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fastandcarlos · 2 months

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Everyone's Favourite LeClerc : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: he was used to being the leclerc on everybody's lips, but when you take your daughter to visit the paddock it turns out charles might not be the favourite that he thought he was

You could hear the familiar chuckles coming from the Ferrari garage from halfway down the paddock, keeping your daughter in your hold as you swerved around the chaos. There were people everywhere that you tried to avoid, eventually reaching the garage and opening up the door, greeted, as always, by a sea of dark red staring back at you.

From across the room, Carlos was the first to spot you, waving over the crowds. He moved around a few people before reaching you and your daughter, kneeling down as you placed your daughter on her feet.

“Aurelie!” He yelled, capturing her attention as she stumbled towards him, barely able to keep her balance.

“She’s been asking for you all morning,” you chuckled, moving across to Carlos to greet him too.

“Oh I see, second best am I?” A voice called out as he closed in on the three of you. Charles didn’t miss a trick, as soon as he knew that you were in the room his protective eyes were trying to find you. He pressed a kiss against your cheek as Aurelie continued to cuddle Carlos, completing ignoring her father. “Am I invisible or something, you can see me, right?” Charles pouted, looking to you for a little bit of support. Your hand pressed against his cheek, offering a sympathetic smile.

“She only saw you, it’s been weeks since she got to see Carlos,” you reminded him, knowing that Charles was only messing with the strop that he threw beside you.

“I can’t believe my own daughter doesn’t even want to know me,” he huffed.

“Sucks to be you,” Carlos teased as Aurelie ran her hands through Carlos’ fluffy locks.

Charles watched the two of them for a few more moments before he reached out his hands. “That’s it, you’re mine,” he teased, taking Aurelie from Carlos’ hold and showering her with kisses all over her face. Aurelie squealed and squirmed in his hold, trying her best to push against his chest and get away. Charles was nowhere near letting her go though, reminding her exactly who her father was and who loved her the most.

“Poor girl,” Carlos chuckled as he watched the two of them.

“You’re my baby,” Charles whispered as he finally let Aurelie relax in his hold.

“So jealous,” you hummed under your breath, just loud enough for Charles to hear as he shot a glare across in your direction.

“Fancy having a look around? Seeing the car for this weekend?” Carlos offered as he slung his arm across your shoulders. “We’re on for a good race this week.”

You nodded in reply, “Aurelie has been desperate to see daddy’s car,” you noted, watching as Charles’ eyes lit up as you spoke.

“Shall we go and see daddy’s car?” He asked, proudly grinning as the girl in his arms bounced up and down excitedly, keen to have a good look around.

“And Uncle Carlos’ car too?” Carlos added, feeling Charles stare across at him, unable to stop himself from getting a little jab in and winding Charles up once again.

You hung back slightly as Charles and Carlos began to walk Aurelie around the garage, one of her small hands in each of their own. She was still too young to fully understand what was going on, but seeing how busy things were always made her eyes light up. Seeing people cheer for her dad and want to talk to her too was the perfect weekend for her.

Aurelie listened closely as Charles talked her through his car, making sure to keep it as simple as he could. Once the garage tour was completed you decided to head out around the rest of the paddock and see what you could find. Soon enough you had several of the drivers around you, all keen to greet Aurelie and see who could entertain her the best.

You had never seen Charles so proud, he loved introducing his little girl to his world and letting her see all the cool things he got up to. Above all else, he loved that some of his closest friends were there with him at the garage and that he got to see them bond with Aurelie which was all that he had ever wanted. His daydream was broken by you appearing next to him, nudging gently against his side. Charles’ smile turned up as soon as he realised that it was you there, taking a hold of your hand and pulling you closely in against his side.

As much as Charles wanted to have all his attention on you, he couldn’t ignore the giggles that constantly came from next to him as Lando and George tried their best to keep Aurelie happy.

It was nice for the two of you to have a couple of moments all to yourselves.

“I love having you both here and being able to have you in my little world,” Charles whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against the side of your head. “It always gives me extra motivation to do well whenever I know that the two of you are cheering me on as well,” he added.

“I wouldn’t miss this race for the world,” you whispered, “I know how important Monaco is for you and how much you want to do well today.”

“Thank you for being here,” Charles then told you, taking you by surprise with how sincere his voice was. “I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate the efforts you go to to support, and make sure that Aurelie can come and support me too.”

Your eyes narrowed on Charles, convinced there was a hint of a tear in his eye.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he joked, knowing exactly what you were thinking without even having to look at you. “I’m not going to start crying with all of these losers around to see it and tease the hell out of me for it.”

“It’s okay to admit that it means a lot,” you assured him, brushing underneath his eye with the pad of your thumb. “Truthfully, it means a lot for me to be able to be here and see you achieve your dreams too.”

As much as F1 was a dream for Charles, the biggest dream he’d achieved was the giggling figure currently pulling at Lando’s feeble attempt of a beard on his face.

You both could only laugh as Lando squealed in pain, pushing against George as he encouraged Aurelie to keep going and cause Lando as much pain as possible.

“I worry about the influence of all your friends sometimes,” you jokingly admitted to Charles, shaking your head at the scene that was unfolding.

“How are you two just stood there letting this happen?” Lando gasped at you both.

You both shrugged, much to Lando’s dissatisfaction. She was as cheeky as her dad, and loved to try and push the boundaries as much as she possibly could.

“I blame you for this,” you laughed, tapping against Charles’ stomach. “She copies your habits way more than she copies mine,” you added, raising your eyebrows across at him.

“I’m an angel,” Charles protested.

“You?” You gasped in disbelief, “you must be having a laugh right now.”

“You adore me enough to have a child with me,” he noted.

“True,” you scoffed, finding yourself caught out and unable to figure out what to say next. Charles looked at you expectantly, knowing that he’d got you and once again left you pretty speechless because of him.

When you remained silent, he leant forwards and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “I love our little family, even if it is chaos sometimes.”

“Me too, I would never have it any other way.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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euthymiya · 2 months

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you more than me — ft. kamisato ayato

your first argument leads you to deny ayato of his advances for days just to teach him a lesson. he decides he’ll never ever get on your bad side again—not when he can’t live without feeling you for so long

before you read: fem wife reader ; needy husband ayato ; mentioned arguments (but not in scenes) ; slight cold shoulder ; basically just you shutting down ayato’s attempts to get freaky so he knows you’re mad ; implied male masturbation ; slight hand jobs ; thigh fucking ; implied vaginal sex later ; reader wears dresses ; not proof read i am currently at an airport, sorry favs :,)

You and Ayato don’t argue often. It’s rare, in fact—he is but a most doting husband, and you are but a most spoiled wife. There isn’t much room for disagreements.

But, as all married couples (and all couples in general, in all realness) must face, there are moments of heated, emotional arguments. They’re nothing to worry about, of course. They’re natural. Normal. Needed, even. Sometimes a small burst of anger is healthy and cathartic to help ease the built up grievances.

The first ever time you both argue, you’re more than a little mad once it’s all said and done. You decide to show it, too—but you learn quickly that Ayato is much less stable when it comes to the aftermath than you expected.

————

The first time Ayato approaches you after your argument, it’s during your morning shower. He joins you from behind, arms wrapping around your waist as he presses a wet kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Good morning, my dear wife,” he murmurs.

You hardly pay him any mind, handing him your body wash to get your back. If he’s going to use your hot water, he might as well make himself useful.

“And good morning to you, husband,” you say, tone distant.

He notices immediately. There’s a pout curled on his lips as it stays pressed against your skin, his face burying into the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Ah, I see you’re still upset, are you? You’re lacking…your usual affections, my dear.”

You could scoff. Instead, you offer him nothing—it’s the best way to punish Ayato for raising his voice at you, you think. Offer him nothing.

Affection makes him keen. Anger has its way of sometimes amusing him. Indifference…well, indifference is something the head of the Kamisato clan is not used to. He’s used to attention, good or bad. It comes with being an heir.

You know just how to push all his right buttons.

“Get my back, will you Ayato? I have to be out for breakfast with Ayaka soon.”

“Surely you could spare a few minutes,” he insists. And then the hard part comes.

Ayato is good at apologizing with his fingers—they’re diligent, expert, eager. They give and give, saying all the things through their touch that he can’t bring himself to say verbally. One touch, and you’re finished.

You have to stop him before he gets the chance.

His hands grab your hips, pulling your body back against him, half-hard cock pressing to the small of your back as he lets out a soft sound at the friction of you against him. His fingers wander down, down, down—

“There’s no time for such frivolous activities right now, Ayato. Have a little self control,” you scold, stopping his hands before they can go any further.

With that, you shut off the hot water, leaving him soaked, painfully hard, and thoroughly confused. He’s not prepared for you to still be mad enough to shut down his advances so sternly.

With that, he watches as you climb out of your large tub, drying yourself and slipping on the dress he loves—the same dress you know he loves to watch you take off more than put on.

“But—”

“I shall see you in the evening when you’re relieved of your duties for the day,” you say firmly.

The bathroom door shuts. Ayato takes a cold, cold shower.

————

The second time you deny him is in your bedroom. He joins you after a long day of meetings, slumping onto the mattress beside you, eyeing you with hunger you could recognize anywhere.

“I’ve had a very long day,” he sighs woefully. You pull the blankets over your body, turning to him as you raise a brow. He bats his lashes innocently. “Hardly a moment to relax at all.”

“Is that so?” You hum.

Ayato wants attention. Your attention. More specifically, he wants the attention you give him after a long, tiring day—the kind that burns pleasure through his nerves and makes him forget.

You turn your head so his kiss lands on your cheek instead of your lips, pulling a low, disappointed groan from him as he realizes you’re still holding a light grudge.

“How long do you intend to punish me like this?” He asks hoarsely, burying his head into his pillow with a flop.

You lift your head, propping yourself on an elbow as you hum, “Well, that depends. Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes. Thoroughly so,” he instantly perks up, nodding eagerly. You smile, nodding happily—it seems to excite him further.

“That’s good. I’m delighted to hear that.”

Ayato is impatient when he wants something. You learn quickly that being an heir to a clan, no matter how quickly it’s forced him to grow up, has instilled but a few bad habits in him. One of them is being a bit spoiled sometimes—he’s never had to wait long for something he’s wanted.

He rolls over top of you, hovering above you as he kisses between your brows. “Then shall I show you how I’ve learned my lesson?” He asks huskily, grinding down his crotch over yours.

Your breath catches as his bulge glides across your clothed cunt. His lips quirk into a slight smirk, eyes brightening with a wickedly victorious glint.

That is, until you push him off and roll over once more.

“You can show me by means other than the ones that fulfill your own desires, you wretched man.”

Ayato’s weight slumps over you from behind, his head burying into your neck as he all but whines out a crestfallen, “My dear. My darling wife. Please do not punish your poor husband any longer. I’ve apologized—”

“I’m sure you can find another way to apologize, my sweet husband,” you giggle, turning and pressing a comforting kiss to his forehead.

He relaxes just a bit at the show of affection. But still, the press of your lips to his forehead does nothing to soothe the unbearable ache between his legs, erection hot and throbbing through his boxers as he digs his face into your chest.

“What more do you want from me?” He asks miserably.

“A restful night of sleep, if you so kindly will, my love,” you grin cheekily. “You’re disrupting my beauty sleep.”

“You’re disrupting my sanity,” he grumbles.

You grin to yourself in amusement when you hear his footsteps trudging to the bathroom, chuckling as you imagine him begrudgingly ridding the painful throb of his cock with his fist. You know he’ll never be satisfied unless it’s your cunt wrapped around his girth, happily pulling the sheets over your body and snuggling into the mattress.

“That should teach him,” you murmur quietly before you slowly fall asleep.

————

A third time to deny Ayato would be a wonderful final blow to really teach him a lesson, but it stays as nothing more than a feeble attempt.

This time, he manages to win this back and forth battle you seem to have engaged in.

“Ayato, have you seen my—oh.”

Your bed is covered in sakura blossoms, delicate candles from Liyue illuminating the dark, dim room. He takes your hand, tugging you into his firm chest as he nips at your neck and breathes in your scent.

“Tell me what you desire,” he breathes, “and it shall be yours. Nothing is impossible if you want it—just free me from this torture. That’s all I ask. Please.”

“Careful,” you grin cheekily, wrapping your arms around his neck as you murmur, “what if I ask for my own island in Inazuma? Is that something the Yashiro commissioner is capable of?”

“How quickly do you need it by?” He asks seriously.

You laugh. Soft and fond as you cup his cheek and trace his mole with your thumb, shaking your head as you whisper, “You are quite needy, Ayato. Have you realized?”

“And you are quite cruel,” he grunts back, spinning you to fall against the mattress as he hovers over you and adds, “I shall apologize all evening, my love. Just don’t hold this grudge any longer is all I ask. I will apologize between your thighs for as long as you please, how does that sound?”

“How giving,” you say in amusement. And then, more firmly, “if you should yell at me again like that, you’ll dream of having me for months before I forgive you.”

He shivers. And he believes you—Ayato will never risk your wrath again, not when these past few days have been torture—pure agony. A few months will surely kill him if you truly keep your word.

“Very well,” he nods, “I’ve learned my lesson, my precious wife. I’ve missed you dearly.”

“I’ve missed you too, my darling husband,” you roll your eyes, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a soft, warm kiss.

It quickly shifts into hot and messy, a wet exchange of tongue and teeth, clashing as one battles the other for a proper chance to taste and feel what’s been missed for days.

Ayato moans into your mouth, rutting his hips into you as his cock springs to life in little to no effort. The sakura blossoms under your skin tickle you against the sheets. You’d have appreciated the sweet gesture a bit more, let him know his devotion did not go unnoticed—but Ayato is far too worried about the feel of your mouth against his to let you even a moment to get a word in.

Needy, you think—he’s so desperately, shamelessly needy.

You love it. Marvel in it. Capitalize on it, sometimes. And he lets you—like a good, doting husband should, he lets you exploit his one weakness more than anything: you.

“I have ached for you,” he says lowly, groaning as you slot a thigh between his legs and rub over his clothes cock, the friction sending him into a moment of pure bliss as he shudders over you and closes his eyes tightly. “Morning, noon, and night, I’ve ached for you. I cannot wait a moment longer.”

His words are as rushed as his movements, half slurred breaths against your ear as he quickly works his pants undone and pulls them down just enough to free his thick cock, dribbling with pre cum at the tip.

You reach between your bodies, stroking him softly as you turn your head and kiss his temple.

“You won’t have to wait anymore,” you hum, “I think I’ve punished you long enough.”

Ayato all but sobs at the feel of you—he’s been craving it since the first time you pulled away from him, that awful, terrible morning in the shower. He’s dreamt of you, woken up sticky and unsatisfied, throbbing between his legs. His thoughts shift to you in the middle of work, leaving him to adjust himself in his uncomfortably tight pants. He’s gone to bed surrounded by the lingering scent of you everywhere, suffocated by the sick desire to have you to himself in the way only he can.

