#she will always be her mother's daughter!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlatmirror · 3 days ago

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the viscount who loved me | jjk

It was your sister’s season, and she was the diamond, while your season was still a year away. Though suitors could seek your hand already, it doesn’t excuse you for secretly pining after the viscount who courted her.

viscount!jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) morally gray yn and jk, sexism (c’mon it’s the 18th century what did u expect), sex (bye minors), it’s not sex centered tho, longing and yearning (bring real romance back), cheating (is it tho, idk u be the judge), u might get mad at the main characters, enemies to lovers, heavily inspired (or stolen) by my loves anthony and kate 😍😍, yn is the younger sister and has yet to enter her season, but she is in her twenties!! (not specified in the text, but i was thinking jk is like 27, yn’s sis is 24 and yn is like 22, just to clarify) is idk what else. ENJOY!

The fresh, sunny air of London on that day called you to leave the mansion and ride your horse, Cinnamon, into the forest, just as you did every morning that was suitable for a nice ride. It was not entirely proper to do so in that society, but they did not need to know about it. You always felt safe; you rode at a time of day when you were sure nobody would see you. You had a set time of 20 minutes; after that, you returned home, wearing a cloak with a hat that covered half your face. If someone were to catch you, you could merely lower the hat, and they would not know who you were. The last thing you wanted was to bring shame on your family, especially not in a society as cruel as that one.

You rode to your familiar place and felt the breeze of the wind in your hair; you felt free. It continued to be the beautiful, calm ride you were used to—until you heard the sounds of a man, seemingly talking to you.

"Miss?" the voice from afar called. "Miss, are you in trouble?" To your dismay, the voice came closer so quickly that you did not know where to go or what to do. If you were to ride deeper into the forest, you would get lost, and if you rode straight ahead, the man would see you either way. It seemed even this baggy cloak could not conceal your femininity as you had thought it would.

The man came nearer, and you turned your head so he would not recognize you.

"Miss, if there is a problem, I shall help you," his deep voice stated. "It is not suited for a young lady to be out here unchaperoned."

You did not say a word, your face still turned in the opposite direction. You did not think it through, and he turned his horse to face you, ducking his head to see you. You had never felt this silly in your life. You took off the hat hesitantly, revealing long curls and innocent, almost pleading eyes.

Before you sat the infamous Viscount Jeon on his horse, a most important figure of the ton. The gossip columns described him as a ‘rake through and through,’ yet he was as captivating as a summer’s night and as wealthy as the stars were numerous. Indeed, there was not a mother in the ton who did not dream of him marrying her daughter.

You were sure he recognized you as well; with your sister being the diamond of the season, there was not a single gentleman in London who did not know the family he wished to marry into.

"I know you," he revealed. "You are the daughter of Baron Ln. Miss, you should not be here alone. It is dangerous."

"I am not here alone, my lord; I am here with Cinnamon... and you are here, also," you stammered, hesitantly and nervously.

The viscount did not hide his amusement, chuckling while shaking his head. He found the entire sentence you had just said to be hilarious.

"You do not need to be scared; I shall not tell a soul about this encounter," he reassured you, still chuckling. "But I believe you should head home now, for your folks should get worried."

You listened to him, still flushed and slightly embarrassed, and headed home.

The Viscount Jeon certainly was gentler than what the columns wrote about him.

___

"Mother, I was unable to breathe in this corset. It was utterly ridiculous, and it elevated my bosoms up to the sky," you said, exaggerating, while your maid tied up the corset—who was, at that moment, your rival.

The last ball you attended had been the first of the season at the palace, where your beautiful sister, Nadia, had been chosen as the season’s diamond by the queen herself. You had been proud beyond measure; your sister was the eldest of your household and often played a secondary motherly role. She deserved to have the finest suitors begging for just a pinch of her attention.

"I did not have such a problem, sister, and my corset was just as tight, if not tighter, than yours," Nadia declared, looking down at her much flatter body.

"I cannot help but wonder why..." sarcasm left your mouth.

Since the queen’s announcement, your mother had not stopped rushing, running errands, investing in your jewelry collections, and buying dresses from the finest modistes in the city. Your mother had always been insatiable and prideful, yet you had never seen this side of her before.

"My dear Yn, your sister is the diamond of the season; she is destined to wed a most extraordinary gentleman, one who must possess both fortune and lands in locales of which we have never even heard, and court her heart with poetry. Such is the very least that the daughter of a most noble man is entitled to receive. She is the jewel of her season, which ensures that all eyes shall be upon her—and upon us. We shall create a most splendid impression at tonight's ball at Danbury House. We simply must," Lady Ln proclaimed, her pride evident as she gazed at herself and her two eldest daughters in the mirror. "Moreover, Yn, what is this lamentation regarding your bosoms? Such femininity is precisely what captivates a gentleman and stirs envy among the young ladies of the ton. You shall also find your match. Both of my daughters are undeniably the most beautiful women of the ton, nay, of the entire world!"

You and Nadia glanced at each other, trying not to laugh at your mother’s boasting. She had been excited to get her daughters married since they were born, always saying that marrying off a son was not as exciting and beautiful as marrying off a daughter. Your two older brothers had both gotten married in the last few years.

You did not like to admit it, but you had been dreaming of your prince charming since you were just a little girl, waiting to get married. Not because of the couples you knew, but because of the books you read that spoke of longing, making you feel as if you were living the character’s life.

"Lena, get the ladies ready; I shall attend to the little ones. They are out in the gardens, engaged in activities unknown to me," your mother commanded the maid, exiting the chamber with graceful haste to see what her mischievous twins were up to.

"Is it not amusing how mama calls Hana and Idris little ones despite their approaching age of sixteen?" Nadia shook her head, smiling. She admired herself in the mirror and told Lena to fix up her hair. "I must look perfect."

Nadia was a perfectionist through and through, the eldest daughter of a baron and his insatiable wife—a combination that could only produce a girl whose expectations for herself were high, too high for anyone to reach.

"You do look perfect. You are the diamond, Nadia; not a single soul in that ballroom shall utter an ill word about you—and if they do, it is out of pure envy," you said adoringly. "I must say, I cannot wait to meet my new brother; I bet he is a most handsome gentleman who shall ask you to dance, and in the morning, he shall call on you, saying how he cannot stop thinking about you and that you are as beautiful as a blooming flower."

Your teasing was accompanied by you dancing around playfully and blinking your eyes at a fast rate, which irritated your maid, who, of course, wouldn’t say a word to you beyond measure as she adjusted your dress. Nadia shoved your shoulder in a joking manner, smiling to herself.

"I shall find myself a love match, much like Baba and Mama—I desire a love like theirs; that is my only goal," her eyes communicated her feelings of yearn, while you nodded.

"You shall. You are your mother’s daughter, after all; you shall always get what it is you desire," you kissed her cheeks encouragingly, and she looked at you with thankfulness.

"Ladies! The carriages have arrived. Make haste!" Your mother’s demanding voice called from downstairs, resulting in you immediately strutting down the stairs.

___

The Jeon family had a reputation to uphold. They were known for their generosity, their welcoming spirits, their lavish homes, and their riches. The viscountess was nothing short of the perfect viscountess, continuing to be so, even after her husband’s tragic death a mere couple of years ago.

She intended to find herself a replacement that season, desperately wanting to marry off her eldest, the viscount. Her desperation did not come from a place of fear of undesirability; it was quite the opposite.

The viscountess feared her son might be looking for a wife for the wrong reasons. What she and her late husband shared was a love she wished for all of her children; yet her son seemed to see the world differently. He wanted a wife only to fulfill his duties and produce an heir.

"Jungkook, the search for happiness and love is not shameful. It is indeed the bravest thing a man can do—to listen to his heart and let it guide him," the viscountess tried to woo her son, who did not look up from his estate’s accounts ledgers. "You cannot hold interviews for eligible young ladies to find a suitable one; you shall know she is the one when you gaze upon her and converse with her for the very first time."

"When will you realize that what you and father had is the exception, not the rule? I am the viscount; I hold many responsibilities, and one of them is to wed a girl of good noble breeding to replace you as viscountess and produce an heir who shall lead this family when I am gone," Jungkook responded calmly. "I have indeed let my heart guide me; we are in agreement. I shall not continue with the interviews, as I have already found my future bride in Miss Nadia, the daughter of Baron Ln."

His mother was shocked at the revelation, looking at him with a glimpse of hope and wonder. "The diamond? Oh, how delightful! She must have great promise to have caught the eyes of the viscount."

She recalled the last ball when the queen announced Nadia as the diamond. Her son had not had a chance to talk to her that night, as the girl was occupied with many overbearing suitors and mothers.

"Yes, indeed, Mother. She is accomplished in literature, she plays many instruments, dances quite beautifully, and she comes from a most respectable family. She shall be my viscountess," he explained further. "We shall attend the ball at Danbury House tonight, united as one. Miss Nadia shall be there as well; we might find a suitable gentleman for Yoona if that is what she wishes." Jungkook was referring to his younger sister as he spoke.

"Wonderful," his mother’s eyes sparkled with joy.

___

The Jeon family arrived quite late, but in style. The viscount dressed in fitted trousers and a crisp white shirt that accentuated his strong arms and broad shoulders, his brothers dressed similarly, and his sisters in beautiful, rich silk gowns.

Jungkook was already on the lookout for a certain diamond who had caught the attention of the entire ton. He was not worried she would reject his advances; after all, he was the viscount, and there was not a single gentleman in London who could claim to be more eligible than him.

"Excuse me," he gracefully pushed through the people standing before the diamond, all waiting for a turn to speak with her. "I wish to dance with you, Miss Nadia."

As the voice of the viscount was heard, the stares of the ton overwhelmed Nadia, everybody in utter shock; the viscount, who mothers had been trying to get to look at their daughters for years, wished to dance with a girl in her first season out? How very surprising and envy-inducing.

Nadia nodded shyly, letting go of her very proud mother’s hand and accepting the viscount’s. She wondered where her sister was until she saw her at the drink stand fetching herself a lemonade.

"You are an excellent dancer, my lady," Jeongguk expressed, his hand in hers as they attracted all the eyes of the crowd.

"That is all your doing, my lord," she shyly answered, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "You are quite a natural."

Their conversation continued for the next few minutes. They discussed very trivial matters, but Jeongguk made sure to let her know that she had caught his eye.

Eventually, Nadia moved on to another gentleman, and the viscount disappeared out of sight.

After a while of proudly watching your sister dance beautifully with potential suitors, you decided to step outside for a while to catch a breath of fresh air.

You were not particularly in the mood for dancing that night.

"Do not tell me the Viscount Jeon is looking for a love match this season; what happened to the viscount who visited his courtesan at least once a day and enjoyed a good brothel show?"

As you walked into the garden of the grand Danbury House, you heard a conversation that sparked your interest. A group of men, including the viscount who had just danced with your sister, and a few others you did not recognize, were talking. Letting your curiosity wander, you remained silent and listened to their talk unfold.

"I assure you, I am not out to find a love match; I am simply fulfilling my duties. Is it so impossible to find a suitable wife for a viscount, one who has hips meant for birthing, the ability to woo me with her intellect, and does not require love? It is simply a struggle," Jeongguk complained.

"Not a lady in London lives up to the standards of the viscount, I presume," the other man standing laughed. "I have seen you dance and converse with the diamond of this season; tell me, Viscount Jeon, does the diamond live up to your standards?"

"She is a respectable young woman who I plan on getting to know better, but I must not judge yet, for I fear I do not know what I might find out," the viscount answered the man’s question with honesty.

By then, you were sure your face was red with anger. How dare that man, that filthy rake, talk about your sister or any woman that way? And to think that Nadia was completely smitten with him already, you could not believe this audacious behavior.

They continued talking about useless things.

"We shall go back inside, my lord; are you coming with us?" one of them asked.

"No, you go. I shall join you later," he said, wanting to stay in the fresh air.

He started moving in your direction, and you quickly tried to get away, but your foot caught something, making a loud noise. "Who is there?"

You knew you were as good as caught, so you revealed yourself. "It is you. Were you eavesdropping?"

It seemed his audacity continued.

There was a spark in his eyes as he looked you up and down, as if he suddenly remembered the encounter you had in the woods or as if he really enjoyed what he saw.

"I was not! Also, one cannot eavesdrop in a public space…" you defended yourself. "The words you spoke were filthy and jarring, my lord; I cannot help but believe it is best if you do not let your interest in my sister unfold."

He visibly became uncomfortable, the evidence in his face demonstrating that he knew he had said things that did not particularly present him well.

"Those words were not meant for your ears, Miss Yn," he said, attempting to maintain his composure.

"I heard them regardless. If this is you with all your guards down, if these are your true feelings, you are not a suitable match for my sister," you emphasized defiantly.

The viscount lifted his eyebrows at you, letting his eyes linger on your body until he gazed into your face again. "You do realize there is not a lady in London who does not seek the kind of marriage I offer? That is, besides the privileges of becoming the viscountess."

"Oh, is that true? You assume the ladies of London are so easily charmed by a pleasing smile and nothing more?" you questioned him, causing him to grin.

"You find my smile pleasing?" he smirked down at you.

"I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high. And I stand by what I said; you do not suit my sister," you spoke, crossing your arms.

He skimmed your body, an amusing expression forming on his face. "Miss Yn, I remember the morning in the park very well. It seems to me that you do not care much for the rules of this society; that is why you spoke to your viscount in that manner."

"My apologies, my lord. I simply feel defensive over my sister," you apologized, feeling blood rush to your face.

"That is quite all right; I know what it is like to have siblings one cares for," his smile was warm, which surprised you.

After a few awkwardly intense looks between you two, you decided to bow respectfully and leave the scene.

You left Jeongguk standing for a while, the smile on his face visible even from a long distance; your jasmine scent lingered, and your words never left his mind.

___

Ever since the announcement, suitors from all over London had come to visit the Ln house to spend time with the diamond.

You quickly got used to seeing gentlemen in your house every morning, conversing with your older sister while you pretended to be occupied with something else, secretly listening to their conversations.

That day was no different. It was exciting, to say the least, not only because you were happy for your sister, who was receiving all these presents and love, but also because it broadened your understanding of courtships; your sister was paving the path for you in the future.

Oh, how excited you were for your future marriage.

As you walked downstairs after waking up from a long night of carefree sleep, you could already hear the distant sounds of a suitor.

You smiled to yourself, walking into the spacious living room, where you found your mother and father sitting on one couch with smiles that spoke volumes.

As you entered the room completely and saw who your sister was talking to, your face began to drop.

It was him. The viscount.

The man whom you could not escape from, for some reason.

While they finished their conversation, your mother noticed you standing there. "Good morning, Yn! Look who came to visit your sister first thing in the morning! Greet the Viscount Jeon."

You bowed respectfully and begrudgingly spoke, "Good morning, my lord."

He simply smirked, reciprocating the greeting.

It was as if he was provoking you with his handsome face and effortless demeanor.

"I shall head home now," he announced, standing up from his seat. "Breaking my fast here was very lovely indeed, Lord and Lady Ln; I must thank you dearly."

They exchanged pleasantries and enthusiastic goodbyes, of course, not without the viscount promising to come back tomorrow around the same time.

As he stepped outside, you followed him, pretending to go on a garden stroll.

"My lord!" you called after him, making him turn around to you.

"Yes, Miss Yn?" he spoke with a tinge of teasing, which seemed to always be present when he spoke with you.

His coachman was patiently waiting, watching you two standing face to face.

"Why have you called on my sister?" you asked; you were always known for your bluntness, which was something you tried to work on.

The viscount sent you a questioning but amusing look before replying, "Am I not allowed to?"

You shook your head, trying to put your thoughts into words.

"You are allowed," you answered hesitantly. "But what I said to you at Danbury House, I meant. I do not believe you are the right man for my sister."

There was a short exchange of glances between you; you hoping he understood your concerns and him wondering how you gathered the audacity to speak to a viscount that way.

It was not that he was angry about it; he was merely surprised. He had never had a person talk to him that way.

"Miss Yn," he started, his voice low. "I believe your sister can make her own decisions, can she not? And I must say, she did not seem to have a problem with my presence at all… quite the contrary."

You knew he was right, but there was something in your intuition telling you that this would not work out; you looked at him and did not see your sister’s future husband.

Yes, he was wealthy, and he was quite handsome, but still… he was not the man your sister was looking for.

"I believe I know my sister better than you do, my lord," you insisted, as stubborn as you always were.

He simply chuckled. "I do not doubt it," before hopping into the carriage and waving goodbye to you.

You could not comprehend how severely irksome he was.

___

In the following weeks, Jungkook tried his hardest to impress your sister; calling on her, giving her extravagant gifts, attending events and balls seemingly only for her.

It felt like he could propose to her at any moment, and you did not like it.

Your sister, on the other hand, seemed to be very happy with the viscount’s affection for her.

Who would not be?

One day, your mother hosted a gathering in the diamond’s name—an opportunity for suitors to see your sister and make themselves known to her.

The Jeon family was invited and set to attend, but the invitation for the viscount was lost in the mail.

Jungkook was very busy that day; meetings and managing accounts and staff took up a great deal of his time.

He did not have time to prepare himself for the crucial task ahead.

After asking his brother, Namjoon, for help with the poetry he intended to read out loud at the Ln house, he read over the piece of paper and could not control his scoffs; he thought poetry might be the most deceptive tool of all.

Such pretty, empty words.

He ordered a carriage, hastily moving to make it to the party that he was so conveniently not invited to, and hoped for the best.

The doorman immediately let him in, obviously knowing who the Viscount Jeon was—a familiar face to all of London indeed. Marching in as if he owned the place, he found a huge gathering of gentlemen performing their talents—or lack thereof—to impress Nadia.

You and Nadia were sitting next to each other on the sofa; you wore a judging yet amused face, and Nadia looked very grateful for the time they took for her.

He dreaded that his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they did on your sister; you were wearing an accentuating, expensive gown and a classic updo, your expressive eyes drew him in.

"Please excuse my tardiness," Jungkook took his chance right when someone finished his performance, making a loud announcement that turned everybody’s head. "I shall read a poem I wrote for Miss Nadia.”

Your expression was hard to read; though you were certainly annoyed by his sudden appearance, there was something gleaming in your eyes that he could not overlook. Your eyes locked in a room full of people, something that seemed to happen quite frequently between the two of you. Your effect on him made him nervous to perform; for some reason, he cared for your opinion quite a bit.

Naturally, everybody respected the viscount and his wishes, giving him their full attention. Nadia’s smile was beaming; your mother was more than happy to see the viscount show further interest in her daughter, and the rest were in awe of the viscount, whose shell was very hard to penetrate to make such an effort for the diamond.

"What is it to truly admire a woman?" he read from a small piece of paper in his hand, and your heart began to beat faster than it should have. "To look at her and feel inspiration, to delight in her beauty, so much that all— all your defenses—"

Suddenly, he stopped; everybody in the room quieted as they attentively listened to his beautiful words. His sudden silence caught some off guard, including you, who sat there looking at him with longing eyes, and Nadia, whose smile slowly vanished. Whispers began to break out.

"My apologies, I cannot do this," the viscount stated, resulting in Nadia frowning slightly. "Truth be told, I am not a man of poetry; those words are someone else’s entirely."

A few quiet gasps could be heard around the crowd of people, but Jungkook did not shy away from speaking the truth.

"Miss Nadia... I cannot offer you pretty words and rhymes, but I assure you, when it comes to action and duty; I shall never be found lacking."

Your breath hitched in your throat, as if his words were hitting you in your chest.

There was a part of you that was grateful for his honesty; the probability that your sister would not want to continue a courtship based on a false perception.

But there was another part that hated his honesty; why did the man you were supposed to hate repeatedly find his way into your heart by revealing sides of him you felt drawn to?

You knew the viscount did not want a love match.

And you loathed him.

So why did your chest burn with every word he spoke?

You could tell your sister was lost for words, watching the viscount with curious eyes.

"Nadia..." your voice came out smaller than you expected. "If you wish for him to leave, I—"

But your sister’s response shocked you. She stood up and clapped her hands, a sign of approval for the viscount’s words.

Others started joining her, but you stayed put in your place.

Jungkook’s growing smile beamed, feeling relieved that Nadia didn’t seem to mind his lack of verbal affection.

"Nadia," you murmured to your sister. "Did you not hear what he said? He cannot offer you the love that you long for."

Nadia let out an understanding "I know," before explaining herself, "I have come to accept that. I do not need a love match that can turn into an incompatible marriage in the future; I now merely desire a stable, harmonious marriage, and I believe the viscount can offer that to me."

You did not know what to do besides sigh and nod. "I just want you to be happy, Nini."

Your sister took your hand and lovingly squeezed it before giggling. "I do hope you and the viscount can find common ground throughout our marriage."

You simply awkwardly smiled at her to mask the storm brewing inside you.

She got up to confront the viscount, while you sat on the couch, staring into nothingness while contemplating the confusing feelings that were so foreign to you.

___

With every passing day and night, Jungkook found himself consumed by thoughts of you.

You appeared in his dreams, haunting him like a beautiful ghost, the face behind his sleepless nights.

He was aware of the problematic nature of the situation—courting one sister while dreaming of the other was not something a gentleman did.

But your beauty resembled summer nights and hidden love letters, while your resistant character was consuming and complex; yet he saw kindness in your eyes.

To be truthful, he could not stop his thoughts surrounding you since that morning in the park—the first time you two talked, the first time he heard your beautiful voice.

While you swore you would not admit it to a living soul, you felt similarly.

The viscount refused to leave your mind, appearing in your dreams unannounced and causing havoc inside your heart with every moment you stayed in or out of his presence.

You could not bear it.

Not only did the viscount consume you, but shame accompanied him.

But you promised yourself it was a fleeting moment, and he told himself to suppress his feelings.

___

"My dears, we have received an invitation from Jeon House, inviting us for a week to their country residence in order to continue the courtship away from the ton’s attention; is that not lovely?" your mother spoke, excitement evident in her voice. She was sat beside your father, who was paying more attention to the pie.

