#Royal Guard Ghost x Princess Reader

[sunflowerzyk]

Royal Guard Simon Riley x Princess Reader

Part1.

SFW

Simon has a simple task, to keep the King's youngest daughter safe. A simple task for his finest knight.

That's what it was supposed to be, having to deal with a spoiled little girl 24/7.

But when I met you ..... You were spoiled, of course you were, but you were noble at heart, you genuinely wanted a quiet life for everyone, playing the role of queen, doing your late Andre's chores like organizing festivals and parties, inaugurating events on behalf of your father.

You were... A good person. He thought.

The society, the cruelty had not broken you as many... Like him, an old man who served all his life to your father's kingdom, with no other purpose but the adrenaline of war.

With a couple of bushes with sweet fruits that you picked every so often with him by your side. Standing guard. You called him. As if everyone didn't know about your little orchard that stained your dress with dirt as well as your hands when you knelt down to pick the fruit.

"Look what a mess you are". Simon complained in a low, calm voice, there was no real reprimand, but his tone was still harsh. Not used to talking to anyone other than his soldiers.

He moved his gloved hand to remove strands of hair that clung to your sweat-covered forehead.

In time he grew accustomed to your company, and discovered that despite being spoiled you had quite a few restrictions, no youthful lovers, you were terrified of talking to people in formal gatherings and loved having a small orchard hidden in your garden which he soon discovered.

"Just a little bit of dirt". You stood with a tired snort, holding a small basket of blueberries and other things with one hand and with the other gently pulling his hand away to wipe away the sweat.

You only caused the dirt to mix with the sweat making a worse mess.

"stop that, Princess, come on, you must have a bath."

Simon couldn't help but smile behind his helmet, seeing you, a princess whimsical about food and fine fabrics with pastel colors.... Dirty.... It generated ideas in him that he pushed away immediately.

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside the palace. He forgot when he started touching you willingly.

You just nodded, humming happily with your basket of berries, walking beside your guard dog that you had grown very fond of. Pushing your own limits of formality.

Thinking that next time you would behave more brat for he to hold you like that again.

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Awkward After

Synopsis: Facing the embarrassing consequence after your foolish action toward your knight. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Reader coming some realizations, ¿infatuation?, Aemond Concerned, Slight Jealousy PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART

The following day was a tad awkward after you had unintentionally invaded the personal space of your sworn protector the night before. You did not mean to do such actions! But you had grown quite comfortable in his presence that propriety and simple manners had left your head. You stirred and stayed awake that night, blushing and cringing at your own actions. Your mind replayed the shocked look on Ser Aemond’s face and, dare you say, the ghost of a blush that crept on his cheeks as you did such actions. Your fingertips could still feel his skin, and you blushed further at the thought. 

“I’ll—I’ll take my meal here, Ser Adam; please tell my squire.” You called by the other side of the door as you heard the cling of his metal armor. Aemond furrowed his brows as you had addressed the newly arrived knight instead of him, and the fact that you would be taking your meal in your chambers. As Adam walked off, Aemond knocked upon your door. “Are you well, princess?” He asked in concern that an ailment came to you in the dead of night. “Yes!” You squeaked and felt a blush rise to your cheeks once more. What was this? This reaction was most peculiar and most unwelcomed, you thought. 

Aemond straightened his stance as Adam returned. “Does she often take her meals in her chambers?” The secondary knight questioned. “No,” Aemond replied, tone indifferent. “Hm, perhaps the princess is ill; I shall fetch the maester as well,” Adam announced, but before he could walk off, Aemond took hold of his shoulder, hindering him. “I’ll go. Guard the princess— do not let anyone but her maids, squire, or the royal family inside,” he gritted, and Adam rolled his eyes, “I know perfectly well how to do my job,” he scoffed, but Aemond was already walking towards the maester’s quarters. 

A knock sounded upon your chambers once more, and before you could answer, your door opened and revealed Ser Aemond and the castle’s head maester. “Ser Aemond, Maester Harold, wh—“ You questioned with furrowed brows as you stood. “I’ve come to check up on you, princess,” the Maester explained, and you glanced at your sworn protector, who only stared at you, assessing if you were truly well. “But I’m not ill,” You say, making the Maester frown as well as he turned to your knight. “But Ser Aemond made it out that you are taken with sickness,” He said slowly, and Aemond squared his shoulders as he had practically dragged away the maester from tending to a nobleman who had broken his leg as he fell off his horse. 

“I— I’m quite well, Maester; I apologize for the disturbance. You are dismissed,” You smiled apologetically. As the Maester left, you turned to Ser Aemond. “Wha— why?” You questioned, not even able to look him in the eye as you already felt an unreasonable blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You are having your meal here instead of in the gardens as usual,” Aemond said, stepping forward, trying to catch your gaze. “And you are quite… flushed, your Highness,” He added slowly, watching as you steadied yourself on your armchair and lowered your gaze to the floor. “I’m fine! I just… I want to stay in my chambers,” You reasoned, stepping backward as you scolded yourself that your knight had noticed your blush and your mind conjured up the scene in the hall last night. Aemond frowned, but he nodded, taking one last look at you before stepping out of your chambers and closing the door. You groaned quietly at your foolishness, but you could not help but feel touched by the concern of Ser Aemond. 

