#*bows* for you your majesty! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letoasai · 5 months

Text

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment.

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams.

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy.

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it.

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle.

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.”

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan.

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted.

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.”

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?”

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work.

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it.

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?”

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.”

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?”

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.”

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for.

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs.

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face.

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment.

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.”

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.”

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?”

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over.

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-”

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?”

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke.

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title.

“I can handle that. Your deal?”

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-”

“Pass.”

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly.

“My soul then….” Raven muttered.

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!”

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.”

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away.

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.”

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer.

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?”

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.”

“Wha…” Flash muttered.

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.”

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.”

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough.

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked.

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds.

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction.

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered.

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity.

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.”

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?”

“Yes.”

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly.

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…”

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.”

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.”

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?”

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything.

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced.

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging.

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.”

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered.

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes.

“My food?”

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.”

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage.

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?”

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face.

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green.

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head.

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.”

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action.

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water.

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed.

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating.

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare.

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale.

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger.

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing.

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag.

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small.

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.”

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?”

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form…

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…”

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.”

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him.

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.”

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?”

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.”

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him.

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?”

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering.

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin.

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.”

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression.

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.”

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.”

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself.

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either.

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?”

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.”

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!”

“No way.”

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.”

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame.

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.”

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

Masterlist

#dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #Danny Phantom x Red Robin if you squint #Batman #Red Robin #superboy #conner kent #Raven #Flash

4K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

The Princess and the Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader

Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians

Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this

“And if you’ll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I’ll take you to meet Kevin now,” the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.

You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.

“Oh goody,” your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.

Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. “We’re very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmark’s driver.”

The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haas’ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.

You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, you’ve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.

“And I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevin’s day!” The rep continues enthusiastically. “He was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.”

You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your mother’s family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.

Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, she’s already mastered your family’s signature skill — conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.

“I have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,” the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. “It would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.”

You force a smile, already shaking your head. “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.”

The PR rep’s face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?”

She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.

As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. “The honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.”

Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. “Please, call me Kevin.”

You return his smile politely. “Very well, Kevin it is.”

The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and you’re grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.

As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.

You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. There’s something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.

Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now that’s a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up you’ve heard is full of young talent — what’s not to love?

You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.

You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.

But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.

His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if you’re okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.

In this moment, it’s just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasn’t let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.

You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.

You stand frozen, lost in the stranger’s mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.

You blink, the spell broken as Henrik’s hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.

The stranger’s eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrik’s suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.

Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.

“Oscar! What are you doing, mate? We’ve got the strategy briefing in five!”

You watch as the man — Oscar, apparently — glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.

Oscar’s hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. “Sorry, I—”

But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go. No time for chatting up fans when we’ve got quali coming up.”

Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.

You stare after them for a long moment before Henrik’s voice breaks through your daze once more.

“Your Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?”

You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “Just a bit clumsy this morning it seems.”

You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.

Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.

As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.

The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. You’re sure they’ll have the truth out of you before long.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N,” your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. “Have a nice stroll?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.

“Lovely, thank you,” you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.

You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblings’ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.

“You look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?” Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.

“Just peachy!” You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.

From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. “You do seem rather … distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?”

You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.

“Oh leave your sister be,” your mother chides. “I’m sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.”

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

You’re immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to “give the team space to prepare for qualifying,” and drawing your family’s attention away from you.

You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.

As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.

“Soooo,” she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Who’s got you all flustered then?”

You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. “What? No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. “I may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.”

Isabella’s grin turns positively feline. “Oh, do tell ...”

“There’s nothing to tell!” you insist, face flaming once more. “We collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure that blush is just because you’re so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.”

You scowl and take a long swig of your water.

Isabella chuckles. “So was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?”

You nearly choke again. “Isabella!” You admonish under your breath.

She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.”

You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, “He … wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking.”

“Aha!” Isabella crows triumphantly. “I knew it!”

You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“Do you know his name at least?” Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.

You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.”

Isabella hums thoughtfully. “Very mysterious ...”

You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. “Oh stop it. Can we please just drop this?”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.

You’re prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblings’ knowing looks.

You determinedly put the morning’s events from your mind, focusing on Kevin’s qualifying efforts. Though you can’t help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren — Oscar — was the one flying around the track instead.

The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.

As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.

“Excellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.”

Kevin smiles wryly back at you. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.”

You nod sympathetically. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.”

Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. “You have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.”

You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the day’s obligations finally complete.

As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, “Do you think Kevin would’ve qualified higher if Haas wasn’t so slow?”

You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.

“Without question,” you whisper back. “I think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.”

Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.

***

You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your family’s teasing, you can’t seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.

Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.

You know it’s foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet … those eyes. You can’t shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.

The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.

“Mor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.”

Your mother’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Go out? Alone?”

You rush to reassure her. “Oh no, I’ll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.”

You see a flash of understanding on your mother’s face and press your advantage. “In fact, didn’t you and Far meet during a pub crawl?”

Pink stains your mother’s cheeks but her lips quirk up. “I suppose we did. But those were different times ...”

“Please Mor?” You plead. “When will I have a chance like this again?”

Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. “Oh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.”

You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll stay safe.”

As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. “Hey, can I come too?”

“Absolutely not,” your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.

You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.

An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.

Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesn’t comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.

When you arrive, the bouncer’s eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguards’ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and you’re granted access without a fuss.

The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.

You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight you’re just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.

Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But they’re discreet enough to give you space.

You’re so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you don’t notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.

“Y-Your Highness!” He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. “I mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, I’m not actually sure—”

You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.

“Oscar!” You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Pink stains Oscar’s tanned cheeks. “Ah, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But what brings Denmark’s future queen out to the clubs?”

You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. “Can’t a girl just want to dance and have some fun?”

Oscar’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Suppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink … er ...”

He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.

You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. “Tonight, I’m just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.”

Relief flashes across Oscar’s face and he smiles. “Y/N it is.”

Soon you’ve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.

You’re amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crown’s ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, you’re not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.

When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. “Oh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?”

Oscar’s eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. “Ah, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.”

He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.

The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.

When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscar’s face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.

Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. “I wish this didn’t have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would … would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?”

Your face lights up. “I’d love that.” Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.

***

The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscar’s brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.

As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. There’s no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.

You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think I’ll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.”

Your mother’s brows furrow in concern. “Oh dear, that won’t do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.”

You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.

You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.

You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?

Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

“Good morning!” He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.

You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.

“So … you’re a driver. Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning that last night.”

Pink stains Oscar’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.” His eyes turn pleading. “I hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didn’t already know everything about me for once.”

You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. “Well, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And it’s not as if I was fully forthcoming either.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag in relief. “Too right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.” His eyes dance playfully.

You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. “Oscar! Debrief in two minutes, let’s go!”

Oscar smiles apologetically. “Duty calls. But let’s continue this later?”

At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.

Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.

A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevin’s efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.

The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscar’s podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.

Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscar’s podium.

“Nice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.”

Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.

As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Not a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?”

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.

“Indeed,” you murmur back. “One must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.”

Isabella’s eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

As the celebrations kick off for Oscar’s first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.

Someday soon, perhaps you’ll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.

If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.

***

You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.

You’ve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.

“Princess! Wait up!”

You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave,” you smile brightly. “I had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!”

Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. “And, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “You know I can’t answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and I’m so pleased for your result.”

Oscar’s grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.

“Well I’m glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.”

You groan good-naturedly. “Ugh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.”

Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. “I suppose this means you’ll be heading back to Denmark now though?”

You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. “Oh no, we’re spending a few more weeks visiting my mother’s family in Tasmania first.”

At Oscar’s look of surprise, you elaborate, “My mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.”

Understanding dawns on Oscar’s face. “Well how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.” He winks playfully.

Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. “I suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.”

A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.

Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. “Too right, you’ve got me there.” His laughter fades to a soft smile. “But I can’t say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.”

The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.

“I should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.”

Oscar’s face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.

Once you’ve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.

Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Well, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...”

“Right, yes ...” You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscar’s smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.

Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscar’s arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.

You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until it’s just this — the two of you suspended in time.

Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Travel safely, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” His voice holds a promise.

You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.

You don’t look back, though you can feel Oscar’s gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.

Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.

***

You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.

“Eager today, are we Princess?”

You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. “Oh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.”

Oscar’s answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. “Guilty. I’ll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. “Flatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?”

“Oh where to even start!” Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama — teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.

“Meanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...” Oscar continues, recounting his teammate’s latest antics.

You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. “Honestly, I don’t know how McLaren copes with you two!”

“We keep things lively, that’s for sure,” Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. “Although we’d love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...”

He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.

“Funny you should mention that … I’ve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “Really? You’d come to another race?” His voice turns playful. “Any particular reason for the sudden interest?”

You laugh, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in it. “Oh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...” You pause before adding softly, “Getting to see a certain Aussie driver again.”

Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. “Well I’m sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. “As it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.”

“That’s perfect!” Oscar enthuses. “Spa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say you’ll be there?”

His boyish eagerness melts your heart. “I’ll speak to our communications secretary this week. I’m sure they can make it happen.”

“Brilliant.” The tender hope in Oscar’s voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.

You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.

“I suppose I should let you go then ...” He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.

You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. “Wait, you haven’t told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!”

Oscar huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, words don’t do justice to the monstrosity. I’ll send pictures so you can experience it fully.”

“It’s a deal.” You know you’re only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.

Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.

“Hey Y/N, Mor wants to know if … is that Oscar you’re talking to?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. “Sorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!”

Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.

You smack his shoulder indignantly. “You little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!”

Christian just cackles gleefully. “Oh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.” He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.

“Just you wait until you’re madly pining over someone, I’ll get my revenge,” you threaten.

But inside, not even Christian’s teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.

***

Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.

And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.

Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. “Oscar!”

He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.

Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.

“You came,” Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. “Of course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.”

Oscar’s answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.

“Well then, allow me to escort you inside properly.” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.

After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.

The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.

Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.

“Ready to meet the team, Princess?” At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.

You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.

“Zak, Andrea — there’s someone special I want you both to meet.”

The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.

“This is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.”

Zak’s eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. “Your Royal Highness, welcome. We’re honored to host you in our garage.”

You return his firm handshake. “The honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.”

After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.

“Oscar, mate! There you are, I’ve been ...” The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.

“Lando, come meet the princess!” Oscar calls out cheekily.

Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. “Your Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.”

Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Lando’s shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.

“But, wait.” Lando glances between you again in confusion. “You mean all those times you cooed ’good morning, Princess’ over the phone … you were talking to an actual princess!”

Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.

After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,” he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.

The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.

But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. You’re on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.

The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.

You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.

The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.

Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermé but Oscar’s performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. “Quickly, he’ll want you there for this!”

Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.

Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.

In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek … and then his lips find yours.

The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscar’s lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.

When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscar’s breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.

***

You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscar’s podium kiss yesterday, you’ve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.

A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. “The call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.”

Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your family’s faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).

Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Your Royal Highness, might we have a word about this … incident from the race?” The chief advisor’s tone drips disapproval.

Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. “Of course.”

“I trust you’ve seen the coverage?” At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, “Then you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.”

You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, “Such scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.”

The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.

“The narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.”

The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.

“Enough!” Your father’s stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.

Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that you’re happy.”

Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.

“I know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.” His eyes soften, finding your mother. “I’ll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.”

Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.

The fight drains from the advisors under your father’s resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.

Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.

“Soooo … looks like someone had an eventful race!”

Heat floods your cheeks but you can’t suppress a giddy smile. “It just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.”

“This Oscar must be something special,” your mother remarks kindly.

Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscar’s kiss. “He really is. I can’t explain it, but it feels … right with him.”

Your normally stoic mother looks touched. “Then he has my blessing.”

On her other side, Christian smirks. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re in looooove.” He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hush dear, let your sister be happy,” your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. “Reminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...”

Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. “Too right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.” He winks at you. “We Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.”

You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your family’s support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.

You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you won’t be facing them alone.

Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.

But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.

“So ...” he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, “Think your family will let you keep me around?”

You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.

Let the world say what they will. You’ve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscar’s arms encircling you now, you know you’re right where you belong.

***

“Come on, it’ll be great! When’s the next chance you’ll get to come down under?”

Oscar’s pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.

“I don’t know … won’t I be imposing on your family time?”

Oscar waves a hand breezily. “Nah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, they’ll smother you with Aussie hospitality.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And you’re endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.

Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. “There’s so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...”

His voice turns coaxing. “And just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...”

Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.

“Oh alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.”

Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. “Yes! You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!

The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally you’re boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.

Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home you’ve missed so much.

As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.

Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.

You spot them immediately — Oscar’s smile mirrored on his mother’s face and his kind eyes reflected in his father’s crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.

“Your Royal Highness, we’re so honored to finally meet you!” His mother gushes. “Oscar’s told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.”

You smile, charmed by her easy manner. “The honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.”

She pats your hand merrily. “Of course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, let’s get you home and settled.”

The ride to Oscar’s childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parents’ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.

When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. “We’ve freshened up Oscar’s old room for you, I do hope it’s comfortable.”

You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Nicole claps her hands. “Now, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chris’ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.

“We’re just delighted to finally meet the girl who’s made our Oscar so happy.”

Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents aren’t looking.

The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.

Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscar’s room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.

Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. “This was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.

Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscar’s arms, you have everything you need.

Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.

“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.

The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity — lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscar’s family feels like coming to a second home.

On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper into the quiet night.

Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. “It’s only the start for us.”

And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know he’s right. This is just the beginning.

***

You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.

It’s his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know they’ll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.

The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.

Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.

Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.

You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home you’ve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“There’s my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you so much, Princess.”

Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.

“Well now I see why you were so eager for Oscar’s visit. Should I come back later?”

You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscar’s hand, you lead him towards the family wing.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to finally meet you properly.”

Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.

Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscar’s hand firmly. “Oscar, welcome. We’re delighted to have you here.”

Oscar returns the handshake graciously. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.

Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.

With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.

“Sooo tell us,” Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. “What exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?”

Oscar just grins, unfazed. “Why, to make her happy every single day, of course.”

You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.

“Good answer!” Christian crows. “But know if you ever hurt her, you’ll have the entire Danish army to answer to.”

Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.

“You have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.

The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscar’s childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.

Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.

“Whew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.”

You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “You were wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Oscar’s eyes soften. “Me too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.”

Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.

A loud retching sound interrupts you. “Ugh, get a room you two!” Christian complains, dodging your swat.

Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. “Don’t worry mate, I plan to.”

He silences Christian’s protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscar’s warmth, you can’t bring yourself to care who sees.

***

Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.

The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. There’s something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.

Sensing your tension, Oscar’s hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

You lean into his touch, gathering courage. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.” You twist to meet his gaze. “I know it’s still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...”

You trail off uncertainly, but Oscar’s eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.

“There are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.”

You watch Oscar’s face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. “Of course, that makes sense. I’m happy to learn whatever I need to.”

Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.

“For example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role … it was a massive life change.”

You take a bracing breath. “I don’t expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...”

You trail off meaningfully. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle your face. “Hey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, I’m in this 100%.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to build a life together.”

Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. “Well, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?”

Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. “Ja, det lyder perfekt.”

You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. “You brat, have you been practicing without telling me?”

Oscar’s eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.”

His smile turns tender. “I’d love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.”

Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. “Alright, let’s start simple. Like hej simply means hello.”

Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.

“Jeg elsker dig,” you murmur, gazing into his eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Oscar echoes. “What does it mean?”

Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. “It means I love you.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” he repeats reverently.

Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, “Jeg elsker dig, Oscar.”

The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscar’s arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. “What else can you teach me?”

Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.

But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.

You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.

As you finally part at the airport, his whispered “jeg elsker dig” warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.

***

You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.

Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner — a lavish gala in honor of the new children’s hospital bearing your mother’s name.

A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. “Yes, come in.”

Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.”

He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. “Going to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.”

And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.

“Shall we?” He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.

“We shall.”

The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.

You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospital’s key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.

But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. “Is it terrible I’m already bored senseless? I’d rather actually meet these kids we’re meant to be helping.”

You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.

As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscar’s eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.

Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.

“Quick, while we won’t be missed. Let’s actually go see the children.”

Excitement flashes across Oscar’s face. “Brilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.”

Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.

“Rigshospitalet, please. Quickly.”

At the children’s hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.

“So sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?”

The receptionist’s mouth opens and closes before she stutters, “O-of course, Your Highness, right away!” Clearly your boldness has paid off.

You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.

At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.

“Mama, it’s the princess! And her boyfriend!”

You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.

You laugh and enter slowly. “We were hoping we might visit you, if that’s alright?”

The girl — Else — nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Else’s delight.

As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, she’s just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.

All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.

“Thank you! This was like a fairytale.” Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.

You hug Else gently before kneeling down. “It was our honor. You stay strong, little one.”

Her returning whisper warms your heart. “Don’t worry, I will!”

Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but it’s a welcome ache. The children’s awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.

Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscar’s eyes mirror the same emotion.

Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you it’s time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.

Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.

Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all — this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.

You know you’ll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.

Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscar’s arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.

“I think tonight was the most important royal function I’ve ever attended,” he murmurs.

You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.

The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart — the only currency that counts can’t be bought, only given freely through love.

***

Two Years Later

You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.

Now, you’re about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.

At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.

You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.

Because today also brings another announcement — one that will upend Oscar’s world irreversibly.

Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscar’s character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.

Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.”

He gazes at you softly before continuing. “I’m truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmark’s lovely princess.”

You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.

But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.

“While I’m elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this season’s conclusion.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscar’s grip tightens as he pushes forward.

“As a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.”

His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscar’s passion — having to walk away is unimaginably hard.

Oscar visibly gathers himself. “But as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.”

He turns to you then, eyes glistening. “The honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.”

Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.

His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.

Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.

“Til Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ære, respekt og kærlighed.”

The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscar’s speech in their native tongue.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise — to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.

Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.

“Oscar’s love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.”

Your voice wavers with feeling. “Though it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.”

You reach for Oscar’s hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. “He gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.

But you remain lost in Oscar’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.

Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.

Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.

Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. “I meant every word,” he whispers fiercely. “You are my whole world now.”

You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.

“I know, min kæreste. We’ll face this new future together.”

The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.

A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.

***

Five Years Later

The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.

In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her father’s excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.

You reach over to still Oscar’s jostling knee, smiling indulgently. “Easy there, we’ve barely arrived and you’re already wound up.”

Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.

But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.

As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.

“He lives! The prodigal prince returns!” A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.

Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.

“Good to see you too, mate. It’s been way too long.”

You round the car to find Oscar’s former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.

Oscar’s eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.

As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. “And who do we have here? Don’t tell me this little beauty is your daughter?”

Oscar beams, waving you both over. “She is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.”

Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. “No way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!”

Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. “What can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.” He kisses Maise’s wavy hair, eyes finding yours. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.

More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.

Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. “It’s so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!”

For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscar’s face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.

But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. “That’s a lovely offer, truly. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the royal box.”

He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. “Some of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.” Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her father’s smile.

You slip your arm through Oscar’s, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.

You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years already,” he murmurs. “Feels like another lifetime.”

You smile up at him sadly. “I know, my love. But look at everything you’ve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldn’t even be happening without you.”

Oscar huffs a small laugh. “Too right. Who needs driving when I’ve got you two anyway?”

He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.

Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.

This may no longer be Oscar’s world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where he’s meant to be.

3K notes · View notes

i-cant-sing · 2 months

Note

To that one thought about the different monarchs YES TO ALL

Ahahaha im so glad so many people liked that idea (OG post here), so ive decided to work on it. So, lets set the story okay? (also btw do not @ me with historical inaccuracies and dates because i simply dont care about all of this that deeply). This AU will have multiple parts, where reader gets to travel through different time periods (and some of them will be real historic figures, others would be created by me).

Reader is a scientist, was working on her time machine (which is just a small box with time/year slots on it), and decides to travel to the past to solve some mysteries, or perhaps simply for the love of history.

So, where does reader travel to first?

1180. Landing right in the kingdom of Jerusalem. And who does she meet?

King Baldwin IV- the leper king.

Reader wanted to see how leprosy, a deadly disease at the time, had affected the king, who despite his conditions, still managed to possess great military strategies and IQ. And how even though his people knew about his outcome, still pledged their loyalty and unwavering support.

You, a scientist of the modern time ofc brought along futuristic gadgets with you. Knowing how youd look in your present era clothes, you wore a watch that allowed you to change into clothes of old times, to blend in easily. All of your gadgets were concealed easily because of their "invisibility cloak" feature.

You made your way towards the castle, making sure to not let awe be apparent in your face as you took in your surroundings, thinking of all the questions youd like to ask the wise king. Of course, you had to make sure you dont do anything to disturb the historic timeline, because then it just might lead to disastrous results.

Getting into the castle was easy, after all you had equipment to sneak you in undetected. You looked around as the servants rushed around, talking about making the arrangements perfect for the feast. You figured out that the feast was probably for another victory the king had gotten, which meant that everyone would be too busy to notice you snooping around.

With everyone engaged downstairs, you had your way up to the king's study, where you opened the door only to be met with a tall burly man standing there, looking surprised to see you.

"Who are you?" He barked, and you got the worst vibes from this man.

"Uh- Im a servant!" You said,backing up a little, just in case you needed to make a run. The man narrowed his eyes as he looked you up and down. "A servant? No servants are allowed in the king's study!"

"The king sent me here." You lied. "And why are you here if servants are not allowed?"

The man's eyes widened in rage before grabbing you by the neck. "Because Im not a servant, fool! I'm his brother in law!" He shook you hard. "And I dont think youre a servant, if you couldnt recognise me! I will have your head, spy!"

"GUY!" Someone yelled from behind you, making Guy look up as his grip around your neck loosened. "Let her go!"

"Your majesty, she's a spy-"

"She's a servant. I sent her up to retrieve my papers." Guy let you go, as you quickly turned around to see him- King Baldwin. You bowed to him as you gave him a glance, noticing his piercing gaze through his iron mask. His gaze shifted from you to Guy. "And what were you doing here, Guy?"

"I was looking for Sibylia, your majesty." He said.

"In my study? My sister is waiting for you downstairs. Go." Guy scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, while you watched as the king made his way into his study, leaving you outside.

You took a step back, about to leave-

"Well, come on in." He called you. You ponder over it for a second before walking in. Look, how many times can you meet a historical figure like him?

Baldwin was sitting in his chair, his eyes looking at you through his mask. "So, who are you and what were you doing here? And dont bother lying, unless you want to be tortured for attempted assassination on the king."

You bit your lip before sighing. "Im Y/n L/n." Clasping your hands together, you took a deep breath. "I came here because... I wanted to know about you."

He rested his chin on his palm. "Why? Do you not know about the king of Jerusalem? Where are you from?" He's not vain, but he knows that his numerous victories have made him popular over the years. So why do you not know of him? Or his brother in law, Guy, who is very vain.

"Im from nowhere. For as long as I can remember, Ive been travelling from place to another. Of course, Ive heard about you, but... I crave to know more." You said, partly telling the truth because you do want to know more about him.

His eyes remained on you, the same intense gaze. "And why should I allow you to know more? Do you mistake yourself to be worthy enough to even be in the presence of a king?"

Shit. He was trying to put you in the corner. You had to play this smart.

You smiled softly. "Of course not. Then again, none of us are worthy of anything God blesses us with." You paused, letting the words settle. "Your majesty, I only wish to know more about you because I like to write. I like to write about history, and when one day, God forbid, you succumb to your illness, wouldn't you like to be known for more than just your victories?" You'd read about how Baldwin IV was a fan of history and stories.

His eyes stared at you- no, through you. Unmoving, he replied. "Man shouldnt be so narcissistic to have someone write about his deeds."

You gave a nod. "Jesus wasnt a narcissist. Neither was Mary, nor Abraham. Muhammad wasnt a narcissist either, yet theyre mentioned in books- holy books, nonetheless."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, before he spoke. "True. But why should I have you write it, instead of using one of my scribes?"

"Precisely for the reason you just said." You raised your head a bit. "They'd write never ending praises for you, portray you as this omnipotent ruler, make you look like a narcissit even. I have a keen eye, your majesty. I like to look at what there is beyond the surface. If you let me be your scribe, I could write about details you dont even know. Id write about your strengths as well as weaknesses, for the generations to read and learn from you."

Baldwin remained still for a few moments before finally standing up, walking directly towards you until he was face to face. His blue eyes shining bright under his iron mask.

"I will let you write, under two conditions. First- I approve what gets to be in the book. And second... you spy for me."

"Wait, spy?"

He hummed. "Well, not a conventional spy. You wont have to leave this castle and penetrate enemy territories to eavesdrop. I still dont trust you enough. No- you- you will spy on my court. I want to know what is happening, when, where, and who says what." Under his mask, he raised a brow. "Do you accept?"

You pretended to hesitate, when in reality this was the exact situation you wanted to be in. "Hmm... yes. I accept."

"Good." He walks back towards his desk. "I expect that it goes without saying- complete discretion." You smiled. "Of course, your majesty."

Months passed by as you worked for the king. He let you in on details, allowed you to ask personal questions, and in return you kept an eye on everything that happened in court. Listening on to what the servants whispered to eavesdropping on "secret meetings" of the nobles- of course, headed by Guy. Oh how you loathed that vermin's guts. No- he had no guts. A spineless creature, who blatantly talked of the king's eventual demise and all the ways he'd make the kingdom flourish again, how he'd show "no mercy to Salauddin and his muslims". You have no idea how Sibylla was attracted to him- a man who plans her brother's demise openly.

As for the king, working with him- or for him, wasnt all bad. In fact, it was quite fun. The amount of stories, the secrets youve been able to discover- none of it could ever be found in any history book. Most of all, you respect Baldwin on a whole new level now.

His struggles, ever since he was kid- not being a legitmate ruler, his parents being forced to separate, then being diagnosed with leprosy but forced to keep it a secret, the competition with his other sibling to be the heir, and of course, even when he did become the king, he still had to prove his mettle- his worth that he's worthy of ruling even with his disease.

With his life expectancy being uncertain and a huge amount of responsibility being shovelled onto him, he had to learn a lot and master various skills in very short time.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Y/n could only imagine how isolated he must feel. Not being able to touch anyone, to have a significant other, to constantly win battles and do everything in your power to help the kingdom flourish, just for him to not even be alive to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And worse, he's forced to give it away to his brother in law, that useless piece of shit.

Its one thing that confuses you about Baldwin. You know how persistent he is, how when he sets his eyes on something, he does everything in power and BEYOND to achieve it. For example, when he was only a child and had started to lose the ability to use his hands, he quickly learned to use his thighs to steer his horse. He did not let his disease hold him back, so how does a person as motivated as him simply allow his kingdom to be left in the hands of someone as incapable as Guy?

Then again, you suppose he's doing it for the sake of his sister. Baldwin adores Sibylla, and you could see why. Sibylla was his older sister, she took care of him, and she was forced to marry early because the court would only allow Baldwin to be king IF she were married, so that when Baldwin dies of leprosy, her husband could take care of the kingdom. Baldwin views it as the ultimate sacrifice, so even though he has tried to separate his sister from Guy, she has refused because she's in love with him.

God knows how. You wondered. Guy does not have any redeeming qualities, then again youre thinking like a 21st century woman. Woman of this time had the bar for men set below the deepest level in hell.

"So, what do you have for me today?" Baldwin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking your head. "Nothing new, really. Your brother in law, pardon my language your majesty, has been spewing shit about how he'll make the kingdom great again when you die. But when those nobles ask him how, he either has no answer and tries to cover it up by saying its a secret, or he'd say something so ridiculous- his ideas are bound to not only fail, but actually destroy the kingdom even more. I am surprised he doesnt give himself a headache by his own voice. God knows i get one whenever he opens his mouth." You complained, rubbing your temples making the king chuckle. Baldwin seemed to enjoy how informally you spoke.

"Guy is... something else. I apologise on his behalf." You could sense him smiling under his mask. You gave a small smile, but truthfully, your head was actually hurting a lot. You could only hope this was not a migraine developing.

"Would you like tea? Or wine?" He asked as he called in a servant. "Just water for me, thank you." You said, closing your eyes for a few moments as the sharp ache in your head increased.

Baldwin's eyes remained on you, a calculated gaze. "Are you alright? Should I call in the physician?" You shook your head. As if you could trust physicians of this time. "No, I'll be fine after I sleep." You have some medical potions with you that could heal your basic diseases and pains. A gift of modern medicine. But you'll have to use it discreetly, lest someone from this era discovers it and calls you a witch.