"Ah, yes, I’m afraid I cannot join you for that trip; I have business to attend to here in the city," your father spoke, placing a reassuring hand over your mother’s. "But I am certain you will handle it yourself, dear."

Your mother simply nodded and smiled, still in a very happy state about where her daughter’s courtship was headed. Nadia was sat next to you with a similar shy smile on her face.

You, on the other hand, could not help but feel a strange sensation; it was so foreign and something you could not describe. You loved seeing your sister happy, yet there was always a selfish voice in your head.

What if the viscount were to propose?

You began to imagine that scenario in your mind, and you did not like the thought of it at all.

But you feared it wasn’t because of your ‘hatred’ for the viscount, but because of something that was quite the opposite.

___

After packing, organizing carriages, and your mother stressing the entire day, you finally made your journey to the countryside.

It was only your mother, your sister, and you, as your mother thought your younger siblings were better off at home with the housekeeper.

You felt beautiful, dressed in the finest clothes, the most beautiful cosmetics put on your already lovely face. But you were in an undeniable state of distress.

Just as you stepped out of the carriage after four long hours, you were met with the friendly faces of the Jeon family.

Your eyes immediately met the viscount’s, who always seemed to have a certain look of yearning and some sort of pain when he saw you. You locked eyes with his deep brown ones, which somehow spoke a thousand words. His nostrils flared slightly, and it was as if you were both in a trance, unable to take your eyes off each other.

You shared a moment swimming in his eyes before he slowly diverted his gaze elsewhere.

Somehow, he looked even more handsome than the last time you had seen him.

You rued those feelings, the tingle you felt near him, the desperate need to be in his strong arms, to be the only one he knew to love—those feelings you had only read about in books, the tingling in body parts you were taught not to speak of.

But more than that, you cursed yourself for feeling them; how dare you think about your sister’s intended that way?

Were you a girl of no upbringing? Were you not a lady intended for marriage in just less than a year? It was breaking not only your soul but your perception of yourself to be plagued by these feelings; but you knew it would break you more to betray your sister, so you knew you had to stay quiet.

Amidst your overwhelming thoughts, a graceful young lady who was about the age of your older sister and bore a great resemblance to the viscount approached you, right after greeting your mother. She stood next to the viscount, and unbeknownst to you, noticed the shared glances of longing between the viscount and you, surprised to see her usually earnest brother so taken by a girl.

"You must be Miss Nadia," she spoke with a gentle smile. "I am Miss Yoona, the viscount’s younger sister. I have heard very much about you. You are even more beautiful than he described."

You bowed respectfully, yet you did not have the words to express that you were not who she thought you were.

Jungkook stepped in, embarrassment slightly evident on his face as he coughed a little. "Yoona, that is not Miss Nadia; that is her little sister—Miss Yn."

He then pointed to your sister, who was greeting the viscountess. You saw a look of confusion on Yoona’s face.

After everybody greeted each other, you settled into the rooms assigned to you and made yourselves at home.

The rooms were spacious, clean, and very elegantly decorated.

The Jeons were indeed a very generous family.

You suppressed the thought of how lovely it would be to marry into the family, as it was just a thought for you, but the reality for your sister.

And you did not want to hurt your sister or yourself.

___

Despite the comfortable beds and the expensive silk fabric of the sheets, you could not sleep.

Not only because you were not used to sleeping on foreign beds in foreign houses, but because, if your mind could not rest, you could not.

Nadia, on the other hand, had fallen fast asleep on the bed next to yours.

You needed something to distract you from the chaos in your head; a glass of cold water or a breath of fresh air would do.

As silently as you could, you got out of bed and started wandering the halls of the grand Jeon house with a lamp in your hand.

It was magnificent.

You breathed in the warmth, smiling to yourself; it was as if the house knew what a loving family owned it.

While walking towards nothing specific, you stumbled into a large room, empty of people and full of books.

You entered it with a calm heart, grabbing one book after another, taking in the beauty of the written words.

Your calmness was short-lived as you heard the huge door open. You gasped loudly and held up the lamp to see who it was.

Before you stood the viscount in a nightshirt that modestly exposed his muscular arms. He looked handsome, even at nighttime.

"Are you not able to sleep, Miss Yn?" he asked while fully entering the room.

You shyly turned your whole body toward him, feeling exposed in your silky nightgown that clung to your every curve.

Feeling his eyes flicker over you, a sense of timidity washed over you. "No... I cannot seem to fall asleep. I do apologize for roaming around without permission, my lord; I simply could not resist these many books."

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.

"You do not need to apologize," he assured you, now standing in front of you. "This is...was my father’s library. He read and collected books from all over the world. He was a very well-read man."

"May his soul rest easy," you softly sighed, pouting slightly at the mention of his deceased father. "He sounds like an extraordinary man."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "He was. I would not be the man and the viscount that I am today if it were not for him."

You did not answer, simply making space for a short moment of beautiful silence between you. Your eyes were intertwined with his deep ones; you felt as if you could dive into them.

"Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly asked; you simply nodded. "Why is it that you are so opposed to the idea of me marrying your sister? Do you truly hate me so?"

You broke the eye contact for a second, trying to gather your answer, while your heartbeat undeniably quickened. "I do not hate you, my lord. I simply worry for my sister. I want the very best for her."

The viscount came closer to you, chuckling again, exposing his barely visible dimples. "And you believe that I cannot offer her the best?"

Your arms were now touching, sending electricity through your body.

"I simply cannot forget what I overheard in the gardens at Danbury House," you answered his question as confidently as you could.

Jungkook’s eyes slightly darkened at your words. "Those words were not for your ears, Miss Yn."

You started to become defensive, letting out a "But I did hear them regardless."

He poked his cheek with his tongue, his nostrils flaring up with mild anger, stepping closer to you until there was hardly any space left between you. "You do not know how much you aggravate me, Yn Ln."

You now felt his fresh breath against your face, causing dizziness.

"And you," you uttered quietly in response, your eyelids becoming heavier. "You believe you do not vex me? I have only grown to accept your presence for my sister’s sake, but only God knows how long I will last in this... this lie."

Jungkook tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in to whisper into it. "This lie that you insist upon, what is it exactly? That you and I vex each other... or that we cannot seem to get away from one another?"

His voice was low and thick, tinged with a hint of teasing. You slightly backed away, but only to meet his dark eyes, which seemed to challenge you.

He leaned in until his lips were almost brushing against yours.

"My lord," you spoke in a soft whisper. "I—"

The sound of the door opening interrupted you.

Before you could get away from each other, a shocked Yoona witnessed the scene; as quickly as she entered, she left again, closing the door after saying a rushed "I am so sorry.”

You separated from Jungkook immediately after, running out in embarrassment and shame, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the library.

You could not believe what you had done.

___

Dinner with the Jeons was incredibly amusing; they were a big, loving family who were not afraid to share jokes and stories, even in front of guests.

To say you enjoyed yourself at dinner would have been an understatement.

In a moment of beautiful chaos, everybody laughed while simultaneously discussing intellectual topics. Jungkook raised his glass and stood up to make an announcement.

He was seated at the head of the table.

"I would very much like to start my toast by thanking our dear guests for taking their time to visit us at our country house. We are very delighted by your presence here with us," he started his tasteful speech. "Miss Nadia, it has been a delight to get to know you further. It is safe to say the Baron and Baroness Ln deserve praise for raising such an upstanding, demure woman... I would like to ask you a question, Miss Nadia."

While he spoke, the entire room fell silent, everybody attentively listening. His words added suspense to the atmosphere, making everyone wonder what he wanted to ask her.

It was obvious what everybody immediately thought of—for he was most likely going to ask for her hand in marriage.

Your mother and Nadia exchanged excited looks while you felt a thick lump form in your throat. The Jeons were all looking at Jungkook with an air of anticipation, waiting for him to finally speak the words.

Yoona tried her best not to gaze upon her brother with a frown of disapproval after she experienced whatever it was that happened between him and you the other night.

Jungkook began to awkwardly cough and put on somewhat of a feigned smile. "I wanted to ask you if you were ready for a game of pall-mall with this family or if you’d rather spare yourself the mayhem."

The whole table broke out in laughter—partially because they genuinely laughed and partially to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

But you did not laugh, and neither did your sister.

"I would be... honored to play a game of pall-mall with you and your family, my lord," your sister tried to mask her sadness playfully.

During the rest of the dinner, your hand was placed on your sister’s back, soothingly running it up and down her spine.

___

Hours after the dinner, it was nighttime when you were supposed to be asleep, but you and Nadia found yourselves sitting on the bed—her head on your lap and your hand in her hair.

You always comforted each other in non-ideal situations, but this time felt different; it was the first time you felt you had wronged your sister, being the reason for her despair.

"Perhaps the viscount does not wish to propose because of you," your sister suggested, looking up and trying to gauge your reaction.

Your breath slightly hitched as you felt your cheeks warm.

"Uh—whatever do you mean, sister?" you carefully asked.

Nadia gave you a knowing look, presumably confused as to how you did not understand what she meant.

"The two of you loathe one another!" she exclaimed, her words making you sigh in relief. "He is probably under the impression that you would not approve."

You chuckled lightly at the irony. "Nini, he does not care what I think! I am your younger sister, not Baba or even Mama. Even if I do not approve, I do not make the decisions for this family; Baba does."

Your sister nodded but elaborated further, "I know, but there is something in my heart telling me that you are the reason he is so... reluctant."

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping she would not come to the right conclusions, wondering how you could steer her away from thoughts that could possibly lead to the destruction of your sisterly relationship.

"It is not as if I am desperate to marry him, but I believe it would make Mama and Baba unbelievably happy if I were to marry the viscount," she continued, sighing as she absentmindedly played with her hair. "He is wealthy, and he comes from a great family... I do not want to disappoint them."

"If the viscount does not wish to propose to you, it is not because you are lacking, Nini. You shall find wealthy suitors in every city you visit," you stated your opinion. "But I shall talk to him about it if that is what you wish."

Nadia jumped up from your lap, now facing you.

"I should very much like that, Yn," she admitted.

You gave her a gentle smile before getting up to pay the viscount’s office a visit.

His office was on the other side of the mansion—a long way to walk—but with your thoughts running wild, you did not feel the length of the walk.

You knocked on his door hesitantly and entered after he called out, "Come in."

He was seated at his paper-covered desk, staring down with intensity before looking up and seeing you.

"Miss Yn," he addressed you with a trace of surprise in his voice. "Is everything quite all right?"

You did not feel like wasting time, so you jumped right to your point.

"You have been set on courting my sister despite my every objection, and now you plan to cast her aside?" you accused, your tone defensive. "What has she done to deserve this?"

His eyes darkened; he momentarily forgot about the paperwork, getting up from his chair to walk up to you.

"It is not her," he raised his voice. "It is you."

His honest words felt like a gentle hit in your face; your intuition knew what he meant.

"But I am to marry next season!" you exclaimed reactively.

"You believe that is what I desire you to do?" he shouted, his jaw clenched. "There is not a thing you can do—not a corner on this earth that you can travel to—that will free me from this torment."

He continued, "I am a gentleman; my father raised me to act with honor, but that honor hangs by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"You are the bane of my existence... and the object of all my desires," the viscount added, almost in agony, coming closer to you, whispering in your ear. "Night and day, I dream of you. And when I—do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you..."

Your breath hitched; your tight dress accentuated your breasts as your breath quickened with every word he spoke with every step he took closer to you.

"I did not ask for this," you finally got the chance to talk, facing him directly, barely an inch away. "To be plagued by these feelings... being distracted every time you enter the room, hiding those feelings from my sister... I did not ask for any of it."

"If I were to wed your sister, that would bind me to you for eternity," he stated, stepping away from you. "And I would spend my whole marriage dreaming of you, wanting you, longing for you... until the last thread of my honor snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your sister?"

You shook your head, unable to say anything.

"Then I shall not go forward with this courtship," he declared, his eyes burning into your skin. "If that is what you wish."

You slightly shook your head—not out of disagreement, but as a signal to yourself to stop the urge to melt into him, a dizzying feeling taking over you.

"It is very much what I wish, my lord," you admitted in a whisper. "I could not bear it..."

He stepped closer again, now breathing your air. "What could you not bear?"

Your fingers grazed his and it felt like a fire ignited inside you.

"I could not," you whispered into his ear, fingers tapping gently against his thick arms. "I could not bear the sight of you with her."

Jungkook leaned into your touch, his eyes closing from the overwhelming urge to embrace your whole body.

"Yn..." he softly breathed into your ear. "All I find myself thinking about—all I find myself being able to breathe for—is you. Do you think I want to be in this position? Contending with these thoughts of wanting to be nowhere except with you. Wanting to run away with you. Acting on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter... how much I must remind myself I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a sensation between your legs, pressing them together. He continued, "It is maddening how much you consume my every being."

You grazed your hand further down his arms, eyes locked and bodies almost pressing against each other; if anyone were to catch you, it would be scandalous.

"No," you protested in a whisper. "It is you— you who has thrown my world off its axis, you who has made me question my sanity, you who consumes my every thought, so do not dare to blame me... do not blame me."

Your lips brushed against each other, his breath hitting your lips and your breath hitting his, before they finally collided and became one in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered down to your defined waist, grabbing onto you as if you would fly away.

Your hearts were racing; he cupped your face with one hand and fiddled with your dress with the other; you melted into one.

"Tell me you want this," Jungkook insisted in a breathy, aroused voice.

"I want this, my lord," you purred against him, before gently biting into his lower lip. "Teach me everything you know."

Jungkook had no self-control in that moment, feeling like an animal in the wilderness.

He loosened the ties of your dress with an urgent hand, and you felt the cool air caress your skin as the fabric fell open. Your breasts, heavy and full, spilled out of the dress, begging for his attention. Jungkook's eyes locked onto them, his pupils dilated with desire.

His hands wandered down to your hips, gripping the curve of your bottom through the thin fabric of your undergarment. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he pulled you closer, his mouth still devouring yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the tension in his body a testament to the passion that burned between you.

"Are you certain?" he asked once again, his hands working to remove your undergarments.

You simply nodded, too dizzy and aroused to form a sentence.

Your hands wandered over his shirt, playing with the buttons before tugging on it, urging him to take it off, which he did, revealing his strong arms and chest. You kept your hands glued to them while he took off your bodice, revealing your full breasts to him.

Lifting you up and sitting you down on his desk, he immediately massaged your breasts and took one in his mouth, licking and sucking on it, making you moan in pleasure. "I have dreamt of this very moment for so long, Yn."

You ‘hmm’ed in response, grinding your hips against his in search of friction. You felt a big bulge in his pants, moving your own up and down on it, resulting in quiet groans from Jungkook.

"I..." you tried your best to formulate a thought. "I am so... sticky between my legs, my lord; is that normal?"

Jungkook chuckled amidst his arousal, leaning in to plant a short kiss on your lips. "Yes, my love; that is quite a good sign. Do not worry."

You felt comfortable with him; you admitted, "I have the same feeling quite often when I think of you," without realizing the implications.

Jungkook threw his head back in desire, unable to contain his urges to take you right there.

He took your hand in his and led it to his pants.

"Feel it," he urged, his voice simmering with lust as you began to grab his hardness and gently rubbing it. "That is what you do to me, Yn."

You tugged at his pants, and he quickly took them off, first revealing his drawers, which he removed as well.

He could not waste any more time.

As he revealed his large penis, you gasped.

"Do not be afraid, my love," he assured. "I will be very gentle.”

You were seated on the desk, and he was standing before you, his naked parts touching, with gasps and moans filling the entire room.

He positioned himself in front of you, looking into your eyes to ensure you were ready, only to be met with your awaiting gaze.

"What are you going to do now?" you hesitantly asked, hands on his bare arms.

His hands were placed lovingly on your soft waist, soothing you to ensure you were comfortable. "I will enter you now."

You nodded, not fully understanding the idea.

You blamed the mamas who were too ashamed to speak of essential things like that one.

Slowly entering the tip inside you, you gasped from the pain. "It hurts, my lord."

Jungkook stopped for a moment to cup your face, planting a kiss on your lips. "It will take time, but soon enough, you shall find pleasure in it, I promise."

You gazed at him, immediately believing his words, but wondering, "Does it hurt you as well?"

Jungkook laughed at that, slowly starting to thrust gently into you. "No, not at all. It is a very pleasant feeling for me."

His words came out as grunts, which you found incredibly attractive.

"Well, that is certainly unfair," you pouted, but gradually adjusted to the new feeling.

Jungkook agreed with you, saying, "I know," while chuckling.

As you began to get used to his thrusts, you leaned in even closer, urging him to fully enter you and thrust harder.

"You are simply the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes upon," he praised with hushed grunts, to which you cooed.

The fact that your families were outside the four walls of his office, peacefully sleeping, was something long forgotten by both of you, alongside the idea that he was the man who was supposed to be courting your sister.

You chose to forget about the one thing that was printed in your mind for the past months, even if only for a few minutes.

His thrusts began to become stronger, eliciting seductive sounds from both of you. His strategy to make less noise was kissing you almost the entire time.

His big hands roamed your entire body, and your legs wrapped around his hips; you were surprised at your ease—being with him felt not only beautiful but also effortless.

After a few final thrusts, his hips began to stutter, and a foreign sensation started to form in your stomach, causing you to look at him with a helpless expression, to which he answered, "I know, I know, my love; just allow it to happen."

You hesitantly let go, your head tilting back as you felt yourself reach a pinnacle—a feeling of pure bliss.

Jungkook could barely speak understandably, closing his eyes as he savored the last few thrusts before he reached his orgasm, pulling out and coming on a piece of cloth before he could release inside you.

"You did beautifully," he smiled and kissed your forehead lovingly.

You simply smiled back, the shame slowly returning as you put on your dress again.

He engulfed you in a gentle embrace before whispering into your ear, "Go rest now, my love; we shall see what we do tomorrow. Do not worry about anything; I will take care of it. That is a promise."

Somehow, you did not feel comforted by his words, but you reluctantly obliged, ignoring the slight pain in your legs as you walked through the halls of the mansion back to the room you had to temporarily share with your sister, who was already asleep.

You could not sleep that night, too consumed by wondering how and when you became that bad of a person.

___

The following day, you avoided Jungkook as much as you could. You felt ashamed, dirty; you felt like a bad person.

Your uncommonly quiet behavior did not go unnoticed by your mother and your sister; they kept pestering you about it.

But you did not know what to say to them.

Throughout the entire game of pall-mall, you acted out of the ordinary, not playing as well as you normally could.

Nadia and you were playing with Jungkook and four of his siblings, who were all much better players than the two of you.

"It seems you have forgotten the game, sister," Nadia giggled, watching you struggle with the mallet.

You kicked the ball hard in the wrong direction and almost tripped over; if it had not been for the strong hand that held your waist up.

"Be careful," the viscount’s deep voice rang in your ears.

Although you could stand on your own, he continued to hold onto your waist, his lips almost touching your ear. He forgot his surroundings, and so did you, as you locked eyes and shut out everything that was not each other.

It was a sight of pure chemistry, pure love; a blind man could see the feelings sparking between the two of you.

Visions of the prior night swirled in your mind as you leaned into his muscular body, completely in tune with him even in sheer silence.

Until Yoona interrupted you two with a cough, causing you to separate as quickly as possible from each other with more than embarrassed faces.

Jungkook’s siblings awkwardly laughed, and Nadia’s eyes, which you were avoiding, were boring into you penetratingly.

After the game, you went back to your rooms to prepare for lunch.

Strategically dodging your sister as much as possible, you pretended like nothing had happened between the viscount and you, while your insides brewed with fire.

But Nadia was the confrontational type.

"I see the way you look at each other, Yn," she admitted to you, hurt evident in her voice. "I have seen it for a long time, but I thought... you hated him. Had I known you did not, I would have ended the courtship."

"Nini..." you whispered. "I did not want to hurt you. I do not know how I could have been so selfish. You do not know how much I hate myself right now. I did not tell you because I was ashamed of myself... I did not want you to think that I purposely wanted to steal the man you love."

"I am not in love with him!" Nadia exclaimed in response, "I love you! You are my sister, Yn. If you would have told me from the beginning, I would not have been angry with you."

"I am so deeply sorry, Nadia," your face was a tearful mess at that point. "I did not know what to do; I thought... I was sure this would be just a passing infatuation, but... please forgive me, sister."

Your sister’s gentle hands found their way to your tear-stained cheeks. "I understand..."

"Please, I beg of you, do not let this ruin our sisterhood," you sounded pathetic, but you did not care.

You loved a man you were not supposed to love; you did things you were never supposed to do.

"You are my little sister, Yn," even in anger, her voice was soft and assuring. "You always will be... but do give me time to process this."

You nodded, immediately pulling her into a warm, strong embrace, whispering "I love you" to her.

___

You traveled back to London in complete silence, your sister still unsure how to talk to you and your mother, disappointed in the lack of proposals, but still happy with the time spent together.

For a couple of weeks, you did not hear anything from the viscount or his family. You tried to distract yourself with books and art, but nothing filled the emptiness in your heart.

You knew you gave the viscount the impression that you did not wish to speak with him, but you longed to hear or read his words.

One day, your mother entered your room with a pensive look. "Mama, what is it?"

"Yn... I have news, very important ones," she sat down at the edge of your spacious bed and took your hand in hers. "The viscount... he asked for your hand this morning. Your Baba approves, and Nadia does too, my love."

Your heart jumped outside your body for a moment, completely in shock.

You were happy, but you were not at the same time; perhaps the viscount only proposed because he was the gentleman he claimed to be and was merely fulfilling his duty?

"The viscount does not love me, Mama; I know it..." you sniveled, sadness washing over you. "He is simply fulfilling his duties because we..."

Your mother cut you off with an understanding look.

"Yn..." she spoke softly. "It is well; you do not need to tell me what happened between you and the viscount."

You sent a grateful gaze at her.

She always knew the right words to say when you were in distress.

"But, my dear," your mother expressed in an almost hesitant tone. "Whether the viscount wishes to marry you out of duty or out of love... I believe we should accept his proposal."

You were not angry at her idea because you wanted to marry him more than anything else in the world, but you feared he felt forced into proposing.