You did not leave your chambers the entire day, and Ser Aemond was consumed with confusion as to what had led you to such a state. Even your brother, the prince, had questioned him if there were any events that led you to lock yourself up in your chambers, but nothing of note came to mind. When night came, and Aemond was left alone at his station by your door, he rested his back upon the cool stone and let his hand stray to the spot between his brows where you had left your touch. It was odd, but he could still feel your fingertips against his skin. Aemond sighed as his mind was consumed by you the entire day; he would think that he would not have to think of you when he could not even see you, but it would prove that the thought of you was stronger when his eye could not rest upon your frame. 

“Ser Aemond?” You called quietly as you partly opened your door; Aemond straightened his stance and turned to the gap in your door. “Princess? What has happened?” he questioned, his voice on the verge of worry. “Nothing, I… I was just wondering if I could go to the kitchens,” you said and opened the door fully. “I shall escort you then,” He said, but he frowned as you shook your head. “No, I could go on ahead, alone.” You say and pick up Theodore, who tried to exit through the small gap of the door, growing bored as he has accompanied you in your chambers the entire day. You have tried to avoid your knight, but you realize it is inevitable. 

“No, princess, that is not a possibility,” Aemond said, questioning as to why you tried to be rid of him when you perfectly knew that you must always be escorted and guarded by him. You pursed your lips and nodded. Aemond walked behind you as you ventured towards the kitchen, finding it a bit odd since he was used to walking along side you, letting arms brush with each step you take. 

“Are you certain that you are well, princess?” Aemond’s voice cutting through the silence of the dark hallway. “Yes,” you say quietly, your responses to him short, which was a dead giveaway to Aemond that something was bothering you because you always babbled on. The knight pursed his lips as he followed you to the kitchens, where a kitchen maid had left a platter of berries along with another bowl of coarse sugar and cream by the counter as they had memorized your late-night cravings since you were a little girl. 

Aemond stood by the door as you placed your growing pet cat by the counter, the feline still glaring at Aemond. You leaned your frame upon the wooden structure as your finger dipped at the cream, and Aemond quickly looked away as you popped the digit between your lips. Aemond cleared his throat and looked upon the floor, trying not to memorize the way you licked off the cream from your finger. 

“I apologize,” You suddenly say, unable to stomach the tension between you and Ser Aemond. You toyed with the berries on the platter. “Pardon, princess?” Aemond questioned. “I… I apologize for my actions last night— I had forgotten my bounds, and I apologize for overstepping,” You say quietly, and it took Aemond a moment to understand what you were apologizing for. “Oh,” He said as he realized. “I…” he trailed, his silver tongue unable to find words. “Is that why you hid in your chambers the whole day?” He then questioned, and you felt the familiar blush creep upon your cheeks. You could not respond as your hand gripped tightly the counter. Aemond bit his lip at such revelations. You were embarrassed! And it was quite endearing. “Yes,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

You waited for your knight’s response, but you only heard a greatly stifled laugh. You turned to Ser Aemond and saw him staring at the floor and his hand in a fist that was raised to his lips to contain his laugh. “Stop laughing!” You whined as you felt your cheeks redden deeper; it was an odd scene you had not seen before. Ser Aemond was amused. “I command you to stop!” You say, feeling a smile twitch on your lips as well as you throw a berry in the direction of your sworn protector. “Ser Aemond!” You called with a stomp of your foot, frustrated that he was laughing at your expense. 

Aemond reigned in his laughter and amusement but could not be rid of the small smile on his lips as he straightened his back. “I—I apologize, princess; I was not laughing at you.” He said, amusement still heavy in his voice. You rolled your eyes as you knew what he uttered was a lie. There was a short moment of silence before you sighed. “So? Do you accept my apology?” You ask sheepishly. Aemond bit his lip, trying to catch your eyes once more, but they were downturned in embarrassment. “There is nothing to apologize for, princess,” He says, and finally then did his eyes meet yours. You smiled and assessed his eye to see if he was being truthful, and that is when you realized how… more comely he was when his face was not adorned by his usual scowl. You licked your lips and gave him a nod. 

Aemond took in a deep breath and tried to make his face return to its usual stoicism, but it was proven to be difficult that night. “Do you want some, Ser Aemond?” You called, and for the first time, your knight did not hesitate to decline your offer. Simply moving to stand next to you as you both enjoyed a late-night helping of cream and berries. 

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: Ghost travels to the small country of Stuoca to meet the person assigned to guard for the next month. When you lay your eyes on him, you can’t help but feel scared, yet also curious. He feels the same when encountering such a precious, fragile thing like you.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8

The porcelain teacup felt warm in your hands, holding your favorite blend of tea flavored to your preference. The grandfather clock in the room ticked by, filling the silence. While you normally liked to play some music to fill the space with sound, your parents told you that you must be quiet. That you had to sit pretty and be patient until you were allowed to do so. 

You stared into your cup, slowly losing your appetite for teatime as the pit in your stomach grew bigger. You felt like there was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Normally, your parents were eager to show you off to any guest that was coming to the palace. Right now, it is different. You were locked away in one of the many palace studies. There was your butler with you who watched your worries grow. There were a couple of guards outside the closed doors, stopping anyone from entering unless the king or queen allowed it. 

