between her brows. She had wisps of gray hair framing her face. Was this because of you?

All of your life, you’ve been different. Not being able to play with the village children because of the risk of accidental magic had done damage to your family’s reputation. You were a freak, an outcast in this village, and your parents were too by association. Even your siblings, who were not cursed as you were, had to endure ridicule and shunning from their peers as their parents forbid them from interacting with such an odd bunch.

Despite no one being aware of just how “odd” you were, your appearance was always a giveaway. Your father used to chuckle every time he shattered your heart by saying, “Dearest, we almost handed you over to the local orphanage. As soon as you were laid on your mother’s chest, I felt there was no way you could possibly be ours. But by the time you began to speak, I realized just how like me you truly were.”

He was, of course, speaking of the snow white hair and singular golden eye you were born with. There was not much you could do to change the fact that you were a freak, but having to face your own monstrosity in the mirror had been too much in your adolescence. You knew looking at you reminded your parents of the burden they had been handed.

Your mother still had not responded. She looked away from you, back toward the sky.

“Will this be easier?” You asked, softly. Your voice sounded like that of a child’s to your own ears.

Silence came, before she responded, “If you are asking if you being taken from us will be easier, I am not sure. I love you. You are my child. You are my heart. But I cannot lie and wonder if the village will accept us. If they will accept your sister, your brother. If your father will be able to make sales, finally, without buyers worrying that the pieces are cursed as we are.”

Your heart ached. “I am sorry, mother. For all that I have put you through. I am sorry that you were cursed with me as a daughter.” At that, she whipped around to face you. “No. Never apologize to me for that. Do not apologize to me for having been born. It has not been easy, I will be honest with you. But having you as a daughter has been beautiful, and losing you will be one of the hardest things I will ever have to do.” She cupped your face, wiping away the tears that fell with her fingertips.

“I love you, mama.” You said, sniffling. You had not called her that in years.

“And I love you, little one.”

The carriage arrived shortly after.

As it pulled to a halt, reality set in. You were terrified.

Prince Thor emerged with two guards, and smiled at you as he approached. You dipped into a low curtsy, as did your mother beside you.

“Good morning, my Lady. And I suppose this is your mother, yes?”

Your mother smiled politely. “Yes, your Highness. My daughter has told me that you have come for her.”

“I have. And I make the same promise I did to her, no harm will come to your daughter or your family.”

She nodded. “Thank you, your Highness. Your graciousness is appreciated.” She turns to you, eyes flickering with fear before she pushes it out of view. “Good luck. I love you. I will inform your father…that he missed you.” Her smile falters, realizing she will have to explain your absence to the family.

You stepped forward and hugged her, memorizing the scent of warm air and flowers in your mother’s hair. The way her small frame wrapped you up just as it did when you were a small child. “Thank you, mama. Please apologize to papa for me, and give the littles the most love.”

As you stepped away, Thor led you to the carriage. He offered a hand to step in, which you accepted, thanking him. Before the carriage could pull away, you stared at your home in the corner of the village, the trees waving goodbye to you as the breeze carried one last breath of the scent of your family and the life you knew.

The palace was a beautiful sight. Under better circumstances, you would have been in awe at its size and opulence. However, all it symbolized to you right now was the ending of all you had.

“You seem nervous.” Thor noted from across from you. He had been quiet most of the ride, and his voice startled you.

“I will not pretend, my Prince. I know I should trust you at your word, but…” You trailed off, gnawing on your bottom lip. He nods, a small smile curling his lips.

“Aye. I understand the fear of uncertainty. But truly, my lady, you have nothing to fear. I have spoken with my mother and father and they have assured me that no harm will come to you. I would not allow it.” He reassured, and you feel the rope around your chest loosen marginally. You can see in his eyes that he is genuine.

The carriage ride had been smooth, as you watched the countryside blend into the city, before the stone turned to gold, with perfectly trimmed lawns and shrubbery. Even the air seemed lighter here, you noted. You wrung your hands together in your lap as you watched the smaller royal buildings come into view. Stables, supply buildings, and extravagant gardens passed by you, taking your breath away. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you truly got to see the palace up close.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Thor said, breaking into your thoughts. He was smiling at you again, watching your reaction.

You felt your cheeks warm at being caught gawking, and cleared your throat. “It is. I have only seen it from the village. I have never imagined being so close.” You say, adding, “Your Highness.”