It was as if your heart had declared war on your mind.

Reluctantly, you nodded.

"I understand," you softly whispered. "Tell Baba to accept his proposal, but I wish to speak with the viscount beforehand."

Immediately after what you said, your mother ordered the maid to send an invitation for tea to the Jeon house.

___

The next day, Jungkook arrived with his mother by his side and an expensive bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"These are for you," he handed them to you, smiling shyly.

You silently thanked him, feeling the awkwardness brew; thankfully, your mother took the viscountess aside and left you and Jungkook enough room for a private conversation.

"I have not heard back about the proposal yet," Jungkook carefully started.

You nodded. "I have my Mama’s and Baba’s approval... Nadia’s too."

Jungkook watched you with attentive eyes, trying to gather what was holding you back from taking him as your husband.

"But I am afraid you are only proposing because of what happened at the country house," you confessed to him, looking down at your lap. "I do not want a marriage that is based solely on duties, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked frustrated, shaking his head.

"Listen to me, Yn," he grabbed your chin gently, locking his eyes with yours. "I love you. I have loved you from the moment we raced each other in that park. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together, and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it, embrace it, or even allow it. Knowing you, you probably will not. But you must know it in your heart. You must feel it because I do. I love you."

You looked away for a second, tears of joy and longing filling your eyes.

While you gathered your words, he continued, "I know I am imperfect, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine my life without you, and that is why I wish to marry you."

At that point, your face was tear-stained all over, returning your gaze to him as you smiled delicately.

"I love you, Jungkook, and I will marry you," you declared. "But do not think there will come a day where you do not vex me."

He now wore a big smile on his face, leaning in to engulf your full lips in a gentle kiss.

"Is that a promise, Yn Ln?" he breathed against your lips.

___

hiiii, i’m back!! i hope u all get my vision of jungkook as the viscount bridgerton because i do. btw, i’m sorry i’m not rlly active on here but i am a college student okay, i am very busy i cannot help it😭😭 i try to write as much as possible but a girl’s gotta have priorities. anyway, i hope everybody who reads this has a nice day💋 (btw, i love ur feedback, ur comments, etc. so pls don’t be shy)

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henrycangelbaby · 2 days ago

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NSFW 18+

Baby daddy!Simon who simply can’t keep his hands off you no matter what, he finds you irresistible like there’s a reason you have been pregnant so many times

Baby daddy!simon who slaps your ass whenever you walk by despite the fact you keep telling him that he can’t do it I front of the kids because they will start mimicking his behaviour

Baby daddy!simon who doesn’t stop it and pays the price when you make him leave work one day to pick up your daughter from school cause she slapped her teacher on the ass

In her defence she saw it as a sign of affection

Baby daddy!simon who is big and strong and is always holding you and your kids when you go out in public together

Baby daddy!simon who has a child in one arm and you in the other, the other children are in and between one eager to explore under his parents careful eye and one strapped to your chest

Baby daddy!simon who still manages to have an arm around you at all times hand usually resting on your growing bump

Baby daddy!simon who hates going out in public but loves watching the way that you glow when you mother his kids with your natural ability and the way you are so friendly to everyone you encounter smiling at even the grumpiest of minimum wage workers

Baby daddy!simon who always wants a kiss from you a reward whenever he does anything remotely helpful

Baby daddy!simon who pouts his lips bearing a steady resemblance to his ever pleading toddler every time he doesn’t get a kiss right away

Baby daddy!simon who looks at you saying “can I get a kiss?” Only for you to smirk at him asking “you think you deserve a kiss?”

Baby daddy!simon who moves closer to you placing a hand over your prominent baby bump and ghosting his lips over yours

Baby daddy!simon who whispers close to your ear “gave you this baby” he says rubbing over your belly “think I deserve a kiss for knocking you up so much huh? You love it” he smirks down at you

Baby daddy!simon who smiles fully when you lean up to kiss him you do love it

Baby daddy!simon who drapes himself all over you while you sleep together wanting to be impossibly close to you during sleep

Baby daddy!simon who always has a big hand placed over your bump smiling when he feels a small kick in what he believes is recognition

Baby daddy!simon who insists that you are never ever to heavy for him no matter what

Baby daddy!simon who will pick you up even when you are heavily pregnant your bump forcing a gap between you as you giggle at him to put you down

Baby daddy!simon who picks you up whenever you do something he doesn’t like or thinks is unsafe

Baby daddy!simon who picks you up by your hips when you get up onto the bench once again ignoring your protests reminding you that this is the seventh time he’s told you not to do that

Baby daddy!simon who insists you sit in his lap after the kids have gone to bed he laughs at you when you complain about being heavy pulling you without asking straight onto his thighs

Baby daddy!simon who hooks his head over your shoulder and watches whatever thing you put on the tv while his palms cover your bump fully

Baby daddy!simon who needs you fully all the time secretly loving being home with you and the kids but hating the fact that he can’t bend you over whenever because there are so many tiny people that require your attention

Baby daddy!simon who waits till everyone has gone to bed to fuck you against the dinner table muttering about how you are soon going to need a bigger table cause he’s gonna keep giving you babies

Baby daddy!simon who is a horny needy bastard that would spend 24/7 drapes all over you and in you if he could

#baby daddy simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #task force x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #x reader #mae writes 💞#call of duty fanfic

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chososcutie · 2 days ago

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⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ─── BOUND BY VOWS, TORN BY DESIRE ─── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

pairing ── satoru gojo x reader

teaser ── your kingdoms have been at war for what seems the longest time, ancient ancestors dating back bloodlines never ceasing in their feud. but now, with the upcoming of a new age, and a desperate need for heirs with an old, dying king on the throne, you are forced to resolve and seal the peace by marrying prince satoru, of an opposing nation.

content ── fluff, slow burn, heavy angst, eventual smut, royal!au, forced proximity, arranged marriage, one bed troupe, mommy issues, jealousy, historic!au, language, mention of drinking, kissing

count ── 5k

author’s note ── thank you to everyone who voted for this series!! this is going to be a multi part story, and i hope to continue if it does well, also i think i’m going to make more series’ down the line because this was fun :)

in two days you were to marry prince satoru.

it was at the crux of the two kingdoms' warring, and father was weak and desperate in those times.

your mother had grown unusually cruel, even more so than usual, her voice sharp and reprimanding, put under pressure by the ongoing conflict that never seemed to be getting better.

you were heartbroken when they told you, but not surprised. you had hoped you would get to choose your own partner to spend the rest of your life with, but it seems cruel fate had other plans.

you had tried to reason with your mother to get out of it, that there were other ways to resolve a war other than sending off your daughter to be married to an unknown man from another kingdom, but she was having none of it.

it was really a matter of convenience. a way to set up a peace treaty, arrange a marriage, and combine two impossibly rich kingdoms? you had known your parents long enough to know they never loved in the way they were supposed to, always king and queen before mother and father, and that they’d take this opportunity in a heartbeat, no matter the cost.

you hadn’t however, known how soon everything would progress, until days later when you received an invitation in the mail, unsigned, and enclosed in a thick brown envelope, complete with the royal seal stamped pristinely on the front.

we hereby invite you to the royal marriage of… it read in rich gold lettering, looping cursive filling the page. little illustrations litter the margins, and a single grainy folded-up picture flutters out upon its opening.

when you unfurl it, it reveals the man you were to marry.

prince satoru gojo, in all his glory, wearing a pristine white and gold suit, a coy smile curving his lips, and soft, cloudy white hair fluffed up, a sword at his hip and azure blue eyes boring into yours.

for a second all you can do is stare, taken aback by his beauty.

you had heard of how gorgeous the prince was, being the talk of almost every woman in the kingdom for his good looks and charm, but you had never seen him up until now.

he was drop-dead ravishing. the kind of beauty one saw only in dreams.

“i see you’ve received the invitation.”

your mother’s calculated voice.

you quickly wheel around, her eyes fixed on you coolly. “we’ve gotten word to head to the gojo clan estate now. they will receive you there.”

“but..” you start, hoping against hope that maybe you could get through to her, and beg her not to send you off.

“please don’t disappoint us.” she eyes you disdainfully. “this arrangement means a lot for our kingdom, and it’d do you well to start thinking about what’s best for your disciples rather than your own wants.”

you stare at her. was she calling you selfish for not wanting to wed a man you had never met?

suddenly, the heavy hoofbeats of a horse-drawn carriage breaks the silent tension stretching between you two, a graceful steady gait of horses coming toward you causing you to quickly turn back to your mom, eyes pleading.

“please.. don’t make me.”

in your wildest dreams, her eyes soften and she looks at you with something different then, something resembling love, before scooping you up into her arms and kissing you on the forehead like a mother would, calling you her precious only daughter, and promising to never send you off, and what was she thinking, before calling off the wedding completely.

but instead, she stares at you, detached as if you were nothing more than a pawn in her intricate chessboard of royalty, your worth determined only by what you could provide for the kingdom.

the carriage comes to a halt in front of you, horses snorting and whinnying as you stare back at the face that looks so much like your own, only lacking the empathy you had always longed for.

“get in the carriage.” she says simply.

and realizing she’s not going to change her mind, you study her face for the last time, as if committing it to memory, that same stony unchanging expression that had been with you all through your childhood, before opening the door, and looking ahead, eyes hollow.

maybe this new husband wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

after a few hours of the carriage lurching and bumping along cobblestone trodden pathways, your head craning to look out from the slightly drawn curtains, you make it.

and just as you imagined, prince satoru's estate is big.

in fact, big didn’t even begin to describe it, with towering iron-wrought gates, and a winding driveway all leading up to a fairy-tale like palace.

statues of noble figures stand tall, outlined against its magnificence, and the castle itself is a rich ivory color, accented with shimmers of golden turrets reaching up into the sky, their tips brushing the clouds themselves.

quickly, you are ushered out, the carriage door held open for you by the coachman, and before you get a chance to take in the elegant grounds of the estate, royal servants are already waiting to greet you, all polite smiles as they advise you to follow them inside.

on the way, they tell you that you were to be properly welcomed to the gojo clan before tomorrow's highly anticipated ceremony, in the form of meeting the king and queen in charge, along with your husband to-be.

you take the chance to glance around, taking in all your surroundings, everything ancient and wooden, with small adornings of mythological figures decorating the walls along with paintings dating back to centuries-old wars, history written all across the panelling prominently.

finally, the royal attendants come to a stop in front of a long-winding corridor, leading all the way down toward an ornate wooden door, its magnificent size amongst the others causing it to stand out notably.

"this is master gojo's suite, and where you will be staying with him for the rest of your time here." says the servant nearest to you, beginning to back up slowly, the others in tow. "the king has asked that you meet with him beforehand, so you two can become acquainted. we shall leave you to it."

and with a final bow of his head, he's gone, leaving you to stand in front of the intimidating mahogany door, its broad outline almost menacing in the dimness of the passageway.

as you make your way to it, you push on it hesitantly, only to be met with resistance as it groans in protest, unwilling to budge.

you try the door handle. locked.

you look up again. you know this is the right door. so why isn't it..?

it opens so suddenly, you with all your weight resting on its frame can't stop yourself. you immediately topple over, letting out a soft oof! of surprise as you crash into something warm yet solid, your body pressing hard against it.

budging.

regaining yourself, you can't help but feel the flexing muscle under your palms, looking down to see a man's chest, his quick exhale of breath making you retract immediately.

and looking up, you're met with the sight of none other than soft white hair and blue eyes coming to blink hazily at you.

a vaguely familiar smirk curving his lips as he sets sights on you.

the man in the picture.

your husband to-be.

satoru.

"hello wifey.." he drawls out, tone almost mocking as he stares down at you, dressed in traditional heavy white robes. "i take it you're excited for the marriage?"

pointedly, his eyes fix on where your other hand is dangerously close to gripping his... lower half, so to speak.

flustered, you instantly step back, face blushing immensely. "m-my apologies my lord, i didn't mean to be so forward. i was sent here to meet you before the meeting, and.."

you notice his teasing grin seems to drop for a moment, eyes searching the halls for signs of life. once he knows you two are the only ones, his expression hardens, blue eyes becoming unreadable.

you were alone together.

"lets get one thing straight, princess. you're here to fulfill your role, nothing more, nothing less. i don't care for pleasantries. there's no reason for us to pretend we're anything other than strangers bound by a marriage of convenience."

you try to back away, eyes wide as you make a small involuntary noise in the back of your throat, but he doesn’t let you, coming closer.

"we'll carry out the duties expected of us, and that's all." he continues. "do what is necessary, but don't make the mistake of thinking i'm interested in anything beyond that."

you bristle slightly at his words. "oh, you think i want this? you think i want to be married to you? in a foreign enemy kingdom i don’t even know? because i don't! but there's no way of getting out of it, so why can't you at least afford to be nice?"

he scoffs. "nice? you and your kingdom have ruined my life! you've robbed me of any chance i had at making my own life choices, and i'm supposed to be "nice?"

"why are you acting like i made this marriage? it's not my fault! that's the whole point of an arranged marriage, it's arranged for you!" you don't even realize you're raising your voice until your words begin to echo off the vast walls, bouncing around you tersely. "and if i had, i certainly wouldn't have picked an asshole such as yourself.”

he steps closer, tilting his head at you. “careful what you say about your husband, sweetheart. or you just might get yourself in trouble.”

you know you should stop before you escalate things, but you can’t help it, jutting your lip out at him in a mocking pout. “yeah? make me then.”

in a heartbeat, he has you pinned against the wall behind you, one thigh holding up your weight as the warmth of his bulky frame surrounds you, cerulean blue eyes raking across your face steadily.

you let out a small gasp of surprise, but quickly recover, eyes narrowing on him fiercely.

he leans ever so slightly closer, crowding your space completely as his loud, sultry patchouli cologne surrounds you, alluring and familiar all at once.

his breath ghosting over your lips, is warm and cinnamon-y, as he stares down at you, eyes lidded and just daring you to defy him again.

"excuse me, mister and mistress gojo? your presence is requested now."

immediately, satoru jumps back as if stung, eyes lingering on you a moment longer, before stalking away in temporary surrender.

you push off the wall, feeling the servant's eyes on you questioningly, but not bothering to indulge him, simply brushing yourself off before rapidly following suit.

“your majesties, it is truly an honor to meet you both.” you take a small curtsy to the king and queen you were standing before, lifting your dress to show respect.

satoru rolls his eyes subtly, shifting beside you.

his father shoots him a look, all graying hair and wise crinkling eyes. “the pleasure is all mine, my dear. it’s nice to meet someone with proper mannerisms and respect for the crown.”

you smile. “yes, well i was raised in a kingdom, after all.”

beside him, satoru’s mother, the queen, grants you a kind smile, long white hair flowing around her mirroring her son's. “that you were.” she agrees. “which is why we are so honored to have you here at our own, and to finally resolve the peace that has been fleeting for so long. you have no idea how much this marriage means to both us and the kingdom.”

satoru sighs.

instantly, the queen’s eyes bore into him. “i’m sure you’ve been acquainted with your husband, prince satoru. he is just as pleased as the rest of us for this opportunity you and your kingdom have bestowed upon us, it was rather benevolent of them, and we are eternally in their debt.”

you get the feeling that they've been having disagreements with the arranged marriage, judging by their body language, and instantly the air grows thicker, more tense.

before the situation can progress however, the queen clears her throat, smiling politely at you. "why, it's been a long day, and i'm sure you're tired, sweetheart."

her attention turns toward her son, her voice holding a warning to it that you can't ignore. "satoru. walk with her to your rooms please, and accommodate her."

he nods, and doesn't even wait to see if you're following before retreating hastily, leaving you to chase after him.

finally, you find yourself back in front of the long-winding hallway leading to his─your─ bedroom, and he pauses, as if remembering something.

"we're going to have to share a bed."

your heart skips a beat, breath catching in your throat as he opens the door to reveal a mahogany bed, draped with quilted covers and over-extravagant silk pillows slightly rumpled by sleep. you had forgotten that as a married couple, it would be custom for you two to sleep together, just the thought of being in such a close, intimate space with him causing your pulse to race, whether with anger or.. something else, you can’t tell.

"no we're not." you move toward the bed, grabbing spare pillows and blankets to make your own on the plush carpet, vowing to stay as far as possible from that stuck-up prince.

you hear him sigh from where he's leaning against the doorway watching you.

footsteps pad across the floor toward you, before coming to a stop. "listen. i know this isn't ideal, but it is part of our arrangement to sleep in the same bed, as a married couple."

you gaze up at him coolly. "i'm sleeping here."

he runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "this is part of what is expected of us, and we need to fulfill our duties as a royal couple. just.. get on the bed, and face the other direction, if you must."

you ignore him, tucking yourself into the blankets you had set up with a small yawn, turning to face away from him pointedly.

all is silent for a single, peaceful moment, but then, two unfairly muscular arms are wrapping around your frame, and lifting, scooping you up into him as with a squeal, you kick, trying to get away.

one of your feet makes contact with his side, and he lets out a low grunt before throwing you roughly onto his stupidly huge bed.

"keep fighting all you want, sweetheart. i can do this all night."

for some reason, his words come off more provocative than anything, and you can't help the fact that the stern sultry purr of his coupled with it tinges your cheeks pink ever so subtly.

"i'll tell you one thing about this arranged marriage. as my wife, you are going to listen, and you are going to obey what i tell you, okay? i will not put up with attitude and immaturity.”

your cheeks warm at being scolded like a child, and all you can do is scoff in disbelief before turning over, resigned to your spot on the bed, vowing to stay as far away from him as possible.

you scoot all the way to the edge, squeezing your eyes shut angrily as tears of frustration prick at you.

just who was he to boss you around?

a few terse minutes tick by, with both of you silent, facing away from each other, the only sound being satoru's soft puffs of breath, sleep eluding you further.

you’re trying your best not to let your skin make contact with his in the slightest, but it’s proving difficult with the way his weight makes the bed dip in the middle, trying to draw you toward himself.

this was going to be a looong night.

you figure you eventually fall asleep at some point, because when you open your eyes again, sunlight is peeking through the windows, and something hard and hot is pressed stiffly against your back, insistent with its prodding.

you reach down, half-asleep, to move it away, but your hand connects with something pulsing and.. large. you trail your hand further up, eyes scrunching in confusion only to feel a small shudder under your palm, someone breathing fast and loud right next to you.

satoru.

you instantly scramble away, eyes wide, in your haste falling off and hitting the floor with a low thud.

this wakes him up, half-lidded eyes opening to take in your tangled form on the ground. “what are you doing?”

“y-you..!” you sputter out, frozen as you stare at him in disbelief.

he follows your gaze to his pants, a straining bulge printed on the front clearly.

his cheeks warm, and he looks down, mumbling under his breath. "mornin' wood.."

before you can bring yourself to speak however, two sharp knocks against the door break the awkward silence, followed by the voice of a servant outside.

"madame and master, it’s time to prepare you both for the wedding ceremony."

“ow!”

you scrunch your eyes tightly, pain washing over you in waves.

the stylist pauses, taking in your expression sympathetically before resuming to tug at your poor hair, putting it up into an intricate updo, a plaited bun with face-framing hairs and bangs, hot curlers and bobbypins attacking you left and right.

"just sit still, dear." one pushes your head back, while another tilts your face to the side to furiously blend foundation on your cheeks.

this day would only come once, in your lifetime at least, and being a royal wedding, of course, everything had to be perfect.

you and satoru were being relied on as human peace treaties to prove to the world that for the first time, your kingdoms were united, marking the official end of the war.

which is why, not only were appearances important, but also your actions towards satoru had to be convincing enough for the clan to wholeheartedly believe you two were in love, and effectively stop the fighting at hand.

so today was more important than ever that you look fully and maddeningly in love with satoru gojo.

you sigh to yourself, but suddenly your thoughts are cut off by the proud voice of your main stylist taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

"perfect. absolutely perfect." the rest nod in agreement, and with a few last touches, you're ready.

and as you all head to where the ceremony would be held, to describe how you're feeling right now as overwhelmed would be an understatement.

currently, there's about two thousand people waiting for you, all elegantly dressed, their heads held high with self-importance.

even the palace is decorated for the occasion, banners and emblems of the gojo clan stamp hanging proudly over the room, while decorative flowers in vases cover every available surface.

you shift your feet nervously, waiting for your signal to walk the aisle, praying that you wouldn't trip or embarrass yourself, fidgeting with your dress anxiously.

the wedding dress in question, was a classic take on a vintage ball gown look, with a too tight-fitting cream-colored corset billowing out dramatically from the waist into a poofy, tulle skirt, and currently it was killing you as you tried to take deep breaths, its taut stiffness practically constricting your lungs.

to make matters worse, it pushed your breasts obnoxiously up, and showed off your outline far too much to be comfortable, contouring every curve distinctively.

before you can try and pull it down however for what seems the hundredth time, the renowned quality of a simple elegant instrumental begins playing, signifying your entrance, and time seems to stop.

your heels click softly on the marbled stone, each step seeming to magnify in the large room spread out before you.

highly prestigious people, who had dismissed you before as nothing but a simple child princess living in her daddy’s kingdom were now all craning their heads to get a better look at you, hushed gasps and chatter sweeping through the crowd as you pass.

slowly, you begin to make your way down the dramatically decorated aisle, and as you get closer to the altar, you spot satoru, leaning slightly, cerulean eyes focused solely on you.

he’s dressed elegantly, in a frilly suit that matches the color of his eyes, all extravagant buttons and poofy sleeves, with crisscrossing gold lace, and a white overspilling cravat on the front.

he tilts his head as if to study the dress you're in, intense blue gaze raking up and down to ravish your clearly outlined figure.

your cheeks flush, his effect on you instantaneous as unbearable though he is.

slowly, you come to stand at your spot beside him, nervous as you look around at the crowd.

what happens next, you hadn't been expecting at all.

as one, they get up, and shower you both in applause, claps as precise and unified as their owners, the sound heard all the way around the entire palace, as they all give a standing ovation to their new king and queen of a new era.

the blush creeps up your neck, and you look around at your new subjects, all of them cheering for you.

after a minute or so of this, they begin to gradually quiet, sitting back down while both you and satoru turn to face each other.

the royal priest clears his throat for attention, and begins his long winding speech, garbled words slurring together as you stare at satoru.

he was so beautiful, breathtakingly so. his white hair is fluffed up, showing his high cheekbones, and he even has a bit of makeup on him, contour and powder.

in fact you’re staring at him so intensely, so swept up in him, you don’t even realize the priest is talking to you until he’s raising an eyebrow at you expectantly, the crowd hushed.