Looking out the arched window and overlooking the lush palace garden, you wished you could enjoy your teatime outside like you normally did. Feeling the fresh air, hearing the birds chirp in the distance, enjoying the subtle aroma of flowers flowing with the wind. It was really the only time you were allowed to be outside. 

Even though you were a grown woman, your parents have always seen you as their little princess.

While you sat silently in the study, the king and queen of Stuoca was meeting the man that would guard you with his life. It was jarring being in a place like this. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was crafted with exquisite, polished stone. Anything made of wood was a rich cherry. On marble pedestals along the halls held works of art behind glass. Jewelry, crowns, busts. Golden chandeliers with crystals reflecting the light hung from the ceilings that were painted with angels. 

Everything in the palace was worth billions upon billions of dollars. Standing in the middle of it all was Ghost, a man that once was just scraping by in his younger days. He still stood out like a sore thumb among it all. The skull balaclava secured over his head, tattoos revealed on his forearm, the black t-shirt that clung tight to his muscles. It was like death himself walked the bright palace halls. 

“Pardon me, Lieutenant Ghost, but you don’t have to wear that mask here, do you?” The queen, your mother, nervously addressed from her red velvet seat. The mask was making her scared. That was how people normally reacted when they saw him for the first time.

“Yes I do, your majesty.” He curtly responded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ghost was just as uncomfortable as your parents were. When he heard that he was being deployed to guard a princess, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. But now, here he was being served tea and cookies with the king and queen of Stuoca. As much as being on base was a pain in the ass at times, he missed it. 

The king cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea from his teacup. When they reached out to the United States for a bodyguard, they weren’t expecting someone so. . . rough to be sent out. But, if this was the right man for the job, then so be it. As long as his princess was safe. “Thank you for traveling so far away from home in order to help us with our problem. Being a country so small, we weren’t even sure if your country would even bat an eye at us.”

Ghost shifted on the balls of his feet, growing more uncomfortable with the sudden gratitude. He just wanted to start the job already. The sooner he starts, the sooner he can end it. “You said that you’ve received threats. Anything else happened while I was busy traveling here?”

With a snap of the king’s fingers, a maid came over and presented an opened envelope. Ghost quirked a brow under his mask as he took it. Opening it revealed the original letter that was reported to Laswell. The one that he’s already seen with his 141 team. Handwritten, black ink, very articulated. The letter detailed how the royal family would burn down along with their palace. That the princess will be kidnapped and tortured if they didn’t get what they wanted, which was power to control the country. 

Ghost sighed, feeling like he got the short end of the stick on this mission. The entire 141 was working on this case. However, Ghost was the one stuck with babysitting duty while the rest of the guys got to experience all of the action. They were off investigating while he was sitting on a velvet couch in the grandest office he has ever seen. 

“That’s all we have for now to physically show you. The only other concern is the graffiti that has been popping up around the city.” The king explained calmly as a different maid brought over a manilla folder full of pictures. Pictures depicted a graffiti crow on various different buildings. They weren’t murals, but the symbols were prominent enough to be noticed. 

“A crow is a symbol of misfortune and death. A bad omen, wouldn’t you agree?” The queen spoke up, taking a slow sip of her tea as she tried to read the lieutenant’s reaction. It was impossible to do so with his mask. 

“Where is the princess right now?” He inquired. It seemed odd that you didn’t come in with your parents. He figured that they would want you right by their side at all times if they were really concerned about the threats. 

The king and queen stood as if on a cue. The king gestured for Ghost to do the same. “Our daughter is in one of the studies waiting to meet you. For her sake, please refrain from bringing up the letter and graffiti. We don’t want to startle her more than what has already been done.”

Ghost gave a curt nod before following your parents to the study where you stayed. The way they spoke about you, you seemed more like a caged bird rather than their beloved daughter. It unsettled the lieutenant, but perhaps it was just the consequence of formality. They wouldn’t have reached out to the United States for help if they didn’t care after all.

Once they approached the door, the guards saluted and opened it up. Beyond the doors was the most ornate office Ghost has ever seen. Once his eyes settled on you, you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Every hair on your head was in place with the help of maids. There were no wrinkles in your dress and no stains in sight. Your makeup was light and only flattered your features. The gems on your necklace complimented your bright eyes. Ghost was almost at a loss for words. When you stood up and curtsied to greet them, he could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“Good evening.” You simply greeted, your tone polite as ever as a princess should be. 

“Sweetheart, this is going to be your personal bodyguard from now on. He’s going to keep you safe, no matter where you go. Isn’t that wonderful?” Your mother gave a sickly sweet smile, her efforts to meet the status quo seeming a little more forced as she interacted with you.

You definitely knew that something was wrong now. You may have been a confined princess, but you weren’t stupid. However, you decided to refrain from asking what the trouble was. It wasn’t appropriate. Not with your parents watching you.

For now, you focused on the news that you were now going to have a bodyguard. Your eyes shifted towards the large man. Muscles clearly defined under his shirt, posture straight and strong, mask hiding his identity. Compared to him, you were much smaller and much weaker. It intimidated you a bit. It made you hesitant to accept him. However, there were expectations to meet, regardless of how you truly felt.