The servant soon brought in a chalice filled with water for you and you immediately took a sip of the cool water. Baldwin stood up as he walked over to the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Can I ask you something personal?" You asked. He hummed. You stared at his back, the white cloak he was dressed in. "Do you think if you never had this disease, would you still be a great king? A king who is so motivated to make his kingdom as successful as he can before his time is up?"

He looked back at you, and for a second you wondered if you had slighted him. But these past few months, you've learned to read his body language, despite how hard he conceals both himself and his thoughts.

"No." He said, turning back to the window. "I probably would've been a spoiled brat, I don't think I would've even been chosen to be king. I would've lost it to my half brothers." He tilted his head as he looked at a particular star in the sky. "I suppose my disease is a blessing. God blessed me with it to humble me. Had He not, I probably wouldn't be religious."

"And is that how you see your suffering? A blessing from God?" You asked as you pulled out the medical vial from your cloak and poured it in your chalice. Your headache had started to pulsate now and you needed this.

"I do. I have to serve my people, and my suffering has brought me closer to them and to God. And even with my disease, I was made a king. Isn't that divine intervention? My purpose on earth?" He said almost monotonously, as if he's had this conversation a thousand times.

You took sip of your medicated water, headache immeadiately reducing in intensity. "So... if you had the chance, would you still be the leper king? Or would you be healthy but... not a king? Just a man who gets to experience life like the rest of us, eat normal food, play with others, walk without having to wear a mask, or even fall in love?"

He remained silent, but his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Tired? Or defeated?

"I prefer not to think about things I have no control over, Y/n." He finally turned around and his blue eyes looked at yours, though this time, there was something else swirling in them. "Finish your water and head to bed. I don't think you're well enough to tell me a story tonight." You smiled gratefully. Over these past few months, the king had enjoyed the modern world stories you told him. Some were literature classics, like Romeo and Juliet, others were straight up fanfic plots with details missing because he wouldn't have understood them anyways.

You were about to pick up your chalice when suddenly Baldwin fell to the ground.

"Your Majesty!" You rushed over to him, watching him tremble on the ground as he struggled to breathe. You dropped to your knees and attempted to remove his mask, only for him swat your hand away.

"No! You'll get it too!" He said, his eyes screwing shut in pain. He was worried about you contracting leprosy.

"Just- trust me." You pursed your lips as you moved his hand away and removed his mask, before removing the white veil underneath it, which was there to prevent his peeling skin and sores from sticking to the iron mask.

You didn't gasp when you saw his disfigured face. No, you'd seen it already when they constructed his face using modern technology. You touched his forehead with your palm, noticing how warm it was. This was one of his leprosy fevers, it was serious and quiet painful. But you already know he doesn't die until 1185 and it's still 1180.

"I'll go fetch the physician-"

"No!" Baldwin yelled, struggling to breathe. "No- just-" He suddenly whimpered as pain shot through every fiber of his body, making him dig his heels into the ground. Your heart wrenched at the sight.

"Its- too- hot- i-" you looked around before grabbing your chalice and bringing it to his lips, holding his head in your lap, you helped him drink the water. He drank it all, his forehead now covered in sweat and his face still contorted in pain. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"Its okay, Baldwin. I'm here. I'm right here." You whispered, his head resting in your lap as you gently wiped his forehead with your sleeve.

Baldwin stared up into your worried eyes, and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

Baldwin woke upto screaming. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly cleared upto watch you and Guy screaming at each other, the latter had his hand clawed into your hair.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TO, YOU WENCH?!" Guy yelled as he shook you harshly.

"A SPINLESS BEING NOT WORTHY OF BEING CALLED A MAN!" You spat back, eyes red with rage.

Guy's eyes widened at the insult before he raised his hand to strike you, but was stopped by Baldwin.

"Guy! Let her go!" Both of your heads snapped towards the king.

"Y-your Majesty?" Guy couldn't believe his eyes. He survived?

"I said- let. Her. Go!" Baldwin commanded as he stood up and walked over to them, making Guy immeadiately let you go and bow to him. Baldwin's eyes landed on you, and you gave him a small bow.

"Leave." Baldwin commanded, eyes fixed on you.

Guy looked up from his his bowing position. "Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're well-"

"I said, LEAVE!" Baldwin's voice boomed, his eyes never leaving yours. Guy scrambled put of the room quickly, and you started to leave as well, but Baldwin grabbed your wrist.

"Not you." He said, those blue eyes piercing into you. "I- how long was I out?"

"2 weeks." You replied.

Baldwin let out small gasp as he let go of your hand and slowly walked towards the mirror in his room. It was quiet for a minute.

"What... happened?" He asked, looking at his reflection.

"Well, after you fainted, I called in the physicians and they took you to your chambers. They had prepared some medication but were hesitant to apply it on you, fearing they'd contract your disease. So, I convinced them to let me do it since I had already touched you. When I was done, your sister, princess Sibylla and Guy came. Guy asked the physicians when you would be dying, and the physicians said a few days and that this time- you may not wake up from your fever. While your sister broke down, and honestly I'm not trying to create problems for you guys, but you could ask anyone and they'd tell you just how much Guy beamed at the news. Anyways, they both left soon after that. Things were quite for a week, with the physicians coming in to give me the medication to apply on you. Then-" you paused trying not to show your frustration in your voice. "In the second week, Guy started fussing around and throwing tantrums since you didn't die yet. I mean, I was in your room but I could still hear him yelling at the physicians outside about how his coronation was being delayed because you were still here. It pissed me off, but you know me- I'm not one to get into family matters. So I didn't do anything. Then today-! Ugh, he came in while I was in your bathroom and I saw him grabbing a pillow and bringing it near your face. He stopped when I chucked your bible at him- so sorry about that but it was nearest thing next to me- and I just asked what he was doing. And do you know what he said? He had the nerve- THE NERVE to say 'I'm just trying to end his suffering, in fact you should do it. I can't risk contracting leprosy, I'm the future king!' And then I chucked your golden cross at him- again very sorry for that. And then we got into an argument and well- that's what you woke up to."

It was quiet again. You looked at Baldwin staring at his reflection, and for a moment, you thought he wasn't listening to you.

Baldwin nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Y/n. You may go to your room now. I will send in some physicians to check if you've contracted leprosy."

You frowned. "I havent-" but you stopped. How were you supposed to explain to him that you're "vaccinated".

In the mirror, his eyes shifted to you. "I know, but I'd like to know for sure. For my peace of mind."

You nodded. "Look, I'll go apologise to Guy right now-"

"No. There's no need. I'll talk to him myself. You've done enough. Please go to your room and wait for me." Baldwin gave you a small smile and watched you leave.

Moments later, he had a guard fetch the head physician in, who confirmed your story.

"Its true, your Majesty. Y/n risked her life to be with you for the past 2 weeks. She didn't leave the room and would apply medication on you herself, changed your clothes, wiped your sweat and even fed you some soup herself. She seemed very determined- almost as if she knew you'd recover. I'm ashamed to admit that I... I did not think you would." The physician even confirmed all the shit Guy had been doing, but Baldwin didn't need anyone's testimony to know that Guy was planning his downfall- and celebrating it. He wasn't surprised by that.

He was surprised by 2 things:

1. You hadn't contracted leprosy.

2. He was recovering from his disease.

"Its true. As you'd asked, I had done a check up on Y/n and I did not find any signs of leprosy... or any disease. She's as fit as can be!" The physician said in awe.

Baldwin smiled at that, looking at the mirror again. His own skin had begun healing. Many of his sores had already disappeared, and his complexion was returning to normal. And physical appearance was one thing, but Baldwin could even feel himself healthy on the inside. That constant ache in his bones was gone, the fatigue was gone, the suffering was gone.

But how? How could it just go away like that?

It's been 2 days since he woke up, and his health only seems to be improving at an exponential rate. And he's still trying to figure out how he got well out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the events of that night.

All he remembers is falling down, fever enveloping his body so quickly, he felt like he was burning up, and then you were there and you helped him drink-

Baldwin eyes snapped open. It made sense.

He called in the guard and had him fetch his senior council members in his court room.

"I have 2 surprises for you." Baldwin said as he sat on his throne, looking over the members (Sibylla and Guy were also present), all staring and perhaps gawking at how well he looked now. "My disease is cured. I no longer suffer from leprosy." The court immeadiately fell into whispers and mutterings before going silent when he raised a hand. "I know it sounds impossible, but as you can all see, my health has not only improved but in fact I have become stronger. My body is no longer ridden with sores and boils. I no longer wear a mask, neither do I require assistance in walking. In fact, I am even able to use both of my hands to not only use a sword but also-" He pulled out a dagger and aimed it an apple he threw in the air, piercing right through it. "- I am no longer blind in one eye."

The court erupted in cheer, congratulating the king and praising God for saving Baldwin and the kingdom. From his throne, he could see Sibylla clapping in joy and wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled at him, while Guy looked at him in shock.

"Your majesty! What's the other surprise?" One of the members asked.

Baldwin smiled as he stood up.

"I have found a wife. She's the one who healed me."

He looked at the court that had once again erupted into cheer.

"Jerusalem has a new Queen."

"What do you mean I can't leave?" You asked the guard who was stationed outside your door.

"Ma'am, as I said before, the king has asked you to wait for him and ordered us to not let you leave until he comes." He said before closing the door again.

You scoffed. Can't leave? Why the hell not?

It's probably because I insulted Guy. He wants to punish me because of that. Will he throw me in the dungeons? Or will he just have my head chopped off?

You pulled out your time machine, the small box in your hands.

Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. Time to leave-

Just then, you heard the door open, making you hide the machine again. Is he finally here?

"Princess Sibylla." You bowed.

She chuckled, grabbing your shoulders. "Now, now. There's no need for that. In fact, I have to be the one bowing to you now." She said before kissing your cheeks. She's always been very humble and kind, and over the past few months, you've developed a good friendship with her.

You gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" She laughed again. "Oh come on. You don't have to hide it anymore. Tell me, how did you persuade Baldwin to marry?"

"The king is getting married? To who?"

Sibylla raised a brow at you. "To-"

"Sibylla." A voice cut her off.

Baldwin was standing at your door. You bowed quickly, he looked at you before shaking his head at his sister.

"Will you leave? I have to talk to Y/n."

Sibylla nodded as she walked towards the door, but not before giving him a hug and congratulating him.

You two were alone now.

Baldwin had his hands clasped behind him as he walked closer to you.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, eyes shifting to his hands. Is he holding a knife? To punish you for insulting Guy?

"I'm well, all thanks to you." He replied.

"Huh?" You looked at him confused, but your mind was still occupied with his hands. What is he hiding?

I need to delay this and find an escape route to use my time machine. You thought.

"Um- I uh- I heard you're getting married." You gulped, eyes still fixed on his hands, trying to anticipate any sudden movements.

"I am."

"Oh um, congratulations."

"Thank you." Baldwin said, tilting his head slightly at your wide eyes fixed on his hidden hands.

Cute.

"Y/n." He called out to you.

"Look, if you- if you're still mad at me about what I said to Guy, I apologise. But- but just so you know, I- I DONT THINKS ITS GOOD OMEN TO MURDER ME BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED!"

"Y/n."

"I WILL HAUNT YOU-! IM SORRY BUT I WILL AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR WIFE AND YOUR KIDS-"

"Y/n!" You looked at him as he stared at you with amusement. "You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?"

With one hand, he cupped your cheek as he brought himself closer.

"Why would I kill my soon-to-be wife?"

What? Wait-

"What?!" You shrieked backing away. "What kind of joke is that?!"

Baldwin looked insulted. "I wouldn't joke about this. You're very important to me."

"No- I- what?!"

He sighed as he sat on your bed. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? You saved me from an incurable disease, clearly you're the Chosen One, sent to me by God, and now I'll marry you."

You looked at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?! Saved you? All I did was help you drink water, apply your medication and-" you paused.

Helped him drink water... from my chalice... the one with... the medicinal vial.

"No." You covered your mouth in shock. What have I done?! This would change history completely! Shit. Shit. shit shit shit-

"Yes. You dont have to be so worried. The council is actually quiet happy that Im marrying someone, and they agree that there is no better match than the woman who saved my life-"

"I did not save your life!"

"Of course, you did. You gave your chalice-" "How is that even possible?! It only had water!" "Water that touched your lips first. Of course, it mustve been your essence, your saliva that healed me-" "Ew, no. Do you even yourself?! This is all unbelievable!"

Baldwin furrowed his brows slightly. "Its... not. I mean, look at you. You spent weeks taking care of me, you touched me, and yet did not even show signs of any illness, let alone leprosy! Of course, youre the chosen one!"

"I am not the chosen one!" You yelled as you pulled at your hair frustratedly. How could you fuck up so bad? If Baldwin really is cured, then history will be changed- and it will have disastrous impacts on future-

Baldwin pulled your hands away from your hair, tutting at you. "Dont do that. Youre the Queen, you cant hurt yourself."

"I am not the Queen."

He nodded. "Yet. But you are a princess now." Baldwin said as he pulled out the box hed been hiding behind his back all this time. Before you could even react, he'd already pulled out the big gold ring with a sapphire that had tiny diamonds around it and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You gawked at the ring making him chuckle.

Baldwin bent down to kiss your forehead sweetly before tapping your cheek admonishingly.

"Now, no hurting yourself princess. I want my queen in perfect health." Your cheeks reddened at how close he was, making him laugh even more as he pecked your forehead again and turned to leave.

You couldn't even say anything, he'd left you speechless. He looked back once, a lazy smile on his face.

"I should leave you to rest now, before Sibylla returns and starts pestering you with wedding preparations. She told me that shed been looking forward to this day for a very long time."

so this is part 1. thoughts????

PART 2 here!

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #yandere leper king #yandere baldwin iv #male yandere #bnha headcanon #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios

1K notes · View notes

popamolly · 3 months

Text

‘PRETTY GIRL!’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. lucifer gets jealous and wants to remind you that you belong to no one but him.

warning. smut, overstimulation, established relationship, you and lucifer are married, alastor gets flirty with you, lucifer is a soft dom, vibrator, squirting, semi-public sex??, please don’t fuck where people eat/make food lmao, 18+ minors dni, kinda proofread sorry

author’s note. this is a 500 followers special! thank you all so much for the constant love, enjoy sinners.