Thor nodded. “After living in it my whole life, I have to admit that its beauty becomes something of a routine. Seeing it through new eyes always reminds me. How exciting, to see the wonder in someone else.”

You smiled at him. Thor’s reputation made sense. You found yourself able to relax the more you speak with him, and it allowed you temporary relief from your anxiety.

The carriage came to a slow stop. Your breath caught for a moment, your heart beginning to race again. Is this where they take me? Has Thor been misleading me so I would not put up a fight? You barely had the chance to spiral before the doors were opened, flanked by two royal guards. Thor exited first, before turning and offering his hand. You took it and stepped out, careful to stay steady on your feet.

The guards turned silently and led you toward the doors, tall and intimidating. They swung open, and you quietly gasped as you took your first look into the palace. The floors were covered in a red and gold rug, with pristine white columns running up and down the hall. The walls held millennia of Asgardian artwork, as well as portraits of the Allfamily. As you were led to the throne room, your eyes could not absorb the surroundings quick enough. You drank in the view of Asgard from the windows and admired the gold and jeweled vases and art pieces. In that moment, you had never felt smaller. You, a girl from the village, were walking through the hall for an audience with the Allfather and Allmother. Through this hall that held thousands of years of Asgardian history, wearing a dress full of hand-stitched repair patches and holes not yet big enough to waste thread on. You looked down at your hands, squeezing them together tightly.

Entering the throne room, you could hear a pin drop. Odin and Frigga, the Allfather and Allmother, sat at the end atop thrones of precious metals and jewels. You swallowed down your heart before it could crawl out, trying to keep its vicious beating in check. Thor walked ahead of you, bowing at the waist when he reached them.

“Father, Mother,” he starts, “I have returned with the girl from the outer village. Please, step forward and introduce yourself.”

You step forward, curtsying as steadily as you can manage. “Your Majesties, thank you for allowing me here today to speak with you.” You present your name, and the names of your family. Both nod stiffly. “If you, the Allfather and Allmother could be so merciful to spare my family. They are not like me, and have only ever wanted an honest life for themselves.” You pull in a deep breath, hating how your voice wavers.

Odin stands and stares down at you steadily. The look in his eye shows he views you as nothing more than a speck. Frigga, however, looks at you curiously. There is something more behind her eyes that you can’t quite place.

“Do not fear, child. We have decided to spare you and your family. No harm will come to them.” Odin’s voice booms, and you can feel its strength in your chest. His words make your shoulders drop in relief immediately, letting out a puff of air.

Frigga stands, approaching you. “What my husband is not clarifying,” She begins, with a glance at him, “Is that you will be spared, but you will not be able to return home.” This you expected, but it does not hurt any less to hear.

She continues, “You will be brought into the palace as a member of our family. You will be trained as a sorceress, working with me personally. You will live out a life as a royal, adopted as a ward.”

You nod. “Yes, your Royal Highness. Anything I can do, I will do with gratitude.”

She smiles at you. “I know you will, child. I can see your heart, and I know that it is good. That is why we have also decided to add an additional stipulation to your stay with us.”

Odin’s face crinkles slightly, before rearranging itself back to its stoic state.

What could they have me do? Live in the servant’s quarters? Do chores? Be an apprentice? Nothing they could ask of me would be an impossible task.

Something about this seems off, though. You can’t quite put your finger on it. “Yes, your Royal Highness?”

“We expect you to wed one of our sons.” She says resolutely.

Odin clears his throat. “We expect you to marry Loki. You are not true royalty, and thus would not be able to ascend to the throne.”

You freeze. Loki? The quiet son, the trickster god? All you have heard about him is negative. Cruel pranks, biting remarks, crude behavior toward village women. They want you to marry him?

Thor seems to sense your worry. “Mother, Father…are you sure? You know of his temperament.”

“This is not your concern.” Odin says harshly. Frigga glares at him.

“What your father means is that we are sure. We have discussed it extensively, and have settled on this being the best option.”

You feel sick. You are sure that this is not a face worse than death, of course, but of all of the things they could have asked of you, this is the biggest. Your hand, guaranteed in marriage to Loki Odinson.

Next chapter

#hold my hand #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #thor odinson #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fic #arranged marriage #arranged marriage fic #enemies to lovers #not really enemies but like #you don't like each other lmao #odin allfather #honeyhhearted

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theresawritesstuff · 2 years

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Altan and Isabel Ch 2 preview

The details of Princess Isabel's dowry were sent to him by his midday meal the following day.