“Princess Y/n. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You softly spoke as you gave another sweet curtsy towards him. 

He quirked a brow. You were taking this awfully well. A part of him expected some more push-back. He honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat. Yet, here you were, taking everything in stride for now. You knew how to compose yourself better than he expected. “Lieutenant Ghost. I’ll be keeping you safe. For me to do that, there’s going to be some changes.”

You looked to your parents, looking for the explanation for this change. There was not even a bat of the eye as they faked their smiles. “You will still complete your studies as a princess should. Attend the parties as needed to keep up appearances as well.”

Ghost shook his head, authority taking over his baritone voice. “Negative. The princess will not be attending any more parties. Doing so could risk her safety.”

Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes widened at the news. A part of you, though, was celebrating. No more parties? Would your parents really accept this? The sudden shock on their faces morphed into strained smiles, telling you that they weren’t going to accept this so easily. The king cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, it is very important for the princess to still make appearances. It is essential for her.”

Ghost looked at you all of a sudden, wondering how you felt about this change compared to your parents’ obvious protest. You tried to remain unreadable, not wanting to set either party off with your personal opinion. If you had the choice, though, you would sacrifice the parties. They were more for your parents than they were for you anyway.

Ghost sighed in slight frustration. Normally, he was excellent at reading people. He did it all the time with new recruits, enemies, and his team. Their poker faces were nothing compared to yours. “One party if absolutely necessary. No longer than an hour. Just to keep up appearances.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your disappointment. Well, at least you weren’t expected to be present during the entirety of your parents’ showing off. “Understood, Lieutenant Ghost.”

At least your parents seemed happier with the compromise. Your mother grinned brightly. “Wonderful! Give him the princess’s schedule!”

Your butler hurried over and gave Ghost your schedule. He nearly stumbled back with how packed it was. Piano lessons, dance lessons, tea times, dress fittings, and independent study went on and on for pages and pages. Did you have any time to yourself besides sleep?

“The show must go on! If you have any questions or procedures to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out to us. We hope that you two get along well.” The queen concluded, eager to leave the room so that she could go on with her own daily life. The king followed close behind as they left the room, leaving you and your bodyguard to get to know each other.

You didn’t mind being civil, but you doubted that he would try to get to know you. He simply didn’t seem like the type to stray away from his responsibilities for anything. For now, you silently went back to your seat to finish up tea time. Ghost stood awkwardly for a moment before finding his own place to settle. Leaning against the stone wall, he examined you further.

The way you held your teacup was gentle. Your dress draped against your legs like a smooth waterfall. The way you looked out the window was melancholic. After a few minutes, you spoke up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Why are you my new bodyguard, Lieutenant Ghost?”

Ghost didn’t expect your question. He hardly even knew what you meant when you asked it. Still, he kept his cool as he dug further. It wasn’t like there was any malice in your tone. In fact, your tone was nothing but innocent. “What do you mean? Are you asking me why I took the job?”

You shook your head, staring into your teacup once again as you got a little shy. Lieutenant Ghost wouldn’t report your conversations to your parents, would he? But, you had to know. “Is my life in serious danger?”

Behind the mask, Ghost’s mouth was partially opened with shock. His body grew tense as he realized what was really going on. “They haven’t told you, have they?”

“My parents can be. . . protective. Their priority to maintain normalcy can cause them to make certain judgments in regards to my life.” You subtly worded, fearing that the guards outside were listening to what you were saying. Hopefully, Ghost would understand what you meant.

Thankfully, he did. Now more than before, you really did seem like a caged bird. You deserve the truth. “Your parents received a threatening letter from a terrorist organization. They seem to be after your life in order to manipulate your parents. I serve under Task Force 141 that specializes in missions like this. The rest of my team is investigating the organization while I am to protect you personally.”

Your grip around your teacup tightened slightly as you learned the truth. It seemed that your intuition was correct. This was a serious problem. You swallowed your new fears down hard before proceeding as normal. “Thank you for your honesty, Lieutenant.”

Ghost sympathized with you as he finally saw a shred of how you really felt about this entire situation. His perception of who he was protecting was completely wrong. You were no brat or clueless royalty with too much time and money on your precious princess hands. You were sharp. You were polite. You were obedient. It made him want to know the real you.

He knew that he shouldn’t get closer than what was necessary. Yet, the anxious look in your beautiful eyes as you stared out the window made him want to provide you with some comfort. Some way to break the ice while also doing his job. He opted for a simple conversation about your daily schedule. “What’s independent study for you?”

“It’s my time to study what I wish within reason. Any subject that I may find interesting as long as it is appropriate for a princess.” You delicately explained, putting everything as nice as possible.

All Ghost heard was that you were restricted from real knowledge. However, it wasn’t his place to make a comment on it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t find it fair. You were a princess and you obviously took your responsibilities, fair or not, seriously. He gave a simple hum in acknowledgment for the time being on that matter. “What are you studying?”

You looked at Ghost curiously, wondering how much of this was just workplace conversation and how much of this was genuine attempts at knowing you. The way Ghost looked at you with such resolute, cold eyes made you shiver. Something told you that this was his usual look. “I’m studying many things at the moment that would be proper for me to know.”