“huh?” you hear yourself say, embarrassment pinking your cheeks.

he clears his throat, speaking a little louder. “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better..”

when you glance back at satoru, he’s looking at the priest, but there’s a curve to his mouth, amusement glinting in his eyes.

insufferable.

you take a second to let your eyes roam the audience, and happen to land on a particular face, one you hadn’t seen before.

she's wearing a knee-length navy blue dress, one that highlights her chubby figure and pudgy stomach, and a hat which covers most of her face. her head, though covered, is bowed low, as if in shame, which stands out to you as most of the audience is gazing up, at you and satoru, heads perked for a better look.

before you have time to further analyze however, you’re snapped back to the priest who is finishing up his speech.

“..till death do thy part. do you pledge your faithfulness and devotion, and promise to be thy loving wife, forevermore?”

your head starts to spin, the weight of his words sinking into you fully. you were to be with this man, whom you hadn’t even met before yesterday, for the rest of your life. all your hopes and dreams outside of the kingdom may as well come crashing down on your head once you were to speak those forsaken words.

after today, you would be queen, alongside your husband, the king.

at the very thought of being so responsible, the words stick in your throat, face paling. you have the urge to say no, to call the whole thing off, to truly disappoint your parents and disgrace satoru’s family for eternity, because this was your life. your life, and nobody got to take that from you.

you force a smile. “i do.”

the ring-bearer comes up to you, a ring on a fluffed pillow for you to take, its band gold and cool in your palm as you pick it up, a baby blue gem encrusted with the gojo symbol across it staring back.

you had never chose, nor seen this ring in your life.

he turns to satoru. “and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to..”

you turn to satoru, expecting to see that same playful smirk, but something else has replaced it, more open and raw.

maybe he was feeling the implications too?

“..promise to be thy loving husband, forevermore?”

he swallows, pauses for a second too long, before speaking, the words cool and strangely detached. “i do.”

his ring comes, silver and chiseled with symbols of royalty, all sleek metal and polished, shining pristinely in the light. it has diamonds encrusted all over it, each worth more than a house, along with his precious initials, s.g, carved into it.

he takes it without looking at it.

“then by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife.” he turns toward satoru. "you may now kiss the bride."

your mouth goes dry, and for a second, all you can do is gape at satoru while the priest's words register in your head.

shit. how could you have forgotten you would be expected to kiss him? it was a wedding after all.

satoru's mouth curves up as he leans in slightly toward your ear, his hair brushing you. “c’mon princess, kiss your husband for the audience, yeah?”

you blush, and oblivious to all the people and the priest standing less than a foot away, he goes on, “although, don't be too good of a kisser, or i might get used to..."

before he can continue, you grab his face in your hands, pressing your lips hard against his, if just to make him shut up, and he pauses, taken aback, before slowly his hand creeps up to cup your cheeks gingerly, hesitantly leaning in to it.

the crowd all cheers around you, but you can’t even hear them anymore, all of it fading around you.

he's your first kiss.

he tastes like cinnamon and clove, like something spicy and reckless, his tongue already coming to meet yours in a brash tangle.

as quickly as he had been on you however, he draws away, wiping his mouth with that same lopsided smirk tilting his lips upward, leaving you practically dizzy.

and as the rest of the ceremony drones on, you can't help yourself from wanting more.

it wasn't enough to leave you satisfied, and now that you've gotten a taste, you fear you might not ever get enough.

after the wedding ceremony, there was to be a reception where only the most prestigious and important of people would attend.

it was held in the palace ballroom, lavishly decorated for the occasion with crystal chandeliers, and silk draped tables filled with shiny silverware, everything overly classy and elegant.

when you enter beside satoru, they're already serving flutes of champagne, people milling about amiably and making pleasant conversation.

and if you thought you were popular before as a princess, you had no idea the kind of attention being a hot topic like you were now would bring.

before you're even two steps inside, there's already people surrounding you to congratulate you on your marriage, kiss you on the cheek in greeting, and welcome you as newfound queen to the throne.

after a few minutes of this, with no sign of the crowd of people easing up, you begin to get nervous.

there's just no way you can see to get out of it, and as you start to feel claustrophobic, your body being pushed and jostled by all these people wanting to meet, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowd.

satoru.

“i think it’s time for a dance.” he says before grabbing your warm, gloved hands in his, and twirling you out to the center of the dance floor, where a few couples were already swaying to a slow tune.

satoru takes his hands, placing them on either side of your waist, just above your hips, a lazy smirk curling his mouth up as his touch seems casual, natural almost.

it seems almost genuine, the way he flirts with you in the public eye only to blatantly disregard you in private.

well, two could play at that game.

you wrap your arms around his neck, and draw yourself closer, lips hovering above his, your front rubbing against him dangerously.

he inhales sharply, eyes flickering with heat for a second but before you get the chance to revel in the fact you could draw a reaction from him, he starts spinning you.

you gasp as he whirls you around, before starting to glide back and forth with you across the dance floor, a smug grin on his face as you try and keep up.

luckily for you, as royalty you were expected to know how to dance, and your parents had enrolled you in private lessons weekly, your feet falling into familiar steps as you swept along the floor with him.

he takes notice, hands gripping your waist tighter as he sways with you, quickening the pace. “who taught you to dance, princess?”

you can't tell if he's teasing, or being genuine so rather than answer, you glance down, pretending to focus on your steps as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

and finally with one last dramatic twirl, your hands tracing delicate arcs in the air, the music crescendoes and satoru catches you in a perfect dip, your head tilting back with a flourish.

instantly, cheering erupts, the room absolutely filled with clapping and whistling as your chest heaves up and down, still in his arms.

you had been so caught up you hadn't even realized everyone had stopped to watch you two, and with your finish, you were now the center of attention.

and as you seat yourself in a chair across from satoru, the formal banquet about to begin, you finally answer his question, seemingly out of nowhere, making him come to a start as he looks at you.

"my mother put me in dance classes from a young age." you smile bitterly as the memory washes over you. "you know it's funny, she was always the most beautiful dancer in the ballroom at my kingdom, but she wouldn't teach me. said i was "too slow", "had two left feet", "didn't pick up quickly", and i was nothing like her. she had someone else instruct me, and every day i would go and practice as much as i could, in hopes of getting better and pleasing her."

"did you?" satoru presses.

you sigh sadly. "i did, but it was never enough for her. nothing was. i remember thinking when i was younger, that maybe there was something wrong with me, and that's why she couldn't love me. why anyone couldn't love me, really. i've always felt like just a mere decoration in my palace, just another step on my mother's agenda."

what he says next surprises you. "i get what you mean. ever since i was little, my parents have been telling me, "you're going to be king" "one day you're going to overtake the throne" and "think of your future kingdom", when all I ever wanted was to be a child."

he draws nearer to you. "but, that gets taken from you once you're born into a monarchy, right?"

you nod. "that, and everything else down to your way of life, your interests, your dreams.." you break off, eyes flickering down to his lips for a moment. "..your husband."

the conversation between you becomes more intimate as he leans in too, lips above yours, and just as you start to close the distance..

the distinct sound of a fork clinking against a glass.

the royal toasts were starting.

it was from satoru's father, the king, his wise, crinkled smile looking around at all his subjects. "hello everyone. we thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the birth of a new age, as my son and the daughter of a rival kingdom have come together in marriage, forever binding our palaces as one. this marks the start to a new era."

he pauses, letting the people around break out into clapping, some cheering, before going on.

"as you are aware, i will be stepping back from my role as king, knowing our future is in capable hands, by your new king and queen.."

at that, he lifts a glass toward your table, winking solemnly.

"to satoru, my successor, my pride, and the future of this kingdom. may your reign be long, your rule wise, and may you bring many heirs to this kingdom."

wait.

heirs?

you turn to look at satoru, his face paling.

"to the future, to the kingdom, and to the continuation of our legacy!"

"long live the king!"

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starkeyssweetheart · 1 day ago

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❤︎ kook!princess!reader x rafe cameron headcanons 2

kook!princess!reader who can’t be alone, especially at night. rafe who slept beside her practically every night, even before he realised he loves her, adhering to her special rules. no outside clothes on the bed? done. shower before getting in the duvet but not necessary before a nap? fine. keep to your side of the bed? fuck, no.

rafe who has a better relationship with princess’ parents than she does. princess who wakes from her slumber later than rafe, finding him in the kitchen making tea for her mother and grandmother.

kook!princess!reader who absolutely adores midsummers, like any other kook function, forcing rafe to match outfits with her somehow. rafe who silently clenches his jaw when she invites all her pogue friends to tag along too as her ‘plus one’. anything to make her happy, right?

rafe who is the perfect boyfriend to her, vowing to never hurt her. princess who assures him it’s okay if he misses one weekly date, as if they don’t spend everyday together anyway.

kook!princess!reader who is treated like a daughter by ward, although she’s not very fond of him. rafe who finds her aversion to his father amusing, given that it’s impossible for princess to hate anyone. he hates her dad more than she hates his anyway.

kook!princess reader x rafe who know everything about each other, from their coffee order to what every silent emotion in the others’ eyes means. the two are practically telepathic with how in touch with the other they are.

kook!princess!reader x rafe who find any excuse to touch each other, even after they start dating. whether it’s sitting a little too close to her or fixing his hair, their hands are always on each other.

kook!princess!reader who needs extensive praise in bed to make sure she’s doing well. rafe who is more than willing to oblige, going the extra mile to make her feel comfortable.

rafe who is the sweetest to princess after sex, making sure she’s okay after pushing her through numerous orgasms. after following her strict shower and skincare rituals, cleaning every inch of her body, and dressing her in one of his t-shirts, he lulls her to sleep with whispered praises.

rafe who has bad insomnia. princess who tries to stay up all night with him so he’s not lonely. she worries about his health so much to the point she falls ill herself from the lack of sleep. rafe who puts her on strict bed rest until she gets better.

kook!princess!reader who always surprises rafe with a new set of lingerie. rafe who finds it amusing that she stresses over what colour and design he’d prefer. princess who gives him to silent treatment after he tears yet another pair, quickly destroying her collection. rafe who apologises in more ways than one.

a/n: tysm for the love on the first part. i’m glad you like these two as much as i do! as always likes and reblogs are always appreciated!! -`♡´-

(previous / more)

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dollyfiles · 17 hours ago

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INTRODUCING.. CHERUB!READER ₊˚⊹♡

angel. preacher’s daughter. stuffies. gracie abrams. church sundays. glossy lips. hopeless romantic. dating older!rafe

CHERUB!READER who is the typical “good girl.” her name itself reflects her sweet and angelic persona, gentle, and almost too trusting for her own good. she views the world through rose-tinted glasses, always choosing to see the good in people, even when they don't deserve it. a true beacon of innocence, in the messy world of obx, with the purest heart.

CHERUB!READER who adores cooking and baking, due to her mother emphasizing the importance of mastering domestic skills from a young age, seeing it as an act of love and service. her childlike demeanor makes her a magnet for kids and pets, and she loves taking care of them. she has a particular love for daisies and baby's breath, often picking wildflowers to press between the pages of her books.

CHERUB!READER who grew up under the strict eye of her preacher father and the guiding hand of her picture-perfect housewife mother, trapped in a bubble of rules, routine, and religious devotion. she idolizes her mom, wanting to become just as graceful as her one day, while her relationship with her dad is complicated. his stern guidance has left her yearning for approval and affection all of her nineteen years.

CHERUB!READER who lets rafe fill the void that her father’s distance left behind. at twenty five, rafe is everything cherub’s world isn't—chaotic, dangerous, and thrilling. where she is purity and order, he is a storm of complexity and darkness. her innocence and purity, serve as both a challenge and a refuge for his own tortured soul, while he makes her question her own morals and the beliefs she grew up with.

ʚଓ coming soon…

.ᐟ layout credit/inspo @rafesangelita

tags: @rafesbowbunny @rafesheaven @vampteeths @rafeysbangs @rafesweetgirl @rafesweetie @inspiredangel @rafesangelita @cherrygirlfriend @whinyangel @littlelamy @plaidcowboy @pintrestgrl @fawnhart @filthyrafe @figthoughts @beausling @glossykissies @gibson-g1rl @starzify @rafesdollette

#cherub!reader x older!rafe ʚଓ #cherub!reader ʚଓ #dollys !readers `♡´#!reader introduction #!readers #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x reader

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tervencherries · 16 hours ago

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i know two women in abusive marriages rn and no one cares because “that’s just how they are!” like are you FUCKING KIDDING ME???

one of them is a bisexual mother with a child from a previous relationship. her husband thinks it’s “hot” that she’s attracted to women and, when on vacation, will pick out women for her to have sex with. she doesn’t like this but does it because “it makes him happy”. he’s currently not speaking to her or her child because her child stole stuff from him. if she’s making dinner, he’ll ruin it, buy dinner for himself, then complain that it’s not as good as her cooking.

the other one has two adult sons with her husband, and no daughters. none of them respect her. she lived on the other side of the country until she met him, and now has no contact with her parents or siblings. he gets angry when she leaves the house. she hangs out with us on fridays, and he’s always complaining that she’s not cleaning or cooking for him on that day. if she doesn’t make him dinner one night, he’ll refuse to eat her cooking for a minimum two weeks—he’ll buy food for himself and his son, and nothing for her. she only uses the money she gets from her disability payment on fridays, and he still complains that she spends too much of “his money”.

i’ve been saying since the wedding that a divorce is imminent in the first couple’s future, but it seems unlikely for the second. you know that post that’s like “in order to be a feminist, you have to come to terms with the fact that most women have been abused”? it’s so true.

the things that straight women will nonchalantly admit about their husbands are crazy...like ma'am you are a victim.

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mulloey · 20 hours ago

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unwelcome • pt 2

read part one here

stepdad!mingyu x fem!reader

words: 3.8k

warnings: this is pretty fucked up. stepfather relationship, infidelity, mingyu n u are not good people rly, brat/brat tamer dynamics, mean hard dom!mingyu, daddy kink, dirty talk, punishment, pussy slapping, gyu refers to you as ‘daughter’ and himself as ‘father’ in a sexual context a couple times, not really dubcon but there’s certainly a power imbalance, breeding, pregnancy mention, heavy degradation, choking etc. this is pretty intense.

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content of this fic and are solely responsible for what you consume. don’t like, don’t read. hate is blocked.

it’s been a week since the incident in the kitchen— since mingyu had finally snapped, since you felt his firm hands and long fingers restraining and touching you as he pleased. since the event that you thought would have changed everything with your stepfather. except it hasn’t.

mingyu has said nothing about what transpired that day, and neither have you. you tried to, once, but a hand around your neck and whispered warning that “that wasn’t what you thought it was” had shut you down quickly. he’s still strict, but it’s from a distance now— he doesn’t scold or reprimand you, but nor does he praise or really interact with you in any way. you never thought you would, but you miss it. you miss him.

your mother is gone, again. she seems to have picked up on the energy shift in the house over the past week and, like you, doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. so she’s chosen to stay away, assuming that whatever’s going on will resolve itself as it always does. you had hoped it would too— except mingyu won’t let you get near him.

today you’ve been mulling it over; holed up in your room with your blanket around your shoulders. you’d gone down earlier to grab a piece of toast; you’d felt your stepfather’s eyes on you the whole time you were in the kitchen, but you paid him no mind, grabbing your toast and quickly retreating back upstairs without a word. you wish you hadn’t heard his sigh of relief when you walked away.

you can’t live like this anymore, you know that. whatever thick, immobilizing tension is separating you two, pulling at one and pushing at the other, needs to break. and you will break it, even if just to have back the annoying, obnoxious man you used to hate. it’s better than… whatever this is.

you discuss it at length with your best friend, pearl, over drinks at your favourite bar downtown. she’s the only one you could turn to with something like this— the only one you can trust not to judge you. not that you don’t deserve to be judged; you’ve done an awful thing, after all. you’ve allowed your mother’s husband to touch and finger you. you’ve not just helped him to betray your mother, but you’ve betrayed her yourself.

you’re past that now, though. you’ll make it up to her later. and if mingyu’s willing to do that to his own step daughter then clearly he’s not the right man for your mom anyway. it doesn’t make you feel a whole lot better.

but pearl doesn’t judge you; she never does. you’ve known each other since you were babies, for one, but more importantly, she has (to your annoyance), been saying from the start how utterly delectable your new stepfather is. if anything, she’s probably annoyed she didn’t get to fuck him first.

she listens silently and thoughtfully as you run her through the events of last week, tapping her manicured nails against the wood of the table. by the time you finish, a sly, knowing smile has reached her face.

“isn’t it obvious?” she asks.

you hesitate, confused. “isn’t what obvious?”

“what you need to do,” she says. “to fix this.”

“not to me,” you say. “i mean, i need to fuck him, i think. but i can’t do that when he barely even talks to me now.”

she shrugs, twirling the little cocktail umbrella between her fingers. “so make him jealous.”

“what?”

“piss him off, y/n,” she says. “bring someone home and let him see that you’re moving on. i guarantee you he won’t like it.”

you slump back in your seat, thinking for a moment. it’s a good plan— if it goes right. if it goes wrong, well… you doubt anything could be worse than this. “okay,” you say. “i’ll do that.”

it takes two more days to find the nerve to bring home a boy from your campus. you were careful to choose someone you wouldn’t have to interact with after today if it all went catastrophically wrong, which means the TA in your thesis group who makes eyes at you from across the room is off the table (sorry, wonwoo), but who you’ve seen and interacted with enough that it won’t seem weird when you invite them home with you.

you have no real intentions with joshua, but he’s nice enough, around your age and very horny, so you figure he’ll do fine; indeed, he can barely keep his hands off you as you walk into the house and accidentally-on-purpose make your presence known with a loud laugh. his wandering hands only leave you when your stepfather rounds the corner into the lobby.

he’s dressed in his pyjamas still, and he looks tired and irritated until he spots the boy next to you— and the non-existent, certainly non-platonic gap between you. in an instant he’s awake and the irritation is gone, replaced with anger. his palms twitch at his side, desperate to break the calm demeanor that he’s hanging onto by a thread. little slut.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. he tries to keep his voice cool and leveled but the resulting sound is low and dangerous, like a predator about to strike.

joshua swallows and you feel him tensing up nervously beside you. whether it’s to calm him down or to provoke mingyu further, you're not sure, but you grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. joshua relaxes slightly, and mingyu’s eyes narrow.

“hi,” joshua finally says. “i’m jo–”

“i don’t give a rat's ass who you are,” mingyu says sharply. “tell me what you’re doing here and what your hands are doing on my daughter, now.”

joshua’s eyes widen and he seems to shrink further into himself, wishing he was anywhere else. “look, man,” he says, “i don’t want any trouble. we were just gonna hang out.”

“yeah?” mingyu asks. “not anymore. plans changed, i’m afraid. we’re busy this evening.”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “busy with what?”

mingyu says nothing, just raises a cool eyebrow at you with a blank expression. you feel joshua’s gaze flicker between the two of you in confusion and discomfort.

clearly, he wants nothing to do with this. you don’t blame him; and he’s served his purpose anyway. you’ll make it up to him another day. buy him a coffee or something. doesn’t really matter right now.

“i’m just gonna go,” he mutters. he catches your eye as he walks past, face contorted half in sympathy and half in fear— fear for you, it seems. if only he knew that you’re halfway to getting exactly what you wanted.

“see you around, josh,” you say, but your eyes are already locked with your stepfather.

the door slams shut and he’s on you instantly, hand on your neck as you’re shoved harshly against the wall. the impact is so sharp and sudden that it sends the small painting hung up next to you crashing down, but neither of you notice; not when you’re looking at him with such lust and he’s looking at you with such ire. you could cut the tension between you with a knife, but even then, you’re not sure if it would break. the tiny gap between his face and yours and the heavy breathing as he looks you up and down is electrifying like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“min—”

“shut up,” he says. “i’ve had it with you.” his voice is almost shaking with rage and he stares at you for a moment before his large hand impacts the side of your face. you shriek in pain and surprise, reaching to clutch your stinging cheek but he grabs your wrist with the hand that had just slapped you, holding it firmly above your head.

“fucking slut,” he says. “parading your little boy toy through my house as if i wouldn’t know what you’re doing. debasing yourself like a cheap whore. is that what you thought i wanted?”

your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. you both know the answer but you don’t want to say it. he shakes his head, chuckling dryly.

“no, it’s not,” he says. “because you never cared or even thought about what i might want. only ever thought about yourself, didn’t you?”

you feel yourself shrink under his gaze and the venom of his words and he smiles briefly. his eyes roam your body, lingering on your chest that rises and falls with your heavy, panicked breathing. fuck, he’s practically drunk on the power he has over you right now.

his grip on your neck tightens momentarily— just enough to remind you of how small and breakable you are under his grip. “too fucking cock drunk to think about anything else,” he says lowly. “fuck. i should‘ve made your friend stay so i could fuck you in front of him, shouldn’t i? teach you both a lesson.”

his words hit you in the stomach, knots of arousal twisting in your gut. you know he sees the way your thighs clench together at the image. “i…” you trail off; you have nothing to say. he knows it too. he lifts his hand from your neck to stroke your cheek with a surprising tenderness.

“pretty thing,” he mutters. “my little girl.” he’s silent for a moment, eyes raking over your face, so small and fragile in his strong hands. his grip tightens, squeezing your jaw. “apologise,” he says.

you frown, confused. “for what?”

he snorts like it’s obvious. “provoking me, for one,” he says. “using that poor boy to get a rise out of me. and being a rude, bratty little girl simply because i wasn’t giving you enough attention.”

you roll your eyes before you can think it through and he’s quick to react, his hand slapping you again before returning to your neck. “no respect,” he mutters. “you obviously need an attitude adjustment. and that’s exactly what daddy’s gonna give you.”

you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the name he’s given himself, but it’s no use. your stepfather is far too tuned in, far too in control, to let anything slip past him. his lips curl into a thin, sneering smile. “liked that, did you?” he asks. “you like being fucked by your fucking father?”