The generous stipend, as King Hector had put it, was beyond anything Altan had ever anticipated. It was more than a king's ransom. It was a king's bribe.

Generous indeed.

He could sustain an entire village off that kind of money. Several with the right plans in place. And judging by the rudimentary map of hamlets flanking the manor also being offered in the deal, they very likely would be doing just that.

Yet another detail to discuss with the princess.

That is if she truly agreed to this arrangement her parents had concocted.

For all the rumors circulating around town concerning Princess Isabel, Altan really had very little to go on as to what to expect from his bride-to-be beyond that she was supposedly pleasing in appearance and kept mostly to herself.

Such was the role any might assign to an allegedly cursed princess.

But who was the woman behind all the pomp and rumors?

He supposed he would soon find out…

They'd arranged to meet in one of the castle courtyards that afternoon. Open air. Nice scenery. A familiar space for the princess, but further from the prying ears within the castle walls.

Or at least that was the goal when he had suggested the location.

When the time came, Altan waited patiently for Isabel to arrive, quite at his leisure admiring the well manicured tulips while a servant went to fetch her.

Or rather 'alert the Princess to his presence', as the footman had put it.

Heaven forbid it be implied that a royal be the summoned and not the summoner.

Princess Isabel arrived promptly, her handmaiden following close behind as her dutiful shadow.

The pair bobbed in a polite curtsey.

"Captain Altan, I presume," said Princess Isabel. Her manners were practiced to perfection but her eyes were guarded. Almost distant.

"Princess." Altan greeted her with a smile, bowing first to her and then nodding to her handmaiden in acknowledgement.

He waved a welcoming hand towards the garden. "Join me a moment, won't you?"

"If this is a meeting to negotiate the figures of my dowry, I'm afraid I have very little sway in the matter," Isabel informed him, coming to stand at his side along the garden fencing, her handmaiden hanging back at an accessible distance, giving them space.

Altan chuckled. "Nothing of the sort. Although if you yourself found it lacking in any areas I could be willing to put up a fuss."

Princess Isabel let out a short derisive hum under her breath. "The taxes are high enough, thank you."

"Well put," Altan agreed.

He glanced down at her, taking stock of the woman beside him.

She was a winning sight in a day dress of emerald green, the afternoon sun brightening the undertones of the dark tresses that lay beneath her simple gold circlet. A maiden fully into her womanhood, the days of doe-eyed adolescence well behind her. He'd assumed as much given the decade long history of failed matches but one never knew with royals. She had her father's coloring and her mother's eyes.

And more walls up than the entire fortress she called home.

Open communication might take some work then…

"The tulips appear to be doing very well this year," Altan commented lightly.

"As good as any year," she replied.

Altan nodded thoughtfully, undeterred. "Tenacious blooms, aren't they? Always found something admirable about the foliage of spring. Do you have a favorite flower by chance, Princess?"

Isabel sighed. "Captain, I know you did not request this meeting just so that we may discuss horticulture. You may drop the pretense of these idle pleasantries. If your aim was to inspect my appearance for yourself, just do so and be done with it. I do have other matters to attend to today."

Altan smiled, shaking his head. "No, Princess, you mistake my intentions. I merely felt it pertinent to meet with one's prospective partner so that we might gain a better understanding of one another intellectually before entering into this little arrangement your parents have so generously set forth."

"Oh." She turned a pensive gaze on the tulips.

He couldn't blame her for the assumption. It was a fairly common practice for a suitor, particularly of these powerful sorts of betrothals, to wish to inspect the goods as it were.

As if appearances were all that mattered…

Altan mirrored her, looking out over the sunny yellow blooms. "I'm partial to hyacinths, personally. In case you were curious," he offered playfully.

"I wasn't."

Altan bit back a laugh. He admired the honesty.

Instead he asked, "Their majesties have filled you in on their plans for us, I presume?"

Isabel hazarded a glance up at him, still on her guard but recalculating her read on him. "In a general sense. You've been lauded as honorable and available. The chapel has been reserved for next month. The guests are to have their choice of chicken or boar for the feast following the ceremony. My parents have had these details all mapped out for quite some time now. They just needed someone to stand at the altar. Mother will be wanting your measurements for your wedding attire before you leave by the way."