It seemed like subtle and vague answers were the only things he was going to get out of you, but he already picked up on the fact that you didn’t do this to be cold towards him. The tone you carried was careful. Gentle. You didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble. Simon knew what that was like.

The conversation was dropped for the time being. It seemed like your physical being wasn’t the only thing he had to protect. Your social reputation was at stake as well. Respecting that, he focused back on guarding you. Not without noticing every little thing about you though.

You stole glances at him every so often as well as you sipped your tea. The more you looked at him, the more he intrigued you. You’ve never had a guard that had his build. You’ve never even seen someone with tattoos in person before. He stood out against the pristine white around the palace. A shadow in the light. You were curious about what he looked like under the mask.

~

The rest of the night proceeded as normal save for your new shadow. You were ushered by your butler to your routine lessons, Ghost always close behind. He stayed silent throughout it all, but observant. You did feel like he was watching your every move. While you were used to being heavily monitored, having Ghost be the one observing you made you more nervous than normal. Music lessons, dance lessons, and studying didn’t go as smoothly as you made more mistakes under the pressure. For some reason, you wanted to impress him like you were one of his newest soldiers. 

Ghost thought nothing of it as you did what you had to do. In reality, he found your abilities to be quite impressive, mistakes or not. He did chalk it up to him being an intimidating presence. Despite it, he could tell that you were skilled. 

When bedtime rolled around, he followed into your room. A grand room with a king, white canopy bed, cherry-wood antique furniture, and large, arched windows leading to a balcony. The windows were the second problem that Ghost needed to address if he wanted to keep you safe. “You can’t sleep in here. It would be too easy to-”

Meeting your eyes made him pause. You waited patiently for him to finish as he was going to say, prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that the next change would be as smooth as possible. Looking at you, though, Ghost saw a pretty woman that he needed to be more gentle towards. Less explicit in language. You were already afraid for your life. He didn’t want to make that anxiety worse for you.

“Is there another room in the palace that has less open windows?” He asked cautiously, minding his words this time. 

You appreciated his careful consideration, feeling more and more safe with him as he made decisions to protect you. “I believe there is. I can sleep there tonight.”

He followed you to another room in the palace that was away from any windows. He nearly sighed in relief as the new bedroom was windowless, smaller, and much more comfortable to be in. The bed was still massive and the antique furniture was polished, but the warmer palette of the decor made the room feel less like a museum display. 

You felt better too as you looked around the cozy room. The windows in your usual bedroom just reminded you of what you couldn’t have. Though, your anxiety grew as you realized that Ghost was still within the room. Your cheeks grew a subtle pink as you chose your words with precision. “I would like to get ready for bed. Is it necessary for you to be here while I do?”

“Well. . .” Ghost thought carefully, trying to make the best decision here. After a few seconds, he determined that you needed your privacy. He was already invading it enough by being your personal bodyguard. With an accepting, silent nod, he stepped out of the room while you changed into pajamas. A few maid staff passed by, gawking at the lieutenant. A glare was enough to have them scurry on their way.

While you changed, you thought about Ghost. About his real personality, his job, his friends. What kind of work does he normally do? Has he ever killed someone? It certainly seemed like he’s gotten into his fair share of fights from the scars you have seen on his arms. Was he dreading this job? At times, you thought that you could see him get antsy while waiting for you. You probably wouldn’t like waiting on a princess either if you were in his shoes. 

Once you were changed into your silky pajamas, you knocked on the door. “Lieutenant? I’m all dressed. You could come in now.”

Swiftly, he came in. For a second, he admired the way you looked in your pajamas. You looked so much more comfortable. The way you were letting down your hair in front of the vanity had him gulp too. “I won’t be watching you sleep all night. Just until you fall asleep, and then I’ll wait outside the door.”

“What about your sleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. The way his arms were crossed over his broad chest made you shrink within yourself a bit. 

“I’m used to not sleeping. I don’t usually sleep well either. Don’t worry about me, princess.” He responded bluntly, putting some more personal distance between the two of you. He would be lying if your concern over his own time didn’t make him melt a little though. 

“I see. My apologies, but I am unsure that I will be able to fall asleep quickly tonight. You might be waiting for a while.” You honestly admitted, feeling the anxious pit in your stomach begin to swallow you like a blackhole. You already felt enough like a burden to the maids and butlers with how strictly your parents had them wait on you. 

Ghost shook his head, noticing how lightly you scrunch your brows in concern. How you nervously bit a tiny part of your bottom lip. Subtle behaviors that no one would notice if they weren’t truly paying attention. You were so different from what he was expecting when he was first told that he would be guarding a princess. “It’s fine. This is my job.”

You turned away from your reflection in the mirror to look at Ghost. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how blue his eyes were. Such a deep, oceanic blue that held so many secrets. He stared right back at you, noticing how your worries couldn’t be quelled with just two simple sentences. Finally, he was able to read you.

“If it will help, you can talk to me until you fall asleep. Anything you want. I promise that I won’t tell the king and queen.” He offered, taking a seat on the Victorian-styled couch that was at the foot of the bed. 