“mingyu,” you whine. your face burns at the humiliation of not just his words, but the truth of them— mingyu is your stepfather. he’s married to your mother. and you’d do anything to have your hands on his dick right now.

“no,” he says. “you don’t get to call me that. if you could act like a mature fucking adult then maybe i’d let you but you can’t, can you? you’ve been a little fucking brat since i met you and it’s about time i treated you like one.”

there’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen since that day in the kitchen, only now it burns both brighter and darker than before. as he finally releases his grip of you against the wall, only to drag you by the hair through to the living room, you get the feeling you’re about to see mingyu in a way even the episode in the kitchen couldn’t have clued you into.

he shoves you down, watching you stumble to the floor with a surprised shriek. you sit yourself up, leaning on your hands as you stare up at him where he towers above you— tall, imposing, and terrifying.

he’s silent, watching you closely before he sighs and walks over to sit himself down on the couch. “come here.”

your legs are shaking as you struggle to pull yourself up from the floor. his jaw twitches, fists clenching. you’ve never looked so pathetic, never felt so humiliated and you still have all your clothes on. he reaches out to pull you towards him and you stumble forwards until you land on his lap— over his lap. you feel your short skirt flip up over your ass from the sudden motion, exposing your black lace panties. he chuckles, grabbing one of your ass cheeks and squeezing it firmly. your breath hitches.

“mm,” hums appreciatively. “this is how i like to see you, daughter mine. bent over and ready to submit.”

you squirm, thighs clenching at the low timbre of his voice; the deepening of it as he calls you his daughter. jesus. this is so fucked up.

his finger trails the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your pussy. he fingers at the hem of your panties, right next to your pussy, watching the way you react to his touch as he teases the edge of your underwear like he’s inspecting it. he sees the wetness seeping through the black fabric and chuckles. “that desperate, baby?” he asks.

you say nothing, still processing the situation you find yourself in and he slaps your ass harshly, making you jolt. “answer,” he says darkly. “or i’ll just spank you and send you to bed without release. is that what you want, little girl?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head fervently. you won’t deny it; the idea of being spanked by mingyu, not for sex, not for foreplay, but solely for punishment, is embarrassingly tantalising. but you’ve been waiting too long to have him touch you like this again and if you don’t get to feel his dick inside you tonight you might actually go insane. “no, i don’t,” you say.

he laughs, pinching the sensitive skin of your thigh and rubbing the red mark soothingly. “look at you,” he chuckles. “so bratty and disrespectful but so quick to submit once i use a bit of force. can’t believe i wasted my time on your mother when i had this little kitten here waiting for me.”

his words are like cold water as they wash over you— your mother. this isn’t just your stepfather— this is your mother’s husband. this is the man she loves and relies on, who swore to be hers for the rest of his life. and you’re bent over his lap and trying desperately not to grind against his thick, strong thigh. you’re the worst daughter ever.

and if you weren’t before, you certainly are when you mewl out a desperate, “please, daddy, fuck me.”

“hm,” he says. “such good manners, i’m almost tempted.” his finger trails along your panties before finally sliding over your covered pussy. you gasp, squirming again when he ghosts over your clit. he presses down a little, enough to make you pulse slightly, then lets go. “what a shame you had to be such a brat.”

you make a noise of confusion, craning your head around to see mingyu sliding your panties down to your ankles, exposing you fully to him with your skirt by now halfway up your back. you catch his gaze and he raises an eyebrow. “turn around,” he says. “i’m gonna teach you how to fucking act around me.”

swallowing, you obey, turning around to bury your head in the pillows of the couch. you feel him raise the thigh you’re bent over, giving him easier access. you close your eyes, bracing for the first hit against your ass. you’re ready for it, you think— what you’re not ready for, is for him to suddenly tilt you forwards and start slapping your pussy instead.

the first strike makes you shriek and he gives you no time to recover before continuing. your pussy is far more sensitive than your ass, not to mention dripping, but he hits you with the same brute strength he’d used on your ass and face. the pain is white hot and searing and you hear the impact of each slap; and the wet, squelching sound of his hand against fluid gushing from you. strings of cream are connecting to his hand, following it each time he pulls away to wind up for another hit. you feel him hardening beneath you and adjust yourself a little without realising, trying to grind against his cock subconsciously. he grabs your waist to tug you back into place and delivers an extra hard swat right on your clit.

it’s so painful and so arousing that you don’t even notice when it’s over. not until he’s pulled you off his lap and pressed his leaking cock against his entrance do you finally realise what’s happening. he’s going to fuck you. finally.

he leans over where you’ve found yourself on all fours on the couch, lips pressing against your ear. “ask me to fuck you, baby,” he whispers. you gasp as he rubs himself against you and he chuckles. “c’mon, filthy girl. ask me nicely.”

“p-please,” you stutter. all your nerves are on fire and pushing against your skin, senses heightened as he slowly starts to push into you. “more,” he groans.

“daddy,” you gasp. his hands are on your waist as he guides himself into you, moaning at the way you sob his name. “fuck,” he grunts.

when he finally gets in all the way it’s overwhelming; mingyu is huge, beyond huge, and you’ve never been this full before. you feel him pressing against your cervix even without moving yet there’s none of the pain or discomfort that someone of his size would usually bring. it feels right. like you were made to take him and he was made to take you.

he starts moving without a word; slow thrusts that get faster and harder until he’s completely pounding you, fucking into you desperately like a wild animal. he sounds like one, too; you both do, yelling and grunting as you pushing yourselves deeper into the other. his grip on your waist is bruising but comfortable and you sink into it, lost in pleasure.

you chant his name on repeat — “daddy, daddy, daddy” — the only word that comes to you as he fucks you open. he leans over you, pressing his face into the back of your neck and kissing down the top of your back before straightening up again, angling himself to go deeper.

“you love this, don’t you?” he spits. “love being whored out by your stepfather. is that why you moved back home? to make yourself available to me?”

you groan at his words, clenching around him. you both know that’s not true, but it may as well be— you certainly won’t be moving back out again anytime soon now. you want to stay with him, be available for him— a waiting hole for him to use. fuck, you're depraved, but so is he; he groans when you say it out loud, thrusting harder. “that’s right,” he grunts. “just a hole f’me. just a fuck toy for your daddy, yeah?”

you choke, crying out when he slams into you again. you reach your arms back, trying to touch him and he grabs them, folding them against your back and holding you down.

“i knew it,” he laughs. “knew from the moment i met you that you just needed some dick. knew it had to be mine, fuck.”

“yes,” you gasp. “yours, yours, gyu, has to be yours.” you’re babbling and delirious now and he’s fucking high on it. he presses more of his weight onto you, trapping you beneath him— as if you’d ever want to get away.

“good girl,” he whispers. “i’m gonna fuck you every fucking day. every time that bitch leaves the house you’re gonna come and fucking present yourself to me, understand? gonna come offer up your holes to daddy.”

“yes,” you whine. “always, daddy.”

“i’m never fucking your mother again,” he says. “i’ve got this perfect little pussy now instead and it’s all mine.”

by now the sensations of his dick slamming into you have become a constant rhythm, allowing you to cling to it as you go dumber and dumber on his cock. you could stay like this forever; split open and abused while he spits filth into your ear; but you can tell from the clenching of your pussy and the throbbing of his cock that you’re both close to the edge. he grunts, grabbing your hair to pull your head backwards and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “good girl,” he says, movements speeding up. “i’m gonna cum in you. gonna put a fucking kid in you. you want that?”

you know mingyu knows you’re on birth control; he’s seen the pills you keep in the medicine cabinet and heard you discuss your prescription with your mother. but fuck, the idea of him getting you pregnant, your own stepfather knocking you up, is so twisted and exhilarating that it propels you towards your orgasm. you feel yourself releasing over his dick, drenching the couch and he makes a noise of delight. “didn’t know you squirted, baby,” he moans. “that’s so fucking perfect, god.”

“daddy,” you moan. “mingyu.” you’ve gone limp on his dick now, fucked out and exhausted but you’re smart enough to recognise that this stops when he’s finished. he’s almost there, though, you can tell; his grip on your tightens, moans getting louder until he spits out a “clench, slut,” and releases into you the moment you obey.

he collapses on top of you once he’s done, face pressed into your back. you’re both filthy; covered in sweat and cum and drool but you don’t care. you’ve never felt so satisfied in your fucking life.

mingyu pulls you into his arms and you relax into his hold, breathing deeply against his chest. it’s perfect peace, utter bliss— while it lasts. minutes later he jumps up, looking panicked.

you stare up at him in confusion. “mingyu?”

“your mother’s coming back,” he says. your stomach drops. “in 30 fucking minutes.”

panic takes over and you force yourself to your feet; it’s dizzying and disorients you for a moment, but mingyu is quick to catch you when you stumble, helping you steady yourself before he releases you. mercifully, most of the mess is on the two of you; the couch is pretty much clean. mingyu orders you into the shower and you obey, scrubbing away all the evidence of what you’ve just done. you hear him run past your room a few minutes later, and when you emerge, you’re both clean and in your pyjama. only the way he looks at you as you walk downstairs together gives away what’s happened.

your mother looks tired when she walks through the door, but smiles sweetly when she spots her husband and daughter waiting in the kitchen for her. she plants a long, wet kiss on mingyu’s lips and you feel your stomach twist in envy. looking away, you turn back to see his eyes on you, dark and scrutinising as your mother sits down at the table.

“how are my loves?” she asks. you smile weakly at her, wracked with guilt but at the same time wishing she would just get the fuck out so you can fuck her husband again.

mingyu puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it fondly, but his eyes never leave you as he speaks.

“we’re perfect.”

requests open! feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

#svt hard thoughts #svt hard hours #svt smut #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #kpop smut #kim mingyu smut #mulloey writes

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adieutristana · 3 days ago

Note

Can you write something where you comfort Jinx and calm her in season 2 where she gets hallucinations and looks really scared when sevika tells her about Isha?

of course! thank you for the request <3

guys somebody go back in time and slap past lottie for deciding that taking 16 credit hours this semester would be a good idea 😒

summary; comforting jinx after isha is taken.

characters included; jinx (romantic), sevika (platonic) isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; hallucinations, mentions of poor mental health, hurt/comfort, isha is barely there but she’s there, same with sevika, mother/mother/daughter dynamic

men dni.

jinx kicks open the door to her hideout, buzzing with excitement. you’d just been out in the lanes together, looking for materials for one of jinx’s new inventions. another type of bomb, unsurprisingly, but one that would be better for ranged attacks. you also picked up some metal and paint so that jinx could make isha some new toys. maybe some new insects to make fight.

you smile at the thought.

"i'm back!"

your girlfriend calls out, approaching her workbench. she glances over, her eyes carefully scanning the area for any signs of isha.

"time to find out who's the new pebble weight."

she continues, glancing around. you also try to look for the little girl, searching for any signs of her. she's quiet, but she usually would've made her presence known by now. any other time isha would've jumped out with her helmet on, giggling and running circles around yourself and jinx. as if asking when you can play again, what's the next game.

"isha?"

jinx asks, her tone a bit more unsure- but she turns around, towards the tent on another platform of the hideout.

"oh, okay. i get it. playing that game, are we?"

she comments, as you follow along. long, blue braids swaying behind jinx with each of her movements. her tone is light and chipper, hopeful even. isha likes to hide. she likes to surprise the both of you, running up behind you and wrapping herself around your legs. you hope this is one of those times.

hopefully this is just a game, isha simply hiding and waiting to jump out at any moment. or maybe she didn't hear yourself and jinx calling out for her. maybe she's sound asleep inside the tent, having tuckered herself out. you hope to whatever is out there that it's something simple.

jinx glances inside the tent, peering her head in different directions while you look inside of various crates and bins. you can see the concern etched into the girl's features, glancing over as you continue to look for isha. but there's no sign of her. almost as if she vanished.

"god damn, she's good at hiding."

you grumble. you search any surface you can find, any little passage that she could hide in, any sheets or structures she could be hiding behind. but still, nothing. jinx turns to you, opening her mouth to say something.

"they got her."

sevika's distinct voice cuts through. you see her making her way toward the structure you're standing on, limping on one leg as liquid pours from where her prosthetic arm should be. falling onto her knees, trying desperately to keep herself upright. she looks like she's been through hell just now, and you can feel your heart drop to your stomach. they got her? who got her? what does that even mean?

"what?"

"she came to the rally. topside raided the place. took everyone."

sevika continues. oh, fuck. the rally. the rally zaun had planned to retaliate against the brutality of piltover's enforcers, which jinx was less than happy about. the woman had told her that she was a symbol, a beacon of hope for the people of the undercity. somebody who demonstrated power and resilience. she never once backed down from a fight, never showed fear in the face of injustice, and always stood up for what she believed in. even if it wasn't a conscious decision, she was taking a stand for her city.

but still, jinx didn't want to come. no matter how much sevika urged her to and no matter how much of a difference she was told it would make. and now, you're finding out that isha had showed up to the rally and had been taken. taken to gods know where and there's nothing either of you could've done. panic begins setting in, yet you haven't even seen jinx's face yet.

the thought of anything happening to the girl you and your girlfriend had taken in made your stomach twist. a playful, sweet girl who you'd both grown to care for. one who made you laugh, who kept you on your toes, who added the bit of adventure and unpredictability both you and jinx needed. only a child, and she's been taken. taken.

you look over to your girlfriend, and immediately rush to her. she's distraught. torn. rosy eyes are frantic, not quite focusing in on anything, her gaze downcast. the second you see her gasping, shaking her head, hands coming to cover her ears, you know something is seriously wrong. you're torn.

you've seen jinx in a similar state before. although her episodes had gotten more spaced out in your presence, the intensity dimming over time, they'd never fully gone away. you knew they never would, either. but you'd always been there to help. but this?

"jinx. jinx."

should you reach out to comfort her? would she be okay being touched right now? you don't know. but it's killing you to see her like that, so distraught. you know it's a horrible idea, she'll probably flinch away and retreat further into herself, but you have to.

you slowly reach out to grasp the girl's shoulders, a motion you hope will ground her at least somewhat. she lets out a sharp gasp at the touch, her eyes meeting yours for a split second. she doesn't respond, but she doesn't move away. this is good.

"shut up, shut up..."

she mutters under her breath, and you squeeze down on her shoulders. your thumb brushing against the cold, bare skin. you're trying to look into her eyes, get her to redirect her focus, but you can't seem to get through to her. you look back, and sevika is still on the floor, heaving. fuck.

"shut up!"

you hear a gunshot, and a sharp gasp leaves you. your ears begin to ring from the sound, but you throw your arms around your girlfriend's shoulders. you can't bear to see her like this. nothing short of scared, distraught.

"jinx!"

you move to swiftly smack the gun from jinx's hand, the metal making a clink sound against the steel of the floor. jinx tenses against you. her breathing is erratic and she still can't quite look at you, or sevika, or anything.

"jinx, baby, please, look at me. i know you're scared, i know this is a lot, but you have to calm down."

you tighten your grasp around the girl's shoulders, searching for absolutely anything in her expression. but all you're able to find is utter despair. blank eyes and parted lips. jinx's chest is heaving and she's grasping at her head, frantically looking around as if she doesn't fully believe that isha has been taken. like she's waiting for the little girl to jump out and tell her that she's okay.

her breath is coming out in pants, and you feel so damn lost.

"jinx. jinx, please. we'll find her, i promise we will, but we can't until you calm down."

you plead, one of your hands coming to her cheek while your thumb brushes across the skin. jinx is inconsolable to a point that you've never seen before, but you have to try everything in your power. for her.

finally, pink eyes meet your own, although hesitant. your heart all but clenches in your chest as you see her finally looking at you. acknowledging you and your words, even if non-verbally.

"baby. we're gonna find her. trust me, we will tear up this damn city and piltover if we have to, but we will find isha."

jinx's eyes are shaky, her gaze flitting between you and sevika as she pants. you can't hear it, but you're sure her heart is beating like a war drum. you're sure the battle in her mind is one not even she can comprehend. she lets out a shaky breath, slowly nodding.

"will we?"

"we will."

you affirm, your thumb continuing its motions on her cheek. your other arm comes from her shoulder to wrap around her waist, a desperate attempt to bring her back to reality. her breaths are still shallow at best, but you can see them relaxing the slightest bit. slow progress, but it's something.

"she's okay, jinx. i'm sure of it."

jinx shakes her head frantically, the tremble in her voice evident.

"she's out there somewhere. scared, and probably alone."

you sigh, looking down for a second. you know that jinx is probably right. if someone really did take her, isha is absolutely scared, and more than likely alone. it hurts your heart just to think about it. but you have your girlfriend in front of you, in desperate need of comfort and help. you can't dwell on that.

"probably. but i doubt she's hurt. we'll find her, and she's gonna be okay."

jinx lets out another shaky breath, and purses her lips. she pauses, before looking back at you again. she isn't quite reciprocating your touch, and she isn't giving you much to work with. regardless, she's calming down.

"we need to look for her."

she states plainly, to which you nod in agreement.

"we will-" you pause, looking out of the doorway, then back at jinx. "let's go. right now."

"right now?"

"right now."

jinx gasps softly, and mutters a little, 'shit, okay.' you press a quick kiss to her temple before rushing towards the exit of your girlfriend's hideout. quick on your feet and determined to find isha.

#arcane x reader #arcane x you #jinx x reader #sapphic

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abdy-18 · 2 days ago

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Fanfics where Yor takes care of Loid will always be my favorite because Yor genuinely enjoys taking care of the people she loves; it's her way of expressing affection and she wants to take care of her (fake) husband, not because she feels the obligation to do so because of the traditional wife role but because that's how her heart is.

Loid, on the other hand, has never had anyone to truly take care of him since he lost his mother. His life has been a constant cycle of loneliness and distrust. Even if his handler or some senior agent ever showed him the slightest empathy or suggested he take things easy, he would probably have assumed they were only doing it because he was a valuable asset, a resource they had to protect for utility. Twilight would surely think that, the moment he stopped being useful, they would throw him away like just another object.

But then Yor cares for him when he's most vulnerable, unable to contribute anything, when he feels like he's nothing but "useless," Yor is there, attentive, genuinely caring for him without expecting anything in return. She not only takes care of Anya, but also keeps the household running smoothly, showing him that everything will be okay even if he can't take care of everything himself.And for the first time in a long time, Twilight lets his guard down. He allows himself to relax, let the exhaustion catch up with him, and finally rest because Yor, Anya, and Bond give him a peace he never thought possible.

I have all of these in my ao3 bookmarks but I need more please 😭 if anyone knows more please tell me 😭

Harbor by frumplebump

Succumbing to the flu is not a luxury Twilight can afford, but when his immune system betrays him, Yor is there for him.

swing the spinning step by firewoodfigs

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an overworked and underpaid spy must, at some point in time, be so besieged by a terrible flu—in order that his lovely wife might take care of him.

Something More by Thurito for nightofnyx8

The first thing the spy felt in the morning was such a strong weight on top of him that for a moment he thought it was someone who finally found his identity. His heart jumped, but as soon as his eyes were open and the man felt himself waking up more, he noticed what it was. He was sick. Twilight was sick. For the first time in more than a decade.

But I'm Here and So Are You by EmmyGracey

The Forger family returned to their hotel room after the airship crash wanting nothing more than warm clothes and a little bit of rest. When it’s Yor’s turn to get cleaned up she notices the cut on Loid’s head is bleeding again. She needs to take care of that. Loid’s not used to being taken care of. He finds it rather nice.

Spies Don't Get Paid Enough by Justanotherfannerd

Twilight does a shady mission that goes awry and Loid and Yor deal with the fallout. Purposeful obliviousness and injuries ensue. It's probably for the best that Anya is at a sleep over while all of this happens. or Twilight gets hurt, Yor plays doctor, and the both of them hide behind obliviousness.

Consequences by Raindrops_On_The_Pavement

Loid Forger is not indestructible, despite being Westalis's best. (I suck at summaries but I promise the story is good) Just a Loid Forger sickfic because why not? (The intro is a bit slow, but it gets sickfic/angsty dw)

A way out by MDSpencer

Twilight faces the consequences of his actions, and he seems to drag his family down with him

The Man From Mars by neejmorp

Something was wrong with Yor’s husband. He wore a constant smile on his face. It fooled colleagues, neighbors, and friends alike. The three people in his life who knew him best — his wife, his daughter, and his handler — all knew better. There was something off about his eyes. Loid survives a near-death experience following a mission abroad, but the incident impacts him and has an affect on his relationship with his family—particularly Yor.

You need to knock out this blondie more often :3

#spy x family #loid forger #twilight #agent twilight #spy x family manga #yor forger #sxf manga #sxf anime #sxf fic #spy x family fic #spy x family anime

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 2 days ago

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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 10

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4806 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together.

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

'Y/N.'

Y/N didn't look back, too busy focusing on what was in front of her as she made her way from the empty courtyard towards the palace. Her armour clinked; her footsteps bounced from pillar to pillar; the screams of her fallen sisters still rung in her ears.

'Y/N, wait a second.'

As she made her way inside, Y/N found the halls filled with the wounded, bleeding, dismembered, many crying and many covering their fallen in respectful white cloths. Many turned to her as she walked by them, red-rimmed eyes pleading at her.

'Princess,' they murmured as she walked past them by way of acknowledgement, but also with misplaced hope. All Y/N could do was keep walking but she could never escape their sorrowful eyes, their bloodied hands they held out to her.

This is all my fault. This is all my fault.

'Y/N, hold up.'

So she turned her head forward and increased her pace, avoiding anymore contact from the helpless and damned because what could she offer them but more empty promises and death?

The cold reality that the Amazons might not win against Echidna settled cold and deep inside her, and that spurred her on towards the Strategy Room.

'Y/N!'