Your thumb teases his tip as it rolls a circles against his, squeezing your fist along the head of his cock as you stroke upwards before moving down, the friction and drag of your palm along the sensitive skin sending his nerves into flames.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, “s-stop it. Stop—I won’t last if you keep doing that.”

His hand grabs your wrist, forcing it away from where he needs you most. As if one last punishment to himself. One last reminder that he won’t argue with you like that again. If you should say that Inazuma is the nation of geo, if you should say that Sakura blossoms bloom in fall instead of spring, if you should say that thunder never strikes in Serei Island—Ayato will know this as truth.

You could tell him North is South and vice versa, and he would believe you with his heart, body, and soul.

Your word is all he knows. You are the god he prays to, your words the scripture he follows.

“Then fuck me already, my darling husband. What are you waiting for?”

He doesn’t even make it that far—too hazy in his mind filled with lust and desire for your body. He pulls your skirt up and your panties down, exposing the slick gathered between your thighs before his cock nudges between, sliding in and out between your legs.

He rubs every ridge and vein against your clit, the hot, velvety skin of his cock dragging against the heated skin of your inner thigh.

“Please, please,” he rambles, “jus’…I j-just need to feel you.”

Perhaps you need to feel him just as badly yourself, too, because the minimal drag of him against your clit is enough to send your mind into a blank, pleasured state too. You can’t even whine over the absence of being full of him, not when the fee of him, even if I completely, is just too good to complain about.

Your thighs squeeze around him tighter, making him moan brokenly as he snaps his hips faster, fucking your thigh like this might be the last time to feel you ever again.

You almost wonder if he was scared of that at one point. You’d giggle if you weren’t so drunk on pleasure.

“More,” you plead, “more Ayato—m-more. I’ve waited for you just as long.”

“You’ve punished the both of us,” he chuckles breathlessly, biting his lip as you flex your thighs to drag against his veins during a particularly sharp thrust. “Perhaps you’ll reconsider this idea. We both are quite affected by it, my dear.”

“You more than me,” you laugh, brushing away his sweaty hair, watching his eyes flutter shut with pleasure as you admire him.

Your darling husband, and you—his sweet wife.

A union the stars themselves aligned for.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He cums. Sudden and without warning, he spills the hot, pent up seed between your thighs with a shaky gasp, brokenly calling your name as his cock twitches with every sharp twitch. Rope after rope of thick, sticky release coats your skin. Paints it with his devotion. Proves his love, marks his promises to be better.

You’re not long to follow, the rubbing of his length against your swollen clit as he fucks himself through his orgasm sending you into your own.

You missed Ayato. You know he missed you more—he’s always needed you more than you needed him. He wants to need you more than you need him, wants to love you so deeply, not even your own reciprocation could rival his feelings.

“I love you,” he breathes back, voice husky and low as he whispers, “let me prove it. All night, if I must.”

—————BONUS—————

“Good morning,” a soft, low voice murmurs into your neck, weight pressing over your body as the blankets shift.

You welcome it, humming as you wrap your arms around the bare back of your husband, letting him rest his body over yours. Your hands run along the planes of his muscles, feeling the scratches that litter his skin.

A testament of your love.

“Good morning,” you peck his forehead. “Today is a special day, did you know?”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, lifting his head slightly to look at you in confusion, “and why might that be, my dear?”

“Because,” you grin, poking his cheek with your finger as you give him a smug look, “my husband will be getting me an island all to myself today. Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

“You were serious about the request,” he murmurs—it’s more to himself than you, as if processing the words out loud.

“There are many small ones on Narukami Island,” you gently shove his shoulder, pouting lightly as you huff. “Surely you can pull some strings and get one in my name. And who knows…” your finger traces along his shoulder blade, finding its way to map along the many, many scratches along his back. “Perhaps having an island to ourselves could give us ample opportunities for…more personal getaways.”

He perks up. You bite back a grin, staring at him knowingly. Ayato is too simple to read, you think.

“A most excellent idea, my love,” he murmurs, “I’ll see what I can do as soon as we have breakfast.”

Yeah I just think if you deny Ayato of sex once or twice when you’re mad at him, you’ll have trained yourself the most obedient husband known to mankind bc that man is NOT missing a chance to hit that pussy, pride be damned

#writing tag #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #ayato x you #kamisato ayato x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #ayato smut #kamisato ayato smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months

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Would you want to marry me Benji?

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Benjicot Blackwood Couple - Benjicot X Reader Reader - (OC) Y/n Mason (Misc house) Rating - Cute Word Count - 2237

Writer notes - I have not yet seen S2 I am going to watch it when all Episodes are out to the public. but he was requested so so much I have Wikied Him, I have done research I have watched the scene. But this is my first Benjicot Fic, I haven't seen the show yet, so Please I beg. Be kind to me.

Y/n sat cradled by the roots of house Blackwood's fabled weirwood heart tree, shaded from the autumn sun by the busses of red leaves grown in for the long cool winter, She wore a gown of deep grey with red and black accents, her dark curls in a long intricate braid down her back littered with leaves made from copper as jewellery, a matching copper locket around her neck, She hums a soft and gentle tune a bundle of cloth in her lap as she slowly embroiders

A soft smile crossed Benjicot's face when he sees her there, He slowly approached her, his boots crunching on the leaves. "Y/n," Benjicot said softly. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Enjoying the afternoon is all my lord," she answered sweetly,

"Are you not lonely, all alone by this tree? Would you not like some company?" Benjicot said with a grin on his face, sitting down beside her against the roots,

"I'm never lonely my lord, with the gods to keep an eye on me" she smiled glancing at the tree-carved face, "but I suppose company wouldn't be ill wanted,"

Benjicot gave a hum in agreement, looking up at the Weirwood as well, before shifting his gaze back to her. "I'm sure the gods are a wonderful company, but they cannot offer you witty banter."

"I suppose not my lord" she nodded,

"Then I can consider my presence a blessing from the gods themselves," Benjicot said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He leaned closer to her, his arm brushing against hers.

"Absolutely my lord" she agreed,

Benjicot chuckled, enjoying the feeling of her being so close to him. He was quiet for a moment, their shoulders touching, before speaking again. "What are you embroidering?" He asked, peering at the bundle of cloth in her lap.

"A gift, my elder sister sent a raven to me this morning. She is with child, I wanted to make a her a gift for the babe,"

"That's wonderful," Benjicot said, a warm smile on his face. "A gift is a thoughtful gesture, I'm sure she'll appreciate it greatly." He leaned closer to her, inspecting the embroidered cloth more closely. "What are you making for her?"

"a swaddle and blanket for the baby, I've already picked the softest fabric and now I'm embroidering it, with the heraldry of the houses coming together, so the babe may know of his history, this traditional,"

Benjicot looked impressed and he nodded approvingly at her project. "That's a beautiful idea," he said, his eyes wandering over the embroidery design. "I'm sure it will be treasured by your sister and her child." He shifted even closer to her, their thighs now touching, enjoying the intimacy of their closeness.

"I'm sure she will, my mother keeps threatening to make me a wedding gown," she chuckled,

Benjicot chuckled as well, amused by the thought of her in a wedding gown. "And what do you say to that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Do you plan on getting married soon?"

"I have nothing to say, I have very little say in it," she chuckled, "My father will make a match and I shall marry him, such is the way of things my lord," she explained,

Benjicot's smile faltered slightly at her words. "You don't mind having no say in something so important as your future husband?" He shifted his body so that he was facing her fully, his eyes studying her features intently.

"Such is the way," she shrugged, "for my sister's, for my mother, and her mother and her mother and so on,"

Benjicot furrowed his brow, not satisfied with her answer. "But what if you don't like this theoretical husband your father picks? Or what if he's cruel? Or unfaithful?"

"I shall have to do my duty," she said sadly,

Benjicot's expression softened and he reached out to gently brush some of her hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for a moment. "You deserve better than a future arranged solely out of duty, Y/n."

"thank you, my lord, but I suppose it's only a matter of time. My sisters are all wedded and now all either with children or have them. I don't imagine Father will leave me unmarried for much longer"

Benjicot's hand dropped from her neck, his gaze darkening at her words. The thought of her being married off to some faceless stranger left a bitter taste in his mouth. "No offence to your father, but I think he might be blind if he doesn't at least consider me a blackwood as a potential suitor," he said, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

she chuckled "I'm sure he considers your family my lord,"

Benjicot smiled at her reaction, glad to make her laugh. He shifted his position, his knee brushing against hers under the fabric of her skirt. "Then I pray that my family is considered highly in his estimation," he said with a grin. "For your sake, of course."

"Why? Would you want to marry me Benji?" She teased,

Benjicot chuckled softly, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips. "And why wouldn't I want to marry you? You're beautiful, clever, kind..." He leaned in a little closer to her, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "It could be a match made by the gods themselves."

she giggled, "That's too sweet of you my lord,"

Benjicot's grin widened at her giggle. "Only speaking the truth." He looked into her eyes, his own gaze warm and affectionate. "In all seriousness, Y/n," he said, his voice low and serious now, "the thought of you being married off to some man who treats you with anything less than respect and kindness... It does not sit with me well."

"no?"

Benjicot shook his head. "No." For a moment he was silent, his expression soft as he looked at her face, taking her in. "I don't wish to see you given to someone who doesn't deserve you," he said quietly. "You deserve someone who treats you well, who respects you and makes you happy. That's how it should be, for someone like you."

"And whom would you suggest?"

Benjicot raised his eyebrow at her question, his expression suddenly amused. "Oh, I don't know," he began, feigning ignorance. "Maybe me?" His tone was light, but the suggestion was serious. Benjicot looked into her eyes, waiting to see her reaction.

She blushed "... I would like that, but it's not up to me whom I marry,"

Benjicot reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Perhaps I could help you change that," he said softly, a spark of determination in his eyes. Benjicot leaned closer to her, his arm now resting on the ground near her hip, his body angled towards hers. "What if you did not have to marry whomever your father chooses?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "What if you could marry me instead?"

"I'd like that very much,"

Benjicot felt his heart swell with relief and joy at her words. A gentle smile spread across his face and he reached out to brush a knuckle against her cheek. "Then I will try to make it happen," he promised, his voice suddenly filled with determination. "I will go to your father and request your hand. I won't let anyone else have you." Benjicot beamed at her. The mere thought of making her his bride had filled him with a sense of joy and contentment that he had never felt before. "You should prepare yourself to have the most obnoxiously devoted husband in the realm," he said with a grin. "I plan on spoiling you rotten, my dear."

"I have no doubt my lord," she nodded, "Are you to see him now?"

Benjicot nodded. "I'll seek your father out, speak to him about this, and hopefully he'll give his blessing." He got to his feet, looking down at her with a slightly anxious expression. "Wish me luck," he said, grinning.

She nodded getting to her feet and taking his hand in hers standing on her tip toes to press a tender kiss to his forehead, "Good luck Benji,"

Benjicot felt his heart skip a beat at the feeling of her soft lips on his forehead. He reached up to touch the place where she had kissed him as if to prolong the sensation. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, looking into her eyes. "I won't be long. Wait here for me?"

"I will I promise," she nodded, "And last I saw him he was in the courtyard," She smiled doing her best to help him seek out her father,

Benjicot felt strangely calm, but still nervous despite himself. He wanted her father's blessing, he wanted her. "Thank you, Y/n," he said with an affectionate smile. "I'll see you soon." With that, he turned and walked off towards the courtyard.

When arriving at the courtyard he found the place busy as usual, and Y/n's father lord Mason sharpening his sword with the blacksmith, Benjicot approached the man, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the conversation to come. He stopped a few feet away, clearing his throat to get the lord's attention. "Lord Mason?" he said politely.

He glanced up glancing at the young lord before returning focus to his blade, "Lord Blackwood, to what do I owe this visit?"

Benjicot swallowed back his nerves and stood up a little straighter. "I came to talk with you about your daughter Y/n," he said, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"Y/n? ... Y/n..." Her father pondered, "Ahh short one? Curls like mulberry stem? And tits like a river lands milkman?" That one?"

Benjicot couldn't help the faint flush that crept up his cheeks. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice going a little higher than he would have liked. "That one."

"AHH, do forgive me, my lord. Six daughters hard to keep them straight" Benjicot chuckled at that, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Understandable, my lord. It is quite a large family, after all."

"so? What about her?"

Benjicot took a deep breath and met the lord's gaze. "I've come to request your blessing," he said evenly. "I wish to ask for Y/n's hand in marriage."

"marriage?" He chuckled "You sure? I have two more unmarried daughters you are welcome to take your pick of them,"

Benjicot's eyes darkened slightly at the lord's words. "With all due respect, my lord," he said, "I do not want any of your daughters but Y/n. She is the one I wish to marry."

"you like the tits?" He joked,

Benjicot's face reddened even further, but he held steady. "With all due respect, my lord, your daughter is more than just... tits," he said firmly. "She is witty and kind and beautiful, and I would be honoured to call her my wife."

"... Alright, you marry her, You make her lady blackwood, and you give her children. That a deal?"

Benjicot felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed immediately by a pang of anxiety. This was really happening. "Yes, my lord," he said, his voice steady. "I will marry her, make her lady Blackwood, and give her children. I swear it on my honour."

"then you have my permission to wed her," he nodded returning focus to his sword,

Benjicot felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A wide grin broke out on his face as he bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my lord. You won't regret this, I swear." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, practically jogging back to the Weirwood tree where he had left Y/n.

Y/n sat under the weirwood patiently waiting doing her embroidery,

Benjicot came to a stop a few feet away, watching her quietly for a moment. He still couldn't quite believe that not only had he asked for her hand, but her father had granted it. It all seemed almost too good to be true. He cleared his throat, a wide grin on his face as he spoke. "I have great news, my dear," he said, barely containing his excitement.

"oh enlighten me my lord," she smiled,

Benjicot stepped closer to her, his smile now so wide it was bordering on a grin. "Your father has given me his blessing to ask for your hand in marriage," he said, his voice full of joy. "I am to make you my wife."

"truely!"

"Truly," Benjicot agreed, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He stepped closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Our marriage is practically guaranteed," he said softly. "Soon, you will be mine. Lady Blackwood." Benjicot chuckled, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Seeing her giggle and blush because of him, just because he had called her "Lady Blackwood" stirred something in him. He gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek, his gaze affectionate. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are when you blush like this, darling?"

she giggled again and wrapped her arms around his torso squeezing him in a sweet hug "You're going to be the best husband Benji,"

Benjicot chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. Her warmth against his body felt like bliss. he said, his voice full of affection. "Nand you shall be the best wife in all of westeros,”

929 notes · View notes

muffinpink02 · 19 days

Text

First Day

Summary - Its Rudy's first day at school, but its not her you have to worry about.

Warnings - unwell baby? a little suggestive chat but nothing crazy

7.00 am ‘Beep, beep, beep.’

You groaned as you sleepily stretched, turning off the alarm. Your tired eyes blinked a couple times before turning around. You blindly reached your hand out like you did everyday to cuddle up to the normally warm body next to you, but as you turned you were met with an empty space. You frowned, confused that your wife wasn’t on her side of the bed.