"And you're in agreement to all of this."

"You seem surprised by this, Captain."

"Altan, please," he corrected. "And not surprised, per say. Just…seeking clarity."

Isabel turned to face him fully, her hands folded demurely in front of her.

"My parents have been seeking a husband for me for the better part of a decade. You're available, agreeable, and will be paid handsomely for it. What remains unclear to you, Captain?"

Altan shrugged. "I just want to be sure my bride will be happy with the arrangement. That's all."

She met his eyes with a look one might give an impressively dimwitted child. "My feelings are of little consequence in this."

"Not the way I see it."

Isabel let out a sign, shaking her head. She then regarded him thoughtfully, calculatingly, a soft crinkle forming along her brow.

After a moment of consideration she signaled silently to her handmaiden.

The maid obliged, taking herself on a stroll around the garden, leaving the two of them in relative privacy.

"Captain…Altan," Isabel said choosing her words carefully, "I need to be clear this betrothal is, in essence, a business arrangement. I cannot give you offers of love or a grand romance, nor do I expect them from you. If that is a deal breaker for you, l understand. Not all of us are taught to view these arrangements with such pragmatism. But I have been and I do. I am in my twenty eighth year and I am still at the mercies of my parents, much as many other unmarried women are in any social station. In marrying, I gain my right to my own household, to conduct both it and myself in the manner I see fit. In this, I will be content. Can you say the same?"

A want of freedom…

Whether it was true or not, it was a noble cause if he'd ever heard one. And he did sense some truth to it.

Altan smiled. "For the figure your father has offered for your hand? Yes, Princess, I think I shall be very content indeed."

Isabel blinked, a little surprised.

"Good…"

He offers her his hand to bind the agreement. "Then it seems you've got yourself a consort."

Isabel looked at his extended hand, hesitant.

"I do mean it when I say this is not to be a marriage of romance," she reiterated.

Altan nodded. "Understood."

"Is it?"

"It is."

"Marriages tend to be lengthy arrangements," Isabel reminded him, as if it was something he'd neglected to consider.

"Until death do us part," he replied cheekily.

The princess held her composure but blanched slightly at the statement.

So she was aware of the curse and what was being asked of him. Perhaps that was the root of her pushing him to reconsider, even without coming out right with it.

Altan chuckled.

Something told him they might actually get along together.

Playing dumb to her reasons for appall, he said lightheartedly, "Relax, it is only an expression. I assure you, Princess, you have nothing to fear from me. I shall happily take my exorbitant pay to be your dutiful life partner and be quite content in the taking."

"No need to call us partners," she corrected. "I assure you, after the ceremony you'll be more than free to go about your own business."

Altan inclined his head in a mock pout. "If you will not allow me the superficial title of consort, I must insist we be partners in this matrimony. Never enter into a business arrangement without establishing your role, Princess."

Isabel sighed, acquiescing. "Very well…Partners."

"Partners."

Isabel shook his hand, finally, and quickly withdrew her own, turning back to look over the garden.

Clearing her throat, she commented, "I suppose you're right. The garden does look well today."

"Quite well, indeed. Your gardeners should be very proud of their efforts," Altan agreed.

Looking down at his feet, a spot of red caught his eye.

"Hello there! Who's this little rapscallion?" he wondered in delight, admiring the lone off color bloom amidst the sea of yellow.

He could tell Isabel was holding back an eye roll without looking to see her expression.

"You're free to pick it if you wish," she replied.

"No." Altan shook his head thoughtfully. "No let's let it grow. Mayhaps we will see what comes of it next year. There may be more where this one came from."

"If the gardeners don't intervene," Isabel replied, doubtful.

Altan shrugged. "Time will tell."

Remembering himself and wanting to leave her with a favorable impression, he added, "But you said you had other matters to attend to this afternoon. I shan't keep you from them any longer."

Isabel dipped in a curtsey, taking her exit.

"Captain."

"Princess." He bowed in turn.

Her handmaiden reappeared as if on cue to escort Isabel to her next destination. Before falling into step behind her Princess, the maid gave Altan a subtle nod and a look of approval.

At least he'd won one person over this afternoon…

A footman cleared his throat at the garden entrance. "The tailors are ready for you, sir. To make your wedding clothes selections."