Y/N was finally forced to a halt when a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her to a stop. Having finally stopped, Y/N noticed they were at the top of the same set of stairs that they'd argued with each other on that second night Dick was on Themyscira.

Begrudgingly, she turned around to face Dick, who looked up at her with concern and worry in his eyes. 'Hey, he said softly, taking a step upwards. 'You okay?'

'I don't have time for this,' Y/N said with a strained voice and tried pulling away. She wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment.

'Yes, you do,' Dick insisted, tightening his hold on her wrist and forcing her to face him again. 'I mean, come on, you just saw your friends die before you. You have to be feeling some sort of way.'

'Yes, thank you for reminding me of my failures, Dick,' Y/N spat back. 'Thank you for reminding me that I just killed all those women and young girls. That I lead them to their deaths and did nothing to save them!'

Dick finally let go of her wrist, but his disbelieving gaze held her in place. She never could escape those big blue eyes of his.

'It's not your fault, Y/N,' he said slowly, carefully. 'You're not the one that killed them.'

'Didn't I though?' The faces of the fallen flashed behind her eyes, and the begging of the young girl pounded in her ears. 'I incited this war with Echidna; I made those women believe we could win, that they would live. And when they begged for my help, begged for that power from last night...'

Y/N hiccuped as she felt tears well in her eyes. But she swallowed her sobs, held the tears back. She had no right to cry, to feel sad. She wasn't among those slaughtered and burned alive.

She wasn't dead.

Once her resolve had returned, Y/N said to Dick in a clinical voice, 'I refuse to lead anymore Amazons to their deaths. There will be no more bloodshed from our side.'

'But how are you going to ensure that, unless...' Realisation dawned on Dick's face and Y/N hated the guilt that arose in her from the sight. 'No, you can't just give up. You can't just surrender to Echidna.'

'What other choice do I have, Dick?' Y/N argued. 'There is no defeating a hydra of that size and ability without losing hundreds more. There is no defeating Echidna when she can just summon more of her monstrous children. I was a fool to think otherwise and it has cost us hundreds of innocent and good warriors.'

'You can choose to fight!' Dick said, his tone exasperated. 'You can choose to stand your ground and defend your home, your family.'

'At what cost, though? I have led too many to their deaths already. Calliope was injured greatly just now and I couldn't stand it if... if you...' Y/N didn't even want to finish the thought, so bit her tongue and looked away.

Dick remained silent for a moment and Y/N hated to think of what he might be thinking. 'If there is anything I have learnt from being here, it is that an Amazon would rather die than give up.'

It might've been the truth, but all Y/N felt was hurt and betrayal. 'Are you saying I'm not an Amazon?' she asked pointedly.

'Not a true one at the moment, no,' Dick answered.

'How dare you!' Y/N stepped closer to Dick until her finger was so close to his chin she could feel his haggard breath on it. 'I am the Princess of Themyscira. I am doing what is best for my people to ensure their survival!'

'At what cost, though?' Dick asked, seemingly unbothered by her finger. 'You would abandon your values and thousands of years worth of Amazon glory and sacrifice in one moment of fear?'

'What, like you abandoned the team when you were scared?'

Dick's face darkened at the low jab, but Y/N couldn't care. She was hurting, and she would make him hurt too.

Y/N dropped her finger and took one step closer. They were eye level now despite Dick being the step down from the landing. 'You don't get to judge me, Grayson,' Y/N hissed, never breaking eye contact with him. 'I am doing what is in my people's best interests the best way I know how to right now. And if you can't get around that, then I suggest you swim your way back to the mainland and pray you don't get eaten because you are of no further use to me.'

They glared at each other for a few moments longer, both of them breathing laboriously. Y/N knew whoever broke first would concede the fight and Y/N was sick of losing to Richard "Dick" Grayson.

Eventually, Dick looked away defeated and Y/N released a small sigh of relief.

'That settles it then,' she murmured, then turned to continue her journey to the Strategy Room.

'If you think you can strike a deal with Echidna that will spare the Amazons, then that is what makes you a fool,' Dick called out to her just before she turned the corner, his words tainted by anger and disappointment.

Y/N paused at the corner, frozen by the implication of his words. Coward. Pathetic. Weak.

If only he knew this was all for him too, she thought as she turned to face him one last time.

'Call me what you want,' she said weakly. 'I don't find any merit in the words of a hypocrite.'

It was a low blow, she knew, and it twisted something inside her when she saw Dick's face drop with shame and betrayal. There was no going back now, though. And so she took her injured heart and rounded the corner, leaving Dick standing wounded on the steps for a second time.

Once she rounded another corner, Y/N finally allowed her tears to fall. She allowed herself to feel her guilt, to feel her grief. Hopelessness and shame threatened to swap her at the thought of what she was going to do.

But what other choice did she have?

She couldn't answer that question, as she arrived at the doors to the Strategy Room. Y/N took in a deep breath and dried her eyes as best as possible before opening the doors.

Upon entering, she found the other generals except for Calliope standing around the round map table, her grandmother among them. Their discussions paused as they saw her, and by their expressions she didn't look to be in a good state. Y/N went to speak, went to bring up her warrior facade so that she may address them, but she couldn't do it.

The silence broke when Queen Hippolyta said softly, 'Everybody, please excuse me and my granddaughter. Now.'

The generals rushed to leave, all of them giving Y/N a gentle pat on her shoulders in slight comfort as they did. Y/N didn't respond. She didn't take her eyes off her grandmother, even when the doors closed and it was just them.

Slowly, Queen Hippolyta made her way around the table to stand in front of Y/N. Y/N only realised she was shaking when her grandmother gently took her hands into her own. Only then did she looked down to her grandmother.

'I sense a heavy burden has fallen upon you,' Queen Hippolyta said, her tone sad. 'What is it that troubles you, my dear?'

'I fear we will not survive this war, Grandmother,' Y/N admitted, her words strained as she resisted crying again. 'Echidna... I was too bold to think we could fight a god.'

Queen Hippolyta lead the two of them to a nearby lounge where they sat and held each other's hands. Y/N was grateful for the reprieve on her legs. She hadn't realised how tired she was until then.

'So, what do you plan on doing next?' Queen Hippolyta asked.

Y/N took a deep breath before explaining. 'I plan to confront Echidna... and make a deal with her to spare us.' Her grandmother's face darkened with offence and just as she opened her mouth to protest, Y/N interrupted. 'And before you argue, yes I know that this is the coward's choice. But I see no other way for the Amazons to survive unless we call for some kind of truce.'

'And what do you plan to offer her in order to achieve this?' Queen Hippolyta huffed with indignation.

'Myself,' Y/N answered. 'I will offer my life up so that she spares everyone else's. Gods love their deals.'

'Yes they do. But they also love breaking them,' Queen Hippolyta said, her tone frustrated. 'What's to stop Echidna from killing the rest of us when you are killed, huh? surely not their conscious, or should I say lack there-of. Who will be there to stop her from wiping us when she wipes you from this earth completely?'

Y/N went to argue but found she had nothing to argue with. She was naive to think a god as nefarious and vengeful as Echidna would ever uphold a deal made with a mere mortal.

'Then what am I to do, Grandmother?' she pleaded. 'I see no other way out of this mess that doesn't end up killing most if not all of us.'

'Then we will die,' Queen Hippolyta said, her grip tightening over Y/N's hands. 'But we will die as the warriors that Athena made us to be. Not the cowards Echidna thinks we are.'

Tears rolled down Y/N's face and sobs threatened to suffocate her as reality hit. 'Oh my dear,' the Queen cooed and pulled Y/N into her arms as the tears and sobs overtook her.

'I just... I just wanted to save them,' Y/N said as she clutched onto her grandmother. 'They don't deserve to die. All those girls out there... I couldn't help them.'

'You cannot save everyone, Y/N. You should know this better than anyone.' The Queen pulled away from the hug and Y/N sat up straight, looking at her grandmother wide-eyed. The Queen reached out to Y/N's cheek and wiped the remaining tears away.

'But all is not lost yet. You still have some warriors, you still have that boy of yours, and you still have your power.'

Y/N gave the Queen a confused expression but all her grandmother did was smile knowingly. 'News travels fast, you know. I heard what happened on the beach. It was quite impressive what you did.'

'But it's not my power,' Y/N countered. 'And when I asked for Athena's help again just now, nothing happened and I couldn't help those girls.'

'You think the power belongs to Athena?' the Queen asked, an amused laugh escaping her briefly.

'What? What's so funny?' Y/N asked, completely confused now.

'Athena is our creator, dear, but like most gods she does not help her children,' her grandmother explained. 'That power you used on the beach was not from Athena, but yourself.'

'From me?'

The Queen nodded. 'Your mother tapped into her power around your age, as did I, and my mother before me. We come from a long line of women who are able to tap into their inner strength, a magical gift from Athena's DNA. Not only do we posses her strategic mind and knack for combat, but we are blessed with her strength and power. It usually arises in a time of great need. But it only comes when the warrior is fully aware and accepting of they are. A True Warrior.'

The Queens squeezed Y/N's hand and smiled proudly at her. 'You have the makings of a True Warrior, Y/N. But you let fear and doubt influence your decisions too much. You fear loss and a broken heart, but I can tell you right now that none of those women who have died today or even millennia before that regret their decision to fight. Not a single person outside of this room, including that boy of yours, isn't willing to fight for this island and fight with you. All you have to do is lead them.'

'But what if I all I lead them to is their deaths?' Y/N asked quietly, almost too scared to hear the answer.

'All empires must come to an end, and maybe this time is ours,' her grandmother replied, 'but we will go out as warriors defending our homes... and the ones we love.'

She said that last part very pointedly and pang of guilt surged through Y/N. 'He's not my boy,' Y/N said, wiping a stray tear away. 'Not now anyways. If he ever was to begin with, that is.'

'Of course he is,' her grandmother interjected. 'When you love someone, you don't give up on them so easily.'

Y/N stared at her grandmother shocked. the implication of her words had Y/N's thoughts turning around so fast she could barely think a single thought except for one.

'Dick loves me?' she asked.

Her grandmother sighed in frustration. 'I love you, but you are more oblivious than your mother some days. Of course he loves you. He wouldn't have sailed the world's oceans trying to find an unfindable place otherwise. He wouldn't have helped train the other warriors if he didn't. And he wouldn't have stayed to fight this evil, knowing full well that he might not live long enough to see home again, if he didn't feel that way about you.'

Y/N could hardly breathe as her grandmother piled the evidence up. For so long she had believed he felt nothing romantic for her, but her grandmother was putting forward a convincing argument.

'But- But he's never indicated that he feels that way,' Y/N tried arguing, although she couldn't help the little flutter of excitement in her heart.

'Trust me, dear, he has. Whether he knows it or not yet, he loves you. And I think you better tell him how you feel in case this war goes further south. Don't you?'

Y/N sat with her thoughts for a moment. It was hard to comprehend that Dick Grayson, her best friend and the love of her life, actually reciprocated her feelings. But whether she accepted it or not, her grandmother was right about one thing.

'I will,' Y/N said, her mind clear, her resolve strong. 'After we come up with a plan to get rid of that hydra outside and then Echidna.'

'You've changed your mind?' the Queen asked.

Y/N nodded. 'You're right. If we die, we die as who we are, not as Echidna wants us to be. But we are not dead yet, and we are Amazon warriors, meaning we have the tactical minds of Athena herself.'

'Meaning?' her grandmother asked.

Y/N smirked. 'Meaning... I am sure we can come up with a plan or two to send Echidna and her monstrous children back to the hell in which they came from.,'

Her grandmother embraced Y/N once more and squeezed her tight. 'That's my girl.' When they pulled apart, she asked, 'Now, what did you have in mind?'

~~~

Dick sat in the infirmary beside a resting Calliope whose hands were bandaged in the hopes they would heal in time for the next wave of attacks from Echidna. All those who laid in the infirmary were hopeful to rejoin the fight. But as Dick sat there, looking around at the bleeding, the dismembered, the dead, he couldn't help but think they all were wishful thinkers.

'It's alarming, isn't it,' Calliope from her propped-up position on her cot. 'How quickly a battle can go south. How so many people can end up in a place like this after just one day of fighting.'

'I've been in battles before,' Dick replied, though his voice felt distant when he spoke, like it was coming from someone else. 'I've dealt with casualties before, just... never to this scale.'

Calliope huffed with weak amusement. 'Then you are a lucky warrior. But I guess we are lucky too. For a time, this was our people's normal. We train here most of our lives and never see battle. The younger ones crave it, but us older ones know to be grateful. War is not something I wish to experience my whole life.'

Dick hummed in agreement, reflecting on his own life. Since he was ten, he'd known violence. Befriended it in a weird way. Back when he was with the team - and even when he left - he always craved action. But Calliope was right; he should've been more grateful for the quiet times, the times of peace. That's what the Justice League and the Young Justice team were for anyways.

To fight against injustice, and keep the peace.

Breaking his thoughts, Calliope rested a bandaged hand upon his own that rested on her bedside. 'It does not do one well to dwell on the past,' she said, a knowing smile softening her usually stoic features. 'But I guess it is hard to look to the future when the past is constantly around you.'

She gave Dick a pointed look, and Dick sighed as he pulled his hands away from hers. 'My relationship with Y/N doesn't matter right now.'

His heart dropped as he recalled their earlier fight. How desperate and frightened she'd been but wouldn't let him in. It hurt him to think he couldn't help her, but everything she'd thrown at him, he knew she'd meant it. Perhaps she'd finally allowed herself to say the things she'd never allowed herself to say about him until then.

Deep down, under all her armour and strength, she hated him. She hated him for leaving, for abandoning the team.

'In fact,' he continued sadly, 'I don't think I have a relationship with Y/N anymore.'

It broke his heart to think of all the years they'd been together, all the triumphs they'd shared and all the failures they'd had to rise from together. To think that all of that was gone just because he got mad at her for trying to do the right thing by her people? He was a fool, a damn fool.

'That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, mortal,' Calliope injected so matter-of-factly that Dick looked up at her like a stunned mullet.

'Excuse me?' he questioned.

'Are all mortal men as deaf and blind as you are?' Calliope asked, rolling her eyes as gently wiggled herself into a straighter seating position. 'You and the Princess might have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first arrived here, but I can tell she cares for you deeper than you realise.'

Dick shook his head. 'I don't think so. We had a huge fight just before. I don't think she'd care if I walked out of this palace right now and got smoked by the hydra.'

'Sure she would!' Calliope argued. 'Look, people have fights all the time. That doesn't mean you love them any less for it. I've seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking, like you hung the very moon and stars that look over us right now. That kind of admiration, that kind of love doesn't just vanish because of one measly fight.'

Love. Dick was stuck on that one word as Calliope kept talking. He deconstructed it and put it back together over and over again and yet it remained ever-present.

'Well... of course we love each other,' Dick staggered for words, for reasoning to battle against his warring heart and mind. 'We've known each other since we were ten. We've been through everything together.'

Calliope just sighed and slumped back in her pillows. 'You exasperate me, mortal. You will die with regrets you do not even know of. And for that I feel sorry for you.'

Dick stared at her befuddled. 'What are you talking about?'

Before she could answer, the doors to the infirmary opened and Dick was surprised, delighted, and annoyed at the sight of Y/N walking through the giant doors. She greeted and hugged all she could as she made her way down the aisle towards Calliope's bed. Dick was half-hoping, that she would just keep walking past. But she did not, stopping right at the end of Calliope's bed.

'Friend, how are you?' Y/N asked gently, a genuinely regretful expression on her face.

'I am fine, Princess,' Calliope answered, raising her bandaged hands towards Y/N. 'It is just a flesh wound. Our healers will have me out pf here in time for the next attack, whenever that will be.'

'Good,' Y/N said, and Dick saw her put on a front - the front of a general. She stood slightly taller, held her head higher, spoke more confidently. 'We will need you ready for tomorrow's plans.'

Dick and Calliope both looked at each other confused. 'Plans?' Dick asked, standing from his seat.

Y/N nodded at him then addressed Calliope. 'Once you have healed, meet us in the Strategy Room. There we will discuss the plan.'

'Yes, Princess,' Calliope answered.

Y/N turned to Dick then and tilted her head back to the infirmary's entrance. 'Would you like to join me and the others in the Strategy Room? I would like to discuss the plan with you.'

Dick held Y/N's gaze for a moment, unsure of what she was doing. Only a few hours ago she told him he was useless, a waste of space. But now she was asking for his help?

He turned to Calliope, who nodded her head as if giving him permission to leave her bedside. 'I will join you both as soon as I am able,' she said, and with that Y/N lead Dick out of the infirmary.

They climbed the quiet staircase silently, walked many hallways without speaking. Dick wanted to speak, but what to say. He felt Y/N was holding back something too but seemed to be hesitating as well.

Finally fed up with the metaphorical chicken game, he let out an exasperated sigh and said, 'Okay, what changed your mind?'

Y/N didn't answer for a few more steps until they rounded another corner and she stopped and sighed. Finally she turned back to him, regret reflecting in her E/C eyes.

'You mean what made me realise I was being a coward and not a true Amazon warrior?'

Dick winced at the half quoting of his words she'd used. But as he opened his mouth to apologise, she raised her hand to silence him. 'It's okay, I understand. You were upset, and you had a right to be. I wasn't thinking like a warrior. I let my fear and my own pride lead me down a path of cowardice and shame. But, with some help, I realised... you were right.'

'I was?' Dick couldn't believe what he was hearing. For years, she'd always been the smarter one, always been the wiser one of the pair. This was new territory for him.

She nodded her head. 'Amazons don't hide or make deals to ensure their survival. They fight for it, they earn it, and if they die trying, and that is a worthy warrior's death.' She offered him a small smile. 'We win together, or we die together. Including you.'

Dick wasn't sure where Y/N was taking this, especially as she stepped closer to him. The firelight of the hallway torches made her hair ripple like fire and mad her eyes seem molten, alive. She was mesmerising.

'I'm sorry if I made you feel you had to prove yourself to me,' she said, her voice tight, apologetic. 'The truth is, I was just scared I would lose you again because of something I dragged you into. I wanted you gone... because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd gotten you killed.'

Dick's heart hiccuped with Y/N's honesty. In that moment, he saw the ten-year-old girl he'd met all those years ago. How vibrant and brave and strong she was. Then he thought of the time they picked their vigilante names out for one another, and all the times they fought battles and trained and laughed and cried and it him then the legacy she'd taken on. The pressure she felt to live up to her mother's success - and it had all started at the age of ten.

And it was all coming out now, along with the tears that trickled down her face. Immediately, Dick reached hand out to wipe her cheek, and that seemed to make her realise she was crying and then she was full on sobbing.

Dick didn't think twice as he pulled her into his comforting arms, as he pressed her as close to him as he could so she could feel his heartbeat, to let her know he was there. For her.

'I'm not gone, Y/N,' he murmured into her hair. Damn, he'd forgotten how tall he'd grown since he last saw her. 'I am right here. I am not laying out there among the dead, I am here.'

She trembled in his arms, and his heart shattered just a little bit more. 'Yes, but you could've been,' she said, her voice all muffled as she continued crying into his chest.

'But I'm not, Y/N.' Once she'd calmed down until she was just sniffling, he pulled away to look down at her, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. 'I promise, Echidna would have to burn me to ashes and then burn them again in order to take me away from you. Do you hear me?'

Y/N, with wide eyes rimmed red, just stared up at him with an expression he didn't quite recognise. It was hopeful and full of admiration. And there was something else there, something that had Dick's heart skipping a beat with the possibility that it might be what he thought it might be.

'You had a chance to leave Themyscira,' Y/N said softly, never breaking eye contact. 'You had a chance to live and forget all about this and me... Why did you stay?'

The question struck him so hard in the chest he lost his breath, thus lost his ability to think and function. It was the easiest and the hardest question to answer. It was easy because the answer was staring him right in the face, but he found it hard to say because what if he was wrong? What if he was reading this whole situation wrong? And what if he ruined the best thing that ever happened to him if he opened up his mouth?

'I stayed... I stayed because... because...' It was right there on the tip of his tongue, all he needed to do was be brave enough to say it.

The doors to the Strategy Room banged opened and Y/N and Dick jumped apart to see Queen Hippolyta standing at the entrance. 'I'm sorry, have I interrupted something?' she asked.

Y/N quickly wiped the remaining tears on her cheeks away as she stood up tall once more and replied, 'No, we were just about to come in and discuss the strategy for tomorrow.'

The Queen eyed the two of them, and Dick thought she looked slightly disappointed. But she gestured for them to come in, saying, 'Well, by all means, let us discuss.'

Y/N and Dick spared each other one more look before heading towards the Strategy Room. Dick's heart was practically beating out his chest and he wondered for a moment if Y/N could hear it.

Focus, Dick, he reminded himself as he entered the room with the generals and the Queen. We have a war to win first.

~~~

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maretinelli · 3 days ago

Text

TEARS OF A SAD PAST

Oscar Piastri X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n finds old photos of her in her father's house, all the emotions come flooding back when she remembers how hard it was for them to survive back then. Telling all the sad stories, now to her husband, Oscar.

Words: 5.2K+

Warnings: This hurts, it hurts a lot. Anguish, anguish and a lot of anguish, mentions of family death, tears of sadness (Y/N, Oscar and probably reader haha), financial difficulties, survival, poor childhood, humble, can cause triggers in people who may have experienced a similar problem. But in compensation, a present father and an Osc very sweet, kind and great husband.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. I want to apologize and comfort the hearts of people who don't have a good family life or who don't have a mother. I have a good family, and nothing that was written was based on me. But if you feel alone, you can talk to me, I will give you some sweet words that can help you. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

Oscar Piastri always said that his childhood was peaceful, almost perfect. He grew up in a stable home, surrounded by love, comfort, opportunities and sisters. His parents made a point of supporting him in everything, especially his passion for racing. He never had to worry about what he would have to eat or whether he would have clothes to wear. For Oscar, the difficulties were an abstraction, something he only knew from the news or distant stories.