But you had a feeling you knew where she was.

You sat up in bed, yawning at the now new earlier routine. You grabbed your fluffy nightgown, tying it around your waist. You left your bedroom, searching for your wife, but you didn’t have to look very far.

You smirked to yourself when you saw the bedroom door already open. You popped your head into your daughter's bedroom, smiling when you spotted the woman sitting beside the small bed, stroking the blonde curls from her twins face.

The sight made you smile, but you could see the pensive look sitting across her face.

“Morning.” You whispered.

Alexia’s eyes caught you, she smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Morning.” She grumbled back.

Most parents dreaded this day for many reasons, but normally the anxiety and worry was for how their child would react when facing the first day at school, not the parent.

You knew Alexia had been dreading this day for a while.

“Coffee?” You rubbed your sleepy eyes.

“Sí.” Her eyes lingered on the sleeping girl.

“Are you going to wake her up or shall I?”

“No, I’ll wake her. She feels a little hot, come feel her head-”

“Ale.” You gave your wife a deadpan look.

You had made a secret bet with yourself at how soon Alexia would try that card, but you would have lost your money because it was even sooner than you would have thought.

“Okay you wake her, I’ll start breakfast.” You turned to leave the room.

“She wants me to make my chocolate chip pancakes. I promised I’d make them today before she…”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hold back the giggle. Your wife could be so dramatic sometimes, a trait your 4 year old had definitely picked up from the grown woman.

“Goes to school. You can say it, baby.”

She shot you a look, but you only blew her a kiss back.

“I’ll let you wake the princess.” You smiled as you left for the kitchen.

You put on a pot of coffee for you and Alexia while you got the ingredients ready for the chocolate chip pancakes. Once the coffee was brewed you poured the hot liquid into your personalised mugs. You eyed the clock on the wall, you had made sure to give the three of you enough time, knowing Alexia would drag her feet.

You were ready to go in and see what was taking so long, until you heard the soft voices coming down the hallway. You smiled into your mug when you saw the girl cradled in Alexia's strong arms. Laughing at something the older woman said.

“Good morning, princess.” You smiled at your daughter, her sleepy hazel eyes were the spitting image of her mothers.

“Good morning, mummy!” Rudy smiled widely at you, her blonde curls falling in front of her face.

“How are you feeling for your first day? Are you excited?” You asked with your best enthusiastic voice.

Rudy eagerly nodded her head. “I’m so excited!” She squealed.

“We’re excited that you’re excited. Aren't we Mama?” You looked at your wife, urging her to share the encouragement.

“Si, I’m so excited, princesa.” Alexia put on her best smile, but you could see through it, luckily your four year old couldn't.

“Mama told me she's making your favourite breakfast.” You said as you started to make yours and Alexias own morning meal.

“Yay! Chocolate pancakes!” The girl threw her hands in the air, her feet kicking excitedly in Alexia's arms.

“Sí, my baby's favourite.” The older woman started covering the girl's face with quick kisses, making the girl squeal with laughter.

Alexia placed Rudy on the bar stool, pushing her closer to the breakfast table.

The three of you began your morning routine, it was no different to when Rudy started nursery. Though that was only three days a week and she had only done three hours per day, but you could feel your wife’s anxiety in every move she made.

As much as you teased the woman about her worries with Rudy going to school, you didn’t want her to feel anxious or upset. It was a hard day for the both of you but clearly Alexia was taking it a lot harder than you.

You gently gripped her hips, bringing you both a few steps back out of ear shot from Rudy.

“Hey.” You placed your hand under her chin, bringing your eyes together. “She’s going to be okay, you know that right?”

Alexia sighed, she looked over at the four year old, happily colouring in her colouring book.

“But what if she’s not? What if she hates it and she cries all day.” She pouted.

You reassuringly circled your thumbs over her tight stomach.

“That might happen, and I’d hate for her to feel like that, but she won’t feel like that forever, Ale.”

The blonde only pouted more, she looked just like Rudy when she wanted something you had already said no to. You called it the ‘Putellas pout.’

“Come on. You can do it.” You kissed her pouty lips, pushing her to get on with your daughter's breakfast.

Alexia groaned as she was pushed away, but she made Rudy's breakfast in a quick time. Even if she was apprehensive for Rudy to go to school she wouldn’t dare have the girl be late for her first day.

The 3 of you ate your breakfast together, Rudy listed off all the new activities she was going to do on her first day, you decided not to spoil her joy and tell her that she was in fact not able to play football all day.

“Right, stinky. Teeth time.

“I’m not stinky.” The chocolate-faced girl giggled.

“No, but you are smelly. Mama’s going to get ready with you. I’ll do your hair once you’re done. Sounds good?”

“Sí.” The four year old agreed.

“Come on, princesà.” Alexia helped the curly headed girl down off the bar stall.

“I’m going to get there first! She gently kicked the smaller blonde on her bum, laughing as she ran down the hallway.

“No! Mama!”

You chuckled as you heard the smaller feet running after her mature mother. You quickly tidied the kitchen of the morning mess and started to get yourself ready for training. You tagged teamed with Alexia as she finished helping Rudy get into her uniform. You could see your wifes demeanour becoming sombre as she fixed the girls socks.

You grabbed your wife once more, pulling her into the hallway. Rudy took the opportunity to play with her mini football.

“Baby, come on. She's going to be fine. I promise you. She’s been excited since we explained it all to her. Even now she's not upset!”

“But what if she gets bullied? What if the other kids are mean to her and she has no one to play with? What if she has to sit alone at lunch?” Alexia's eyes started to mist, the Putellas pout quickly turned into a quiver.

Of course it broke your heart to see Alexia like this. The woman had always been the bigger worrier between the two of you, but when Rudy came along that had only intensified.

—------

There had been one particular time when Rudy was only 3 months old, and she had caught a nasty chest infection.

Alexia first noticed the small raspy breaths while Rudy slept in her moses basket. She asked you to listen to it and you did, but you thought it may have just been some kind of milk phlegm. But you were wrong.

The next day Rudy was letting out little coughs. As soon as Alexia heard the third one she jumped in her car and drove to the pharmacy to get Rudy baby medicine.

The normally perfect sleeper of a baby had screamed throughout the night. You watched helplessly as her tiny lungs painfully jolted every time she coughed. Her little face turned pink as she struggled for breath.

You and Alexia had done everything by the book and internet, but nothing settled her. You could tell she was in pain, her small little lips shook as she struggled to even cry.

Alexia paced up and down the hallways with Rudy in her arms. She tried everything to soothe the screaming baby, she bounced her, cuddled her, even sang for her, but she wouldn’t stop crying.

You could see the panic in her face, it pained her to see Rudy like this, her small little body was still so fragile.

An hour later and Rudy had started to heat up, you soaked a flannel with lukewarm water and laid it on her skin. It cooled her down but the crying never stopped.

“Shhh, bebita. I know, I know. It’s okay. Come on.” Alexia’s large hands rubbed Rudy's bareback as she squirmed on her shoulder.

“I think we should take her to A & E.” You suggested in the most calming tone you could muster.

You could tell Alexis was already nervous and so was you, but you wanted to stay as calm as you could, for both your sakes.

“Sí, sí. I agree. Grab a bag and I’ll get her ready.” She nodded.

“Okay.”

You packed up a baby bag with all the essentials. Alexia was waiting at the door with a crying Rudy in the car seat. She looked so nervous.

When you arrived at the hospital you were seen straight away. The doctor examined Rudy, all while she was still crying.

“I think she has a chest infection.” She said, as she listened to Rudy's chest through the stethoscope.

“W-What? Will she be okay?” Alexia asked nervously.

“It’s the same if you or I caught it. It's just painful and unlike us she can't do anything but cry about it. It can sometimes go on its own, but I can hear a bit of phlegm on her chest and throat. I’ll give you some stronger medicine for it. She hasn’t had a rash has she?”

“No.” You said in unison.

“Good. You caught it early. Well done. She’s definitely uncomfortable but she’s going to be okay.” The doctor smiled kindly at the pair of you, clearly noticing the worry on both your faces.

“Thank you.” You smiled at the doctor as you took Alexia’s sweaty hand. She instantly started rubbing her thumb on your knuckles.

The nurse fed Rudy some medicine, through a syringe.

“It gets easier, trust me. Well, actually It’s when they start walking, that’s when they’re the most trouble.” The woman chuckled as she rocked Rudy, actually managing to calm her down.

You and Alexia stared in awe, watching as she completely relaxed the small baby in her arms, you tried to mentally take pictures of the motion she rocked her with to save for later. You returned home with a sleeping baby. Her temperature had already dropped, though you could still hear the rasp on her chest but it was a lot softer then it was before.

“I’ll put her in her bed.” Alexia gave you a tired smile as she made her way into Rudy's room.

You nodded. “Okay, I’m going to jump in the shower.”

You took a quick shower, as that’s all you ever knew them as these days, and made your way to your bedroom. You frowned in confusion, you would have thought Alexia would have been there. Once you were dressed you made your way to Rudy's room, your heart broke at the sight.

“Oh Ale, baby.” You whispered.

The blonde was sitting on the floor, her hands in her head, crying so hard her body shook. You sat next to her, pulling her into your chest.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. What’s going on? Hmm?” You asked as you rubbed her back like you did for your child.

“I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do.” The blonde sniffled.

“Ohh, Ale. It's okay. It was a lot for us, we’re still learning. We won't know what to do for a lot of things that might happen.” You tried to reassure the crying woman.

“But she wouldn't settle with me, she always settles with me. I couldn't help her.” Her tears streamed down her cheeks. “She was in so much pain. I just, I hated seeing her like that.” Alexia's already shaky voice broke at her words.

You felt your own eyes start to tear up seeing your wife like this. You could see how much the situation scared her, how out of control she felt.

“I know, I know, but she needed more than just cuddles, she needed medicine, baby.” You cupped her wet cheeks, bringing her closer to your face. “You’re so good with her, Ale. You are the best at calming her down, she immediately stops crying when she's in your arms. She makes the biggest squeal when she sees you walk through that door.” You stroked her tears as you kissed your wife's lips, trying your best to reassure her.

“She adores you, I can see how safe she feels with you. She’s such a Mama’s girl, it's unreal.” You smiled as you thought about the bond the two shared.

“Sadly we won’t always be enough. Sometimes she's going to go through tough times that we can’t control, but we will make it as easy as we can for her.”

“I just wish I could always be there for her.” Alexia sniffled. Her crying finally came to a stop, but her lip still pouted.

“I know baby.” You pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “Come. Let's get you in the shower. We can watch whatever film you want.”

Your wife smiled, allowing you to help her to her feet. Before you could move Alexia brought you into a hug, nuzzling her nose into your neck.

“You are the best Mummy. I am so lucky you are the mother to our child. I love you so much, amor.” She connected your lips with hers, bringing you into a deep kiss. You let yourself get lost in it, the stress of the day slowly melting away. It always did, being with the person you felt most safe with. You gently pulled away, as you heard Rudy stir a little.

But Alexia only groaned as you pulled away.

You chuckled as her lips tried to chase yours.

“Did you want to watch a film or?-”

You had to hold back a laugh, as Alexia dragged you both into your room. The film clearly long forgotten about.

—--------

“There we go, all done. You look beautiful, princess.”

Rudy smiled at herself in the mirror, evidently happy with her ponytail.

“Gràcies, mummy.”

“You’re welcome, my baby. Right, get your shoes on, we have to leave in two minutes.”

“Okay, mummy.” Rudy happily skipped to the front door.

You smiled at her joy, you were so relieved she was excited for school. Though, honestly it made sense, Rudy wasn't a shy child. Having grown up around games since she could open her eyes, she was used to being around crowds of people, not to mention all the different characters she interacted with when it came to the team.

If she wasn't at nursery she was with you and Alexia at training.

And the girls loved Rudy, it was always cheers and whoops, when the girl entered the room. She had fitted into the group so easily, it was as if she had always been there. As soon as she could start to form words the girl would always have someone to talk to, chewing their ears off about her friends at nursery or what her favourite animal was that day.

The girls were always happy to take turns entertaining the baby Spaniard. You’d mostly find her hanging off of Mapi’s arms, or squealing when Lucy threw her (sometimes dangerously high) in the air, she had learnt quickly that they were the biggest kids in the group. Or if she wanted her down time, you'd spot her drawing with Salma and Ingrid, sharing her crayons with the older women.

She had a special little bond with each of the girls, and you and Alexia loved it.

You were brought back from your thoughts when Alexia’s phone started to ring.

“Hola Mapi, sí, sí, She’s just putting her shoes on.”

You walked into the hallway where the two blondes were, Rudy sitting on the bench beside the door.

“Rudy, it's your tietes, they want to wish you good luck for your first day.” Alexia smiled as she put the screen in front of Rudy, who had actually managed to put her shoes on the right feet today.

“Tia Mapi! Tia Ingrid!” The four year old shouted excitedly, as she saw her aunties on the screen.

“Hola, chica!” Mapi shouted back, her excitement matching the 4 year old as usual.

“Hola chicken, are you excited for your first day?” You heard Ingrid ask.

“Sí! It's going to be the best day. I'm going to make lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots….. and lots-”

“Sí, princesa, I think they get it.” Alexia chuckled.

“Aye! Let her finish! What are you going to make lots of chica?” Mapi shot back.

“Lots of friends!” Rudy through her hands in the air like she had just discovered gold.

“Sí! You'll make so many friends, chicken!” Ingrid smiled brightly.

“Just don't forget you already have a best friend.” Mapi pouted, while also getting a nudge and an eye roll from Ingrid.

“Rudy, don’t listen to her, you can make as many best friends as you want.” The raven haired girl assured.

Rudy only nodded, giggling at her tia’s.

“And make sure you tell me if anyone is mean to you, I have no shame in fighting a 4 year old.” Mapi stated. You found it a little concerning at how serious she sounded.

“Mapi!” Ingrid shouted.

“What? I will! No one messes with my Rudy.” Mapi nodded to herself.

You could see Ingrid shaking her head in disbelief. You and Alexia shared a chuckle at the couple.

“Anyways…we hope you have a great day, chicken. We will see you tomorrow and you can tell us all about it. I think I have to teach your tia Mapi about manners.” Ingrid smiled all too sweetly. You laughed when you saw Mapi’s eyes widen in panic.

“Ok, bye tia Ingrid, bye tia Mapi.” Rudy waved her little hands at the screen.

“Bye chicken, we love you.” Ingrid and Mapi waved back through the phone.

“Love you too.” Rudy shouted, her little legs swaying back and forth on the bench

The call ended, Rudy jumped off the bench and grabbed her Lion King backpack.

“Ready!”

—------

You stood with Alexia in the school playground, the sound of children playing and laughing filled your ears. You spotted some parents having to console their children who were clinging on to their legs, some even in tears.

Rudy was between you and Alexia, one of her little hands slotted in yours and the other in Alexias. You looked over at your wife, her face was unreadable, her hazel eyes were darting around at the other parents and children. You looked down at her twin, who also had the same pensive look, but her eyes were showing an excitement that her mothers wasn't.