Altan smiled, following where the footman bid him. "I do hope they're not feeling too free with the pins today."

The footman laughed despite himself.

"Good luck."

Belatedly remembering who he was talking to, the footman cleared his throat. "Sir…"

"At ease. I haven't wed the princess yet. Still one of the common folk," Altan assured him jovially. "Say, young man, do you have a favorite flower?"

The footman considered this as they walked together. "You know… I've always sort of liked irises."

"Irises!" Altan barked merrily. "Now there's a flower!"

#the Red Dawn Chronicles #Altan and Isabel #theresa writes stuff #original fantasy #original fiction #original work #blorbos from my brain #arranged marriage fic #immortality

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kitewithfish · 3 months

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Ok foot of the gallows marriage seems like an excellent trope to play with

#Arranged marriage fic #Foot of the gallows marriage #Save their life by wedding them #Problematic? Hell yeah

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pepperpaperpopper · 2 months

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NEW FIC!

"Did you know?"

Her silence gave him the answer. He could have expected this cold hearted decision from his father, but from his mother the betrayal felt like a knife to the heart.

"You do not love me," he declared.

Narcissa Malfoy tutted. "On the contrary, my dove, we're doing this because we love you very, very much."

"Hah!"

"No, really!" She held Draco's hand and guided him to sit down beside her. "What do you think would happen if the war was to drag on? We are losing. There is no denying it. The dark lord is gone. At this rate, the rest of us are just fighting to save our own skin, to stay away from Azkaban, to keep our estates. We could drag this on for maybe two more years. In that time more young people would be called to the battlefield. You would have to go. Your father and I couldn't protect you forever."

"I could fight," he sulked.

Narcissa chuckled, "Draco. You have no stomach for violence and torture. My son is not made for that sort of a battlefield." She smiled sadly, brushing a stray lock of his hair behind his ears, "you wouldn't last, and then we wouldn't last either. I would die from heartbreak."

He sniffed in indignation, "Don't be dramatic, mother. All that talk of heartbreak, yet you're perfectly fine with selling me off to a life of subservience and slavery!"

"A marriage is not subservience and slavery. Do you think I'm your father's slave?"

Draco made a face. "Ew! why do two keep saying that?" He sighed and pinched his nose. "Yours is a normal marriage. Mine would be a bargain attempt by a losing side to seek a ceasefire. They would insist on one of those ancient outdated marriage bonds."

Draco turned to look at her. "Did you know, they bind the spouse's magic to the estate, the subservient partner can't take a step out of their lord's house. Is that what you want me to be, a prisoner for the rest of my life?"

A vessel to accept another person's lust and fury? he wanted to say but it wouldn't do to utter such things in front of his mother, frustrating as it was to leave his fears unspoken.

"Goodness! Where did you hear such things?"

"I found a book in the library."

"Draco, I entreat you not to jump to conclusions based on everything you read in a book. There are different kinds of traditionally binding marriage bonds. The most restrictive or extreme are shrouded in dark magic. The light side would never insist on one of those. It goes against everything they believe in."

"Killing and torturing also goes against what they supposedly believe in but I don't see them stopping."

"Harry Potter wouldn't stand for it. He wouldn't enslave someone."

"That's a lot riding on your assumptions about Scarhead's sense of morality, mother."

Married to a brute on Ao3

#Drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #hpdm fanfic #hpdm #Dramatic Draco Malfoy #Oblivious Harry Potter #arranged marriage fic

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edenesth · 4 months

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The Way to His Heart [Masterlist]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

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

Genre: heavy angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: mentions of past physical abuse, mistreatment, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, scars, trauma (lmk if I missed any)

Total Word Count: 75.2k words (not including bonus content)

Status: Completed

ATEEZ Masterlist

Read on: ⟦ Wattpad ⟧ ⟦ Tumblr - links below ⟧

📢 Notice: Tag List | Group Chat | Poll

Teaser | Mood board 1 | Mood board 2

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Bonus: ↪ Honeymoon Avenue ↪ Star of the Show

SPINOFF MASTERLIST

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

#edenesth #the way to his heart #kpop masterlist #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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drudyslut · 1 month

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

— CW: 18+ only !! cocaine use, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendo, strong language.

likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

part one

3 days later…

RAFE

“So.. Let me get this straight. Your dad, and Y/N’s dad, have formed some kind of plan to merge both companies.. And you have to marry Y/N for it to be the most successful?”