His offer came as a complete surprise to you. You didn’t expect him to be so kind. You have learned long ago that there was a difference between being civil and genuinely kind. Ghost was being nice, which felt like a rarity given his outward personality. Quickly, you finished getting ready for bed. Once you were cozy underneath the cotton covers, Ghost turned off the main light. The small lamp on your nightstand stayed on, allowing a comfortable dim to illuminate the otherwise dark room.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you tried to think about what to talk about. There was still a fear in you that he would tell your parents, but Ghost didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Besides that, you never really talked about yourself before. No one has ever been interested in what you liked and disliked. Not that you had a lot of experiences with how your parents kept you in the palace and filtered what you could learn. However, that wasn’t to say that you were curious enough to find a way to learn anyways. At the very least, you had plenty of questions about the outside. 

“For my independent study, I am focusing on classicism art. At least. . . that is what my parents think. I. . . I have been studying other things in secret. My handmaiden sneaks new books into the library for me sometimes if she can.” You confessed, feeling a weight of your chest as you admitted your truth. You didn’t like lying and sneaking around in secret. While you loved new knowledge, you still carried that weight with you.

Ghost listened carefully to your confession. His back was turned towards you, a comfortable thing for you since you weren’t keen on the idea of someone watching you fall asleep. It was enough for him to just sit at the foot of your bed. 

“What new books have you read?” He inquired, wondering what sorts of books a princess could possibly want to read in secret. 

You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you admitted more of your secrets. Without interruption, he let you speak. He listened to your voice that lowered into a pleasant whisper when you told him about all the books you were reading and wanted to read. A couple of times, he couldn’t help but crack a smirk at some of your opinions that were refreshingly assertive. 

It didn’t take long for him to hear you start dozing. It started with quieter words morphing into sweet slurs. As soon as he heard your steady, deep breaths, he silently got up and left the room. Standing guard in front of the door, he contacted his team by phone to give an update. 

“Lieutenant, how is she?” Captain Price cut to the chase, his voice low as he investigated matters on his side.

“She’s. . .” Ghost began before trailing off. He had to think about the right words to use. 

“She's a spoiled rotten princess?” Another voice came through. The chuckle was no doubt Soap.

“Honestly, no. She’s a princess, but she’s anything but rotten.” He finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet since the halls seemed to echo. 

There was another laugh before the captain cleared his throat, regaining authority. “I’m glad that she is much more pleasant to deal with than what was expected. Just be careful not to get too personal. I know you will be around each other a lot, but the mission is our priority.”

“Of course, Captain.” Ghost promised, wondering if this particular promise would be easy to keep or not. 

[half-of-a-gay]

Armor Between Us

Knight!Sevika x princess!reader

When political corruption, forbidden love, and an old enemy threaten the realm, Sevika must navigate her loyalties, her growing feelings for the princess, and the ghosts of her past to protect everything she holds dear.

previous chaper next chapter

Chaper 4:

The Gilded Cage

Reassigned to the princess’s side, Sevika finds herself trapped in a world of quiet elegance and gilded restraint. As the days turn to weeks, fleeting conversations and gentle gestures begin to forge an unexpected bond. Yet, beneath the surface, Sevika battles the weight of her oath—and the growing ache of something she cannot name.

---

Sevika stood before the council chamber, her shoulders squared, her face carved from stone. The long hall was cold, lit by the weak light of dawn that filtered through the narrow windows.

It had been weeks since the battle. Weeks of slow, painful recovery in the infirmary, where her body had betrayed her at every turn. Her arm, though no longer wrapped in heavy bandages, was still bound in a sling, its strength lost. The scars on her face had healed enough to stop stinging, but they burned every time she caught a servant’s glance and saw pity—or fear—in their eyes.

She wasn’t whole yet. Not physically. Not in any way that mattered.

The king sat at the far end of the room, flanked by his advisors. They spoke in hushed tones, their words sharp and clinical, barely acknowledging her presence.

“…a matter of necessity,” one of the advisors said, his gaze flicking toward her like she was a weapon being appraised. “Sir Sevika’s injuries leave her unfit for the battlefield. However, her skills and loyalty remain… valuable.”

Sevika’s hand curled into a fist, her jaw tightening at the word “unfit.”

The king nodded, his expression indifferent. “Effective immediately, Sir Sevika will serve as the personal guard to Her Highness. She will remain stationed within the castle.”

Her chest tightened. Of all the outcomes she had imagined—discharge, exile, even some hollow honorary position—this was not the one she’d expected. A guard. A glorified sentinel for court politics and idle royal banter.

The battlefield was where she belonged—where she had proven herself again and again. But here? In the gilded cage of the castle, following the princess through marble corridors like a shadow? The thought made her stomach churn. A bodyguard. Babysitter to a royal.

It took everything in her to keep her voice steady. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

The king waved a hand dismissively, and the meeting was over. Sevika turned sharply on her heel, ignoring the murmurs of the council as she walked away. Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, each one feeling heavier than the last.

She hadn’t looked back at the princess, who stood in the shadows of the room, silent.

---

The first few days in her new role felt like wearing armor that didn’t fit.

Sevika’s life became a rigid routine: trailing the princess through the castle, standing guard in court sessions filled with endless, droning voices, and following her through sunlit gardens and shadowed hallways.