“Hey, shall we do swings before you go in, princess?”

“Yeah!” Rudy started to jump, giggling at the offer.

“Ready, Mama? You looked over at the older blonde, giving her a knowing look.

Alexias eyes caught yours, you could see she was thankful for the distraction. She smiled lovingly at you.

“Sí, let's do it.” She nodded, smiling down at the young girl.

“Okay, 3, 2, 1!”

You and Alexia swung the squealing girl into the air, you smiled widely as you heard her infectious little giggle. You looked over at your wife who finally had a real smile on her face for the first time today. You swung the mini blonde a few more times, until a bell began to ring.

You and Alexia stopped swinging Rudy. You took a deep breath, readying yourself to say goodbye to your baby. Of course you were nervous, and even sad at the thought of not having Rudy around like you always did, like Alexia you had been feeling all the same things she had felt, but you know you had to be the stronger one between the pair.

Alexia bent down, taking Rudy's hands into her own, they looked tiny in comparison. You could see the older woman was trying her hardest not to cry, you knelt down beside her, putting your hand on her thigh, rubbing her leg soothingly.

“Okay princesa, make sure you listen to your teacher. And if you get scared or upset, she will be there to help you, okay?”

Rudy nodded, already getting distracted as she watched the other kids start to gather up near their new teacher.

“You’ll have the best day. We will be right here when you finish.” You stroked her small whispers of hair behind her ear. You felt your own eyes start to water.

“Sí. I will!” Rudy smiled as she looked at the pair of you. She gently placed a hand on yours and Alexia's cheeks, it was like she was trying to reassure you. Her hazel eyes looked deep in thought, she looked just like Alexia when she pulled that face.

“I love you, mama. I love you mummy.” She whispered with the cutest voice.

You could have picked the four year old up there and then, and happily taken her home and declared she would never need school, but you knew you couldn't do that.

“We love you, princesa.” You could hear the shake in Alexia’s voice.

“So, so much.” Alexia could hear it in yours.

All three of you leaned in, hugging each other in your own little group hug. You tried your hardest to keep the tears at bay, as you held the two most important people in your life, pulling them in even closer.

After a couple seconds you felt Rudy start to wiggle, having already given you enough of her time.

“Bye, I’m going now.” She pulled back, turning around eagerly to start her first day of school.

Alexia and you stood up, both finding each other's hands.

“Bye, baby!” Alexia called out.

Rudy turned and waved at you both, you felt your first tear slip, thankful she had already turned forward.

You watched as the mini blonde walked to the rest of the group. Happily standing beside them all, you smiled at her shorter stature against the rest. She was Alexia's twin in many ways, but she had yet to inherit the height of her mother.

You noticed a girl sniffling next to Rudy, she had clearly been crying, her rosy little cheeks and wet eyes were a sad thing to see, even if she wasn't yours. She was one of the more nervous ones to start her first day at school. You watched on as Rudy said something to her, it was too far to hear what she said, but when you saw Rudy offer her hand out to the crying girl, your heart melted when she eagerly took it into her own.

“Did you see that?” Alexia squeezed your hand.

“Yeah.” You started to feel your lip quiver.

“She’ll be okay, won’t she?” Alexia asked, but you could tell she was convincing herself more then asking you.

“Yeah, she will. She’ll be absolutely fine.”

You watched Rudy walk into the building with her new little friend by her side. You couldn’t believe your baby girl was actually going into school. It only felt like yesterday when you first held her in your arms.

The curly headed blonde gave one more look to you both, giving you one last wave before she disappeared into the building.

You felt Alexia thumb run over your knuckles, like she always did. It made you smile as you looked over at your wife. You spotted a single tear running down her cheek, you wiped it away just like you did with your daughter.

“Shall we get a milkshake?” Alexia grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“Best idea ever.” You chuckled as you both began to walk out of the small playground.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you in to kiss your cheek.

“Amor?”

“Yes, my love?”

Alexia had a mischievous look on her face as she caught your eyes.

“Shall we have another one?”

“Another what?” You questioned her as you pulled your keys to unlock your car.

“Another baby.”

You laughed out loud, looking at the woman who now sported a huge smile on her face.

“Maybe.”

Alexia's eyes popped open in surprise. “Really?”

You sat in the driver's seat, chuckling at your wife's excitement. You looked over at the blonde, you could see the anxiety of today's stress slowly slipping from her features. You leaned forward, indicating you wanted a kiss. Your wife mirrored your movements, bringing your lips together.

You leaned back, your lips just inches apart. You felt your heart race as you looked over your wife's pretty features. “Let me have my milkshake and I'll think about it.”

Alexia dipped her fingers into your hair, bringing you into a deeper kiss. After a couple of minutes she pulled back. Smiling at you when you tried to chase her lips.

“Deal.”

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #fcb femení #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x imagine #alexia putellas

533 notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 2 months

Text

The Prince Regent

aemond x sister smut

A/N: I haven't given yall smut in so long :( pls forgive me

WARNINGS: smut!, incest, murder (bye bye aegon)

WORD COUNT: 1,475 words

You feel ill when your brothers come back from battle. Your husband, Aegon is a step away from death and Aemond is… different. It all unnerves you.

You spend hours visiting your husband on his sickbed but there’s only so much you can take before you have to retire to your own chambers. You hated Aegon sometimes but you truly never wanted such a thing to befall him. You miss when he was healthy.

“Sister.” You don’t think you even heard Aemond knock before he’s in your room.

Your eyes well with tears when you see him, knowing it’s okay to break a little when in the presence of your dearest brother. “Aemond…” you let out in a whimper.

His face softens as he immediately makes his way over to you, pulling you into his strong arms. “It’s just all so awful.” You say.

“Oh my poor, dōna riña.” He murmurs into your hair, rubbing circles on your back. You’re such a fragile little thing. Aegon was terrible to you. Your twin can hardly understand why you’re so upset that he’s bedridden.

“I just… don’t want my children to grow up without their father. They’ve already lost their brother. They don’t understand why he won’t come to play with them anymore. There’s no way for me to explain it to them… I don’t know how to help them.”

“Aegon was a shit father anyhow.” He comments.

“Aemond.” You give him a scolding look through your tears.

“You can’t say I’m being untruthful. Besides, I can care for and love your children better than he ever could.”

“You are so careful with them. I am appreciative of it of course.” You murmur, feeling comforted by your brother’s gentle touch. “But you shouldn’t speak so unkindly of our King while he lies on what might be his deathbed.”

“If it is his deathbed, then I am the king.” Aemond responds.

“Would it not be Jaehaera as queen?” You question. Should it not be your daughter who would rule next?

“It would be difficult to have a girl heading our cause when Rhaenyra is also a woman. Besides, i’ve been named Prince Regent. I’m the king in all but name… and all kings need a queen.” He gives you a look that you can’t quite place.

“I am sure the Baratheon girl will be ever so pleased when she is informed of her rise in status.” You murmur.

“I won’t have dark haired, Baratheon mutts as my heirs.”

“Then who shall you marry? One of Vaemond’s granddaughters perhaps? I don’t think a Velaryon is worth breaking such a beneficial betrothal.” You don’t see it yet. You haven’t caught on to what his words mean, his treasonous words.

“I shan't break my engagement for some woman I care not for... I’ll break it for you.”

Your jaw drops. “Aemond, that is absurd.”

“I will quell their anger by arranging a match with Daeron. A third son is as good as a second.”

“You know that isn’t what i’m shocked by.”

“Are you truly shocked?” He tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I know it is I that you desire, not Aegon.”

“Aegon is my husband.” You protest.

“Aegon is a useless cunt who will be dead soon.” Aemond says firmly. “And when he’s dead, i’ll be king.”

“He might yet live and if he does, i’ll still be his wife. I won’t be an adulterer.” You push away from your brother, creating an appropriate distance.

“I would never make such a woman of you. All I ask is that you answer my one question. If Aegon were dead, would you choose to marry me?”

There’s a long pause as you think about your answer. It would be treasonous to respond truthfully… but it is Aemond asking the question. You can’t lie to your beloved brother.

“I would.”

There’s a certain glint in his eye when you give him your answer. He leaves the room without saying anything else.

Over the next few hours, you try your hardest not to overthink. The way Aemond phrased the question, the way he looked at you after you answered, it was unnerving. You know your brother wants nothing more than to take care of you but he could never harm Aegon, could he?

Your question was answered by morning. Aegon is dead.

It wasn’t Aemond. You tell yourself, repeating it for a week. You only left your room when it was time for the funeral. You don’t speak to anyone, especially not him. Tonight, you don’t sleep, trying to distract yourself with what most would call silly feminine interests.

“Sister?” You look up from your needlework to see him standing there, stoically in the middle of your room.

“The hour is late, Aemond.” You say, confused by his presence and more than nervous by it.

“I know. You should be sleeping. I thought you would be sleeping.”

“I couldn’t find my rest.” You whisper.

“Why?”

He knows why.

“It was by your hand, was it not?”

“I hardly know of what you speak.” He brushes you off.

“I am no fool.”

“I know you aren’t. That is why you’ll never say it aloud.”

“Is that a threat?” You ask and there's a visible pang of hurt shown on his visage.

“I would never do anything to harm you.” He states firmly, getting closer and taking the needlework out of your hands so he may hold them instead.

“But you would covet your brother’s wife as he lies on his deathbed. He has been cold for but a week; have you already come to claim me?”

“You desire to be claimed by me.” He states, irritated by your current disdain for him.

“I desire a good man by my side.”

“Then why do you think of me when Aegon fucks you?” Aemond grabs your wrists, pulling you closer to him. You gasp. He’s never spoken to you like this before.

“Aemond…” You breathe out, appalled.

“You toil with this decision so i’ll make it for you.” His right hand slides down to your waist and he pulls you flush against him. “We will consummate tonight.”

He kisses you with rough passion, stealing your breath from your lips. Your brother has waited too long for this and will not wait a second longer. He pushes you back until you reach the bed, the two of you falling atop it.

“I will have you now, my wife… my beautiful bride.”

“This is… we can’t.”

“The King can do as he pleases.”

He wastes no time, reaching his hand up your skirts until he finds your small clothes. He rubs gently through the fabric, smirking as he feels the wetness before he pulls the garment down.

“Be gentle, Aemond.” It was never a request you would make of Aegon. Such a sentiment would do you no good with a man who takes pleasure in pain.

“Of course, my dōna riña but by the end of the night, my babe will be in your belly.”

You gaze up at him as he unbuckles his trousers, such a sweet nymphet was wasted on a bastard like Aegon.

You wince as his cock splits your tight cunt and he marvels at the grimace. He must be much more well endowed than the dead king to warrant such a response.

“Shh, I'm sorry. I know it hurts. Poor sweet angel.” He lets you adjust to him, wanting you to enjoy the times you will lie together just as he does.

When he no longer sees pain strewn across your face, he begins to thrust. A little choked gasp leaves your throat as he does; you never expected to enjoy such a feeling.

“Hmm, you like that?” He taunts, beginning to pick up to a pace that you can’t handle.

“Oh, it’s too fast.” You whimper, but he doesn’t slow. Your big brother knows what you can take. Besides, there’s a bit of sadism in every Targaryen man.

He begins to pound into you, relishing each moan his baby sister makes. It’s sick, but nothing brings him more pleasure than knowing he will be a better husband than Aegon in every way possible.

Aemond hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and the new angle lets him get even deeper inside you.

“Gods, you’re just sucking me in.” He wanted so desperately to last longer as he begins to furiously rub your pearl but the way you squeeze around him makes it hard.

His hips stutter but he knows you’re close too as you begin to spasm around him. He digs himself into you with one final thrust before painting your walls white with his seed.

“We will have the wedding this week, my darling. I’ll wait no longer for you.”

comment to be added to the taglist

#aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd smut #hotd season 2

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enviedear · 1 month

Text

you ate me right up, you spit me back out

⤷ jacaerys velaryon

- ˏˋ 🎧 1.8k words, minors dni ˊˎ -

“you shouldn’t be out at this hour.” the voice calling out is deep, and even though you turn in their direction, you aren’t able to make them out. a mere rough outline remains, shrouded in the moons shadows. still, you know who stands before you.

“i thought you a prince, my love. not a ward.” you wish the sun was shining, you’re sure he has his usual smirk on his face. both unbecoming and perfectly poised. as are all things with your prince.

jacaerys steps closer, pebbles and fallen leaves sounding under his boots, “my betrothed leaves dinner in haste. her chambermaids unaware of her location—tell me,” a pause from him, filled by his hands finding home at your waist, “have i upset you?”

“no. never that, my love��” you trail off, fingers blindly following the embroidery of his coat. “i fear i am plagued with utter happiness. this is a time of war, yet my days ring with joy. it feels immoral.”

he hums, the sound reverberating to your fingers at his clavicle, “it shouldn’t. you should know i pray for such, for your joy. i’m glad the gods answer my prayers.”

your breath hitches slightly, “you have far more to pray for, my love.”

he presses his forehead against yours, “such as?” his tone is sweetly sardonic.

“your life. your throne. your kingdom.” the reminders of duty ring heavy, but you have a feeling jace is smiling despite.

a soft kiss to your temple, “i pray for all of that too. perhaps the gods are proving how well they answer.” another kiss, “does that help?”

you breathe him in, hints of smoke, sea salt, and grasses flood your senses. the smell of dragonriding lingers on him, you assume as long as he lives he won’t be able to rid himself of it.

“yes,” you say after a moment. “i relent. i will remain happy.”

your words are met with another deep hum from him, followed by a soft chuckle that vibrates through his chest into yours. it's a warm sound that always exudes comfort. he pulls back just enough to stare at you, his eyes barely reflecting the silvery light of the moon. in night’s pale glow, they seem almost otherworldly—like two shimmering oceans of liquid silver. "my sweet girl.” he murmurs, reaching to deftly trace his fingers along the exposed skin of your shoulders.

a gust of frigid night air carries the familiar scent of saltwater and briny air so commonplace on driftmark. you shiver slightly as the breeze nips through your nightgown, but don't pull away from his touch or his gaze. moments of this kind are precious, even if they’re ill-advised. the palace guards must be searching for you right now, both of you, worried about where their young couple has wandered off to at this late hour. a possibility you should have considered before taking your leave.