I snort. Leave it to Topper to have to go over the scenario a hundred fucking times before it finally clicks in his thick skull. I ignore him, grabbing the rolled up hundred dollar bill off the glass table and place it under my right nostril. Leaning forward, i place the other end of the rolled bill at the end of the perfectly formed white line, sniffing up the substance before dropping the bill and flopping back into the soft, white couch. Fuck, I love the burn this shit leaves behind. The way it makes my body tingle, clearing my mind of any bullshit I don’t want to think about.

Topper tries ruining my high again. “Rafe. C’mon man, we have to talk about this. What’re you going to do?”

I sit up, my eyes narrowed into thin slits at him. “There’s nothing to fucking talk about, Top. My dad and her dad have already signed our lives away. I’m supposed to marry the stuck up bitch in less than a month. I don’t want to think about it, so drop it.”

Topper groans, but thankfully, he drops the subject. I don’t know what he expects me to say. I don’t want to marry her. Marriage is the last thing I pictured myself ever doing, but even if I had decided to settle down one day, start a family, it sure as Hell wouldn’t have been her I chose. Y/N Y/L/N is the bane of my existence, and my polar opposite.

Where I like to have fun, and am riddled with issues from head to toe — thanks dad — she’s boring. She doesn’t get out, and she is issue free. Her family didn’t fuck her life up like mine did — well, until now I guess — and she doesn’t even want to change her ways. She’s stuck in the mindset of being the perfect princess. My dad always praised her when we were growing up. “Be more like Y/N, Rafe.” “Why can’t you act like Y/N? She’s a good girl.” and my favorite line “I wish I had Y/N as a daughter instead of you as my fuck up son”.

I shake the thoughts to the back of my mind. The last thing I want to do right now is think of fucking Y/N Y/L/N and the fact that come this weekend, the entire island will know we’re getting married. That’ll really fuck up my chances with getting any pussy before this wedding. That’s another thing. The girls still a fucking virgin. I mean, who the fuck is still a virgin at twenty-one years old? Y/N fucking Y/L/N, that’s who.

“You have to admit though, she is hot. And she’s a virgin, how longs it been since you fucked a virgin?” Top says, amusement lacing his tone as he lightly punches at my shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “She’s not fucking hot, Topper. She’s a bitch.”

Lie.

Y/N is a lot of things, but unattractive isn’t one of them. I would be lying to myself if I said she wasn’t fucking gorgeous. But I’ll never admit that out loud.

“C’mon Rafe. Lighten up. Maybe it won’t be so bad”

I bark out a laugh at that. It’s going to be fucking miserable. A loveless marriage. Handcuffs that I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.

“Topper. Fucking drop it.”

He opens his mouth to speak but thankfully, Kelce comes barging through the front door. I quickly stand from the couch, making my way to my other best friend and mouthing a silent “thank you” to him for arriving when he did.

“Y’all ready?” Kelce asks, his eyes darting between Topper and I. Thankful for the intrusion and opportunity to drop this entire fucking subject, nod my head. “Let’s go”

The boys and I enter the Island Club. We come here quite often to just get drunk and forget about our shitty days. I am thankful for this tradition right about now. This whole marriage thing has had me stressed out for the last three days. I remember when Ward first came to me about it. He had told me that it was time for me to step up and do something good for the family.

“Son, a word?”

I roll my eyes, glancing at the girl laid beside me I tell her, “I’ll be right back”

My dad chuckles, his eyes glancing behind me and at the brunette that wears only my T-shirt and a pair of underwear. “Actually, you can get dressed and go. Rafe won’t be back up here until late tonight”

I roll my eyes, opening my mouth to protest, but my dad’s stern look has me quickly shutting my mouth. There’s never a point in arguing with Ward Cameron. He will win every single fucking time.

Turning to face Sofia, I give her a small smile. “Sorry, I’ll call you later”

She rolls her eyes but nods her head. She grabs her things from my floor before slipping on her white Nike tennis shoes and walking toward me. She positions all of her things in her left hand, her right palm pressed firmly against my chest as she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a long kiss to my lips.

My father clearing his throat has me pushing her back softly. “I’ll call you.” I say firmly. She turns and exits my room. Leaving me all alone with my dad.

“You won’t be calling her” He states.

My narrowed eyes find his. “And why is that?”