His wife, on the other hand, grew up in a completely different world. Her mother died the day she was born, leaving a hole that her father tried to fill as best he could. Deciding that he would raise his daughter with love. With two jobs and endless nights of work, he did everything he could to keep food on the table and give Y/n a home, even if it was humble. But financial difficulties were inevitable. She often wore hand-me-downs from cousins or bought at cheap department stores. Toys were rare, and anything new, like shoes or clothes, was a precious gift.

But now everything was fine. She had overcome all obstacles together with her father, she had graduated from a university, she had a job that gave her an excellent salary and she had a husband who gave her love, affection and everything she needed - even what she didn't need.

But then, memories of the past came back when old photos were taken out of the attic.

It was summer vacation, Oscar and Y/n had decided that they would visit the journalist's father in London. Where he currently lived. It was a peaceful afternoon, full of laughter and conversations around the table. Y/n's father - Ben, was excited, talking about how his company was currently going and exchanging ideas with Oscar and Y/n's uncles about races that his son-in-law participates in.

While everyone was busy exchanging ideas, Y/n was in the attic, a space that was rarely visited. She knew that there was a piece of her family history there, memories that her father carefully packed when he moved into that house.

She had an old album on top of her legs, the photos brought a sense of nostalgia. Making her smile and laugh.

Sitting on the cold attic floor, she began flipping through the pages. The journalist smiled when she found a photo from her parents' wedding. His mother was stunning, wearing an elegant dress and a smile so kind it seemed to light up the room. Her father, young and full of hope, looked at her as if the whole world were before his eyes.

Y/n had always heard stories about her mother: a sweet, polite woman with a huge heart. Even though he had never met her, those stories were enough to make Y/n feel like he knew her deeply.

As he flipped through the pages, one particular photo caught his eye.

It was of her, at age five, holding her foot up in the air to show off a pair of bright pink sneakers with beads dangling from them. She was beaming, her smile so big it seemed impossible that it could come from a child who had faced so many hardships. These were the first new sneakers she had ever received, a birthday present her father had gone to great lengths to buy.

She held the photo tightly, remembering what life was like back then.

After his mother left, the family's financial condition changed drastically. His father did everything he could to provide the essentials, but it wasn't easy. Y/n often wore clothes handed down from cousins or cheap department stores. But in that photo, with those new sneakers, the little girl's happiness was genuine. Despite the circumstances, she was happy.

And when she looked in the box in front of her, there was the sneaker. Now quite old because of the time and how much she had used it as a child. She picked it up smiling, but already feeling tears falling.

Y/n began to cry, a cry of pain as she remembered the struggles she and her father faced, but also of gratitude for those precious moments, for that pink sneaker that meant so much more than it seemed.

"Here you are, my girl!! I thought you had run away from me" Oscar said in a light tone, but his voice soon changed when he noticed his wife's tears. He quickly approached, kneeling beside her. "Y/n, my love? What happened? Is everything okay?"

He saw the photo she was holding and the pair of pink sneakers in front of her. The faraway look in her eyes. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

Oscar also looked around, seeing the boxes full of old things, each one carrying a piece of his wife's history. His heart sank as he imagined the little girl she had been, facing so many hardships with a smile on her face.

Oscar wiped the tears from Y/n's face carefully, his eyes carrying a mixture of concern and affection. He didn't want to rush her, but he also couldn't bear to see her in pain.

"Honey, tell me... why are you crying?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of breaking something delicate in the air between them.

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to contain the tremor in her voice. "I... I was looking at these pictures. My childhood, my father... everything. And it hurts, Oscar. Not a physical pain, but an emotional one. Seeing these pictures reminds me of how hard things were. And as much as you know about my story, there are things I've never been able to tell you."

The McLaren driver looked at her intently, his brown eyes full of understanding. He didn't press her, just waited, holding her hand firmly. Y/n looked down at the album in his lap, running his finger along the worn edges of the pages.

"I... I didn't tell you everything because I felt embarrassed," she confessed quietly, as if the admission itself weighed too much. "The difference between our childhoods... You, your sisters, your parents... always telling such happy, excited stories. Like everything was perfect. I felt so... small. Helpless. Inadequate." Y/n hesitated for a moment, before continuing. "Even when your sisters asked me about my childhood, I lied a little. Not because I didn't trust them, but because... because I didn't want to seem so different from you. So inferior."

His chest tightened at that. He pulled Y/n into a tight hug, resting his chin on her head. "Oh, love..." He closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair as he held her close. "You should never have felt this way. Never."

Y/n held his shirt tightly, as if she needed to anchor herself in that moment. "I know, but it was impossible not to feel."

Oscar leaned in slightly, cupping her face in his hands so she would look at him.

"Y/n, love, listen to me. None of this makes you inferior, small, or inadequate. Nothing. All of this just shows how amazing you are. How strong, persistent, and admirable you were to go through all of this and still become the wonderful woman you are today. I'm so proud of you. SO MUCH." He smiled softly, his eyes brimming with tears. "And one day, when we have children of our own, I hope they'll be at least half as strong as you. Because honestly, that would be more than enough to make them amazing."

Y/n started crying again, but this time, her tears were of relief.

"Thank you, Osc. For always making me feel this way. For loving me so much."

He kissed her on the forehead before whispering, "Always."

As she calmed down in his arms, Y/n began flipping through the album again. She pointed to one photo in particular and, with a shaky smile, began to tell him more about her childhood.

In the photo, a little girl in a simple dress held a doll with a missing leg. "That was my favorite doll," Y/n explained with a light laugh. "I got it from a cousin. It was used, but I loved it so much. My dad sewed its leg back on once, but it didn't hold up very well, so I ended up losing it again."

Y/n at 4 years old.

The doll, which she affectionately called “Lina,” was in her hands as she played in the small dirt yard. The simple dress she wore was already stained with dirt, but she didn’t care. The world around her seemed to disappear as her imagination took over.

"Come on, Lina" she said with conviction, her childish voice carrying a strength that seemed far beyond her years. "You're a warrior! You don't need two legs to be strong. We'll win this battle together!" One of the doll's legs was about to fall off.

With a piece of branch she found in the backyard, Y/n improvised a sword for Lina. In the scenario she created in her head, the doll was facing enormous monsters, creatures that represented everything that seemed unfair in the world.

Lina was invincible, and Y/n wanted to believe that she was too.

Suddenly, the fragile stitching on Lina’s leg gave way again, and the piece her father had attached fell to the ground. Y/n paused for a moment, staring at the loose leg. Her expression hardened, but not in sadness. Instead, she picked Lina up, holding her in front of her face, and said firmly,

"It's okay, Lina. You're still the strongest of them all. Real warriors don't need to be perfect."

She hugged the doll tightly, feeling a kind of comfort in having Lina as her adventure companion. Even without fully knowing why, that small broken object represented something important to her. Lina was resilient, and Y/n wanted to be too.

Later, when he entered the house, her father noticed his daughter's determined look and the doll in her arms.

"What happened, dear?" He asked, pointing to the fallen leg that Y/n was holding along with Lina.

Y/n shrugged, a small smile on her face. "Lina doesn't need this, Daddy. She's still strong. Like us."

The father smiled sadly, but also with pride. He took the doll and said, "Even so, we will try to sew it again, just to make sure it continues in its battles."

Y/n nodded, sitting next to him as he pulled out the needle and thread. And as he worked, she thought that maybe she could be fixed too, every now and then. After all, warriors need help too.

Y/n sighed, a faint smile crossing her lips as she discreetly wiped away a tear that had fallen. "I remember how it felt... so big to me. It was just a doll, but somehow she was all I needed to feel like I wasn't alone."

Oscar smiled, and we ran our hands over his wife's back in comfort. He knew that Y/n had faced many things in her childhood, but hearing this specific story and imagining his wife, so small and already carrying such a heavy burden, made his heart ache.

She picks up another photo. Oscar's journalist wife started crying again, this memory came back every time she had a birthday.

The photo showed Y/n sitting at a wooden table, a small makeshift cake in front of her. The candles were made of matches with small pieces of aluminum foil wrapped around them.

"That was my sixth birthday," she said, her voice cracking. "My dad only had enough money to buy a cake or candles. He apologized so much, but to me, it was one of the best cakes of my life. Because he never let me feel like I was missing out, even when I was."

Oscar ran his hand through her hair, his heart breaking at the thought of it. He began to cry quietly.

Y/n at 6 years old.

It was a simple afternoon, like any other, but for Y/n, that was a special day. She was turning six. The smell of chocolate cake filled the small kitchen, while her father finished setting the table carefully.

Y/n walked into the kitchen, her eyes shining with anticipation. She knew there wouldn't be any expensive gifts or big parties like she saw in her schoolmates' stories, but for her, what mattered was her father's effort.

"It's ready, honey," Ben said, with a tired but warm smile. He placed the cake in the center of the table. It was small and had no elaborate frosting, just a few chocolate shavings on top.

"Wow, Daddy! It's beautiful!" Y/n said, climbing up on a chair to take a closer look.

Ben smiled awkwardly. "Well, there's one thing... I couldn't buy candles, so I improvised." He pulled out a small matchbox and showed off the little candles he'd made by wrapping little pieces of aluminum foil around the matches.

Y/n looked at the makeshift 'candles' and smiled widely. "These are amazing, Daddy! I've never seen candles like this before!"

He laughed, relieved by his daughter's positive reaction. "Let's light it up, then."

He placed the matches on the cake and lit them carefully. The small flames flickered, casting a soft light on Y/n's face. They sang and little Y/n always had a smile on her face.

"Now, make a wish, my warrior," Ben said, bending down to her level.

Y/n closed her eyes tightly, holding her little hands together. In a low voice, she made her wish: "I wish that daddy never gets sad. And that we always have cake on birthdays,"

She opened her eyes, blew out the makeshift candles, and Ben began to clap, cheering her on. "Well done! Happy birthday, sweet Y/n!" He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

Afterwards, they sat down to eat the cake. Each slice felt like a treasure. Ben chatted with Y/n, asking about school stuff, and she excitedly talked about how she had painted a picture for him.

At that moment, Y/n didn't see the difficulties, nor the lack of purchased candles or a bigger party. All she felt was love. And that cake, with its improvised candles, became one of the most precious memories of her life.

Back in the present, Y/n wiped away some tears as she held the photo. "I don't know how he did it, Oscar. How he always made it seem like everything was okay, even when I knew it wasn't."

Oscar wrapped an arm around her, kissing her cheek tenderly. "It's because he loves you! And you deserve every bit of that love and mine. He taught you to be strong, and look where that got you today."

She smiles shyly, feeling warm in her husband's arms, as she always has. Oscar's arms were always a safe haven where she could run whenever something went wrong. It was like that, ever since they started dating. 6 years ago.

The journalist takes another photo. She was sitting around the table with a blanket and in the background, through the window, she could see heavy rain. And that's when she remembered what had happened that day.

Y/n at 7 years old.

The sky was gray and heavy, and the rain fell like a thick curtain as Y/n walked down the street. Her backpack, already a little worn, was soaked, and her school uniform clung to her small body. She held her books against her chest, trying to protect them from the water, but without much success. There was no umbrella, and there was no money for the bus that day, as on so many others.

The walk seemed endless, each step heavy with fatigue and cold. When she finally arrived home, shivering and wet, her father greeted her at the door with a worried look.

"My girl, I was just coming for you!" he exclaimed, looking worried, quickly pulling out a towel to wrap her in. He took her to the bedroom, waiting outside for her to change her clothes and wrap her in a thick blanket. "Come here, I'll make you something warm," he said, as he ran to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Y/n was sitting at the kitchen table, holding a mug of hot tea in her hands. A plate with rice, salad and egg was in front of them. It was simple but comforting. As she ate, she looked at her father, who was sitting in the living room with his back to her.

He was quiet, but Y/n could hear the small sobs he was trying to hide. He ran his hand over his face, as if he wanted to erase the tiredness and sadness that were taking over him. Even at such a young age, Y/n knew why. She knew he fought every day to give her the best, but sometimes he felt like it wasn't enough.

Y/n finished her food and ran to him, hugging him from behind. "I love you, daddy," she said, her voice sweet and small. He turned around, surprised, wiping his eyes quickly.

"I love you too, my warrior. More than anything in this world."

Y/n was now leaning against Oscar's chest, sobbing with the tears that fell, while he also cried.

"That week I got so sick that I spent a few days in the hospital," she says between sobs and puts away the photo, turning the page of the album.

Y/n at 10 years old.

Y/n was standing in front of the small mirror in her room, adjusting her new school uniform. The clothes were hand-me-downs, but she wore them carefully, running her hands over the fabric to smooth them out. Her hair was impeccably combed, with a clip that she loved. On her wrist, a faint scent of the sweet perfume she had gotten from her grandmother wafted through the air.

She looked in the mirror and smiled at herself. "You look beautiful!" She murmured, as if trying to convince herself of it. She grabbed her backpack and left the house alone, since her father had left for work too early.

The walk to school was long, but she kept going. When she arrived, she saw the playground full of children accompanied by their parents. Some mothers kissed their children goodbye and hugs, adjusting their new backpacks and telling them to 'behave'. The children were impeccably groomed, their clothes and shoes clearly new.

Y/n paused for a moment, taking in the scene. A pang of sadness gripped her heart as she imagined what it would be like if her mother were there. She wondered what it would be like to hear her mother telling her to "Have a nice day" or adjusting her hair before entering school.

A silent tear ran down her face, but she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Don't cry, Y/n. Today is supposed to be a good day, new school!" She said to herself, straightening her shoulders. With a brave smile, she walked to the school entrance, ready to face the new challenge. She had no one to hold her hand, but she decided that was enough. After all, her father always said: "You are strong, my girl. Stronger than you think."

Back in the present, Y/n held the photo and sighed, the memories as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.

"I'll never forget how he made it seem like everything was okay, even when it wasn't. He always said that even without my mom, I wasn't alone, because he was with me. But sometimes it was so hard..."

Oscar held her close to his chest, kissing her head. His tears fell into her hair.

"You've been through so much, Y/n, and yet you're still the most incredible woman I know. Your father is so proud of who you've become. I know I am too."

Y/n at 15 years old.

Y/n sat in one of the chairs at the back of the classroom during her first week of high school, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The school was bigger and more modern than she was used to, but the differences went far beyond the facilities. She soon realized that most of her classmates came from wealthier families, with brand-name backpacks, new cell phones, and stories of vacations in places she only knew from television.

During the break, as she ate what she had managed to bring from home—a chicken, lettuce, and mayonnaise sandwich made on yesterday morning’s bread—she heard whispers around her. “Have you seen her shoes?” one girl whispered to another. “I think they’re from a thrift store.”

Y/n swallowed hard, pretending not to hear, but the words hit her like a punch. It was true that her shoes were used; they had been bought at a second-hand store. She felt the gaze of her classmates as if it were an invisible chain pulling her down, trying to shame her for something she could not change.

But that afternoon, during a history class, the teacher proposed a group presentation. And that's when she met her best friend, the sweet girl who didn't care about Y/n's financial situation and who she still kept in touch with today.

She was also Y/n's maid of honor. She owes Ceci a lot of good things.

Each student had to explain a historical topic to the class. Y/n volunteered to speak, even though she knew it would be the first time her classmates would pay attention to her.

She spent the night studying, reading the old books her father had bought from an old library. Y/n held her head high and presented her topic with confidence. Her passion for learning was clear, and her firm, determined voice made everyone in the room fall silent.

After the presentation, the teacher praised her in front of everyone. "That, my students, is dedication! An example of how, with effort, we can overcome anything." Some of the classmates who had whispered about her before now looked at her with respect, but Y/n knew that the most important thing was how she felt. She had proven that her financial situation did not define her.

She smiled as she told him, but she could hear a sob escaping Oscar. She turned, with that sweet smile she always gave Oscar, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to cry and make you feel even sadder."

"No, no." She smiles wider. "I'm fine. And do you know why? Because now I have you here, to complete the love my father always gave. I have two such brilliant men in my life, that all the pain I once felt is minuscule compared to the love I receive from you."

Oscar sobs again, kissing his wife's cheek, where tears are slowly streaming down.

The last photo in the album was of a young Y/n, but not too long ago. A little before she met Oscar.

There were several suitcases around her and she smiled excitedly. She was moving to study. She had gotten accepted into the university she had always dreamed of.

Y/n at 17 years old.

The day her college acceptance letter arrived was one of the happiest moments of Y/n's life. The envelope was a little wrinkled, but when she opened it, she felt like her whole world had lit up. She had made it: a place at the college she had always dreamed of.

Her father came home that night exhausted from work, but Y/n ran to him, holding the paper with shaking hands. "Daddy, I did it! I'm going to college!"

His eyes widened, and a huge smile formed on his face. "My girl... I knew you could do it! I always knew!" He hugged her tightly, but when he pulled away, the smile gave way to a worried expression.

"Y/n... I want you to go so much, but..." He sighed, looking away. "I don't know if I can help you with this. I've already taken out so many loans... I don't know if it's possible to take out more. I don't want you to have to give up on your dream because of me."

She took his hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. "Daddy, it's okay. I've already taken care of this."

He frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

“I’ve got a job near the university,” he explained with a determined smile. “It’s a modest salary, but enough to support myself and buy food. And the accommodation I’ll be staying in is free for low-income students. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he pulled Y/n into another hug. "My girl... You're so strong. So incredible. I always knew you were special, but... seeing you grow into this determined woman... I can't describe how proud I am of you."

His words made Y/n cry, but this time it was a cry of relief and love. She knew the path would be difficult, but she was ready to face it. After all, she was the daughter of the strongest man she had ever known.

Y/n laughs softly. "That day was magical," she says, and Oscar smiles, seeing that his wife was calmer now with all the sad feelings that had enveloped her minutes before. "I confess that, even though the years at university were a little difficult, they were easier compared to childhood." She smiles, and then turns to Oscar. "And do you know why? Because in the first year I went to do an internship at F3 and met the love of my life."

Piastri smiles and then the two kiss, sealing their lips in a sweet and comforting kiss.

"I love you so much, my Piastri girl!" She smiles at the nickname.

They were hugging each other, still looking at the various boxes, until the pilot's eyes fell on that bright pink, beaded sneaker. Oscar smiles and leans over to hold it.

"Look, how cute!" He smiles. "And very authentic and original!"

Y/n lets out a sincere and genuine laugh. "Did you like it? I decorated it" she smiles.

She felt freer now, the past didn't haunt her so much, she was fine now. Great house, excellent salary, comfortable vacations, her father had a company that made him earn 100 times more than before and she had Oscar. Her calm, attentive and helpful husband. A man who came out of a fairy tale. And who was hers!

Only hers...and of course, her future children. Because the babies will also be very lucky to have Oscar Piastri as their daddy.

"Do you want to tell me about the history of sneakers?" He holds the small pair of shoes in his hands. "Of course, only if you feel comfortable."

Y/n smiled in agreement. Standing straighter and crossing her legs, she watched Oscar admire her shoes.

"These were my first new sneakers." She smiles. "Really new, in the box and with that brand new leather smell." Y/n laughs. "And I was so excited about them that my dad let me put glitter and beads on them. They were so special to me that when they didn't fit anymore I kept them as a fond memory," she says. "They're worn out from so much use and also from being stored away for so many years, but they're still as shiny as new."

Oscar laughs, still looking at the little boy in pink sneakers.

"I wonder..." he begins, smiling. "Can I keep them?" Oscar asks, a tear falling across the smile on his face.

Y/n frowns a little, but nods. "Sure! But why?"

Oscar held the small pair of sneakers with an almost reverent care, as if they were an heirloom. He ran his fingers over the faded beads, the shine still visible despite the years.

"I want to take you to our home in Monaco." Oscar begins, his voice slightly cracking.

Y/n tilted her head in surprise. He looked up at her, his gaze full of love and admiration.

"Because I want to leave them on display there. In a special place, where I can see them every day. Those sneakers aren't just a reminder of your childhood, Y/n. They're a symbol of everything you are. A woman who, from a young age, turned the little she had into something extraordinary. I want to remember that always, and I want anyone who walks into our home to know the incredible story of the person you are."

Y/n felt her eyes well up as she absorbed those words. She took a deep breath, trying to contain her emotion, but a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "Osc..."

The pilot placed the sneakers on his lap and leaned over to hold her hands. "I know you treasure them, and if you'd rather they stay here, I'll understand. But to me, they represent everything I admire about you. Your strength, your resilience... and the fact that even with so little, you found ways to shine." She smiled, feeling her heart overflow with love for this man who always knew the right words to say.

“You can take them,” she said, her voice breaking. “To know that you want them on display, that they mean as much to you as they do to me… it makes me so happy, Oscar.”

He smiled and pulled her into a warm hug. "Thank you, my love. I promise to take care of them as well as you did."

As Oscar carefully put away the sneakers, Y/n watched, feeling grateful to have someone who saw beauty and strength in even the simplest objects in her story.

For her, those sneakers were a reminder of her difficult childhood, but for Oscar, they were a celebration of everything she had achieved.

She didn't know how to react, but her tears continued to fall, this time accompanied by a shy smile.

"I... I never imagined that one day I could have someone like you, Osc," she said, her voice breaking again. "Someone who truly understood me, who would be there for me no matter what. Someone who would look at me and see the good in me, even when I couldn't see it myself."

Oscar pulled her closer, cuddling her against his chest again, as if he wanted to protect her from the world and the past, now so distant, but still so vivid in her memory.

"I will give you the best, Y/n. I want you to know that now you will never be alone. You have me. And of course, your father. And together we will build something better. Not only for us, but for future children. I promise they will never know the struggle you went through. They will grow up with the love, security and opportunities they deserve. Just like you, because you deserve the world and so much more!"

Those words broke the last shred of restraint in Y/n. She hugged Oscar tighter, pain and relief mixing together. But the happiness of being with him for the rest of her life outweighed the pain.

For the first time, she felt that her story no longer needed to be one of solitary struggles. Now, she had someone to share her scars and heal her pain, and most importantly, to build a different future with. And this made her cry, but with happiness, knowing that her future children would have a much more peaceful life full of love.

That love she received from Oscar and her father. Because she never doubted that Oscar would be an excellent father and Ben a great grandfather.