"should we go back?" you whisper, breath warm against his neck.

he chuckles softly, pulling you closer. "do you really want to?"

you hesitate for a moment before shaking her head. "no, not really. i don’t want this day to end yet."

his hands trail down her arms, leaving a line of goosebumps in their wake. you tremble again, but this time it’s not so much from the cold. he leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "then i shall not allow for it. my beautiful bride, i only want you happy." he murmurs, voice low and smooth.

you hum at his praise, turning you face towards his. noses bump one another, and you fight a smile before leaning in. your lips met in a slow, tentative kiss. a kiss filled with longing—all the moments spend wishing to be alone together finally coming to fruition. still, you don’t let yourself get too taken by your betrothed’s saccharine lips. the both of you will have to retire and slip away to your own bedrooms soon. how you wish to share a room, to live as a married couple.

his hands move at your waist, pulling you closer still. you can feel the warmth of his body against your own, entrapping you against him. you’re sure you’ve never felt more at home. you card your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. he groans softly, one hand moving up to cup your breast. his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of the nightgown, eliciting a gasp to break from your mouth.

you seperate, panting slightly. you peer up at him, eyes alight with desire. jacaerys’ brown eyes mirror your own, his hand still on your breast. "perhaps we should return.” he says softly, voice hinting.

you nod, taking his hand. you make your way back to the castle, steps slow and deliberate. jacaerys sneaks the both of you back into dragonstone, his hands remaining interlocked with yours.

as you make your way back to the castle, his hand tightens around your own. his grip is like a vice, making your pulse race. looking up at him through your lashes, eyes heavy with want. he leans in, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. there's no activity in the halls aside from the two of you, but still, your nerves scream out. this is all so unlike the both of you. jacaerys has never been so outward with affection—if anything it only adds to your desire.

his tongue darts out, teasing your lips apart, and you whine when he deepens the kiss. he pulls you closer, hands roaming over your body. His member presses insistent and hard against you and An intense ache of need uncoils within you. he groans into your mouth, breath hot and heavy.

"come with me." he whispers, his voice low and raspy. "spend the night in my bed."

you hesitate for a moment, but the need coursing through your veins makes it nearly impossible to resist. you nod, and jace grins, taking your hand and leading you to his chambers.

once inside, he shuts the door behind you and turns to face you. his eyes are even darker with the hue of lust. jacaerys steps closer, slowly. you almost feel like one of the sheep offered up to his family's dragons, unassuming and naive. he stops right in front of you, hands gently dipping underneath your nightgown. he slowly undresses you, his hands shaking slightly as he slides your dress off your shoulders.

jacaerys always takes you like a man starved. in a way, he is. without the war, the two of you would be happily married—should be relishing in the joy of naive nuptials. but you aren't. so he kisses at your neck hungrily, lips leaving a trail of heat on your skin. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples. you moan, your head falling onto his shoulder as he continues his sacrilege.

he pushes you gently onto the plush bed, his body covering yours. he reaches between your legs. his fingers find you wet and ready, and he groans. "you're always so perfect." he whispers, breath hot against your ear. "do you want me, dōna ābrazȳrys?"

you nod, unable to speak, feeling the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, you feel drunken, as if you had consumed the entire castles’ supply.

"say it." he commands, voice rough. "tell me you want me."

"i want you." you manage, voice trembling with need.

with a growl, he thrusts into you, filling you completely. jacaerys moves inside you, his pace slow and deliberate. he watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours. you can feel every bit of him, like an indelible brand. the heat and weight of his body on top of yours. each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back. you grab at him, his muscles clenching under your touch.

his hands grip onto your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. an absolutely lurid scene. his breath is hot on your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as he drives you both closer to the edge. you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper inside you.

"you feel so good." he grunts, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "so perfect."

you moan as his thrusts pick up pace, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. the bed creaks beneath you, the furs beneath you tangling around your legs as you arch your back to meet his movements. the smell of sweat and sex fill the air, mixed with the faint scent of dragon smoke that clings to him. his hips slide against yours, pressing into you as he takes you deeper and deeper. your breasts bounce with each thrust, nipples pebbled from the cool air on your heated skin.

jacaerys's breathing becomes ragged, his mouth finding yours once more in a passionate kiss, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. he tastes of honeyed wine and seasalt, divine. jacaerys growls into the kiss, tongues dancing together as he drives harder into you. the bed thumps against the wall in time with your grunts and moans, echoing through the otherwise silent castle halls.

"jacaerys." you moan, the sound barely audible among the creaking bed and the panting of your breaths.

he grunts in response, his fingers dig into your hips as he desperately tries to hold back. the bed groans beneath you, the cold stone floor sharp with the sound. his fingers dig into your hips, holding you close, making you feel a part of him.

"so close, dōna ābrazȳrys." he growls out, his voice hoarse. "so fucking close."

you gasp, your orgasm about to break free. the feeling consumes you, spreading through your body like wildfire, consuming you in its wake. your nails dig into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. as the pleasure builds inside you, jacaerys pulls away from the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone. you can feel the heat building in your core, every nerve on fire from his touch. you come undone with a loud gasp followed by your lover’s name, repeated like a prayer.

jace isn’t far behind and when he finally reaches his climax, you feel him tense inside you. his body shuddering as he releases himself deep within you. his hot seed pulses out of him, filling you completely before pulling out with a low groan. you gasp at the sudden loss of him, missing the fullness. with a loud sigh, he collapses on top of you, hearts pounding in unison.

he rolls onto his side carefully so as not to crush you under his weight and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your fingers ascend instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow, your fingers lingering on his skin.

he looks at you with a satisfied smile, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. as he moves closer, his body radiates heat and you feel his strong arms wrap around your waist. you lean into him, enjoying the comforting feeling of being held in his embrace. the sound of his steady breaths like a lullaby, and you sink into the blissful calm of slumber.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon #hotd fanfic #jacaerys x y/n #jace velaryon x you #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #house of the dragon #jacaerys targaryen x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year

Note

Demian is a clone of Bruce and Talia son whom died thanks to his grandfather actions. The pit failed to bring him back. Well back to them the timing of him being placed in the pit was the second time Jack and Maddie Fenton got their Portal to open just long enough to spit out a very hurt boy.

"I do not see why the Superboy being a clone is such a problem, Kent," Damian grunts, cutting off Clark mid-vent of Conner. He had come to part take in his first ever Sleep Over with Jon.

While the boys have gone upstairs to set up Damian's sleeping place Bruce once again tries to speak about mentoring Conner. It's not as bad as when Conner was first found but things were still strained between them.

It didn't help that whenever Clark fought against Lex's newest scheme, he would fall back to his mistrust of Conner. Tim's mood continually worsened around that time, too, since his boyfriend always returned to him slightly more broken by Clark's inability to trust him.

"You can not tell me the man of steel is so close-minded?"

"Damian," Bruce warns, but his son only raises a brow. He crosses the room to stand before the man of steel, crossing his arms over his chest to copy Alfred's disappointed stance.

"I'm not close-minded for being weary of a clone." Clark starts, face shifting into a defensive scowl.

"I am a clone, and you do not seem to mind my presence. Why is Superboy so different? Surely not the fact he has a boyfriend. I remind you said boyfriend is my brother-"

"What do you mean you are a clone?" Clark cuts in, voice laced with shock. Even Bruce seems baffled by his words when Damian glances at his father.

He squints at both men, trying to figure out what they are playing at.. "I am a clone. You are aware of this."

"No, I certainly am not aware," Bruce grunts, taking a threatening step forward. "What happened to Damian?

"Nothing happened to me, Father. I am standing right before you," Damian gestures to his healthy body. Jon chooses to fly down the stairs with a cheer, and he gives him a look that has the super son pausing. "Our fathers are behaving strangely."

Jon doesn't hesitate to blast his laser eyes at Clark with a quick "Sorry, Dad!"

"Johnathan Samuel Kent!" Clark snaps, having dodged the surprise attack but only barely. The boy freezes in the air, staring wide eyes at his parent, but Damian snaps out his arms and moves to lift his friend into the air with a quick

"I'm sorry! You can ground me when I get you free of mind control!" He shouts, flying right out the window. Bruce tries to stop them by flinging a net at them but Damian counters with his own batarang. The two are dots on the horizon as Damian's voice fades.

"We shall free you soon, Father!"

Bruce narrows his eyes at them but holds up his arm when Clark plants his feet in a position he usually makes when he's about to take flight. It speaks of the trust and years of friendship that the other man stays rooted to the kitchen tile instead of chasing his child.

"What is it, Bruce?" The man asks with slight impatience.

"They seem convinced we knew of Damian's status." Bruce holds up a hand again when Clark opens his mouth to argue. "Let me check something."

In quick motion, he pulls out his phone and places a call. Placing the speaker on, despite the fact Clark could have easily heard every word without it, Bruce holds the phone between them as Tim cheerfully answers.

" 'Sup B."

"Chum, is Damian a clone?"

".....ugh yeah? You know that."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do. He said so when he first showed up. I mean word per word, "I am not like the rest. I am a copy of perfection, made from the DNA of Father and Mother in an artificial womb." Tim says mockingly, repeating what Damian had said the first night Bruce and the rest met him.

"He meant a literal copy. " Bruce repeats, mystified. "Does that mean I have another son out there?"

Tim goes silent, as his boy tends to do when he knows something but is unsure how to say it. Bruce barely refrains from snapping at him to tell him everything. Tim has a bad reaction to what he sees as disapproval. They talked about it plenty together and with Dinah on what triggers his issues stemming from his upbringing.

"B......Damian was made because Ra's killed the original. In a mock duel when he was nine." Tim's voice is gentle, but it does nothing to soften the devastating blow his words cause. "They tried to save him in the Lazarus, but he never rose. They had enough of his DNA around to make Damian two years later and forced him to match the original's age. Ra's had everything in his files, and Damian has talked about his original plenty of times. I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

Clark places a firm hand on Bruce's shoulder, speaking softly, but he can't hear him. All he can hear is the ringing in his own ears as he realizes that, once again, he has lost a part of his family. Distantly, he knows Clark has helped him into a chair, but he can't really understand his surroundings.

It's like he's watching himself from outside his body as Clark takes the phone out of his slack hold to speak to a distressed Tim, who frantically asks if he's alright.

"What-" he chocks after a moment. "What was his name?"

"Oh, Bruce," Clark whispers in a sympathetic tone as Tim answers.

"Danyal. His name was Danyal."

It's a lovely name. He weeps into his hands for the boy it belongs to as his best friend holds him through grief. They tell Tim to find Jon and Damian so he can break down in private.

A few states over, Danny Fenton sneezes violently three times. His friend Tucker gives him a teasing smile.

"Oh, some girl is crying over you!"

"As if" He laughs punching the other in the arm "Who would cry over little old me?"

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The Orginal #Damian is Danny's clone #Itf Danny had a nickle for everytime he been clone he had two nickles which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happen twice #Yes he left Danyal life behind him #He's Danny now #The supersons were halfway across the country when Superboy caught up to them #Tigger warning: Disassociation #Grief #Very little but there #Jon trusts Damian to the point he only needs a look before taking action

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sleepynoons · 1 month

Text

jing yuan x f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: nudity, suggestive content

notes: pls lmk if i'm missing any tags or warnings. anyway, nothing explicit this time, experimenting more w/ pieces that heavily focus on sexual tension + build-up. anyway x2, not sure how to describe the setting of this piece. still uses some hrs concepts like aeons. jing yuan is rich, the reader is his maid, and both use more formal language. this was a fun exercise!

THERE ARE a lot of rumors surrounding your master. you hear them when you go grocery shopping, visit the tailor, pick up the dry cleaning, drop off lunches at the front desk on days that he’s busy. some of them are about you – who are you? his wife? mistress? there’s no way you’re just a friend, right?

you’re trained to maintain a stoic facade, but inside, you can’t help but be entertained. you are none of those things, and one can only dream of sharing such a bond with him. you’re content with simply being his maid – you mustn’t tread closer.

on a wooden tray, you neatly arrange a cup of chamomile tea, another cup of warm, honeyed milk, and a folded newspaper of today’s news. before you leave the kitchen, though, you make sure to drop a few treats into a feeding bowl and rub at mimi’s stomach, your master’s beloved dog.

“your father needs some time alone,” you say to the animal. seemingly able to understand your words, mimi’s ears droop at a slight angle and she licks at your fingertips, seeking consolation. “he’ll be out soon, i promise.”

you get back up, wash your hands, and pick up the tray, heading over to your master’s bathroom.

from the hallway, you can hear the sound of water splashing and sloshing. if you strain a bit more, you can arguably make out some humming, nonsensical and haphazard in melody. when you reach the door, you hear submerging, and you know you’re right on time.

you knock on the door twice. “master, may i come in?”

you hear a faint noise of affirmation, no doubt muffled by the wall, and carefully enter without spilling the contents of the tray.

you’re greeted with a dazzling smile and glimmering droplets of soap and water slipping down naked skin.

your master greets you, fine smile lines outlining his rosy lips and delicate nose. “how many times have i told you that just my name will suffice?”

“master jing yuan,” you say as you place his drinks and paper on a designated drawer beside the tub, “how many times have i told you that you shouldn’t ask me to join you when you’re in the bathroom?”

“but who else can help me with my unruly mane of silver?” he pouts, tone feigning innocence.

“your hair isn’t unruly.”

“did you not call it that last time?”

you click your tongue. your master chuckles and turns away from you to face the other end of the tub. you grab a stool, hand him his newspaper, and take your place behind him. with a brush in hand, you unravel the red ribbon tying his hair and, with quick, gentle strokes, run the brush through the thick layers. you didn’t mean to call his hair unruly before, but you think there’s quite a bit of truth to it anyway. you also note that his hair has gotten quite long.

“master jing yuan, perhaps it’s time for a trim?” you suggest.

your master hums and leans back so that your hands can reach the crown of his head. “you are right. i shall leave it to you, then?”

shaking your head, you respond, “you really ought to get it done at a professional salon. i can only do so much.”

“you are a woman of many talents. i am sure you will do just fine,” he reassures. you huff in protest.

as your master’s only taking a soak today, you plait his hair into a thick braid before tying it up into a bun. you hand him his cup of tea, which is no longer scalding, and stand up to leave.

“oh!” he suddenly exclaims. “i seem to have forgotten my bathrobe.” he looks up at you expectantly, and you nod in understanding.

“i’ll go grab it. i’ll be right back.” you bow quickly before closing the door behind you on the way out and heading towards the laundry room.

you take your time. really, you needed an excuse to leave the bathroom. you’re glad that your master’s such a big fan of bath bombs, or else you’d see everything… you pat harshly at your warm cheeks to break free from your reverie. don’t tread any closer. you’re behaving like a schoolgirl experiencing her first love, and you can only groan internally at yourself. but you can’t blame yourself either – anyone would fall in love with your master if they know him the way you do. he’s so irresistible, and having been his maid for so long has only enabled you to witness more of his charisma and charm. you sigh, sitting on the floor in front of the dryer as you wait for it to de-wrinkle your master’s robe.

you return ten minutes later, both for your own wellbeing and to also give your master some time to himself.

“master jing yuan, i’m back. may i come in?”

instead of a reply, though, the door cracks open, and your master, wearing nothing but a towel tied loosely around his hips, appears before you. you yelp and rush to cover your eyes. he simply laughs at your antics before grabbing you by the arm and leading you into the bathroom.

“what – what are you –“

“i hurt my arm today, so i will need your help putting my robe on. it is quite heavy, after all.”

you don’t know where to look. you certainly can’t look at the bathroom mirror that covers the top-half of one wall or the marble on the other that shines and reflects so clearly. you opt to close your eyes and hold the robe up by the collar.