“Because, son. You’re about to step up and do something good for this family, and I won’t have you fucking it up by sleeping around with some bartender from the club.”

I scoff. “What’re you-” I begin to ask, but he cuts me off.

“You’re going to be marrying Y/N Y/L/N.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Rafe? You good bro?”

The sound of Kelce’s voice rips me from the memory. I slowly turn my head to face him, his dark brown eyes filled with slight concern.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Yeah. I’m good. Lets get fucking drunk”

Kelce and Topper nod their heads and begin making their way toward the bar. I follow them closely behind, but freeze in my tracks when I see her. Sofia. I never did call her, and it’s been three days since she was last in my room. I know she’s going freak out on me. If she doesn’t, i’ll be surprised.

I clear my throat and roll my neck before continuing my way up to the bar with my friends. I finally reach Kelce and Topper, they’re already ordering. “Rafe, whatcha drinking bro?” Kelce asks while looking behind his shoulder at me.

I open my mouth to speak but Sofia’s narrowed eyes landing on mine the second she hears my name has me clamping my mouth shut. I give her an awkward nod, debating on just leaving. That’s not who I am though, I don’t run away like a scared little bitch, so instead I order, “Whiskey. Neat.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ll call me, huh? It’s been three days, Rafe. What the fuck?”

I hear Kelce and Topper snort out a laugh. I glare at the back of both their heads. I’m friends with fucking children. Turning my attention back to the short brunette, I sigh heavily. “Situations changed, Sofie.”

She scoffs at that. “Well, it would be nice to know that you had just planned on fucking me and never calling again. I wouldn’t have ever looked at you twice.”

Topper slings an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure he would have called had he not found out later that day that’s he’s marrying Y/N Y/L-”

I throw my elbow into Topper’s side, making his arm fall from my shoulder as he groans in pain. “What the fuck was that for?” He demands.

I roll my eyes, and put my focus back on Sofia. “Look, like I said. Situations changed. I won’t apologize for not calling you, we never said it would be more than sex between us anyways”

Her mouth falls open and tears begin to well up in her chocolate brown eyes. I sigh. This is the thing about women. They always expect so much more than you’re willing to give. I never planned on having a relationship with Sofia, and she knows that. But now, I’m the bad guy because she was all but thrown out of my house and I never called.

She lifts her eyes toward the ceiling above her, blinking back her tears before her eyes find mine again. “Well, good to know. Let me get those drinks for you guys.”

I let out a deep exhale, turning to face Topper and Kelce. They both have shit eating grins on their faces. “What?” I snap.

Topper chuckles. “Nothing. You better hope she doesn’t spit in your drinks all night” He jokes.

I run a hand down my face. Tonight was supposed to help me unwind, not cause more fucking unwanted stress. “I never fed her lines of false hope, so I don’t know why she’s freaking the fuck out.”

Kelce chuckles this time, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t they all freak the fuck out when it comes to you? I mean c’mon Rafe. You can’t ever sleep with a girl without her expecting more.. I just hope you’re prepared for the long list that’s going to come for your throat when this engagement is announced.”

I sigh for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. He’s right. I have never been serious about any of the girls I slept with. They all wanted more, but every single time I felt they were getting to attached, I stopped calling or texting them. It was better that way. I didn’t want anything serious, and now, I’m being forced into something super serious. Fuck, my life really sucks doesn’t it?

“Here. Drink up, you need it.” I hear Kelce say. I turn to face him and he has his left hand extended toward me, my glass of whiskey in hand. I quickly snatch it from his grip and throw it back, downing the amber liquid in one gulp. Turning to face the bar, I slide the glass back toward Sofia. “Another.”

Two hours and multiple glasses of whiskey later, I’m drunk. The room sways a bit, and I reach my hand out to grip the patio railing. I hear Topper laugh from the right of me. “Dude, you’re fucking wasted.” He laughs out, placing his hand on my shoulder to help keep me upright.

“I- I am not wasted, Top. I’m just… Buzzed” I lie.

He opens his mouth to speak but he quickly slams it shut, the sound of his teeth clashing together has me turning my full attention on him. His brows are raised and his eyes look like they’re going to pop from his skull as he stares intently behind us.

“What the fuck are you looking at? You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” I joke. But he doesn’t laugh, and that makes me nervous. Topper laughs at the dumbest shit, so for him to remain staring behind us with a look of pure shock in his eyes, it has me wondering what just happened.