𖤐 MASTERLIST

Lucifer and you had been frequenting the Hazbin Hotel ever since the tearful reunion between father and daughter. You didn’t mind, in fact, you encouraged it not just because you thrived off seeing your step-daughter Charlie and your husband happy but also because you would take any excuse to step out of that dreadful palace Lucifer and you called a home. It was just so boring and bland there where as the Hazbin Hotel was always lively and filled with some life threatening chaos that was exhilarating.

Now that you were back at the Hotel, you helped around whenever you could with enthusiasm. You were in charge of hanging up the banner that welcomed the new sinners but alas, the fixture was to high and your darling husband wasn’t anywhere in sight to help you.

As if sensing your distress, Alastor appeared from the shadow on the floor next to you with a wide grin, “Would you like some assistance, your majesty?”

“Yes, yes thank you.” You allowed Alastor lift you up onto his shoulder by your waist so you could tape up the banner. Once you found your balance, you began to quickly tape up one corner of the banner, trying to ignore the way Alastor’s fingers grazed along your thigh as he held you in place.

This was all a spectacle to be sure because you had no doubt that the radio demon could have manifested into something taller to help tape it up himself but you were sure this had something to do with his resentment toward your husband— though their feelings toward each other were mutual, “A little to the left Al…perfect, thank you.”

“Hoho, what is this?” The sound of your husband’s voice had you turning your head slightly to look at him just as Alastor set you back down on your feet with a knowing grin.

“Well, I—”

“I was only helping this darling damsel in distress as her husband was no where to be found,” Alastor’s grin widens as he turns to you with a respectful bow of his head, “If you need anything else, my dear. Anything at all. Do not hesitant to ask.” His staticky tone left a hint of suggestiveness that you picked up on and it left Lucifer practically seeing red. You cursed yourself being so caught up in helping Charlie that you didn’t mind accepting Alastor’s help for the simplest of tasks.

As you looked at Lucifer you realized that you should’ve maybe gotten a ladder before you even thought about letting the radio demon touch you because now you were going to pay the price for it.

And pay you did.

“W-Wait, Lucifer..!” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pure bliss as Lucifer rocked his hips into you even though you already came You both still had a whole task of things to do before the new sinners arrived at the hotel but Lucifer couldn’t wait. The moment you stepped into the nearest room, which was the kitchen, he pounced on you. He laid you on the marble island counter, fumbling with his pants belt.

“What were you going to tell me? Not to worry about that freaky bastard?” Lucifer loomed over your figure with that playful grin, his tongue sticking out as he spread your legs wider for him, "What's wrong? hm? I bet he wishes he could fuck you like this.”

"I—fuck— was going to say that he was only helping me!" You part your lips, "P-Please, right there—!"

“Was he now?” Feeling that you were about to cum, Lucifer picked up the pace, his hand around your throat as he ruts into you ruthlessly. He was so pissed, so jealous— how dare that radio demon flirt with you? Touch you? Who did he think he was?

"You hear that?" Lucifer brought his hips back only to snap them forward again, the squelch sound that came from how wet you were had your whole body heating up, "Listen to how wet you are and that’s all because of me."

You felt that coil within you about to snap with an orgasm. Your legs trembling and toes curling as you felt it approaching fast. Lucifer was not holding back tonight and the overstimulation you felt had your mind going into a haze, "please, please, please!"

"c'mon gorgeous," Lucifer let out a low groan, tossing his head back, "fuckkk, cum for me again."

At his words you came, a small scream leaving your throat as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Still coming down from your high, Lucifer gives you a couple of seconds to recover before moving his hips again. He materializes a vibrator in his hand before placing it directly onto your clit.

You shuddered, hand moving down to grip his wrist as tears escaped your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, "Lulu, p-please—!"

"I know your limits," Lucifer says with that prideful smile, his voice dominating, "Move your hand."

Your move your hands to grip your thighs, the built trust between you was enough for you to see this mind blowing pleasure through, "W-Wait, I'm going to— ah~!"

Lucifer lets a glob of spit leave his mouth, you felt it hit directly onto your naked cunt, watching as his saliva coats your already soaked clit and slides down the sides of his length before pressing the vibrator into you harder, "You're going to cum for me again."

You shake your head, pathetic sobs escaping past your lips, "I don't think I c-can Lu—!"

"Yes you can sweetheart, and you will," His words cause a shiver to go down your spine. "Look at this sloppy pussy taking my cock so well."

You look up at Lucifer with pleading eyes, your hand resting on his chest as if to push him away, your nails pressing tiny crescents into his skin, "I'm g-going to c-cum—! Don't stop, r-right there—! Fuck!"

The sight of you crying and succumbing to the pleasure was exhilarating in Lucifer’s eyes. His beautiful wife was a sobbing, drooling, trembling mess before him. You were dick drunk and high off pleasure, your words coming out in broken fragments.

Just as he was getting flustered at the way you were presented before him, he couldn't help but think about Alastor in so close proximity to you. Had he thought about you in this way before? That question alone made Lucifer’s mind come up with endless possibilities, making the jealousy rise within him as his blood boiled.

He thrusted into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room as he made sure to angle his thrust, repeatedly hitting you in all the right places. He pressed the vibrator impossibly deeper into you, making you arch your back with a sudden scream,

"L-Lucifer!"

With one final thrust, Lucifer had sent you spiraling over the edge as you squirted around his length, making his thighs and the counter wet with your essence.

Lucifer pulled out of you quickly to slap his cock against your clit, rubbing it against your folds harshly to relish in the lewd sound before thrusting back into you slowly to cockwarm you, "There you go love, good girl.”

You trembled, a string of hiccups leaving your mouth as Lucifer laced his fingers with yours, leaning down to kiss you sweetly as if he didn't just fuck you dumb,

"You did so well for me, darling."

Meanwhile on the other side of the wall sat the bar Husk was currently stationed at with Angel, who’s jaw was nearly on the floor at the sounds that just came from the kitchen, “Did we just hear the big boss man and his lady gettin’ it on in there?”

“Nope,” Husk denied it. After all, ignorance was bliss, “I didn’t hear a thing.”

2K notes · View notes

jyoongim · 3 months

Note

Just found you and read all your Alastor fics. Love them! My request is jealous fucking with breeding. But the jealousy comes on because of Lucifer. Luci comes to visit the hotel and causally makes a sweet comment to reader but as soon as he notices that it pisses off Al, Lucifer just goes all in offer to buy readers soul and free her just to piss off Al until reader and Charlie have to break them up before they fight. Then comes in the breeding, so everyone knows your his as if him owning your soul wasn’t enough

Oh I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy it around these parts and I am happy you enjoy my writing!

Warnings: fem!reader, jealous!Alastor, flirting, Lucifer riling up Alastor, rough sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mentioned

The hotel was in an uproar over the King of Hell's impending visit.

Charlie was a nervous wreck and you were doing everything to make sure that the hotel was somewhat presentable and that everyone was well behaved.

”Now just be your charming self and make sure to help promote the purpose of the hotel for Charlie” you said fixing Alastor’s bow tie. He smiled down at you, waving his hand dismissively “Oh don’t worry my dear Ill be the perfect host. There’s nothing to worry about”

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell…was not what you had expected.

You could see where Charlie got her flare from.

He was looking around the lobby, taking in the interior and the residents. You didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up a bit.

”And here are our lovely hotel managers dad” Charlie said, turning towards you and Alastor.

You smiled, giving him a slight curtesy “Its a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, I hope that you enjoy your time here at the hotel”

Lucifer dawned a sultry smile, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it.

”The pleasure is all mine”

Alastor growled, stepping between the two of you. He gave a tense smile “Pleased to meet you sir” he slapped your hand out of his and took it to shake. Lucifer blinked, a slight frown on his face “and you would be?” A snort escaped the red demon

“Alastor! Im the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard of my radio broadcast?” Lucifer deadpanned “nah never was one to consume media” he shrugged.

He slipped by to your side, looping an arm around you “Now I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a tour hmmm? Show me all of the more intimate parts” he chortled, as you nervously turned to Alastor.

Alastor's smile was tense and his eye was twitching slightly.

Irritated and annoyed.

Lucifer seemed to pick up on that.

He eyed the lanky demon, before cooing at you “oh don’t tell me you need the bellhop’s permission? ”

oh no. The lights flickered.

You cleared your throat “I would be honored your grace,but Alastor knows the hotel better than I. He can show you around” you offered, making the King groan.

Charlie chirped in “Yes yes. Alastor has been a great help. Well shall we?”

The tour went without any mishap. Alastor had you tucked away into his side as Charlie gave a run through of what she was trying to achieve.

Charlie suggested dinner before her dad left, to give him a little convincing to help.

You bustled about the kitchen, setting everyone’s meal down and making your way to sit by Alastor.

A hand grabbed your wrist, you stiffened as Lucifer gave you a charming smile “why not sit by me. Charlie has told of some of the improvements you think would work for the hotel”

You heard a static buzz as you took a seat by him.

You listened quietly as Charlie went on and on about her plans.

Lucifer had been not so subtly subtly flirting with you the entire dinner.

”Well I will think about it Charlie. I do believe your dream is possible” She smiled happily. he turned his eyes to you

”Especially with such lovely help” you blushed.

He seemed more interested in you.

”sooo what’s your deal with that guy” he was referring to Alastor

you tilted your head in question, he clarified his intention

”I mean he own your soul or something? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be tied to the likes of him. how about I nullify whatever deal you made and you take you under my wing instead”

You looked at him shocked.

The sound of glass breaking sounded and Alastor shook his hand of the liquid once in the glass

He chuckled darkly “Well I am afraid it is late, wouldn’t you agree dearest?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he stood, coming around to stand behind you.

His eyes were black and glowing red as he practically sneered at the King.

Lucifer was unfazed by the intimidation tactic.

”haha what I strike a nerve? You’ve got this amazing beauty on a leash and for what? Im sure shell do much better being tied to you”

Before Alastor could lunge at the man, you stood up and pressed yourself against him as you heard Charlie grab her dad to pull him away.

Your hands reached for his face, turning his enraged eyes to you.

You shook your head at him slightly. You know when someone wa just trying to ruffle his feathers.

”I am feeling quite tired from today’s activities why don’t we turn in for the night yes?” You pleaded with him, softly pushing him back towards to door.

Large hands gripped your waist as his turned his eyes back towards Lucifer, he hissed lowly before whisking you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom.

———————————————————————————

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

You whined at a harsh thrust that jolted your body against the silky sheets.

The room was buzzing with static as Alastor fucked into you.

Green chains hung heavy around your collar as Alastor pulled on them to pull you into his thrusts.

He was pissed.

His usual composed and controlled demeanor slipping the moment he slammed the door.

He had taken you against the door roughly, too pent up to let you get a single word out.

He had thrown you onto the bed after, a dark aura surrounding him as his antlers grew with the angry emotions swirling inside him.

“Ah! Ha! A-Alastor!” You moaned as another orgasm racked through you.

He twisted your chains around his arm as he used them as leverage to drill his dick into you.

“Who do he think he is?” He growled, pushing your head into the mattress

“Thinking he can just take you from me…ME?! You are mine”

You let out a cry as he ruined your walls, balls slapping against your cunt.

“You wouldn’t leave my side would you sweetheart” he hissed down at you, turning your head so you could see him.

”Who would want you after I ruin you hmm? You would be nothing but sloppy seconds.” He regraded you, angry at the very thought of you thinking you could terminate your deal with him.

Your deal with Alastor was nothing too extreme. Your complete devotion to him for his protection.

While he might not admit it, Alastor had grown accustomed to you being by his side, able to help him see reason and take on tasks he found too mundane.

You were like his wife in a sense.

Soft and caring, always doing whatever he asked of you.

You never complained, happily fulfilling your duties to a tee.

And some goofy, short king thinks you would leave your benefactor?

Had he not given you anything you ever wanted?

You were the most free soul he had, that was a privilege.

Your cunt squelched as he pulled out, the tip kissing your outer lips as he stilled in his rough fucking.

You panted, clammy sweat sticking to your body as he tugged at your chains.

You were on your back, thighs spread around his waist.

A hand wrapped around your throat, Alastor leaning down to press a surprise soft kiss to your forehead

”You wouldn’t dare leave me would you baby” he cocked his head at you.

You shook your head quickly, hoping that he had blew off enough steam to finally be reasonable.

But Alastor’s jealousy was ugly.

He wouldn’t be done with you until there was nothing you thought about but him.

He should be what plagues your thoughts.

You should crave him by the time he was done.

He slotted back inside you, making you gasp as he returned to his fast pace.

”Leave me for that sorry excuse of a king? Ha! You wouldn’t. No not my pretty girl. Youre my good girl aren’t you?”

You mewled as you watch him transform.

”I-Im your good girl Ah! Pl-please!” Your eyes clenched closed in pleasure.

”Youre mine. You understand that? I own you. Your every thought. Every feeling. Your body, mind, and soul are mine. You gave them to me oh so happy. I can do whatever I please with you. Ruin you and dump you off into the street like a common whore if I wished”

You whimpered at his words.

”But thats not enough is it? Hmmm? Noooo. Youre not mine” he purred.

you pouted, ready to reassure him that you were, in fact, his.

He lifted one of your legs to your chest, angling his hips down

”Ill make sure every disrespectful wretch knows you are mine. Fir it seems my constant presence isn’t enough”

Your cunt fluttered.

How else would….

His dick hit that sweet spot deep inside you

”Oh! Ah!” His hand on your neck tightened as a sharp smile appeared on his face

”So maybe putting a claim to you will do the trick”

Your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ as he fucked you roughly, hips grinding down as if to make you mold to his very shape.

Sinners couldn’t reproduce.

Right?

that was your last coherent thought as he slammed his hips into yours over and over til he sighed, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum.

You whined as he gave soft thrusts to keep his cum inside you, purring as it spilled around him, pooling around your ass.

You whined when he pulled out, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as you clenched around nothing.

A hand settled on your lower belly, now full of his cum, Alastor grinned wicked “Let’s see how much the pipsqueak will want you now my dear” he chuckled.

———————————————————————————

“Its nice to see you again sir” you said welcoming the King of Hell inside the hotel.

He smiled and once he got a good look at you, it fell.

”Charlie will be down in a second do you need anything?” You asked sweetly, hand resting on your swollen belly.

He stuttered out a response in surprise “O-oh w-why thank you. I take it you’ve been well”

Alastor manifested behind you, grinning at the short monarch, his arm roping around your waist, hand settling on the side of your stomach “Ah yes! We’ve been busy. Im sure you can tell”

Alastor- 2

Lucifer- 0

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel

2K notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 4 months

Text

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold.