Author: Sorry about this, I know it's heavy. I cried writing it and when I was revising it😭

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #imagines #marriage #one shot #formula one #formula 1 #fem reader #sensitive content #imagines oscar piastri #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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miryum · 6 hours ago

Text

Don't Pity Me, My Princess (Azriel x Reader)

With Azriel as your personal knight, it's getting harder and harder for both of you to ignore your feelings.

Warnings: whole lotta angst. Talk of children and childbirth because royalty need heirs, you know? Az doesn’t have his shadows (even though it was so hard to write him without them) but is still called Shadowsinger. Azriel's mother was abused and there's like, one sentence about it

Word Count: 5k

Azriel had lived at the palace since he was a young boy. His mother had knocked on the servant’s quarters one dark night, begging for someone to take her son. She could handle an abusive husband, but she couldn’t bear her baby boy to suffer the same fate as she did. An old maid took pity on the new mother and agreed to house, clothe, and educate the child. Just before the new mother left, she kissed Azriel’s cheek and whispered his name. “You’ll do good things, my dear. I am so sorry.”

Coincidentally, a couple months later, the Queen gave birth to an infant girl. Princess Y/n was heralded with parades and celebrations, the new heir apparent. Meanwhile, in the servant’s quarters, a baby with a thick head of black hair and small little wings was just learning how to lift his head, staring up at the maids and butlers who saved his life.

Azriel grew up preparing for the life of a knight. He remembered growing up watching the knights train as he played with his own wooden sword. He remembered beating his still-developing wings to try and see over the wooden barrier of the jousting arena. He remembered when the knights first caught sight of him, trying to hack away at a dummy. They teased him at first, but then, just like his entire life, they took pity on him. The next week, Azriel began training as a squire.

It was a long time before he earned his leathers and then his siphons, but the Shadowsinger became a name that was both respected and feared throughout the kingdom. The King sent him on missions all over the continent and Azriel always returned successful. He would fight in the jousts and consistently win. He had maidens and ladies swooning over him, but they weren’t who he yearned for.

That’s why he volunteered, almost a bit too hastily, when the King asked for extra protection over his daughter, Princess Y/n.

Azriel’s mind was filled with you, almost every moment of every day. It couldn’t be healthy, that he was aware of, but having grown up next to you, even if from the shadows, he had forged a deep connection to you.

When he was young, he had hardly noticed the little princess completing her studies. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw her in the halls or at the training ring — which is where he most frequented. But one day, a year or two after he had turned a teen, Azriel had fought in his first joust. In any joust, it was customary for a knight to be sponsored by a lady of the court. A lady usually had a favourite knight she regularly sponsored, so Azriel’s stomach was in a pit when it was time to trot by for potential sponsorship. Who would ever cheer for the newest, youngest knight? Azriel sure could beat a village boy in combat, but he was still the smallest and scrawniest of all of the palace’s knights — if you could even call him that. He could recall his anxiety as if it was yesterday. The way the crowd was cheering, the way his horse’s hooves kicked up dirt underneath, and the way he began to sweat as he tried to sit straight.

And then, as he passed the royal box, you stood. Azriel almost kept his horse trotting by, sure it was a mistake, but when he saw you extract your blue handkerchief, he pulled on the reins. By some fortuity or fortune, your handkerchief was the same colour as his siphon. He had just earned his first one the week prior. Through his metal visor, he stared, wide-eyed, as you reached down and tucked your handkerchief into the folds of his armour. The rest of the court was watching too, but Azriel didn’t see them. He could only focus on the way his heart sped up when you whispered, “good luck.”

You were an utter vision. Azriel was sure that you had chosen him to be your champion because of the closeness in your ages, but your support, even if it was just a piece of cloth you had embroidered, meant the world. He hadn’t won his first joust, or his second, but you kept sponsoring him. Azriel became accustomed to stopping under the royal box and bowing to you before heading to his starting position. Sometimes, especially if it was an important event, you would have a new handkerchief for him, or even some whispered encouragement, but Azriel didn’t need those things as long as he could keep making eye contact with you. And then he started winning. He could still hear your excited screams as his javelin hit his opponent straight on, which gained Azriel the championship. It wasn’t unusual for members of the court to get invested in the jousting, but others found it humorous that you were jumping from your seat to see better. However, you were only a teenager, and they knew you would soon be able to control your emotions.

You had not-so-patiently waited for Azriel to bring his horse back around to the royal box after doing a lap of the stadium. People had thrown flowers and kisses and Azriel had shed his helmet, his cheeks hot from both the exertion and attention. When he saw you, he bowed deeply and handed a flower that someone had thrown to him. It was a small red rose. Your gloved fingers brushed his as you took the flower. His black hair hung over his face as he ducked his head. You made a mental note to have the barber stop by the barracks. “My Princess,” he muttered, head still bowed. “Thank you for choosing me as your champion, all those months ago.”

“Well, Sir Azriel, it certainly paid off, didn’t it?” you replied, smiling down at him. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” You nodded to one of your handkerchiefs that was tucked in the chink of his armour, right above his breast.

That was the past. And now, Azriel had the glorious opportunity to stand in front of the King and Queen, multiple siphons displayed proudly as he suggested his own name for the position of your bodyguard. Your childhood knight was retiring, something everyone thought was best as his wit, speed, and strength declined. That opened up the position. The King and Queen had called for the Shadowsinger’s opinion and he gave it, however biased he was with his feelings. “Your Majesties, I believe that the best thing for this kingdom and your daughter would be if I offered my services.”

“And why is that, Shadowsinger? Wouldn’t you rather be sent on missions and participate in protecting our kingdom?”

“With all due respect, my King, the princess is the face of the kingdom,” Azriel said, a knee pressing against the floor of the throne room. It hurt, yes, but he could handle it if it meant sparing you the pain. “The people love her, but that also means many hate her. There are too many dangers, especially with other kingdoms threatening to encroach on our borders. I would be able to protect the princess, and you and the Queen, more efficiently if I was her personal guard.”

The two monarchs exchanged a look before the Queen nodded. “Very well, then. You’ll assume the position effective immediately. You shall accompany Princess Y/n to events and daily excursions. You’ll be briefed more extensively later this week.”

Azriel nodded and stood. He thanked the King and Queen and hurried out, trying to conceal his budding smile.

“Do you remember all the signals?” you called from your dressing room.

Azriel was standing outside, content to just listen to your voice, but he replied, “yes, my princess.”

“And you’re wearing your dress uniform?”

“Yes, my princess.”

“Are all the other guards as well?”

“Yes, my princess.”

The door then opened and you peeked out. “And are you sick of me asking you senseless questions?” you asked, an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Never, my princess,” Azriel answered softly, eyes holding yours. “Are you almost ready?”

You ducked back into your dressing room, voice floating out again. “Almost. I believe we just need some more hairpins, yes?” Your maid responded in an affirmative and a couple minutes later, the door opened once more. There you stood in a cobalt gown that cascaded down to the floor, hair all done up, and jewellery proudly displayed on your knuckles and upon your collarbone. It didn’t escape Azriel that your dress was the same colour as his siphons.

Azriel had spent years serving under the King and Queen, honing his emotions to be the stoic force he needed to be. But, with you in front of him, he found his resolve cracking. His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Do I look that horrible, sir?” you teased.

The guard immediately shook his head. “No, my princess. Quite the opposite, in fact. You…” his jaw tensed. “Those princes and dukes will be tripping over their feet.”

As much as Azriel would love to pretend that you were his and he would be the only one accompanying you tonight, he knew that this ball was for a very specific reason, and one he did not like. Your parents needed you wed, and it couldn’t be to him.

Nobility and court members alike knew to avoid Azriel when he was watching you. You were on your fifth dance with the fifth man and Azriel made sure to walk around the dance floor as you moved, always being as close as possible.

The moment Azriel had known he was to be your new personal knight, he had created a series of hand signals for you to use covertly. He was always on the lookout for your well-being and thankfully, there had only been a few times when you had needed to use the hand signals.

Months prior, your parents had held an anniversary ball for their marriage. You were a bit younger, more naive, and Azriel had only been your personal knight for just under a year. He had loved every moment of it, but he couldn’t help but feel a budding sense of anticipatory fear as he saw you twirl around the dance floor carelessly. You had one of your younger cousins in your arms and was spinning them around to their delight. While Azriel wanted to imagine a smaller child in the stead of your cousin, perhaps one with dark hair and your eyes and little wings that replicated his own, he was more focused on the older man that was watching you.

A measly Count from further South, the man looked twice your age and three times as intoxicated. He stayed on the outskirts of the celebration, but the Shadowsinger was not one to miss something.

When the Count approached you after your dance with your cousin, Azriel didn’t intervene. He couldn’t act only on a suspicion that the Count was malicious. And he wouldn’t act without your express approval.

But then he saw you twist the ring on your pointer finger.

When Azriel had first become your bodyguard, you were unsure if you could remember all the signals he had wanted you to memorise. A deeper fear, admittedly, was that he wouldn’t be watching and then unintentionally leave you to your own devices. Azriel was determined, however, to never waive your trust. He immediately came marching in, whispering something meaningless into your ear under the guise of matters only you, the princess, could attend to, and swept you away. A dirty look was thrown to the Count and Azriel made sure never to let you near him again. In fact, the Count was barred from any and all future events.

Meanwhile, you had finished your dance with the nameless suitor and Azriel already had an arm stretched out for you. You took it gratefully, needing a respite from all the men giving you unabashed stares. “I really do hate this,” you said to him as he guided you away. “I don’t see why they’re even letting me choose my husband if he will be from this very specific pool of men. At this point, it would be easier to simply betroth me to whomever they see fit.”

“You know my feelings on that, my princess,” Azriel replied. “And I’m sure your parents feel the same. They wish for you to have some sort of semblance of choice and happiness.” Even if it is not with me, the man who would worship you.

You sighed and looked down at your feet. “I know, good sir. But it’s tiring, as I’m sure you can realise. I’d much rather be in my room, engaging in the arts or taking a nap.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh, one that drew your lips up into a brilliant smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sure you would.” He paused and then looked down at you. You looked so perfect on his arm and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep you there. “Here’s a proposition: if you survive the rest of this evening, I will dance with you.”

Your eyes immediately light up and Azriel swore the stars themselves burned brighter, pledging their allegiance to you. God, you were like ambrosia in his veins and how he wished for it to keep flowing. “Really?” you gasped. Azriel had been very conservative in his dances, even though, unbeknownst to you, he would dance on forever if you asked. But whenever he held you in his arms, it was too intoxicating. Too dangerous. He was still the Shadowsinger, even if he was sworn to protect you. The hands he held you with had been the notorious cause for so much pain. The thought of telling you about his past missions… It scared him more than imaginable. Those memories were ones best kept locked away within the shadows. He didn’t want you to think of the people he’s hurt – of the suffering he had caused – when you looked at him.

So all he did was nod back, smiling the soft look only you could bring out.

The night slowly wore on, the candles flickering over the walls, bidding the departing guests farewell. And still you stayed. Even as the moonlight rose above the windows and the maids and butlers slowly began cleaning up, you stayed. Only the musicians remained as Azriel led you to the middle of the floor. There was an unspoken trust between you and the musicians, knowing they wouldn’t tell your parents (who had already gone to bed) about your singular, last dance with your knight.

Easily, you placed your hand on his shoulder and Azriel’s palm flexed on the small of your back. The way your dress swished softly was a small distraction from the thoughts swirling in Azriel’s mind. He drew your joined hands closer to his chest as he thought back to how you danced with those other men. As if you knew he needed comfort, you stepped closer to Azriel, resting your head on his chest and eyes closing with exhaustion. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you tightly – almost protectively – as he let his cheek rest on your hair. His eyes softened and he murmured, “tired, my princess?”

“Over a multitude of things,” you replied.

Azriel tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “A multitude of things?”

“I almost wish I didn’t have to marry,” you admitted. “It’s not as easy as it seems in the stories. I need to take alliances into consideration and the happiness of my people. Along with wealth, resources, and good blood. My feelings hardly add into the equation, even though I want them too.” You then shook your head and changed the subject, a teasing smile on your lips. “Has anyone complimented your wings before?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“No,” he responded, a bit hoarsely. “No one has.”

You hummed and shook your head. “They should.” Your eyes trailed down to your intertwined hands before giving his palm a small squeeze. His burn scars marred his skin, contractures stretching over his hands and arms and small keloids by his wrists and creeping up to his elbows. Azriel winced slightly at the pressure of your hand on his scarred skin, memories of the pain flooding back. He tried to hide it, not wanting to ruin the moment, but a flicker of discomfort crossed his features. You instantly lifted your hand slightly to give him reprieve. Azriel wished for the contact back, but he knew he was the one to blame for the lack of touch. He was the one to make you flinch away.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, trying to bring the conversation back to his wings. "You’re the first.”

“I’m privileged then,” you murmured as he spun as the music lilted. “Though it truly is a pity.”

As you spun around, Azriel's wings extended instinctively, the iridescent membranes catching the moonlight. He held you close, ensuring your balance, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to revel in the beauty of his own wings. They were a part of him, and something he couldn’t imagine living without. He watched you longingly as you twirled in his arms. His eyes followed the movement of your gown as you twirl. When he had you pressed close to him once again, he replied quietly, “is it really a pity, my princess?”

“They should’ve been complimented — all of you should’ve been complimented a thousand times before now,” you corrected yourself quickly, thumb sweeping over his hand where yours was placed on top of his. “You don’t see how amazing you are because you hide behind your scars and memories. But you’re the best knight I’ve had.”

The words carved him open deeper than any blade, striking into the insecurities he held. The sincerity in your voice and the gentle touch of your thumb on his hand made something in his chest ache. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. The idea of all of him being complimented, rather than just specific parts or aspects, such as his fighting ability, was a foreign concept. He glanced down at you, eyes filled with sereness. “All of me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough.

You nodded with a caring, hopeful smile on your face. Maybe he would finally see how sensational he was.

Eventually, you came to a stop, standing in the middle of the room. The musicians finished their song and quietly packed up, leaving. Yet, you and Azriel were still in each other’s arms. Azriel continued to hold you, savoring the moment. He relished being able to hold you like this, without anyone else around.

“Do you truly pity me?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered out. “I would never be able to pity the man who devoted his life to me. I would never be able to pity the man who devotes himself to me. And I don’t think I have it in me to pity the man whom I truly care for.”

For a brief moment, he stood rigid, unused to such easy affection. Then, his wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the world outside. “As I you, my princess,” he allowed himself to say, scared that if anything more were to come from his mouth, it would be a declaration of unwanted love.

“Will you ever call me anything else?” you couldn’t help but tease, looking up at him.

Azriel smiled back down at you, hazel eyes warm with love. “No, my princess.” The night was silent, but Azriel didn’t want to be. His lips parted to tell you something, but when your eyes darted down to them, he found himself asking, “have I yet praised your dress?”

“You have,” you laughed. “But it’s kind of you to do it again. I wanted to match you, you know?” You reached down and pulled your dress to the side to reveal a glittering sheen of fabric under the thick cobalt fabric.

Azriel’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Beautiful, princess,” he admired sincerely once again. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” He repeated the words you had said to him all those years ago.

“I’ll always wear your colours,” you replied. “You’re my knight, after all. Ever since I was young.” Your hand slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, thumb brushing against his skin and along the hair by the nape of his neck.

The Shadowsinger couldn’t contain his shiver. “Must you, my princess?” he breathed out, voice rough.

“Must I what?”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut and his head dipped down, nose brushing against your forehead. “Must you marry some duke or prince?”

It took you a while to respond and Azriel’s heart only beat faster each second that passed. “No,” you admitted quietly. “But my parents would like it. They won’t have me marry a commoner, but… I could very well marry a knight.”

“Princess…” Every part of his soul seems to be reaching out, grasping for you. His grip tightened slightly, holding you against him as if he feared you would be ripped. His hands trembled slightly as they remained on your waist. There was a vulnerability in his eyes – a desperate need for confirmation that the words you said were real. “Do not give me hope if you plan on tearing it away. It is too cruel of you.”

“So it’s true,” you muttered. “You have feelings for me?”

“I am not brave like you,” he instead said. “I’ve been your loyal knight for years, my princess. But I couldn’t bear to make myself a liability to your heart. I couldn’t do that to you. I care what others think of me, as much as I hate it. They cannot pity me, I cannot have it so.”

You shook your head sadly. “Sir, they do not feel sorry for you. No one does, especially not me. You’ve protected me for so long, you’ve more than earned your place here by my side. This isn’t some fanciful notion born of youthful indiscretion. You and I both know that. This is a mature, considered love that, hopefully, you feel too.” Your voice cracked as you continued and tears shone in your eyes. Oh, how Azriel hated to be the one to cause you such pain. “My love for you, as you are, flaws and all, is why I adore you so deeply.”

The man couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What did one say when the love of their life confessed feelings?

You couldn’t see the way he gazed down at you, almost lovingly. You stubbornly kept your cheek on his chest, trying to minimise the way your cheeks heated up. Why wasn’t he saying anything? But you were already so far in, so you couldn’t help but whisper, “you would do most anything for me, correct, good sir?”

“Within a heartbeat.”

“Do you mind if I demand something from you?” you asked.

Azriel chuckled softly at your question, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. He tilted his head curiously as his fingers traced small circles on your lower back. “What did you have in mind, my princess?” he asked, his voice low. “I'm curious now... What could possibly entice you enough to make a deal with the devil himself?”

“Oh, the devil himself?” you repeated, shaking your head as you laughed softly. Somehow, he always managed to make you feel better, no matter the embarrassment that coursed through you. “Is that what you truly think of yourself?” You smiled up at him, not answering his question as you tried to find the courage to do so. Finally, you whispered out, “a kiss.”

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your whispered confession. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, hardly believing what he heard. He could feel his heart skip a beat, like a leaf in the wind. You looked so small in his strong arms, so hopeful. “Is that all you would ask for?” he finally managed to ask. His wings twitched a bit.

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. That’s what I would demand.”

He stared down at you, taking in every detail of your face - the slight parting of your lips, the wide-eyed gaze, the flush creeping up your neck. He could feel the tension between you, thick and electric, like the air before a storm. His hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. Gently, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, his voice a low rasp. “Nothing more?”

“Ignorant knight,” you whispered out once, laughing.

“Is that still what you want?” he asked again desperately. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it made him dizzy. His eyes traced over your face over and over again.

“Oh, Shadowsinger,” you muttered, shaking your head in amusement. You reached up and cupped his face in your palms. “Why won’t you kiss me?” You reached up on your tiptoes before slowly connecting your lips.

Azriel had been struck by lightning. Every nerve ending in his body came alive, sending sparks of pleasure through him. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, scarcely able to believe what was happening. Then, with a low groan, he melted into the kiss. His hand came to cup your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. He poured all his pent-up longing and affection into it, trying to convey without words just how much you mean to him.

From the sheer intensity of it, your knees weakened under you, but Azriel quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you securely against his chest. You tilted your head and it felt like a dream. But he didn’t need to wake up because you were real. You were there, loving him fully and kissing him sweetly.

Azriel laid in bed, body and wings curled around the smaller form. His eyes blinked slowly, gazing down reverently at the infant. The baby had small wings that were almost exact to Azriel’s own. They had made the birth difficult and Azriel had been about ready to break down the door when he heard your screams. He hadn’t been allowed in the room, even though you had begged for him. Your cries had brought him to his knees and replaced the nightmares about his past missions with ones of your sobs.

Nevertheless, you had accomplished the horrible feat and Azriel had rushed into the room. He had first checked up on you, hands and anxieties flying about, kisses being placed on the skin that he could reach. Then he saw his little son, whom he now held in his arms.

You had recuperated over the months, but it never got old to Azriel to hold his child. It never got old to hold you either. The moment he had gotten his child in his arms, so unbelievably worried about doing harm to him as he had done harm to so many others in his past, Azriel had asked for another.

You had almost thrown him out of the room.

That first night, Azriel had held both you and child close to his bare chest, for the midwives had said that skin-to-skin contact was best. For the next few weeks, Azriel hardly put on a shirt (which you didn’t complain about), so it got normal to see the ex-knight pressing his son against his chest as he walked around the castle, as if giving the newborn a tour. The baby’s head fit perfectly in Azriel’s palm and more often than not, he would look up at his father with wide eyes that were so much like his mother’s, reaching out to grab at Azriel’s chin or wings.

The Shadowsinger had yet to be thrust into the life of King, for your parents hadn’t passed on, but for that he was grateful. It gave him more time to spend with his wife and child.

There was the creak of a floorboard and Azriel looked up to see you entering your shared bedroom. A smile instantly broke out on his face. “There’s my wife,” he murmured, reaching out with his hand that was adorned by the perfect ring. Its twin sat on your own finger. “My princess.” The words had such a sweeter connotation now.

“Husband,” you replied, having yet to get used to that word. You took his hand, and with a smile of your own, crawled into bed next to your son. “How are my two favorite Shadowsingers doing?”

“Oh, he shall not need that title,” Azriel hummed. “It’s much too dangerous for our little boy.”

“And what would you rather propose?”

Azriel gazed down at the small child, a hand ghosting over the boy’s thick patch of dark hair. “That’s for him to decide,” he finally said. “He will be able to make his own name and title and we will love him whichever path he chooses.”

After some blissful moments passed, you allowed some words to tumble from your mouth. “Are you happy, my love?”

“Of course.” He looked up at you, concerned eyes snapping away from the babe. “Why do you ask? Do you doubt my love for you?”

You shook your head, smiling. Your voice was quiet, worried about stepping over a line. But if almost two years of marriage had taught you anything about Azriel, it was that he never held secrets from you. “No, never. I just remember how, before we were wed, you were certain that everybody pitied you. I was wondering, do you still think they do?”

“No,” your husband replied, eyes soft as he looked over at you. “Why would they? My entire world is here with me now. I hardly need anything else.”

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first ACOTAR fic so I hope I did Azriel justice. 😊 I wanna thank @pellucid-constellations for writing amazing Azriel fics and getting me into ACOTAR in the first place and just being amazing. (Also @illyrianbitch for posting today and giving me the excitement to post for Az) 😁

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