My body sways to the side as I try to turn and face the direction he’s looking, but his hand on my shoulder has me stopping in place.

I narrow my blue — possibly bloodshot — eyes on him. “What the fuck, Top. Speak!”

He clears his throat. “I- Uh.. Y/N just walked in with some of her friends.”

That has my attention. I quickly turn my body, falling forward a bit but catching myself with the help of the railing again. She stands at the bar. And she looks fucking delicious right now. For a girl who has never taken it past kissing a man — if she’s even kissed a man — she sure knows how to dress the part of any other girl on this island. She wears a black, leather skirt that hugs her curves and ass nicely. A tight, white cropped top and a pair of black heels that add a few inches to her height. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and all I can think of is wrapping my hand in it and pulling her head back as I fuck her from behind.

What the fuck? Why am I thinking of her like this? I fucking hate her. My soon to be wife. She’s a fucking stuck up, prude bitch. My mind tells me to stop staring, reminds me that I can’t fucking stand her. But my cock is screaming the complete opposite.

Without thinking, my legs begin to carry me toward her. I come to a stop right behind her, clearing my throat, causing her head to whip in my direction. The moment her eyes find mine, she’s rolling them. The act alone is fucking sexy. I picture her eyes rolling into the back of her head while my face is buried between her legs, devouring her sweet cunt. Fuck. Stop thinking of her like this Rafe, you’re just drunk, and horny. Any girl would do, but for some fucking reason, my mind is consumed with her.

“What the fuck do you want, Rafe” She sighs.

I smirk at the anger that radiates from her. “Just coming to say- just coming to say hey to my future wifeeee.” I slur. She rolls her eyes as they find mine again.

“You said hey, now run along. We don’t need to pretend to like each other right now.”

Maybe it’s just because I’m drunk, but her words stung. She really hates me doesn’t she? I mean, I hate her too. Don’t I? Yes, Rafe. She’s a stuck up bitch who acts like she’s better than everyone. But my drunken mind has me sighing as I say, “You really don’t like me, baby?”

Her body stiffens, eyes wide as she stares back at me. “I- Don’t call me that.”

I smirk. I have her worked up. Reaching out my left hand, I push a few strands of hair behind her ear before I run my fingers down the side of her face. She sucks in a shaky breath and flinches away from my touch.

“Rafe… Please just let me have a night out with my friends. In two days, we’re announcing to the entire island that we’re getting married, and I’d like to live the last two days of my life without you around… Lord knows I’m about to be stuck with you.”

My eyes narrow and I take a step toward her. You’re drunk, Rafe. Keep your cool. My large hands reach for her face, cupping her cheeks as I lower my face closer to hers. I don’t miss the way her chest rises and falls rapidly from my close proximity. She’s nervous. It’s going to be so much fun having her all to myself. Even if I hate her, pussy is pussy. And this is pussy that’s never been touched. She’s all mine to play with. To fuck. To break. To train. She’ll be my own personal whore by the time I’m done with her.

My glassy, blue eyes search her face. I half expect her to shove me away, and I’m so drunk I wouldn’t be able to fight back on it. But she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes find mine. That’s it, be strong baby girl. I like the tough girl act.

“Baby, you’re going to be crawling on your hands and knees begging for me to touch you. To kiss you. To please you. You can act like you hate me now, Lord knows I can’t stand you. But even I can admit, you’re fucking gorgeous. And I know you find me somewhat attractive.” I pause, placing my lips on the sensitive skin of her neck and leaving soft kisses, making her hiss in a breath. “I know this isn’t what either one of us wanted, but we have no choice… Why not enjoy the game?”

Her beautiful eyes narrow into slits and her lips thin. She blinks a few times before slapping my hands from her face. I stumble back a little, but catch myself on the bar, giving her a slow smirk.

“Fuck you, Rafe!” She hisses before grabbing her purse and storming off to the locker rooms.

I smile to myself as I watch her storm off. She’s mad now, but I meant what I said. She’ll be begging for more after I finally touch her. She can pretend now, and I’m not saying I’m falling for her. But Topper was right. She’s hot. Might as well enjoy the game and the perks, right? Letting out a small laugh, I turn and make my way back toward my friends, adjusting my hard cock that’s straining against my pants in the process. This is going to be fun.

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