“this is hardly appropriate,” you mutter, embarrassment and nervousness coloring your tone. as a result, you try to distract yourself with another subject. “besides, couldn’t you have told me earlier? i would’ve prepared something in advance had i known.”

“i just noticed the bruise as well. seems i was a little careless today.” he then chuckles – at himself or you, you’re not sure.

you remark, “you? careless? that hardly goes together.”

your master lets you know that he’s put on his sleeves, so you step away, eyes still closed.

immediately, he hums with obvious disapproval. “hm? why are you backing away?”

you sputter, “m-master jing yuan, i should not be here! if you could just – i don’t know – turn around or something, i can –“

“i have turned around.”

you sigh in relief, happy that he’s obedient for once. your master is often relentless in his teasing and tricks, and you’re grateful that he’s granting you mercy in this moment. so you open your eyes, ready to find your way to the door –

your master is standing dangerously close, so that you’re eye-to-eye with him. from this view, you can also see that his chest is barely covered, knot slowly slipping undone.

“master!” you gasp. the proximity, the surprise, the challenging look in his eyes – they’re all driving you mad.

he clears his throat. “jing yuan.”

“master jing yuan.”

“jing yuan.”

“oh, for aeons’ sake, jing yuan! you’re not wearing your robe properly!”

jing yuan gloats. he then says in a low, low whisper, “my hands have cramped up. can you do it for me instead?” he speaks directly into your ears, and you want to scream.

shaking, you stretch out your trembling hands and take the ends of the belt. you can feel jing yuan’s hot breaths fanning your cheek, and you can even smell the faint trace of lavender from the bath bomb. your fingers are too clumsy, though, and you fail multiple times in properly tying the belt. after a few more fruitless attempts, jing yuan reaches down, softly grabbing your hands, and gently guides them.

“and… like this,” he breathes. even when you’ve secured the knot, though, he doesn’t let go.

don’t tread any closer. “j-jing yuan,” you whimper. “please…”

his hands inch up, gliding from your palms to your forearms to your elbows. he does it so slowly, so seductively, so intentionally. he tugs you impossibly a little closer, and now you can feel the heat of his chest through your uniform. then, jing yuan rests his head on your shoulders, and his lips ghost the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver and shudder at the sensation. the two of you just stand there, him taking deep breaths, you holding yours.

finally, after a few minutes, jing yuan breaks the silence. “i can no longer employ you, my dearest.”

you feel faint. you’re never escaping the gossip now.

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pedrospatch · 5 months

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a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze.

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

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stellar-skyy · 4 months

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♡ - LOST & FOUND - Platonic Arlecchino & reader

i. SUMMARY: Hell hath no fury like a parent whose child has been taken from them. ii. CWS & NOTES: description of blood and injury (mildly graphic but not gory), violence, mentions of kidnapping, swearing (like once), implied murder. PLATONIC arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. angst & slight hurt/comfort. 2.5k words. iv. A/N: i am... so normal about parental arlecchino... so normal... i hope you enjoy because i loved writing this!! i have a little written for an epilogue featuring the lyntwins + freminet reuniting, so stay tuned for that ♡

It had been fifty-eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes since [Name] had vanished.

Freminet sat curled up in a velvet armchair that dwarfed his small frame, with Pers on his lap and his brother and sister flanking each side. They had both refused Father’s offer of a seat, which showed the severity of the situation more than words ever could.

No one ever refused Father. Even she had raised an eyebrow at their sudden rebellion.

“Lyney, Lynette. Defiance will not make [Name] come home faster. Take a seat.” Father sipped her tea, poised as ever. Even with that impassive mask, Freminet still noticed the tension in her shoulders.

He always noticed.

“There’s no need,” Lyney said shortly, adding on a respectful “Father.” as an afterthought.

“What my brother means—” Lynette cut in smoothly. “—Is that we do not want to draw this conversation out any longer than necessary. We only came to get permission to postpone our current assignment and search for [Name]. I’m sure you can see the circumstances are dire enough to warrant such action.”

“I’m afraid I do not, Lynette.” Father placed her cup down and folded her hands over her lap. “They are a very skilled agent, and this mission was hardly out of their ability. No need to compromise your current—and very important, I might add—mission, for trivial matters.”

“It isn’t trivial, it’s our sibling!” Lyney burst out, causing Freminet to flinch. He reached out a hand blindly to settle on Freminet’s shoulder, squeezing it quickly in both a comfort and apology for startling him.

“I would be mindful of your place within this household, Lyney.” Father said mildly, the warning clear. “I have given you a direct order, and you will follow it. Do not stray from your assigned mission. [Name] will be fine.” She paused for a beat. “You are dismissed.”

“That’s it?” Lyney hissed. “So, you’re going to just leave them to die?”

It sounded like less of a question and more of an accusation. Freminet winced, feeling Lynette stiffen beside him as well as they waited for the consequences of Lyney’s bluntness.

Arlecchino rose from her seat, the tension in the air thick enough to choke all three of the siblings.

“I never said that. [Name] will be home in due time.” Her gaze shifted from the left to the right side of the armchair. “Lynette, you will have tea with me later, won’t you?” Father asked, causing the girl to freeze.

She bit her lip, answering carefully. “I may. Maybe if [Name] returns, we can all have tea together.”

“A good plan,” Father agreed, ignoring the quiet angry undertone of her words. “When I see them, I shall invite them.”

“It had better be soon; it’s getting late.” Lynette countered. Freminet’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Lynette was always better at matching Father’s games. Freminet crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and Lyney wasn’t any better at handling the pressure without his emotions causing him to crack and splinter.

“Lynette, Freminet. Let’s go.” Lyney said sharply.

Throughout the entire exchange, Lyney’s hand had not moved from where it was planted firmly on Freminet’s shoulder, as if he was refusing to let another of his siblings out of his grasp. Freminet might have remarked that Lynette was handling her worry better, but he noticed how her tail kept curling around his leg when they walked into Father’s office. Neither of the three was willing to part with the others for even a second; not when one of their own had gone missing by doing just that.

As he drew back his hand and moved away, Freminet caught his arm.

“Just… a moment, please. Wait outside, I’ll join you soon.” Freminet murmured, letting go. Lyney pursed his lips.

“Be quick.”

The twins vanished through the doorway, leaving Freminet alone with his Father.

“Freminet dear. You’re hesitating.” Father raised an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for something? Do you want me to give Pers a kiss on the head before I leave?”

Freminet flushed at the memories of holding the toy up to Father when he was young, insisting the penguin deserved a proper goodbye too. “Ahem. I’m not a child anymore… Father.”

“No? Then why are you still here?”

He swallowed awkwardly, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. He met her stare

“I know you’re just as worried as I am.” He said bluntly.

Father’s expression was almost impossible to read, but Freminet managed to catch a hint of surprise at his words. “I see. How did you come to that conclusion?”

It wasn’t denial, nor was it defensiveness. That was a good sign. Freminet continued, “There is a pinch between your eyebrows that you keep trying to smooth over. You’re gripping your teacup much tighter than usual. Your shoulders are tense. And you were far too quick to dismiss the twins’ concerns. You of all people would know that the situation is severe enough to allow a brief pause to their investigation, but you were swift in making sure they were kept as far away from the situation as possible.”

Arlecchino stared back at Freminet silently. She always had that unsettling way of watching him, as if she was picking apart the cogs and wheels spinning in his mind to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Observant as always, Freminet.” Freminet stood up straighter, pink touching his cheeks. “So, tell me this: what am I to do next?”

“You’re… going to find them yourself?” He asked slowly.

“That is correct. I will be.” Father agreed, and something inside him swelled. If only Lyney was still in the room, he would have collapsed with relief. “And what will you be doing?”

“Helping.” Freminet said without a thought.

“Incorrect. You are going to return to your room, go to sleep, and not say a word to your siblings.”

“But—”

“No. You are not involved here.” Arlecchino turned her back on him, looking out the window with her arms folded behind her.

“Father—”

“Do not forget that if you or your sibling’s interference costs me my mission, [Name]’s blood will be on your hands.”

Freminet recoiled sharply, as if she had struck him across the face. Arlecchino refused to lay a hand on any of them, but her words were more than enough to wound them.

“I—”

“I’m not looking for an argument, Freminet.”

Freminet shut his mouth with a click, lowering his head. He forced back the wave of emotions sweeping across him, sinking them so far into the depths of his mind that not even a champion diver like himself would be able to reach them.

“I am looking for an answer.” Father raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.” He said quietly.

“Good child,” She murmured, laying a gentle hand on the top of his head. “You are dismissed.”

-----

Arlecchino made her move at the stroke of sundown.

It was disgustingly easy to track them down, and the sheer incompetence only fuelled her rage until it burned brighter than the flames that curled beneath her skin. The assailants were sloppy, leaving plenty of traces for her to find, as if they were waiting for her to find them.

One of her agents had returned with a slip of paper that evening—a ransom note, crudely explaining that they had captured a House of the Hearth agent, and demanding a hefty sum in exchange for their safe return. She had chuckled at that last part. They would be lucky for her to leave them with their lives after what they have done, let alone a reward.

Their hideout was located in a quiet cave near the ocean, with an entrance half-hidden behind a curtain of vines. It was a quaint spot, a cosy place to sit back and watch the sun set over the water. She was sure the view behind her was breathtaking, but she made no move to take a glance for herself.

The vines made way for a long, narrow tunnel, ending with a wooden door. Arlecchino quietly turned the handle, scoffing under her breath when it turned without a key being inserted, and slipped through without making a single sound.

Six were scattered around the dingy room; one woman, five men. Seeming to be aged between their mid-twenties at the youngest, and early-forties at the oldest.

“Have we got a response yet?” The woman muttered impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor.

“How should I know?” One of the men grunted. “We left the note. Eventually it’s gotta make it’s way to the boss herself, and we’ll get the reward.”

“Just gotta be patient,” Another murmured. “Gotta be patient.”

Slightly past them was a wooden cage, secured with a metal lock.

They were in a heap on the floor of the cage, breathing weakly—Arlecchino quietly thanked the Tsaritsa that they were breathing at all—and looked to be passed out.

The fire inside her sang, and she could hardly breathe under the heat of it all.

“How long is this woman gonna take?” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Arlecchino chuckled, causing all of the six to jump. “Oh, then allow me to assure you that you won’t have to wait much longer at all.”

Instantly they were on their feet, grabbing whatever weapon was closest. Their expressions ranged from outright fear, to an egregious amount of confidence for how weak they were in comparison to her.

“Knave,” the closest man grinned crookedly. “How kind of you to join us. I’m assuming you’re here for—” he jerked his head towards the figure still unmoving. “—that one?”

“‘That one’?” Arlecchino repeated slowly, drawing her scythe to her side. “I am here for my child.”

Two of the men—the ones closest to the cage—looked at each other nervously. Arlecchino smiled. It was a pity the rest of the group didn’t share the sense to fear her, but they would learn soon enough.

“Well you see, we’ll be happy to hand them over—” the man’s grin widened. “For a price, of course.”

“A price, you say?” She mused. “How about this. You step aside, I retrieve my child, and offer you a quick death. I would say that is more than fair, considering what you have cost me.”

The smile dropped off the man’s face. “That ain’t an option, lady.”

“Then I think you misunderstand.” She took a step towards him, then another, eyes glinting dangerously in the low light. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Boss—” one of the men tried to say.

“Shut it.” the first man hissed, bringing his shovel up in a defensive position. It was almost laughable, how he thought that would protect him.

“You made four mistakes tonight,” Arlecchino said smoothly. The tip of her scythe brushed the floor, sending a loud scraping sound across the walls. All of the people inside the room winced at the sound, but Arlecchino was unfazed as she continued prowling towards them.

“One… you failed to cover your tracks, making it remarkably easy to track you down.” In one swift motion, she lunged. The group barely had time to blink, before her scythe sliced across the chest of the closest one.

There was silence, before the man made a low gasp, bright crimson blood spilling down his shirt. He collapsed forward onto the ground with a thud, and the room erupted into chaos. A scream tore from the throat of the woman, and she dropped to her knees at his side, desperately clutching his shoulders. Arlecchino aimed a quick strike at her back, and she fell against the man heavily.

“Two, you left the door unlocked.” A pair charged towards her, hammers and shovels swinging. She knocked the weapons from their hands with one hit, and knocked them down with a second.

“Three—” One snuck up from behind, quickly tossing a string of rope over her head and around her neck, pulling harshly to cut off her breathing. An elbow in his ribs winded him enough to loosen his grip, and a knock to the head with the hilt of her scythe sent him to the floor. “You brought far too few people to last in a fight against me.”

The final man stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, shrinking against the bricks. Arlecchino walked with slow steps, stalking towards him like an animal cornering their pray. He shielded his face with his hands, in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Once she was about a foot away, she stopped, leaning in close.

“And four.” Arlecchino grasped the man by the throat, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “You hurt my fucking child.”

She tossed his body to the side, watching him hit the wall with a thud and collapse to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Pathetic.” She scoffed under her breath, stepping over his limp body. Her anger wasn’t nearly quelled—an inferno is not easily cooled, after all—but seeing them all lying lifelessly across the floor of their own base at least brought some vindication. She turned her back to the man, looking over at her child.

They were curled up in the cage like a trapped animal, rattling breaths ringing through the bars. Arlecchino gritted her teeth at the sight, making sure to step on the nearest captor’s fingers as she walked over. She swung her scythe against the lock, shattering it into bits of metal.

Her hands were gentle in reaching into the cage, hooking a hand under their knees and cradling their back with the other. They made a pained cry, and Arlecchino hurried to pull them out. She held them close to her chest, letting their cheek rest where her heartbeat pounded against her chest. Her face didn’t falter from that stony expression, but inside she was burning with fury.

“My child,” She murmured, more to herself than the shivering form in her arms. There was something dangerous in her tone, a note of warning to the assailants still conscious enough to hear her voice. She kissed their forehead, a tender gesture out of place among the bloodshed. “Didn’t I promise you that while you’re with me, no one can hurt you?”

“F-Father…?” A broken whisper slipped through their lips, followed by a sob, first sinking Arlecchino’s heart then shattering it into two.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I’m here.” She crooned, carrying them out of the room and through the tunnel. All throughout the journey through the tunnel and back onto the beach, she didn’t stop murmuring comforts and pressing kisses to their head in the most maternal way she’d ever remembered acting.

“I’m sorry, Father…” they mumbled, cheek pressed against her chest.

“Darling…” Arlecchino hummed, even as the smouldering ashes in her chest began to spark and flicker. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

The night was cold, but her child was a warm weight in her arms. She revelled in the warmth, a gentle reminder that they were still alive.

“We’ll be home soon,” Arlecchino promised, even though they were barely conscious enough to hear her. “Soon.”

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fantasyescapes17 · 4 months

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Spinsters do not Need Chaperones (Part 1)

Chaperones are for beautiful young girls. A plain older woman like you, with neither fortune nor youth to recommend her, is hardly in danger of losing her virtue. You've long resigned yourself to always being the supporting role in someone else’s romance.

