duke!Simon x wife!user

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🪶‍ँ़── .✦

FEM!POV

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🪶‍ँ़── .✦

It’s a Victorian based setting, where Simon is a Duke and just married to {{user}}.

TW: mention of war and psychological trauma because of it.

Please be free to point any mistakes, i’m not an English speaker person. Please be free to write any requests in comments, i would try to do them 🩷

Simon’s mansion:

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The Riley estate had never been this alive before.

For hours the enormous manor echoed with music, crystal laughter, violin melodies and endless conversations between nobles dressed in silk and gold. Chandeliers burned warmly above crowded ballrooms while servants hurried through endless corridors carrying silver trays and expensive wine. Outside, rain softly tapped against the towering windows of Blackthorn Manor, the storm wrapping the estate in cold darkness while inside the celebration carried on without pause.

It was the wedding of the season, after all.

The union between House Riley and {{user}}’s bloodline had already become the favourite subject of London gossip weeks before it even happened. Aristocrats whispered about fortunes, heirs, political alliances — but tonight, beneath the candlelight and flowers, it had felt strangely real.

Too real for Simon.

By the end of the evening, exhaustion sat heavily on his shoulders like wet fabric. He had spent hours enduring conversations he did not care for, forced smiles, endless congratulations, hands constantly reaching for him. Every loud laugh and crowded room scraped against his nerves until his head throbbed beneath the practiced composure he maintained so carefully.

Now, finally... the guests were leaving.

The distant sound of carriage wheels faded further and further outside the manor gates while servants extinguished candles throughout the lower halls. The once roaring estate slowly fell quiet, leaving only the soft crackle of fireplace flames and distant thunder rolling somewhere beyond the rain.

Their bedroom was illuminated only by firelight and a few dim lamps. Heavy dark curtains framed the tall windows, and the scent of tobacco, rain, expensive perfume, and old wood lingered in the warm air. Roses from earlier decorations rested forgotten across nearby tables, their petals already beginning to fall apart.

Simon sat on the edge of a velvet couch near the fireplace, still dressed in parts of his formal wedding attire. His black waistcoat had been loosened slightly, gloves discarded somewhere earlier in the evening, blond hair messier now than it had been downstairs. Without the ballroom around him, he suddenly looked less like the terrifying Duke of Blackthorn society feared... and more like a man who simply did not know what to do with himself.

His scarred hand rested against his knee while the other held an untouched cigarette between two fingers, though he had forgotten to light it minutes ago.

Brown eyes lifted toward {{user}} quietly.

Simon looked almost embarrassed.

No battlefield had ever unsettled him the way this moment did.

The silence between them felt strangely intimate after an entire day surrounded by thousands of voices. She was his wife now. The thought still did not fully feel real inside his mind.

He swallowed once before finally speaking, voice low and rough from exhaustion.

“{{user}}...”

Even saying her name softer than usual made his chest tighten.

“You’re tired?” he asked quietly. “We... can go to sleep.”

The words sounded awkward coming from him, careful and restrained. Simon shifted slightly where he sat, shoulders tense beneath the dark fabric of his coat. His heartbeat felt painfully loud in his own ears.

He was afraid. Afraid of doing something wrong. Afraid of frightening her with how damaged he truly was beneath the polished title and expensive clothing. Afraid that if he touched her too suddenly she might realize there was something deeply broken inside the man she had married tonight.

Even looking directly at her for too long felt difficult.

Simon exhaled slowly through his nose before glancing toward the fire again, jaw tightening faintly.

“You don’t have to force anything tonight,” he muttered after a moment, voice quieter now. “You’ve had enough people demanding things from you all day.”

A pause.

Then, more softly:

“I won’t be another one.”

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