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together.

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking.

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving.

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.”

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served.

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.”

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.”

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist.

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end.

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips.

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-”

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting.

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

2K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Text

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 3256 AO3

— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed.

You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too. — In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty.

You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was.

— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband?

You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you.

— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty.

— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe.

— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…

He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.

— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem. He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch.

— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me.

— And if I wanted just you?

König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him.

— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place.

— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs.

— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness.

— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me?

You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation.

— You knew who I was all along?

— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz.

He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant.

You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost.

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir?

He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether.

Then – he kisses them.

One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two.

He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning.

Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over.

You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing.

— Your hands belong to an empress.

— Thought I was a regent.

— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja?

You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib.

He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it.

— But you can trust me with your children?

— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever.

— No one is immortal.

— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess?

He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…

König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be.

— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one.

— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally.

— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too?

— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron.

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps?

Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again.

On the other side, however, he can do just that.

König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper.

— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess.

— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this?

— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…

With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow.

He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress.

König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways.

You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a… König takes off his hood.

— Wh…what are y… You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife.

He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it?

— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess? He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes.

But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer? — I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty.

— Just fine?

He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don’t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude.

— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband. You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least.

— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz.

— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least?

— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place.

— That is awful news for your empire.

— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place.

— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner?

— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife.

You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war.

He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband.

— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness?

— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that.

You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry. — I thought you wanted me to meet your harem.

— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right?

He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines

1K notes · View notes

some-bunniii · 3 months

Text

My Charming Red Savior [4]

・❥ A friend revealed, and warm feelings.

x: pronouns are she/her. no use of y/n.

xx: decided to change the saving fem!reader to its AO3 title, so all parts of this fic have been updated for this change as well!

~6.8k words

warnings: depictions of blood/injury

“Did I miss anything?”

Those were the first words the King of Hell had spoken atop the large patio, as you stood in awe, battered, with dust and debris sticking to your body. You blinked, frozen in place as your eyes scanned over the pearlescent man’s figure, who grinned charmingly across from you.

He leaned lazily against the gold railing, now partially destroyed from the small explosions that had peppered the front of the hotel. The screams and snarls from below were all but silenced now, except for one or two stragglers who could be seen making a run for it in the distance. But, not before a large, swamp-green tentacle snaked around them, and began beating them into the ground. It wasn’t long before your gaze was back on Lucifer, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It wasn’t until Lucifer’s smile faltered slightly at your silent staring, did he clear his throat, nervously tapping against the apple-tipped cane in his grip. “You look a little shaken up, are you doing good over there?”

You were about to open your mouth to speak, until your eyes darted to another small, cylindrical object flying right towards Lucifer. You recoiled, throwing your hands in front of your face as it closed in on the fallen angel.

“Watch out!” You cried to him, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited for the familiar boom of the grenade to shake the patio. Lucifer whipped his head around, eyebrows raised as the grenade soared towards him. Lifting his arm, he caught it in his hand before it could hit him in the face, before raising it to get a closer look.

You splayed your fingers, peeking through the small gap when you realized once more that your heart was still beating. Raising an eyebrow, your face contorted into surprise as your gaze rested on the object in Lucifer’s hand.

The bomb ticked quietly in his palm, slowly increasing in speed as the seconds went by. It vibrated in his grip, and Lucifer only inspected it casually, rolling it between his fingers with interest.

Was he just going to hold it until it exploded? You watched silently with wide eyes, unsure of what exactly was going to happen. If it went off, would the King of Hell even have a scratch on him? Maybe, that was why he seemed so confident holding a bomb in his hands. Watching Lucifer catch it casually in the air a few times only cemented that thought.

The perks of being immortal, you supposed.

“Hm, seems they got the timing off on this one,” Lucifer observed, just as the ticking seemed to increase to every millisecond. Right when you were sure it was about to go off in his palms, Lucifer’s fingers curled around it. It looked like he was squeezing the cylinder like a balloon, as the black, metal surface contorted, shifting from the pressure.

Instead of lighting into a ball of flame, the bomb exploded in a burst of multi-colored confetti. Which sprayed across the patio, a few stray pieces landing on your face as they settled onto the floor. You were silent, in awe at the magical display. Lucifer only grinned at you, a silent boast of his powers as he caught you gawking. He adjusted his collar, still leaning against the railing as he brushed some confetti from his shoulder pads.

Realizing he had noticed your staring, your cheeks began to heat in embarrassment. You lay your eyes for the first time on the most powerful man in Hell and all you can do is stand there and look dumb, get it together! Leaning forward, your head practically hits the cracked tile flooring as you bow.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for my rudeness!” You quickly pipe up, your eyes still locked to the floor as you keep your head down, “Thank you for saving my life, I don’t know if I’d be alive without your intervention.”

“It was no biggie.” Lucifer shrugged, waving his hand in the air in a sweeping motion, as he brushed off your compliment. He lifted himself from the railing, taking a few steps forward as he began to cross the patio. “Can’t have my daughter’s friends be attacked by a couple of low-life thugs.. again! What kind of a father would that make me?”

You straightened, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your brows furrowed as the words left his lips, mouth opening slightly as if you were about to question him on his statement.

‘Daughter’. Was he talking about Charlie? Of course, he must be, she looked like a carbon copy of him! But, that would mean… it wasn't an imp that had approached you yesterday morning during your shift. At least, not any normal imp. Does that mean you had been talking to…?

It was in the same instance that Lucifer leaned in closer to you, his eyes squinted in thought as he inspected your face. He placed a finger on his chin in thought, as he regarded you with a curious expression through those soft, yellow eyes of his.

“Wait a second… do I know you from somewhere?” He questioned finally, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. You smiled as you thought of a response, your hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Lucifer’s eyes lit up in recognition before you could say anything, and he snapped his finger as connected the dots.

“That's right! You were that sweet worker at the formalwear store yesterday, weren’t you? The one that opened early for me!” He beamed, taking another step closer as your eyes widened at the proximity.

“Y-yes, that was me, Your Majesty.” You stammered out, cursing yourself so being so godamn nervous. “Except, I wasn’t really aware that you were... well, you?”

“Oh, heh, yeah, my impish disguise. Pretty good, eh?”

Yeah, it was. There wasn’t anything that would have made you guess that imp was actually Lucifer, at least before you had met the man. Except, for the height. That hadn’t seemed to change between the two appearances, as you still had to lower your head to meet his gaze even now.

You took a deep breath, calming your jittering nerves as you again realized who was standing right in front of you. Never once did you think a lowly citizen of Hell like you would be this close to the Lucifer Morningstar! Should you have kneeled instead when you greeted him? What was the proper etiquette for this kind of thing? Alastor would have surely known.

That thought made you lean over slightly to get a peek past the fallen angel’s brimmed hat. Your eyes followed the slender, shadowy forms of tentacles snaking around the last two criminals, who were trying to shoot the large masses.

“Aren’t you, um, going to go help..?” You pointed behind him, and Lucifer turned to follow your finger just as another thug was flung past the large fence that surrounded the hotel. Their squeal of fear faded as they disappeared from view. Static-laced laughter filled the air as the tentacles began to dissipate.

“Nah, I think your… friend down there has it covered.” Lucifer shrugged after a moment, turning back to face you.

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm your jittering nerves. Between last night and this, you were about ready to lay in your bed and hibernate for the next three months. Life was exhausting, it seemed.

“Well, that was fun!” Lucifer smiled, nodding along as he clasped his hands together. “Didn’t think I’d find drug dealers trying to knock down the walls, though. Looks like I really have to up the security around here.”

You nodded along half-heartedly, and watched as he strolled past you towards the door. He only made it a few steps before he halted, and you jumped slightly as he pivoted to face you. He waggled a finger at you, mock suspicion in his gaze as he leaned in. Now that you could get a better look at him,

“I also was not expecting to find you here, either. Only yesterday, it seemed like you had no idea the hotel even existed. Now, I find you in the raging path of a feral tea table. An odd turn of events, don't you think?”

You smiled, heat creeping onto your cheeks in embarrassment. You probably looked pretty pathetic when Lucifer was saving you, curled in a ball while you accepted your grim fate. You wished you had some kind of badass demon magic, so you didn’t have to be so helpless. Did Alastor ever feel helpless? No, probably not, he seemed so confident in every situation you saw him face.

The way he strolled down the stairs so casually when the thugs had first attacked, made it seem like he had done that kind of thing many times before. But, it seemed like that was true, since you patched up one scuffle on his coat, and were told of his encounter with Sir. Pentious–which you simply couldn't believe would attempt such a thing, now that you’ve met him–a few months prior.

You wondered what made him and Lucifer struggle to get along, had something happened in the past between them? Maybe, you could get Alastor to budge with that with a little prodding. For now, you were unsure of what to tell the King. How would he react if you said the only reason you were here was because of Alastor? You didn’t want to lose the friendliness you had with Lucifer, it probably wouldn't be fun to be on the King of Hell’s bad side.

Plus, it seemed like Lucifer liked you. Did that have something to do with the fact that he claimed you were a ‘rare gem’ when it came to being a nice person in Hell? He did give you all that money.. which you lost. Maybe, he’d give you some more if you played your cards right.

And, if it was as friends, you wouldn’t mind getting closer to the fallen angel. He was just so funny and charming, you couldn’t imagine the kind of gossip he had to share, and you wouldn't be bothered if he shared it with you.

“Oh, well, beeeecause I was interested in redemption! Ha-ha, yeah. When we talked earlier, your words just struck something in me! So, I took a tour and stayed the night.”

“Really? I inspired you to come to the hotel?” Lucifer asked incredulously, tilting his head thoughtfully at you. He raised an eyebrow, doubt written across his features.

“That’s right! I mean, you even gave me a bunch of money like it was no big deal. That was very kind of you!” You nodded enthusiastically. That wasn’t exactly a lie, since the conversation with Lucifer yesterday did lead to Alastor revealing more about the hotel, which in turn piqued your interest enough to even consider staying for an extended period.

Slowly, Lucifer's eyes lit at your response, a gleam of happiness that you hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to be standing a little straighter too, as if that was some kind of confidence boost for him. Did Lucifer not… genuinely help people often? Was it something he wished he could do more often?

Seems like ruling a realm full of demons that continually commit the worst atrocities known to mankind would break an angel’s will to want to make a change.

“I wanted to thank you again for your generosity,” you started, your tone genuine as the glint in Lucifer’s eyes only seemed to grow, “All that money you gave me would have really helped,

“Would? What happened?” Lucifer inquired, tilting his head curiously.

“Some guy mugged me,” you stated bluntly, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. It felt weird telling people about your most vulnerable moments. You found no enjoyment in retelling any of these scary events, and hopefully, your bad luck would end soon.

“And they stole everything from you?”

“Yeah…”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, his teeth baring slightly as he exhaled a hot breath. He couldn’t exactly be surprised, it was Hell. Not to mention, the guy has been neglecting his kingly duties for a while now and has only just started going to meetings for crying out loud.

“Jeez, I’m sorry about that. Here, let me jus–”

“Where did that new girl go? What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” You could hear Vaggie’s voice from downstairs, as the gaping hole in the side of the hotel made it much easier to hear their conversations now.

You heard multiple inaudible responses to the question, before Vaggie’s rose above them with renewed anger.

“She’s still up there?! you’re telling me none of you numbskulls went to get her after that big explosion?”

“₩Ⱨ₳₮?!” You heard a snarl of static at Vaggie’s words.

Tensing, you kept your eyes trained on Lucifer as you strained your ears to eavesdrop on the voices below. It seemed like they were looking for you now, did they even know whether Charlie’s dad was here?

“Alastor, hold up!” You heard Angel Dust’s call from the bottom of the staircase, which made you pivot to face the closed doors not too far away. Lucifer, who was standing a few steps away from you, looked up curiously as the doors swung open.

Standing there, chest heaving slightly, ears twitching, was Alastor. His eyes instantly landed on you, before quickly scanning over your figure for injuries. Did he just leap up all those stairs? That wasn’t a very short distance by any means.

His arms were outstretched beside him, as he gripped both doors. Alastor’s claws slightly dug into its wood frame as he observed the smoking, half-burnt balcony with a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t until his eyes met Lucifer’s–you swore you saw a flicker of surprise cross his gaze–that something seemed to flip like a switch inside the demon, and Alastor straightened instantly, his ears returning to their normal placement as corrected his posture.

A large, toothy grin appeared on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze darted between you and Lucifer only a few feet apart. His eyelid twitched as Lucifer sent him a deadly grin behind you, the tension in the air thickening to the point where you felt like you’d suffocate even in this open space.

You only smiled brightly in return, sending Alastor a finger wave as you sidled a step away from the fallen angel beside you. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to be having fun as he pivoted slightly to face you. A mischievous glint in his eye as he cocked his head at Alastor, a haughty look on his face.

“Can I help you?” He feigned irritation, an eyebrow quirked as he sent the demon a pointed glance. As if Alastor had just barged in on the two of you deep in discussion, souring the mood.

Alastor wasn’t able to get a word out when multiple footsteps echoed from behind him, noisily clopping up the long staircase as they bickered amongst themselves. A familiar pink spider popped his head over Alastor’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the pearlescent face beside you. More heads appeared around, their eyes scanning across the balcony as they observed the scene.

“Dad?” Charlie asked, squeezing through the clump of nosy demons, surprise written across her face as she passed Alastor.

“Honey!” Lucifer beamed, a smile gracing his features as he met his daughter halfway. Charlie extended her arms, ready to accept Lucifer’s large hug as he returned the gesture. He held her for a moment before he released her, backing up a step as the others pushed past Alastor’s figure to get a better place behind the princess.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at that art auction?” Charlie questioned, tilting her head at him.

“That ended last night.” Lucifer nodded, “Now it’s some kind of celebratory artist-only afterparty, which means even the King of Hell cannot attend, unfortunately. So, I thought I’d drop by. Good timing, it seemed, or else your friend here would not be standing here any longer.”

Lucifer turned to you, gesturing to the dust and debris hanging to your clothes, as you stood there silently with that same awkward smile.

“Oh, yeah. She’s interested in being a resident of our hotel, for redemption!” Charlie smiled excitedly, proud to be able to show her father that her dream was slowly expanding. You nodded along, your hands clasped together politely as they discussed you.