But could it be that love and marriage have not disappeared entirely beyond your reach? This spinster may capture the heart of an eligible bachelor yet, if only she makes the right choices…

Genre: Seventeen hiphop unit x female! reader (alternate plots and endings for each member) Regency!AU (Sort of Bridgerton-esque but we keep it PG).

Word Count: 6.3k+

Series Masterlist here

Part 2 coming soon!

The carriage rumbled down the cobblestone streets, past fancy tea parlours and luxurious shops that only the most elite of London society could afford to frequent. You barely had time to glance at the names of the shops before they whizzed past you. The carriage was going at break-neck speed.

You seized the armrest and looked over at your travel companion and aunt, Lady Beaumont.

“Perhaps, my dear aunt,” you said shakily as the carriage hit a particularly painful bump on the road, “we might ask the driver to slow down?”

Lady Beaumont turned to you sharply. Her crinkled eyes and face resembled that of a vulture’s- curved and without compassion. You almost flinched when she glowered at you.

“Don't be silly! We are already running very, very late!” Lady Beaumont scolded.

“Yes, but would it not increase our tardiness if we were to have an accident on the way?” you pointed out.

Your hand was squeezed tightly by the young woman seated beside you. Julia Beaumont was Lady Beaumont’s only daughter and an innocent and sweet young girl of nineteen. Her big eyes were wide and she looked worried. This was your cousin’s first time in London among elite society. Julia had been kept sheltered and protected by her mother all her life and, as a result, was both naive and full of wonder.

The carriage rolled up at the large Beaumont house in the middle of London. It had barely come to a full halt before Lady Beaumont leapt out at a speed surprising for her advanced age, and started barking orders at the servants.

“Come take the trunks inside-quickly now!” she yelled at the porter. “Send the dresses up to the bed chambers urgently, we have barely an hour to prepare ourselves for dinner with the Chois- did you not hear me? I said send the dresses up first!”

You left the poor servants to handle Lady Beaumont’s wrath. Instead, you pushed past and went up the front stairs, smiling brightly at the head housekeeper who was waiting in the foyer.

“Mrs. Milly!” you greeted the older woman happily. You had known the housekeeper for years, having lived in London and this very house during your formative years. She had always been kind to you.

Mrs. Milly smiled at you brightly. “It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Beaumont. Have you been well?”

You sighed and glanced back to make sure your aunt was out of earshot. “Suffice it to say that I am happy to be back in London. But I have no time to tell you everything- we are about to be quite late to dinner with the Choi family and I fear my aunt will explode in flames if she discovers us chatting. I promise to speak to you properly tomorrow, Mrs. Milly.”

Mrs. Milly nodded and handed an envelope to you. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I only wanted to give you a letter that arrived for you this morning.”

You took the letter with surprise. “A letter? But I had not informed anyone I was coming to London, except for…”

“Miss Kim. She delivered it personally and insisted that I give it to you as soon as you arrive, without a moment's delay,” Mrs. Milly replied.

You grinned. “Of course, who else would write to me but my dear Miss Kim? I shall read it immediately.”

“Don't let Lady Beaumont see you.”

You hurried up the winding staircase towards your usual bedchambers. The large London Beaumont house had been your grandfather’s while he was alive, and had been passed down in your extended family for generations. You spent many of your innocent childhood years playing in these vast halls, ignorant of strange adult concepts like inheritance and the entailment of ancestral estates which meant that the Beaumont house would never be fully yours. You were, and would always be, merely a guest here.

But heavens, it felt like home.

You hurried to dress for dinner. Your aunt would come upstairs any moment and scream at you if you did not seem ready. But as the handmaids helped tie up the laces of your gown, you couldn't resist the urge to rip open the envelope from Miss Kim and scan its contents.

My dear Miss Beaumont,

I was so delighted to learn that you would be in London today, that I simply could not resist the urge to write to you with my most recent news- my dearest friend, I am engaged to be married!

Mr. Park has asked for my hand and I have accepted him. We are to be married by September, here in London. I know that Lady Beaumont is unlikely to remain here beyond August, but I must beg you not to return to the countryside with her and instead stay with me in London to help me prepare for my wedding. I insist upon it most fervently- I shall not be married unless my dearest friend is in attendance!

I know you must be confused. You would have expected my engagement to be with a certain Mr. J. In that regard I can only say that I have put Mr. J behind me and I will tell you the details of what has occured when we meet in person.

Come to mine for breakfast tomorrow. Mingyu and Mama are eager to see you as well.

Yours,

Miss Kim.

You stared at the letter in shock. Miss Kim, despite being two years younger than you, was your closest friend in the world. You had both attended the same private seminary for girls in London during your teenage years and bonded strongly through a shared hatred for etiquette lessons and delight in tormenting your governesses. There was really nobody alive that you trusted and adored more than Miss Kim.

You had never doubted that she would marry, and marry well. Miss Kim was blessed with the excellent genes that ran in the Kim family. She also had a charming personality and a bountiful dowry of thirty thousand pounds. She would have almost any man she set her heart upon.

It had been your understanding that she had set her heart upon Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. Miss Kim had been waxing eloquent about her admiration for the handsome and mysterious gentleman that she was courting over the summer, so her sudden engagement to someone else- a Mr. Park whom you had never even heard of before- was very surprising to you and you couldn't understand it.

You had to respond to her letter immediately. You had just turned over the paper and were searching for some ink when the door to your bedchambers opened and Lady Beaumont entered.

“Are you ready for dinner yet?” your aunt demanded. You quickly stashed your friend’s letter between the folds of your dress and nodded.

“Yes, of course, Aunt.”

“Come outside. I wish to speak to you alone.”

Lady Beaumont disappeared down the corridor and you sighed, forced to follow her downstairs where the carriage was waiting to take your family to dinner at the Choi manor. Your aunt turned to you suddenly with an anxious expression.

“I expect you to be very thoughtful about your behaviour tonight,” Lady Beaumont said in a low voice.

You blinked at her.

“I’m afraid I don't understand,” you replied. Your aunt held no particular fondness for you, you knew that. She had been forced into the role of your guardian by the unexpected death of your parents. But you had still been brought up in a noble family, attended one of the most prestigious girls’ seminaries in London and been out in polite society for many years. Surely there was no reason to suspect you could not behave yourself at a dinner?

Your aunt sighed. “Don't be intentionally obtuse. You are old enough to understand- you are practically a spinster now. You know perfectly well why it is so important that our dinner with the Choi family be a successful one.”

You did know, but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to force your Aunt to explain herself to you. Perhaps in saying it aloud she would recognise how manipulative she sounded.

“Remind me, dear Aunt,” you said lightly.

“The moment your uncle, Lord Beaumont- passes away, the Beaumont estate will be lost to us. It is entailed, you know, and there are no near male relations to inherit it according to the terms of the entailment. Oh! How unfair that the home which you and Julia have grown up in must be taken away from you due to some ancient rules about inheritance by male primogeniture!”

You simply blinked. You had heard your Aunt complain about this before. Hearing about the terms of the estate's entailment did not bring you any joy, but it was hardly news. The latest generation of the Beaumont family consisted only of daughters- you and your cousin Julia. Neither your late father nor your uncle had borne sons.

“Yes, I know,” you replied.

“Once your uncle passes, the estate shall be inherited by his distant relations- the Chois, and in particular their eldest son Mr. Choi Seungcheol. You, I and poor Julia shall be put out on the streets quite immediately! You understand that the only way to protect ourselves from the terrible consequences of this entail is for Mr. Choi to marry our dear Julia. At least then, the Beaumont estate will remain in our family.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead. You had known what she planned even before Lady Beaumont explained it to you. It was her grand scheme for Julia to marry Mr. Choi Seungcheol so that the Beaumont estate was not lost to some distant relations. You could sympathise. It was not easy to accept that the estate your family had possessed for generations would so easily be handed to a complete stranger.

“I am conscious of your intentions, dear aunt,” you told her patiently. “I cannot think what my behaviour has to do with it.”

“Julia is young and beautiful and has many charms to recommend her to Mr. Choi, but we must do our best to encourage the match. I shall contrive ways for them to spend more time together, but they must be chaperoned. I shall expect your support in this regard.”

You blinked at her. “You want me to chaperone Julia? I thought your presence would be sufficient, aunt, why does Julia require another chaperone?”

Lady Beaumont frowned. “I may be old but I am not ignorant to the ways of youth. Mr. Choi will hardly be able to court Julia properly if her mother is always hanging about. The presence of parents puts a damper on romance. No, it must be you who chaperones them and you must encourage him to pay attention to her. Julia is too young and foolish to handle Mr. Choi with delicacy- and there is simply too much at stake.”

You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t look forward to chaperoning your young cousin about her courtships, but it was a small sacrifice to make. At least Lady Beaumont was conscious that her own presence would not be conducive to the proposed romance. You had to give your aunt some credit for her self-awareness.

“Yes, aunt, if that is what you wish. I will be happy to chaperone Julia and encourage Mr. Choi to court her in whatever way I can,” you replied.

“Yes. We can only hope that in contrast to you, Julia will look young and pretty and lively and manage to capture Mr. Choi’s attention,” your Aunt added bluntly.

The underlying insult did not go unheard. You were clearly too old and dull and plain to pose a threat to Julia. You tried not to be offended. Being in your late twenties and possessing only a paltry dowry meant that spinsterhood was bearing heavily upon you. You would not be attractive to rich, well-bred bachelors like Mr. Choi. Lady Beaumont was correct to think that Julia was the better bet.

“I shall try my best to bring Julia’s charms into contrast,” you replied tiredly.

“I also hear Mr. Choi has a younger brother named Vernon. He is not due to inherit anything at all, so we must ensure he does not set his sights upon Julia. That would be quite disastrous. You must keep him safely at a distance,” your Aunt pressed.

You raised an eyebrow. “You have many expectations, dear aunt.”

Lady Beaumont bristled. “This is your obligation to our family. You failed to secure a rich husband while you were young and somewhat pretty, despite your uncle spending so much money to have you educated at a private seminary in London. Now you must at least do your best for your cousin.”

“I will always have Julia’s best interests at heart,” you promised.

“Good. Let us hurry- Julia! Julia, are you ready to leave? The carriage is waiting for us outside, we haven't a moment to delay!”

—--------------------------------------------------

The letter from your friend Miss Kim was still tucked into the folds of your dress and you had a few moments of leisure to think about it as the Beaumont carriage rumbled down to the Choi manor.

What could have possessed Miss Kim to abandon her courtship with the mysterious Mr. Jeon and become engaged to somebody entirely new? You were flooded with a mixture of curiosity and concern over what had changed your friend’s heart in a matter of weeks. You were also worried about this new character Mr. Park and his intentions- although Miss Kim had a very protective older brother to guide her in such matters. Mingyu would never have permitted her engagement to someone who was unworthy of her. If this Mr. Park had managed to obtain Mingyu's approval, he must certainly be a good man.

“What do you think Mr. Choi is like?” Julia asked you anxiously, as the carriage approached the Choi residence.

You looked down at your younger cousin and thought for a moment about her question. “Oh- erm… I am afraid I haven't had the pleasure of his acquaintance, Julia. I am told the Chois do not spend much time in London since they are mainly in the shipping trade in Portsmouth. But I have heard Mr. Choi described as an intelligent and capable gentleman.”

“Do you think he will like me?”

You smiled at her reassuringly. “Of course, Julia; you are quite the pretty picture. Only be a little careful with your manners and I am sure Mr. Choi will be blinded by your charms.”

Julia blushed, pleased, and turned to look out of the window with a little smile on her face. Your cousin was the perfect picture of youth and innocence- just the sort of thing men liked. It was difficult to imagine that Mr. Choi Seungcheol (whatever his personality and preferences) could not be persuaded to fall in love with her.

The carriage rolled to a halt outside the Choi manor.

Your family was greeted at the entrance of a sizeable mansion by the elderly Mrs. Choi. She was, as per your information, the widowed mother of Mr. Choi Seungcheol and Mr. Choi Vernon. She was a tall, statutely lady with greying hair and a naturally graceful manner that you couldn't help but admire.

“Lady Beaumont, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last,” Mrs. Choi welcomed your aunt with great warmth. She then turned to smile at you and Julia. “And these must be your lovely daughters.”

“My daughter, Julia- and this is my niece,” your aunt replied quickly. “It is wonderful to meet you as well, Mrs. Choi. We were most gratified by your invitation to dinner.”

“My sons and I have been wanting to make your formal acquaintance for so long, but it was not possible since we are very rarely in London. My eldest son is quite busy in the shipping business in Portsmouth, as I have told you before. But now that we are here, I simply could not allow the opportunity to pass.”

Your aunt smiled brightly as your family was guided into the manor’s foyer. The Chois had a lovely manor, but it was not quite as splendid as the Beaumont house.

“It is a pity indeed that Mr. Choi Seungcheol cannot find time with his shipping business to attend the social season in London,” your aunt said, with a sly undertone, “for surely it cannot be easy to find a wife of good breeding in Portsmouth!”

You tried not to cringe. Did your aunt have to be quite so obvious about her intentions and talk of marriage even before sitting down? But Lady Beaumont would feel no shame, and surprisingly, Mrs. Choi took the comment in good humour.

“I agree- I have been encouraging Seungcheol to spend more time among the ton, and it is time he thought about marriage and settling down. But men will rarely allow themselves to be rushed into such things,” Mrs. Choi added as she led you all into the large dining parlour. Two gentlemen were seated at the table and they both rose quickly and quietly to greet your family.

“Lady Beaumont, please allow me to introduce my sons- the elder, Seungcheol and the younger, Vernon.”

You had to drop into a polite curtsy and keep your eyes low as Lady Beaumont introduced you to the Choi brothers. When they invited you all to sit at the table, you were able to get a good look at the two brothers who sat across from you at the dining table.

Mr. Choi Seungcheol was a tall, broad-shouldered man. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and was as classically handsome as one could possibly expect from a man in his thirties. Yet there was something mysterious about him. He had a strong aura- one that radiated a sense of charismatic authority.

“Do you spend much time in London, Miss Julia?” Seungcheol asked conversationally once the initial introductions were completed, and everyone had taken their seats at the table.

You glanced at Julia. Your cousin was staring at Seungcheol like a deer caught in the headlights and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. You quickly picked up on her distress and jumped in to save the conversation.

“My cousin Julia has not yet had the advantage of a full social season in London- she has only just made her debut,” you replied quickly.

Seungcheol’s dark eyes turned to you.

“I see. And yourself, Miss Beaumont?”

You blinked- Mr. Choi certainly had excellent manners to enquire after you and not focus on his potential bride. “I have spent plenty of time in London, Mr. Choi. I was educated at a private seminary here, and have attended many social seasons.”

Mr. Choi nodded. “And do you like London very much?”

“London has many things to recommend it, and I have been fortunate to make some good friends here. Is my understanding correct, Mr. Choi, have you not had the liberty to spend much time here?” you enquired politely.

“I am afraid business keeps me mostly in Portsmouth during the social season,” Seungcheol replied simply. “My brother Vernon is in London often for his studies- although I doubt you would have found him at social events organised by the ton.”