The princess tried to engage her—small attempts at conversation that Sevika deflected with curt answers. A comment about the roses in the royal garden. A question about whether Sevika had eaten that day. An invitation to sit with her at breakfast.

Each time Sevika declined with a cold politeness.

It wasn’t out of cruelty. Sevika simply didn’t know how to be anything else anymore. Her scars itched under the gazes of the nobles, and her left arm hung useless in its sling, a constant reminder of the life she had lost. She couldn’t afford softness, not here.

But then came the night the princess cornered her.

The corridor outside the princess’s chambers was quiet, lit only by the flicker of a single lantern mounted on the wall. Sevika stood at her post, her armored frame blending into the shadows, her eyes trained forward. She had spent every evening like this for weeks now, and though the weight of her armor was familiar, the role was not.

“Sir Sevika,” the princess’s voice called softly from behind the door.

Sevika straightened, her shoulders pulling back instinctively. “Your Highness?”

“Will you come in for a moment?”

Sevika stiffened. “My place is outside, Your Highness.”

The princess turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “You’re my guard, aren’t you? I think that means your place is wherever I am.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she stepped forward, her boots heavy on the stone floor. She didn’t lower her gaze, but neither did she meet the princess’s eyes directly. “What is it you need, Your Highness?”

The princess gestured toward a small seating area near the hearth. “You’ve been at your post for hours. Please, sit.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sevika said, her tone as clipped and professional as ever.

The princess crossed the room slowly, her movements as deliberate and graceful as her words. She paused by the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.

“You don’t speak to me,” the princess said quietly, her tone measured. “You stand by my side each day. You follow me from court to garden to hall. But you say nothing unless I speak first.” She turned slightly, glancing at Sevika. “Is that how you see this arrangement? Just silence and duty?”

Sevika stiffened, her hand twitching at her side. “My duty is to protect you, Your Highness.”

“I see.” The princess’s voice remained calm, but there was something in her tone—a faint edge that Sevika couldn’t place. “And is it your duty to seem as if you’d rather be anywhere else?”

Sevika’s chest tightened, but her expression remained neutral. She chooses not to speak, not knowing what to say.

The princess studied her for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I notice, Sir Sevika. I notice the distance you keep. The way you refuse to look at me for too long. The way you speak to me as if you resent even being in this castle.”

Sevikas gaze shifted to the fire burning low in the hearth, its light casting shadows across the room.

“I do not resent you,” she said at last, her voice quieter than before.

The princess stepped closer, though still maintaining a respectable distance. “Then what is it you resent, Sir Sevika? The castle? The court? The crown? Your injury?”

The question lingered in the air, and for the first time, Sevika’s composure faltered.

She exhaled sharply, her good hand tightening into a fist. “If I have caused you offense, Your Highness, I apologize. That was not my intention.”

The princess tilted her head slightly, watching her. “There is no offense. Only… curiosity. I would like to understand the person who has sworn to protect me.”

Sevika’s throat tightened. Her gaze remained fixed on the hearth. “There is nothing to understand. I am here to do my duty. That is all.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but the princess didn’t press her further. Instead, she stepped back, her hands brushing lightly over the folds of her gown. “I suppose that will have to do, for now.”

Sevika inclined her head, her voice steady again. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, Sir Sevika.”

She turned and left the room, her boots echoing softly in the corridor. But as the door clicked shut behind her, a faint unease settled in her chest. She had seen something in the princess’s gaze before she left—something quiet and unspoken, but unmistakably sad.

Sevika clenched her jaw, her good hand brushing against the bindings beneath her armor where the handkerchief still rested. She didn’t let herself dwell on it for long.

Her place was outside the door. And that, she told herself firmly, was where it would remain.

---

The days bled into weeks, a quiet rhythm settling into Sevika’s new role.

At first, she kept her distance, answering the princess’s questions with clipped responses and maintaining her usual stoic presence. She stayed back as they walked through the gardens, kept her eyes fixed forward during meals, and remained silent in the shadowed corners of the court.

But the princess was persistent in her own gentle way.

One morning, she offered Sevika tea. “It’s jasmine,” she had said, holding out the porcelain cup with a small smile. “The kind I like best. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Sevika had stared at the delicate cup, so out of place in her calloused, battle-worn hands. “I don’t drink tea,” she had muttered, declining it with a stiff bow.

The princess hadn’t seemed offended. She simply tilted her head, studying Sevika with that quiet intensity that always made her feel exposed. “Maybe next time,” she said lightly, setting the cup down.

The “next time” came sooner than Sevika expected.

The princess began to draw her into small moments of conversation, asking about her life before the war, her family, her training as a knight. Sevika answered sparingly at first, her voice guarded, but something about the princess’s sincerity made it hard to stay silent.

On one quiet evening, as they walked the castle walls at dusk, Sevika found herself speaking more freely than she intended. She told the princess about her early days in the royal army—how she’d trained in the rain until her hands bled, how she’d sworn to never return to the humble village she had come from until she was someone worth respecting.

The princess listened intently, her hands clasped in front of her as they strolled. “You must have been very young when you left home,” she said softly.

Sevika nodded. “Fourteen.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Become someone worth respecting?”