“Yes, I heard! We’ve been having a nice discussion these past few minutes, her and I. A real doll, this one is, just like when I met her previously.”

“You two... have met before?” Charlie finally asked, confusion laced in her voice as she looked between the two of you. The demons behind you shot curious glances in your direction, silently waiting for more juicy details.

“She was there when I bought your tuxedo! I was in disguise, though, so nobody saw me as.. well, me. She even opened up early for me, just out of the kindness of her soul!” Lucifer scooted beside you, nudging you in the arm playfully as he spoke. “Guess you could say I owed her a rescue after that considerate gesture.”

“Did you throw a party up here, too?” Vaggie piped up from the doorway, kicking away at a few stray pieces of the colorful confetti that was sprinkled across the floor. Charlie’s eyes were glinting as she processed her father’s words, before glancing down at the new red suit that she was wearing. She looked up at you with renewed interest, a blooming on her face.

“That was all His Majesty, actually,” you finally spoke, lifting a hand to your mouth as you giggled, “It was pretty impressive, to be honest, I’ve never seen a party trick like that before. I thought the confetti was kinda funny.”

You purposely avoided looking at Alastor as you spoke, so his reaction to your praise was a mystery. Lucifer only smiled proudly beside you, your words boosting his ego.

“Well, that’s not the only trick I’m good at,” Lucifer chuckled. Before he sent you a wink, then a playful smirk that he swept across the small crowd. Their eyes were locked on him, captivated with anticipation for the charming angel to display some of his magical talents.

Except, for Alastor, who only smiled widely, his eyes crinkled in annoyance at the theatrics. You didn’t pay him much mind, instead keeping your attention on Lucifer. During your time in Hell, you hadn’t come into contact with many figures that could harness demonic magic so effortlessly, apart from Alastor.

The King of Hell, however, was on a whole different level, he had pure angelic power. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you were not going to miss this for anything. However, it seemed your admiration was a little too evident, as you missed Alastor's squinted gaze analyzing your expression.

Lucifer finally rested his gaze on Alastor, who met his eyes, just as he tapped his cane against the ground, a flurry of golden sparks igniting from the touch. a vortex of golden eaves began to swirl around his cane, before flooding across the destroyed, cracked floor of the balcony. It was like a small ocean pooling at your feet, and it felt like the ground was shifting underneath you.

Sticking a finger gun towards the split table, Lucifer shot an explosion of magic against its surface, and it crackled with energy. Before you could blink, the two pieces slid together, attaching like Lego pieces back onto their legs. Fresh color adorned the wood, a lovely shade of peach with matching chairs. It settled onto the ground, with not even a scratch from the abuse it had just received.

He aimed a few more magical-loaded digits towards the broken railing, and the spilled flower pots, making pew pew sound effects with his mouth as he did so.

The balcony began to shift back into even better condition than it originally was, the broken scenery straightening itself back into form. Slowly, the golden waves against your ankles dispersed and were pulled back into Lucifer’s cane.

The large, white marble tile beneath your feet was perfectly sealed, not a single crack upon its surface as it sparkled with a newfound shine. You lifted your leg, surprised finding your figure to be completely dry.

The demons around you stood mesmerized by the display, their eyes glowing and lips puckered in a small o. Alastor only tapped his claws against his cane impatiently.

“How is that for a party trick?” Lucifer turned to you, sending you a charming grin.

You were about to open your mouth before Charlie appeared at your side with a happy squeak. Her blonde hair cascaded down your shoulder, the silky strands like feathers against your skin.

“Thank you for the help, Dad!” Charlie beamed, squeezing her cheeks as she stared lovingly at her father, “it’s so great to see you make new friends, too!”

“And, new clients!” Lucifer boasted, adjusting his bowtie with a grin “Last time we talked, I told her all about the hotel and what it offered. Seems like my salesmanship charm prevails once more.”

“How funny,” Alastor’s voice crackled with static as he strode up beside Charlie, planting himself into the small group’s discussion with a grin, “but it appears His Majesty is mistaken, for it was I who persuaded our darling belle here to take a chance at redemption.”

“Pfft! You? Please, you couldn’t even convince an angel to redeem themselves. At least, not with that haircut!” Lucifer laughed, and your mouth dropped open, your gaze flicking to Alastor, who seemed to hesitate for a moment in shock at the bold insult.

Your eyes darted to Charlie. She returned the look, before slapping a hand over her dad’s mouth.

“Okay, moving on!” She replied cheerfully, pinching her dad’s lips closed as she turned towards the staircase. Vaggie shot a glare toward the rest of the onlookers, who began to sadly shrink away.

“I’m afraid Your Majesty is uninformed!” Alastor ignored Charlie, as he walked closer to stand right beside you. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your heartbeat quickening at the realization you were directly in the middle of the two dueling forces.

“Of what?” Lucifer questioned.

“Why, of our association, of course,” Alastor said sweetly, grasping your arm gently as he gestured to your figure. Heat crept onto your cheeks, as you let him slide in closer to you.

“You two know each other?” Lucifer asked, doubt laced in his face as he shot you a questioning stare. You only averted your gaze, unsure of how to respond to all of the prying eyes.

“Indeed! I’m sure you’re familiar with a charm like this?” Alastor smiled innocently, before gingerly holding out your hand, gesturing to your ring finger. That golden ring glinted in the sunlight, and the small rose-gold engraving of the letter A was on full display.

Lucifer’s eyes widened after a moment, and his gaze shot to you, then to Alastor, before landing back on the ring. He seemed to reel back slightly as it finally dawned on him, before his face settled into a look that silently grumbled ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

Charlie gasped, clutching her cheeks as she leaned in closer for a better look. The ecstatic look on her face was a complete inverse to her father, who only averted his gaze at the sight.

You stood with an awkward smile, heat creeping onto your cheeks as you sidled slightly away from Alastor. You did not expect him to be sprinting it back onto these guys, in front of Lucifer no less.

The King only turned to you, disbelief in his features as he sent you a pointed stare.

“You’re telling me you work at a formalwear store, and you picked a guy with this bad of a wardrobe?” He gestured subtly to Alastor’s suit, a grimace on his face as he eyed the demon’s style with contempt.

Alastor only adjusted his bow tie, throwing his hair back as he straightened. He shot you a pointed look too, prodding you with a ‘Are you really going to agree with him?’ stare.

You said nothing, so Alastor only turned to face Lucifer, clasping his hands with a large smile, “I’d take your fashion advice to heart, Your Majesty, but it seems your taste lies at the bottom of a bargain bin, so I must respectfully disagree.”

“Bargain bin?!” Lucifer gasped, a hand shooting up to his chest as he recoiled. A growl rose from the fallen angel’s throat as he opened his mouth to retort, only for Charlie to grab him from behind and pull him away from Alastor.

“I’ll pay you triple the amount from yesterday if you just take that ring off!” Lucifer begged as Charlie dragged him down the steps. “Do you fancy goat horns? I know of someone in the Wrath Ring that is available!”

The father-daughter duo disappeared from view, their voices muffled as you watched the doors slam shut with a crackle of green energy. Turning to face Alastor, you find a smug grin dancing on his lips. You frowned, did this guy really just insult the King of Hell like the man couldn’t stomp him in a moment?

“Your arrogance knows no bounds,” you chastise the demon, waggling your finger as you spoke, “speaking so comfortably with the King in such a condescending manner. He could smite you for that, you know.”

“Verbal sparring with the monarchy is a favorite pastime of mine, sweetheart! I’m sure our dear king enjoys it just as much as I.” Alastor shrugged, twisting the cane between his claws as he regarded you with playful eyes.

“You are such a pain in my—”

Your words died in your throat when the outline of a dark-red rose was thrust towards you, Alastor’s fingers gently curled around its stem as he held it up for view.

“For you.” He smiled, his lips curled in a soft grin.

“Me? But, where did you get this?”

“Some bumbling oaf down there was going to stomp on it, so I stomped him, instead,” Alastor shrugged, extending the rose closer to you as he spoke, “I thought it would be something you’d find interest in. It… reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze lowering towards the wine-colored flower. It was beautiful, even with its slightly jagged petals, and the much larger thorns that covered the black stem.

But, for Hell, it was such a relieving sight. To know that something that presented emotions could exist in such an apathetic, pessimistic environment like the realm around you. Honestly, it didn’t have that many similarities in comparison to Earth’s rose, but its mere resemblance made nostalgia pull at your heartstrings.

Old emotions began to boil inside you, and your throat tightened. Even after all the hardships, you still missed the trees and the smell of real, fresh air. The feeling of the sun against your skin, kissing you with a warmth that always stirred a smile onto your lips. Hearing the morning doves in the early spring morning, their gentle coos echoing through the thin veil of fog that settled onto the dew-filled grass.

Now, you were stuck here. A dark, dirty realm that gave you its fair share of grief too. A lot in the span of two days, even. But, the good in it, was seeing the genuine smile that greeted you every time Alastor drank in your presence. Like this morning, when you agreed to join him on the patio, and the way his ears seemed to stand even taller when you said yes.

It was also the fact that Alastor was so intent on presenting this lovely gift to you, that he killed someone just so the rose would survive the chaos, that made you feel so warm and giddy inside.

A smile bloomed across your face, and you gently wrapped your fingers around the stem, right above Alastor’s own. The top of your hand grazed against the softer texture of the rose’s petals, but its sharp thorns nicked at the skin on your fingertips, causing you to grimace slightly. You adjusted your grip slowly, the pain ebbing as you found a comfortable hold.

Your hand brushed Alastor’s as he released his grip, pulling his hand towards him, his gaze traveling to your arm lifting as you inspected the rose closer. All the memories of long, forgotten experiences made years prick at your eyes.

“I.. don’t know what to say. This is so sweet of you,” you replied softly, eyes still locked on the rose and you gently caressed its petals, “thank you, Alastor.”

Alastor watched the emotion flood across your face, and for the first time, he didn’t know what to say next. The look on your features made him feel.. strange.

As if, this was a reaction nobody in Hell has ever given him before, excluding Charlie. It was fear and anger that only ever greeted him. Which he preferred, it made him feel strong, made him feel powerful.

Your soft, sweet smile, however, was something Alastor could get used to. The way the dimples on your cheeks deepened slightly as your lips curled delicately. As if you too were a rose, your petals softly opening for the new day.

His gaze still rested on you as the tip of your nose inched closer to the petals, before you inhaled a deep breath.

It smelled surprisingly sweet, but also with a warm, earthy scent. A hint of smokiness underneath the layer of the sugared aroma. It reminded you of a wood-burning stove, or the smell of firewood that clung to your shirt after a night in the wilderness.

But, also… the faint metallic tang of blood.

Brows furrowing, you pull the flower away, your eyes traveling to the barely visible glistening substance coating part of the stem. It almost mirrored the color of the dark-red petals, and you lifted your gaze to Alastor.

When your eyes traveled up his figure, it was the small trails of red liquid that dripped from his fingertips that made you recoil, a hand to your mouth as you gasped.

“Alastor, you’re bleeding!” The worry in your voice was obvious as you stepped closer to him, trying to get a better look at the small gashes on his skin. He regarded it with indifference, as if it was just a simple bother. You frowned at his reaction, there was no way that didn’t hurt!

He was a sinner, just like you, and almost everyone in the hotel. Mortality was still present in his afterlife, including the sensation of pain. No matter how hard he tried to present himself as a powerful being like Lucifer, he was still just a man who felt the same things you did. If not, with a little different... perspective.

“It is nothing, do not fret about me, my doe,” Alastor brushed off your words, beginning to pull his hand away from your view. You saw a drop of blood leave the tip of his claw, falling onto the cracks below your feet, “they are just feeble scratches, nothing I, the Radio Demon can’t handl–”

Alastor’s words died in his throat, the last of his sentence coming out in pure static as his pupils dilated on your hand wrapping around his wrist. Your grip was firm, preventing him from shielding the wounds from you, as you tugged his hand closer.

This was the boldest move you had made since the two of you had first met. It was usually Alastor who made the first gesture, who took your hand and touched you softly. As if you were a fragile doll that could crack at the teeniest bit of pressure.

The man was so used to control, having complete say in who touched him—which was never, unless you count Angel Dust whenever he tried riling up the demon—and why. If you were some normal face in the crowd making such a move, he’d probably have torn them apart.

But oh, the warmth from your touch that greeted his cool skin had him yearning for more. That blissful feeling that seemed to bloom from inside his bones, that traveled like a river through his veins, filling him up with a strange, yet awfully familiar feeling.

Like, when his mother would sit him down at the table for dinner, a bowl of hot, steaming Jambalaya in her hands that she made just for him. Anytime she noticed he had a hard day, she’d cook his favorite meal.

As a child, he had eagerly scarfed it down, impatient to fill his stomach with such a treat. When he grew older, however, he learned to slow down and savor the explosion of flavors that tickled his taste buds in every bite.

He remembered the way the delicacy traveled down his throat, and how it felt like a fire was igniting in his belly. The warmth emanating from your skin reminded him so much of that.

And that smile that always graced your features at the sight of him? Alastor remembered that from somewhere too. His mother’s lips always curved into a soft, gentle grin that would make anyone butter up in their presence.

Your lips seemed to curve just the same, and the demon was sure if the two of you would have met before the afterlife. His mother would have loved to meet you.

Alastor remained deathly silent, his muscles tense as you splayed out his claws, turning his hand over to have his palm face up. There was dried blood across the smooth skin, which meant he had been bleeding for a while now.

How hard was Alastor holding the rose during the fight that he cut up his hand like this? If it wasn’t for the bickering between him and Lucifer, you surely would have noticed it earlier.

Your fingers gently brushed against the small cuts, blood still slowly seeping from beneath the demon’s skin. You nudged his wound softly, inspecting it with worry.

“Does that hurt?” You asked softly with furrowed brows.

“Does it matter?” Alastor scoffed, averting your expectant gaze.

“Yes! It does, actually!” You retorted, before your gaze moved to your outfit with a determined look. Quickly, you reached down, taking a fistful of fabric in your grasp before pulling it hard. With some friction, it began to tear away from the rest of your garment.

Now, you had a large piece of cloth in one hand, and Alastor’s wrist in the other. Reaching forward, you began to cover his cuts tightly against the fabric.