You finally had an opportunity to turn and look at the younger Choi brother. Vernon was seated to your left, and although there was a slight resemblance, he looked quite different from Seungcheol. Vernon’s hair was a lighter brown and his eyes were much softer and kinder. He didn't have the same force of personality as his brother- indeed, you had almost forgotten that he was there. Vernon radiated a sense of calm and quiet self-assuredness that you found quite pleasing.

“May I ask what you are studying, Mr. Vernon?” you enquired politely.

Vernon nodded, his brown eyes meeting your gaze easily. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I am currently pursuing the study of law at Oxford.”

“Oh! It must be very difficult,” you commented. “I imagine the study of a serious profession like that requires much hard work and intelligence.”

Vernon only gave you a humble smile in return.

“Oh-yes, Vernon is very intelligent,” his mother chimed in. Mrs. Choi seemed to enjoy talking about her sons. “We are indeed very proud of Vernon and hope that he will become a very successful barrister- but he has many years of study left for that.”

You nodded. “I wish you the very best for your studies, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he replied pleasantly.

Lady Beaumont spoke up- she had enough of you dominating the conversation and was now determined to turn it towards her daughter Julia- poor Julia, who still looked terrified and had barely touched her dinner.

“Julia has been studying music lately,” Lady Beaumont interrupted in a rather obvious attempt at a segue. “She has become quite the accomplished pianist for her age.”

Mrs. Choi smiled. “Is that so? We have a small pianoforte in the drawing room. You must play a little for us after dinner, Miss Julia. My sons and I are all quite fond of some good music.”

Julia swallowed.

“Say yes,” you mumbled to your cousin, reaching under the table to squeeze her hand.

“Y-yes,” Julia squeaked out. “I-I shall be delighted to…”

The dinner went on pleasantly enough. Other than a few pointed remarks from your aunt about how Mr. Choi would surely not find a bride in Portsmouth (which, to Seungcheol’s credit, he handled quite graciously) and another incident in which Julia dropped her glass from nerves (Vernon was kind enough to immediately pick it up for her and gesture for a servant to tidy up the mess) the dinner passed among pleasant small talk about London, the shipping business in Portsmouth, and a little light gossip about the ton.

The group retired to the drawing room after dinner and Julia was persuaded to sit down at the pianoforte to play some music for the Chois. You volunteered to stand next to your cousin on the pretext of turning the pages of her music, and leaned down to whisper to her.

“Are you all right?” you whispered to Julia as she played. “You have been very quiet and anxious.”

Julia blinked up at you. Her fingers tripped momentarily and she hit the wrong key but she recovered quickly. “Oh cousin, isn't he quite scary? I find him rather intimidating!”

You blinked down at her. “Mr. Choi Seungcheol? He seems very well-spoken. I found him quite mature and reasonable.”

“But the way he glares…”

“He has a somewhat serious appearance,” you admitted. “But he is the head of his family and from what I have heard, has expanded his shipping business quite single-handedly. Men who carry a lot of responsibility are sometimes a little solemn in their manners, you know, but it is not so bad.”

“I hope you are right,” Julia muttered. “But I am quite scared to talk to him. You must not ever let me be alone with him.”

“You will always be chaperoned,” you promised her.

“His brother Mr. Vernon seems very nice. He was kind enough to help me when I dropped the glass. Alas, he is a law student and I am sure mother would never approve.”

“She certainly wouldn't,” you muttered. “Mr. Choi Vernon is a second son and he will have to marry a woman that comes with either a handsome dowry or an inheritance- so I would not put any hopes there, dear Julia.”

Julia sighed. “Yes, all right. I did not find him particularly charming either, only that he seemed less scary than his brother.”

“You will be fine,” you promised her. “Only try not to worry and be true to yourself. Do you need me to continue turning pages?”

“No, you may sit down.”

You left your cousin to handle the piano and joined your aunt and Mrs. Choi in their conversation. Lady Beaumont looked quite elated, and you were almost afraid to take your seat and find out had excited your aunt quite so much.

“Oh my dear niece; but, you must hear this! Mrs. Choi has been very gracious to invite you, me and Julia to spend the autumn at their estate in Portsmouth!” Lady Beaumont cried. Her eyes were bright with delight. “Is that not incredibly generous of her?”

Your stomach clenched. “Oh- yes, Mrs. Choi, that is very generous and kind.”

Mrs. Choi smiled. “Not at all! I shall be very glad of the company. Portsmouth is certainly nothing compared to London, but it is a lively enough place to spend the off-season,” Mrs. Choi replied graciously.

Lady Beaumont beamed. “Indeed, and we shall be very happy to accept-”

“Aunt,” you interrupted her quickly. The letter from your close friend Miss Kim was still tucked inside the folds of your dress. “I am sure it will be a wonderful visit for you and Julia, but you may have to excuse me for I have other engagements in London.”

Your aunt turned to you sharply. “What nonsense! What engagements can you possibly have?”

“My dear friend Miss Kim is to be married-”

“And? What do you have to do with her marriage?” your Aunt demanded.

“She is my dearest friend-”

Mrs. Choi interrupted the scolding that you were about to receive from Lady Beaumont with a kind and patient smile. “Forgive me, Miss Beaumont, I was not aware that you were closely acquainted with the Kim family.”

“Miss Kim and I attended school together,” you replied with a grateful smile to the older woman. “Her family was kind enough to host me at their London home during the social seasons and to sponsor my debut among the ton after my parents passed. I have attended the last few social seasons as Miss Kim’s companion and I am greatly indebted to her family for their kindness to me.”

There was a hint of sympathy in the look Mrs. Choi gave you. Perhaps she had just been reminded of the fact that you were an orphan. She also gave a surprised look to Lady Beaumont.

“Indeed! I was not aware that Miss Beaumont had to rely on the Kims to debut in society and attend the social season in London,” Mrs. Choi replied.

Lady Beaumont looked flustered at the implication that she had not done enough for you as a guardian. “Well yes, naturally- Julia was still a young child and I could not leave her behind to chaperone my niece, so we permitted her to debut while under the temporary guardianship of the Kims. Not that it helped her any, she still never managed to secure a husband.”

Mrs. Choi’s eyes widened. “Surely Miss Beaumont can still-”

“Nonsense, she is quite the spinster now and I see no further use in her staying in London,” Lady Beaumont replied while glaring at you. “London is hardly going to produce any new husbands for you at this point. You had better come with us to Portsmouth.”

You clenched your fists. “Aunt-”

Mrs. Choi interrupted softly. “I would not wish for you to break any engagements you may have with the Kims, Miss Beaumont. But if you are able to join us, you will be most warmly welcomed in Portsmouth.”

You felt a sudden wave of gratitude and respect for Mrs. Choi, and you nodded at her. “Thank you very much, madam.”

“The song Julia is playing is most delightful. Your daughter is a very accomplished pianist, Lady Beaumont!” Mrs. Choi said.

Your aunt smiled, a little placated. “Yes…”

—-----------------------------------------------------

You awoke early- earlier than your aunt or Julia- and dressed quickly for breakfast with Miss Kim to demand answers about your dear friend's sudden engagement. It would have alerted Lady Beaumont if you had called for the carriage, so you decided to walk instead. The weather was pleasant enough, and the Kims’ home was not too far away.

You were just strolling past a shop window and admiring a pretty pair of shoes (that you certainly couldn't afford yourself, but perhaps you could persuade your Aunt that they would look nice on Julia), when you found yourself face-to-face with a tall gentleman.

“Oh!” you cried, quickly taking a few steps back to avoid bumping into the man.

“My apologies,” he said, looking down at you. The voice was familiar, as was the face that looked up at you. “Are you all-”

“Mr. Jeon!” you recognised him.

He paused and his dark eyes scanned your face quickly. Mr. Jeon Wonwoo was quite unmistakable, even from a distance. He had piercing dark eyes and was always impeccably dressed in dark coats that hinted at the musculature underneath. It was difficult to decide whether Mr. Jeon was handsome or terrifying- perhaps it was a mixture of both, really.

“Miss Beaumont,” Mr. Jeon greeted you in his usual slow, deep voice. There was no smile on his face. “I am surprised to see you here. I was not aware that you were in London.”

You cleared your throat and nodded politely. “Ah- yes, I arrived only yesterday evening.”

“Are you staying with the Kims’, as always?”

You were surprised that he could mention the Kims so casually after what you had learned about Miss Kim’s engagement. You tried to gauge his expression- but Mr. Jeon Wonwoo’s expression was akin to a brick wall.

“No, I am staying at the Beaumont manor, as I have come with my aunt and cousin,” you replied patiently. Could it be possible that Mr. Jeon had not even heard the news of the engagement himself? You decided to test the waters. “But I am on my way to the Kims’ for breakfast now. Perhaps you would care to join me?”

The corner of Wonwoo’s lip twitched- ah. He did know of the engagement, he was only putting on a careless front. You felt almost triumphant in managing to extract some emotion from this famously mysterious man.

“I am afraid I am otherwise engaged this morning,” Mr. Jeon replied stiffly, “but thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course.”

“Good day, Miss Beaumont.”

“Good day, Mr. Jeon.”

He walked away and you paused in the street for a moment to glance after his disappearing figure. You did not know Mr. Jeon very well- naturally, your acquaintance with him was only as the gentleman that was courting your friend. Yet you couldn't help but find Mr. Jeon almost amusing. The man regularly went to a great amount of care and effort to hide his emotions, and it seemed almost a shame.

You continued on to the Kims’ manor. The butler greeted you at the entrance, clearly expecting your arrival. You were guided into the breakfast parlour, where you were promptly attacked by Miss Kim.

“My friend!”

Miss Kim had engulfed you in a warm hug before you even had an opportunity to look around the room. You stumbled backwards and laughed, delighted to see her after many weeks apart.

“Miss Kim,” you replied, returning her friendly embrace. “I am very delighted to see you but indeed, you must allow me to breathe.”

She released you and beamed. “I am so happy to see you! Did you get my letter?”

“I did indeed, I was quite shocked to hear-”

You were interrupted by the voice of Mr. Kim Mingyu, who was seated at the dining table a short distance away and flipping through the morning paper. He was dressed in a very fashionable blue coat and looked up at you with twinkling eyes and his usual boyish, charming smile.

“Sister, surely you can allow Miss Beaumont to sit down and have a bit of breakfast before you begin haranguing her. Good morning, Miss Beaumont,” he added with a smile in your direction.

You smiled back at him, as Miss Kim took your arm and led you to the breakfast table.

“Good morning, Mingyu. I hope you are doing well?” you asked.

“I expect I will be a great deal better now that you are here. My sister has been driving us all quite mad since some time now, and we shall be more than happy to hand her over to your generous care,” he replied cheekily.

You laughed. “I shall be glad to take her from you, Mingyu.”

“And I insist that you do not leave again for such a long period, for she has become quite unbearable in your absence. My mother and I insist you share responsibility for the monster you have helped create.”

You laughed. You knew Mr. Kim Mingyu all too well- from his rather awkward and gangly teenage years until he became the present handsome and charming bachelor. You would not pretend that you had not had your fair share of attraction towards Mingyu in the past- but you had long matured out of those childish attractions and had instead come to respect his good character and regard him as a valuable friend.

“I am here now, Mr. Kim, so you may return to your paper,” you told him with a smile.

Mr. Kim nodded. “Much obliged.”

Miss Kim ushered you to sit down and generously piled your plate full of food from the breakfast table as she spoke in a rapid, eager tone.

“You must meet Mr. Park at once, you will adore him. He is such a wonderful and handsome gentleman and he is so charming, he says the loveliest things and I am quite smitten with him. I know you do not believe in silly things such as love at first sight and perhaps it was not quite that, but I must tell you that I was very sure soon after meeting him that this was the man for me.”

“Slow down,” you told her with a laugh. “Who is this Mr. Park? What do we know of him?”

“He has a large estate in Derbyshire that he has only just inherited from his late uncle. He enjoys horse riding, and hunting, and is excellent at cards-” Miss Kim went on eagerly.

You nodded. “Yes, but what do we-”

“Let me pour you some tea- oh no, the pot is empty. Marie! Marie! Can you bring us some more tea, please- oh, where has this maid got to…”

You watched in surprise as your overly excited friend rushed out of the room to procure more tea. She was certainly very enthusiastic- far more enthusiastic than she had ever been when she was courting Mr. Jeon. You turned to Mingyu and gave him a meaningful look.

“Mingyu…”

He looked up from his paper. “Yes?”

“What do we really know of this man?” you asked pointedly.

Mingyu smiled softly and folded the newspaper closed. “You are thoughtful to be concerned, Miss Beaumont, but there is no need. I have had Mr. Park thoroughly investigated. He is who he claims to be. I have watched them and as strange as it is, he really does seem to be quite the perfect match for my sister. He is able to match her high energy and passionate feelings in a way I have not seen any other gentleman achieve.”

You winced. “I suppose you mean Mr. Jeon.”

Mingyu sighed. “Yes, that courtship is quite at its natural end. Thank goodness they never got quite so far as for him to propose.”

“Is Mr. Jeon all right?”

“He certainly wouldn't tell me if he wasn't,” Mingyu replied with a sigh. “I cannot pretend to know whether or not the man is heartbroken, but I do believe that it was for the best. I am afraid Wonwoo was not a very good fit for my sister. Time will heal his wounds eventually.”

You nodded. There was some wisdom in Mingyu’s words. “Yes- and if you say Mr. Park really is such a perfect fit for Miss Kim-”

“He is.”

Miss Kim returned along with a maid carrying a pot of tea and sat down beside you with a huge smile. “Shall I invite Mr. Park for tea tomorrow? Will you meet him then?” she asked eagerly.

You bit your lip. “I would love to, but… I am afraid my aunt wants me to go to Portsmouth for the autumn with her and Julia.”

Miss Kim’s face fell. “No! Surely you cannot, you must stay in London!”

“I am afraid Julia needs me, my aunt is trying to encourage a match between her and Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Julia will be in need of a chaperone-”

Your friend scoffed. “A chaperone? It is quite outrageous for Lady Beaumont to demand your time and attention now, when she never even bothered to come to London for you when you were in need of a chaperone. Miss Beaumont! You cannot mean to tell me that you will miss my engagement ball and wedding to go to Portsmouth of all places?”

You sighed and sipped your tea. “Believe me, friend, I have no great interest in going to Portsmouth. But there is an obligation to my family… I will try to persuade my aunt to let me stay in London for a while longer.”

Miss Kim pressed your hand desperately. “You must. And if you are in Portsmouth at the time of my wedding then I shall hire someone to kidnap you and bring you to London.”

You laughed. “I shall come quite willingly.”

You leaned back in your seat and listened patiently to Miss Kim gush about her first meeting with Mr. Park- how she had met him at the Michaels’ grand ball at the start of season and he had captivated her attention from their first dance.

It appeared that you had a very difficult decision ahead of you. Should you follow your family to Portsmouth or stay in London? Either way, you would surely have a very interesting few months ahead of you.

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#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #vernon x reader #seventeen angst #regency!au

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