“Must you ruin such a pretty outfit for something so insignificant like my hand?” Alastor inquired, exasperation lacing his voice, “You’re treating it like some kind of battle wound, I am fine, my doe.”

He didn’t pull away from you, however, as you finished patching up his injury. Inspecting his hand closer, you eyed work for a moment, before you shook your head, dissatisfied.

“I forbid you from doing any activities for the rest of today until you address your wounds,” you declared, crossing your arms sternly.

“Forbid?” He inquired, quirking a brow in amusement.

“That’s right! If you don’t take care of your injury, or let me do it for you, then I’ll have no choice but to put my foot down.”

Alastor squinted at you for a moment, that grin masking his thoughts as he regarded you. Was he going to argue? Sweat beaded on your forehead as you anticipated his answer. It wasn’t like you could exactly stop the powerful demon from doing what he wanted, but you also couldn't just let him strain his wound further because of pride.

Alastor didn’t argue. Instead, he simply shrugged, a pleased smile gracing his features. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, before holding a limp hand towards you.

“Well, if you insist,” he hummed, cracking one eye open to watch you expectantly.

“Really..?” You asked in disbelief, regarding his hand with suspicion.

“If the lady wishes to fuss over my health, I suppose I could heed her demands,” Alastor responded casually, lifting his hand closer towards you, “and, how could I refuse such a generous offer?”

You smiled playfully before slowly wrapping your fingers around the makeshift gauze, trying to get a good grip around his cuts as you held his hand.

“Is there somewhere I could get medical aid inside? Baindaids, alcohol solution… ibuprofen?”

Did Ibuprofen even exist down here? There had to be something similar at least, the Pride Ring was full of mortals that could still feel pain. Was Alastor in a lot of pain? Even if he was, you probably wouldn't get a straight answer from him.

Now, you understood why Alastor and Lucifer didn’t like each other. They were just fighting for who was really the embodiment of pride.

“Hm..” Alastor tilted his head in thought, before his ears twitched, and a sly smile graced his lips, “I do believe I know just the place!”

Without a word, he returned your grip and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched, your chest almost bumping against Alastor’s as he took your other hand. The two of you looked as if you were about to start a waltz, as the demon looked out towards the railing, his chest still facing yours as his smile grew.

“Hang on tight, my dear!” He stated chipperly, and you fastened your grip hastily. The air began to crackle with energy, goosebumps rippling across your skin as static seemed to tickle at your figure. Green smoke pooled at your feet, and that familiar tingling sensation overtook you, just like the first time you were teleported.

Alastor only pulled you closer right as the smoke blasted up, cold air hitting your face as you were pulled into darkness. The presence of the hand against yours was faint, but at least you weren't alone this time. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, your heart racing as you waited to feel the floor against your feet once more. Then, you felt a thumb brush softly against your knuckles, it circled soothingly across your skin, and you relaxed slightly.

What felt like minutes really only took a couple of seconds, as you felt soft lighting hit your eyelids, and Alastor stir beside you. His hand didn’t leave yours, as he waited for you to join reality.

“Not so bad, hm?” He prodded you slightly, beckoning you back into reality.

Letting your pupils adjust to the light, the familiar wallpaper from the hotel corridor met your vision. Did he really just materialize the two of you across the building? You didn't have any problem walking, but perhaps Alastor was trying to avoid the small crowd that would have met them at the bottom of the patio stairs.

“I feel kind of queasy,” you responded, shaking your head of the fog in the back of your mind.

“After a few times through, it won’t bother you anymore,” Alastor assured.

Trying to get a better estimate of your location, you turned your head to one side of the hall, taking in the sight of a dark, oak door. The familiar numbering made you quirk a brow, tilting your head towards the smiling demon. He met your gaze, a soft, lipped smile on his face.

“We’re going in my room?”

“Not quite..” he hummed, gripping your shoulders and pivoting you to the opposite side. Your eyes widened, gaze locked onto the matching door of Alastor’s room.

You stayed silent, feet frozen in place as you watched him take a few steps, his good hand wrapping around the spherical doorhandle. Slowly, he twisted the knob until it clicked softly. The hinges creaked with age, and the hallway lights began to spill into the darkened room as the crack in the doorway widened.

You couldn’t see anything through the slightly opened entryway, but your heart quickened as the second passed by. Your eyes flicked up to Alastor, who regarded you curiously, his gaze gentle as your nerves began to display on your face.

“Ladies first!” He beamed, his smile an assurance to your heated skin.

He obviously wanted you to go inside, and part of your brain was nudging you forward with excitement. Alastor was inviting you into his quarters, he was allowing you to take a step inside his world, to get to know him!

The other part whispered hesitation. What lay behind that door? Surely, more than just medical supplies.

It was as if you wrapped a sheet around the reluctance that was beginning to plague your mind, stuffing it underneath the floorboards of your brain. You weren't going to let your flustered mind get the better of you, and have you miss such an opportunity to get closer to the charming demon.

Exhaling a quiet breath, you banished your nerves into the air. Straightening your back, you sent Alastor a warm smile and took a step forward.

wingman!lucifer anybody? ✋

let me know what you think! ☺️ comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @rayanicaraynbow @katiebwalczak03 @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @thenocturnalreadingotaku @just-here-reading @taintedgenre @fairyv-ice @aisling1985 @missam @funkyexistence @summerofregret@beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @karolinda007-blog @thehybridprincesshatedchild

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

871 notes · View notes

edenesth · 2 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [20]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

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

Part 19 | Fic Masterlist | Spinoff Masterlist

San bowed his head as he absorbed the Queen's narration of the fourth prince's attempt to steal the general's wife during his absence at war, fearing the wrath of His Majesty and reeling from his own shock. Had he been aware of Prince Yeosang's plans beforehand, the royal secretary might have prevented you from attending the supposed birthday banquet in the first place.

The entire palace staff in the grand hall was startled as the King slammed his hand against the armrest of his throne, "The fourth prince did what?! This is outrageous! I've warned you countless times about spoiling him too much, my Queen."

Rubbing his temples, His Majesty shook his head and let out a heavy sigh, "We'll deal with him later. For now, confine him to his private chambers. He's only allowed in the royal library for his studies. The last thing we need is for him to unexpectedly show up at General Park's wedding and cause chaos."

Lowering her head, Her Majesty conceded, "Yes, Your Majesty. It's my responsibility. I know I should have been firmer with him."

"We're fortunate Lady Park handled the situation gracefully. I can see why Seonghwa is so enamoured with her," The King remarked with a slight smile before addressing San, "Secretary Choi, ensure that all funding for Prince Yeosang is withheld until further notice. Given his rebellious nature, he would likely find a way to disobey orders. Without financial resources, let's see what he can attempt."

As the Queen's lips parted to plead for leniency, His Majesty silenced her with a stern glare, leaving no room for argument. The weight of guilt settled heavily in her chest, a stark reminder of her own role in enabling the prince's behaviour. She couldn't deny that she simply wanted her fourth son to find happiness, but she knew deep down that her indulgence had contributed to his disobedient nature.

With a heavy heart, she reminded herself that this was not even the prince's harshest punishment yet. She could only imagine what further consequences awaited him at the hands of his father.

The royal secretary bowed in acknowledgement, "Yes, Your Majesty. Is there anything else you would like to add?"

The King straightened up, his demeanour shifting as he moved on from the matter concerning his son, "It would be great if you could visit the general's estate and inquire about his well-being on my behalf. Once he's feeling all better, arrange a meeting promptly so we can proceed with his wedding ceremony without delay."

With a final bow, San prepared to take his leave, but before he could depart, the ageing monarch extended a hand to stop him, "Wait, Secretary Choi! There is one last matter," His Majesty interjected, "Please extend my sincere apologies to General Park for my son's behaviour and express gratitude for his dedicated service to the nation. See to it that we cover all his medical expenses."

"Of course, my King."

The royal secretary stood before the entrance of his friend's estate the next day, feeling a slight hesitation before announcing himself. While His and Her Majesty bore some responsibility for the fourth prince's actions, San couldn't shake the feeling of personal responsibility. After all, he had been the one to prepare you for the supposed royal event, unknowingly sending you into the lion's den. He couldn't help but feel like a bad friend to Seonghwa, questioning whether he had done enough to protect the general's wife in his absence.

"I'm sorry to intrude on your moment of reflection, but how much longer do you plan to linger by the entrance, sir?" The private investigator's voice snapped San out of his trance, prompting him to blink rapidly as he recognised the familiar figure leaning against the main gate, eyeing him with curiosity.

Clearing his throat, San composed himself, "O-oh, hello! I, uh... I was just about to enter. It's nice to properly meet you, Investigator Jung. My name is—"

"Royal Secretary Choi San, I know. We're all aware, don't worry! It's an honour to be recognised by you, sir. Come on, you must be here to see General Park. Let me show you to him; Jongho's occupied at the moment," Wooyoung led the way, the secretary noting his talkative nature, "You won't believe what he's up to right now; he's such a peculiar kid. Takes dedication to a whole new level, I'll tell you that..."

At a certain point, San tuned out the rambling, focusing instead on mentally preparing himself to face you and your husband again. Would Seonghwa be displeased with him for not coming to his wife's rescue when she needed it the most? He wouldn't be surprised at all if the general were to be truly upset with him.

Before he could further overthink it, they arrived at the living hall where the couple was seated and engaged in conversation with the famous dressmaker Kim and skilled Physician Jung. Your husband looked up as if sensing his presence, beaming, "Ah, you're here, San! Come join us. We knew you'd be showing up sometime this week. I assume His Majesty has received my letter, yes?"

The secretary was taken aback, to say the least. First of all, he didn't think he deserved the warm welcome, and secondly, he had believed Seonghwa's injury to be severe, so seeing him looking almost back to his usual self shocked him. Though the older man appeared a bit paler than usual, San was primarily relieved to see his friend alive and well. Memories of the panic he had felt upon first receiving news of the general's poisoning flooded back to him.

Oh, thank god he's okay.

Greeting everyone in the hall with a polite bow, he cleared his throat, "You have no idea how relieved I am to see you alright, General Park. But before I deliver His Majesty's message, I feel compelled to offer my apologies to you and Lady Park."

Confusion creased your brow as you asked, "Whatever for, San?"

With a sigh, he admitted, "You're both too kind for your own good. I should have been more vigilant and prevented Lady Park from attending Prince Yeosang's birthday banquet in the first place. If only I had intervened, she wouldn't have gone through—"

You interjected with a gentle chuckle, "Please, don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known. If you had, I'm certain you would have acted to prevent it."

Seonghwa nodded in agreement, adding, "San, you're far too hard on yourself. You have nothing to be sorry for; you've been nothing but a great help to my wife. Now, please, take a seat and join us."

Amidst the comforting smiles around him, the secretary finally eased into his seat. Eunsook promptly served him tea and refreshments, signalling the start of their discussions. San's revelation caught everyone off guard since they had yet to receive word from Mingi: the war had ended, and Ruhon had surrendered. As they exchanged incredulous glances, a wave of relief washed over them, followed by cheers of joy. The general and his wife shared a meaningful gaze, hands clasped together as you exchanged soft smiles. San understood the significance of that moment—the two could finally proceed with the long-awaited wedding ceremony.

The worst is finally over.

Unable to contain his curiosity, San finally inquired about how the general had sustained his injury. Your husband recounted the harrowing experience, his friends visibly wincing as they imagined the scenario. Your heart ached as you listened. Sensing the tension, Yunho jumped in, reassuring everyone that the injury wasn't severe and that with proper rest, Seonghwa would be back to full health in a matter of weeks.

"That's a relief. Once you're feeling better, we'll arrange a meeting with Their Majesties to plan your wedding. That's the main reason His Majesty sent me here today, aside from checking on you," The hall buzzed with excitement, but the general sensed that the secretary had more to say, "Is there something else, San?"

Taking a deep breath, San continued, "The King also wants to extend his sincerest apologies for the fourth prince's actions. As part of his punishment, Prince Yeosang has been confined to his private chambers, and his funds have been frozen. His Majesty is concerned about him causing any disruptions at your wedding."

"Oh, good riddance!" While Hongjoong and Wooyoung clapped with Yunho silently judging them from his corner, you appeared unsettled by the news. Feeling your unease, your husband tightened his grip on your hand and asked, "What's wrong, my love?"

The news of the prince's fate left you with mixed emotions. You felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of him being barred from your wedding. Despite his actions, you couldn't deny that he was still a friend to you and a part of you felt sorry for the struggles he faced all his life due to his birthmark. Understanding the complexities of his situation, you empathised with his confusion and desperation that stemmed from his severe lack of experience with love.

With a small gulp, you turned to your husband, voicing, "Hwa, I... I think I'd still want His Highness at our wedding, if he wished to attend," Surprised looks crossed the faces of everyone in the hall. As you explained your reasoning, they began to understand your perspective. After a moment of contemplation, Seonghwa lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the back of your palm with a reassuring smile, "Fair enough. If that's truly what you want, we'll discuss it with the King."

In keeping with his promise, you found yourself seated beside your husband as you faced His and Her Majesty for the first time a few weeks later, now that he was fully recovered. Sensing your nervousness about the meeting, the royal couple greeted you warmly, swiftly putting you at ease. After exchanging pleasantries, the general wasted no time in making his request.

"My King, we've heard about the punishment for the fourth prince," He began, "But my wife and I would like to request that you at least allow His Highness to attend our wedding if he wishes."

Confusion flickered across His Majesty's face, "You do? But why?" He inquired. The Seonghwa he once knew would have been furious and unforgiving. It seemed Lady Park had a positive influence on him.

Feeling it was only right for you to respond since it was your personal request, you gathered your thoughts before speaking.

"Your Majesty, I understand that Prince Yeosang's actions may seem outrageous from an outsider's perspective. However, I believe His Highness has endured a painful life, facing discrimination due to his birthmark. It's clear he mistook kindness for love, given his limited experiences. Despite his mistakes, he remains a dear friend to me. It would be meaningful to have him at our celebration, if he chooses to attend. I hope you can understand, Your Majesties. I apologise if I've spoken too much and am overstepping boundaries."

As your words sank in, a wave of introspection washed over the King. For the first time, he found himself reflecting on his relationship with Yeosang. Had he been too harsh on his son? Had he failed to understand the pain his son bore due to his birthmark? The King couldn't shake the feeling of guilt as he realised that he may have viewed his son more as a burden than a beloved child. Perhaps there were times when he had even considered the prince's refusal to marry as a personal affront.

The sudden realisation left the King feeling conflicted and remorseful. He wondered if he had been a horrible father, too absorbed in his duties as a monarch to truly understand his son's struggles. It was a sobering moment for him, realising that he may have overlooked his son's pain and loneliness. Was this why the Queen had been so persistent in advocating leniency towards Yeosang? Was she trying to make up for his shortcomings as a father? These questions weighed heavily on his mind as he grappled with his newfound awareness of his own failings.

His and Her Majesty exchanged a meaningful glance. Suddenly, they understood why the fourth prince would mistake his gratitude towards you for love. After all, you had shown him a kindness and compassion he had rarely experienced, even from his own family.

Beginning to feel anxious at the royal couple's silence, you awaited their response with bated breath, with Seonghwa ready to support you if needed. To your relief, they smiled warmly at you.

"Please don't apologise for that, Lady Park," They reassured you, "You're right; perhaps we've been too harsh on him all this while. If having him at your wedding is what you wish, we shall allow it."

"Thank you, Your Majesties."

The Queen sighed softly before adding, "But whether or not he wishes to attend is ultimately his decision. Let's hope he chooses to join us for your sake."

You nodded in understanding, "Of course, I completely understand."

As the preparations for your wedding ceremony unfolded, time seemed to pass in a blur. Traditionally, weddings entail two parts: the first at the bride's home, where the couple honours her ancestors and family, and the second at the groom's home for the same purpose. However, due to your circumstances, with no family home for you and Seonghwa having little connection to his parents or ancestors, your wedding would be simplified, taking place solely within the palace grounds, where the royal family would also be able to attend, given that most of them are not allowed to leave the place.

In no time, you found yourself comfortably seated in one of the palace chambers, which had been graciously lent to you for the day. Hongjoong immediately began working on perfecting your look, with Eunsook and a team of palace maids assisting him.

You couldn't help but marvel at the exquisite hanbok now adorning your figure. Unlike the traditional red hanbok worn by most brides, this one was a stunning combination of white and gold. It was a testament to the dressmaker's dedication to his friend's request to make you the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon.

Instead of the usual red flower, Hongjoong meticulously painted a gold flower on your forehead to complement your exquisite hanbok. You admired how perfectly it matched your outfit and the gold accessories adorning your hair. While part of you wondered if it was appropriate to outshine the royals, as the dressmaker had emphasised countless times, another part of you chose to revel in the admiration you would receive. You couldn't believe how far you'd come from being the scared girl who once endured disdainful glances and disrespect before marrying Seonghwa.

Reflecting on your journey, you felt grateful for the twists and turns that had brought you to this moment. Perhaps Jinjoo was right; you were quite thankful to your family for orchestrating your union with the general. Without them, you wouldn't be here, basking in the happiness you had finally found.

I guess we're even now, father.

Noticing your silence and distant gaze in the mirror's reflection, the dressmaker lightly nudged you on the shoulder, "Well? How do you like this look, my lady? Please don't tell me you're having second thoughts about standing out now. I've spent the past month working tirelessly on this hanbok—"

You giggled and offered a soft smile to your friend, "Don't worry, Hongjoong. It's perfection. For once, I think it's okay for me to outshine even the princesses. After all, it's my wedding ceremony, and I'll only be getting married once."

His grin widened proudly as he saw you slowly shedding your old self, no longer the timid girl he first met, "Damn right, it's perfection. I create only that and nothing less," He joked before turning serious, "Listen, I just want you to know how proud I am of you. Seonghwa's a dear friend to me, and I honestly would've thrown a bigger tantrum than he did if he had been arranged to marry some spoiled brat. You don't know how happy I am that you've found each other. But if that idiot does anything to upset you again, you better tell me."

You chuckled through your tears, your throat tightening at his heartfelt words, "You bet I will. Thank you, Hongjoong."

He panicked when he noticed your wet eyes, "Hey, hey, hey. Don't you dare start crying, woman. If you cry, I'll cry too. And trust me, that's not a good look for either of us. Plus, you can't ruin your makeup!"

His jest seemed to do the trick, eliciting another round of laughter from you. Fussing over you one last time, he noticed the palace staff at the entrance signalling it was time for you to be on standby. Gently grasping your shoulders, he beamed at you like a proud father, "Are you ready, Lady Park?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

With the nervous beat of your heart echoing in your ears, you were guided to the main hall, where the rituals would soon unfold, with Eunsook at your side. Hongjoong had departed after ensuring you looked flawless, joining the other wedding guests. As you reached the waiting area, where final checks would be made before your grand entrance and your first meeting with your husband today, your steps faltered.

While the head maid busied herself tidying your hair and smoothing the creases in your hanbok, you gulped, "Eunsook, t-tell me... this isn't a dream, is it?"

The elderly woman giggled, gently taking hold of your hands, "Are you still asking me that, mistress? Do you remember the first time you asked me that question?"

You nodded, reminiscing about the first time you had allowed the maids to bathe you after Seonghwa had discovered your scars. So much has changed since then. Though you weren't the same person you once were, a small part of you still harboured a fear that this all might be too good to be true. It felt like a long dream, and you couldn't shake the worry that you would one day wake up back in the hellhole you once called home.

Giving your hand a comforting squeeze, she smiled, "Well, I'm here to reassure you once more that this is all very real. Perhaps you fear losing the happiness you've found and you're not alone in that. Master feels the same way, so do all of us at the estate. We all fear losing the happiness that you've brought into our lives. I hope you haven't forgotten what I've said to you: you are our light and our hope. You're incredibly important to all of us. You still are, and always will be."

"She's right, you know?"

A familiar deep voice interrupted, startling both you and Eunsook as an unexpected figure appeared behind you. Surprised, you turned to find Prince Yeosang standing there, arms casually intertwined behind his back, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed your reaction.

"Y-Your Highness?" You stammered, half-expecting his absence.

He continued, "You should've seen General Park earlier as they got him dressed. All he cared about was how you were doing. I guess that's what you meant by true love, huh? I wish it were just a dream for me, but it's not. So, don't you worry, Lady Park, this is all very real. I didn't give up on you for you to doubt this reality. Please make my choice worth it and be happy, okay?"

Relief flooded through you, reassured by his acceptance of your new chapter, "I promise I will make it worth it. Thank you, my prince, for choosing to be here today and for your kind words." You replied, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

He grinned in response, "Of course, wouldn't miss my first and only friend's wedding for the world," With a playful wink, he gestured towards the palace staff entering to usher you out, "Now hurry and get out there, don't make him wait any longer."

At last, all is right in the world.

Returning his smile with gratitude, you took a deep breath before stepping forward. As you walked out, you felt a newfound readiness wash over you. You were prepared now; ready to formally be wedded to Park Seonghwa, not out of obligation, but out of pure love for him. You were ready to be the wife he needed, the shoulder he could lean on when the weight of his responsibilities grew heavy. You were ready to be his home, his refuge, ready to be everything to him, just as he was everything to you.

As Seonghwa stepped out from his side of the waiting area, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you approaching from the opposite end. Each time he laid eyes on you, he thought you couldn't possibly become more beautiful, yet you continued to prove him wrong. Hongjoong had outdone himself once again; you looked more majestic than any royalty he had ever seen.

You stood out among the crowd, exuding grace and elegance in your one-of-a-kind hanbok. As you glided toward him, he felt overwhelmed by your beauty. But it wasn't just the general who was stunned; every guest at the ceremony had their jaws drop in awe at your ethereal appearance. Those seeing you for the first time now realised the whispers and rumours about your beauty were true. Truly, you looked like an angel descended from the heavens.

As the rituals unfolded, requiring you and Seonghwa to stand across from each other and perform a series of bows as instructed by the wedding officiator, each gesture symbolising a different aspect of your commitment to each other, you both remained focused on each other. Despite the lengthy and tedious proceedings, all you could see was one another as you patiently waited for it all to be over.

The guests cooed in anticipation as it was time for you and your husband to exchange a cup of wine, the act symbolising longevity and fertility. You blushed lightly as you heard Wooyoung among the crowd squealing, only to be smacked silent by Jongho and Yunho who stood by his side.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the seemingly endless rituals were concluded. You and the general bowed together a few more times: once to His and Her Majesty, once to the gods, and once to the guests. With that, the ceremony was complete, and you could finally bask in the joy of being officially united as husband and wife.

After the two of you expressed gratitude to the King and Queen for their assistance in making the wedding possible, the feast began. As neither you nor Seonghwa had any family present, you were naturally surrounded by your closest companions, the guys. Your husband took the opportunity to introduce you to the only friend of his whom you had yet to meet.

Grateful for his presence, you smiled warmly at the strategist, "Thank you for always looking out for my husband, Officer Song."

Mingi grinned bashfully, his cheeks tinged with a slight blush. He still seemed taken aback by your beauty, "Not at all, my lady. It's General Park who has been looking out for me all this while."

Seonghwa smirked knowingly, giving the taller man a playful nudge, "Thanks again for coming, man. A little birdie told me you've reunited with a special someone. Can we expect a wedding invite soon?"

The guys around the table teased with mischievous oohs as Mingi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I don't know, hyung-nim. I'm working on it. But let's not talk about me, it's your big day!"

Hongjoong, however, wasn't having it, "Oh, come on, don't you dare change the subject! We need details about this mysterious lady!" He insisted, eager for gossip. The other guys excitedly chimed in, urging the officer to spill the beans about the royal physician who had captured his attention for years.

Amidst their playful interrogation of Mingi, you glanced around the room, curious to see if the fourth prince was still present. Catching sight of him, you noticed he was discreetly making his way toward the exit. Sensing your gaze, he turned, meeting your eyes. He offered you a genuine smile and a final nod before vanishing from view.

May happiness find you, Your Highness.

The remainder of the ceremony proceeded seamlessly, thanks to the meticulous arrangements made by the palace staff. As night fell, you returned to Seonghwa's private chambers, where the two of you would share a meal and some drinks before... going to bed. Your heart pounded with nervousness, fully aware of the significance of the evening; you would both be expected to consummate your marriage tonight.

"My love, are you feeling alright?" You blinked rapidly, coming back to reality as your husband waved his hand in front of your face to grab your attention. You nodded quickly and resumed eating, trying to appear casual, "Y-yes, I'm fine, Hwa. Don't worry about me."

But the general was more perceptive than you realised. He could sense your unease, especially as the meal was drawing to a close. With a soft smile, he set down his wine glass and reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Why do you bother lying to me, you silly girl? Did you think I would be disappointed in you?"

He knew he had guessed correctly when your chewing momentarily paused. Shifting his hand to cup your cheek, he gently guided you to meet his warm gaze, "What do you take me for, hm? We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready. I can wait, I'll wait for as long as you need," With a tender kiss on your forehead, he rose from his seat, "I'll get the maids to prepare the House of Lotus for you."

Feeling deeply touched by his understanding, you realised how foolish you had been to once fear the possibility of him hurting you. Truthfully, it wasn't that you didn't want to deepen your intimacy with him; rather, you were scared. He would be the first man to see all of you, every scar on your body, and you feared what he might think, feared letting him down. But his love for you reminded you of his kindness and brought you a newfound confidence.

Before he could leave, you panicked and reached for his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, "No, Hwa, please don't. I want to... I-I want to stay with you tonight."

Kneeling before you, he gently took your hands in his, "Are you sure, my love? You don't have to force yourself—"

You cut him off by pressing your lips firmly against his. He responded almost immediately, and you smiled at the small whine he let out as he chased after your lips when you pulled away. Whispering, you said, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to stay with you, Park Seonghwa. You're not getting rid of me tonight, or ever."

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he immediately captured your lips in a deep kiss, one passionate enough to leave you dizzy. With his guidance, you rose from your seat, your lips still connected, and he lifted you into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards his bed. Both your hearts raced as you broke the kiss to catch your breath, panting as he gently set you down.

Your breath caught as you leaned against the pillows behind you, trapped between his arms as before, reminiscent of the interrupted moment with Hongjoong. However, this time, it wasn't you who halted the moment. The general's gaze turned serious as he locked eyes with you, his voice low, "Last chance. We can still stop if you want to change your mind. Because if we go any further from here, I'm afraid I won't be able to hold myself back."

Cupping his face, you leaned in to kiss him softly, murmuring, "I love you, Hwa." If that wasn't enough to convey your feelings, you guided his hands to the ribbon securing the outer layer of your hanbok, silently granting him permission to undress you.

The first time he had aggressively torn your clothing was a mistake he regretted deeply. Now, he approached it with care, delicately untying the ribbon and holding his breath as he removed the garment, exposing your shoulders once more. The faint traces of your old scars were visible, but they didn't faze him. Tilting your chin up, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "You're so beautiful, my wife. I love you too."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes fluttered close as he kissed you again, banishing all previous worries from your mind. When he pulled away, his lips trailed down your neck until they reached your scars. Gently pushing some hair away from his face, you stroked his head affectionately, watching as he showered each mark with kisses. As his hand hovered over the ribbon securing the inner layer of your hanbok, he looked up at you one last time, knowing there would be no turning back from this moment onward.

"I'll be gentle, my love, I promise."

"I know, Hwa, I trust you."

That night, you and Seonghwa became lost in each other, the boundaries between you fading away as you become one for the first time. In each other's arms, you discovered a love deeper than you ever thought possible. You found yourself no longer able to picture your life without him at this point.

Reflecting on your journey together, you marvelled at how much he had changed since you first met. Back then, you could never have imagined that he would come to love you so deeply, nor could you have anticipated the depth of your own feelings for him. Now, as you lay intertwined with him in the quiet of the night, you knew that you had arrived at your destination. It had been a long journey, filled with obstacles and challenges, but in the end, you found it.

You had finally found the way to his heart.

Y'all, I hope this one didn't disappoint! The pressure of knowing this was the final part was so SO REAL. Maybe it's my insecurities kicking in, but I genuinely hope this meets expectations!😭

Also, I know the story is completed but I have good news! I've decided to do some fluff-filled bonus chapters because I'm well aware this is barely enough to make up for all the angst I've put y'all through HAHA if you're not on the tag list and would like to be tagged for any future bonus content, just leave a comment to let me know!

Whoo, it's been quite the roller coaster ride now, hasn't it? If you've made it this far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story! From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for reading and as always, please let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rhwa @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr

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

715 notes · View notes