Sevika faltered, her steps slowing. Her good hand brushed over the bindings on her chest where the handkerchief rested. “I thought I had,” she said quietly. “Once.”

The princess didn’t press further, but her eyes lingered on Sevika’s scars for a moment before she turned back to the horizon. “For what it’s worth, I think you are.”

The words sat heavy in Sevika’s chest, but she didn’t reply.

It wasn’t just conversations that softened the edges between them.

On one particularly cold evening, as the wind howled through the castle corridors, Sevika found herself adjusting the princess’s cloak before a walk through the gardens. She hadn’t meant to—it was instinct, something she used to do for her soldiers on the battlefield. But the moment her hands brushed the soft fabric, she froze.

The princess looked up at her in surprise, then smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm.

Sevika pulled her hands back quickly, muttering, “It’s nothing,” before stepping aside.

And then there were the quiet moments, when no words passed between them but the silence was comfortable rather than tense.

The princess began spending more time in the library, often seated near the large windows where the light filtered in just so. Sevika stood nearby, as always, but the sound of turning pages and the faint scratch of a quill became oddly soothing.

Occasionally, the princess would glance up from her books, offering Sevika a small smile that wasn’t quite so formal anymore. And, though Sevika never returned the gesture, she found herself holding the princess’s gaze a little longer each time.

---

The council chamber was buzzing with its usual noise—lords and advisors speaking over each other, their voices blending into a haze of politics and ego. The princess sat at the head of the room, her expression calm as she listened, her quill moving delicately across the parchment in front of her.

Sevika stood behind her, tall and imposing, her watchful eyes scanning the room. The subtle movements of courtiers, the soft rustle of fabric, the stray glances sent her way—all of it passed through her gaze like water through a sieve, nothing escaping her notice.

Her attention sharpened when her eyes landed on a man near the far side of the chamber. He stood stiffly, too stiffly, his head low and his shoulders tense. His hand twitched at his side, brushing beneath the folds of his cloak.

Sevika’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. Something about him didn’t sit right.

Then he moved.

The glint of steel flashed in his hand as he pushed through the crowd, and Sevika was already moving.

“Your Highness, get down!” she barked, her voice cutting through the chamber like a whip.

The princess startled, her quill dropping to the table as she turned just in time to see the man lunging toward her.

Sevika threw herself forward, her armored shoulder slamming into the assailant. The knife glanced off her shoulder plate with a screech of steel, but the man twisted, his blade catching the princess’s arm before Sevika could fully knock him back.

The princess cried out, the sound sharp and fleeting as she clutched her arm. Fury ignited in Sevika’s chest.

The man staggered, but Sevika didn’t give him a moment to recover. Her fist collided with his jaw, and he crumpled to the floor. Guards swarmed in immediately, dragging the man away as he sputtered incoherent protests, but Sevika barely noticed.

Her focus was entirely on the princess. “I’m fine,” the princess said quickly to ease the furrow in Sevikas brow, though her voice wavered as she clutched her arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

“It’s not nothing,” Sevika said sharply, her tone uncharacteristically tight. She reached out, her good hand brushing against the princess’s as she gently pulled it away to inspect the wound. “We need to get this bandaged.”

Before the princess could say anything else, Sevika already slipped her good arm around her waist, lifting her with practiced ease. The princess let out a soft gasp, her hand brushing Sevika’s shoulder for support.

The room erupted in frantic whispers as Sevika carried the princess from the chamber, but she didn’t care. Her focus was solely on getting the princess to safety.

Sevika eased the princess down onto the cushioned bench in the infirmary, her movements careful despite the tension in her body. Sevika dropped to one knee beside her, her heart hammering as her gaze fell to the thin line of red trailing down the princess’s arm. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

The princess flinched as Sevika pressed a damp cloth to her arm, but her lips curved into a faint, teasing smile as Sevika kept cleaning the blood from the shallow wound looking terribly worried.

“You look more worried than you should, Sevika. I'm sure you’ve seen worse in your time.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched. Her voice dropped, quiet and almost to herself. “Not when it’s you.”

The princess blinked, her expression softening. “What did you say?”

Sevika’s shoulders stiffened. She pulled back slightly, her stoic mask sliding firmly back into place. “Nothing. Just hold still, Your Highness.”

“You didn’t have to carry me,” the princess murmured, her voice soft.

“You weren’t walking fast enough,” Sevika replied curtly, though her touch was surprisingly gentle.

The princess’s gaze lingered on her, unspoken words dancing behind her eyes. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice quiet.

Sevika froze, the cloth stilling against the princess’s arm. “It’s my duty,” she muttered, her voice low.

“That doesn’t make me any less thankful for what you've done,” the princess said softly.

Sevika didn’t look at her. She focused on bandaging the wound, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions raging beneath her calm exterior.

When the princess reached out suddenly, her fingers brushing against Sevika’s scarred cheek, Sevika flinched.

“You’re bleeding aswell” the princess said, her voice tinged with concern.

“It’s nothing,” Sevika said quickly, pulling away before the princess could say more. She stood abruptly, her good hand curling into a fist at her side. “Rest, Your Highness. I’ll keep watch.”

“Sevika…”

But Sevika was already stepping toward the door, her back stiff, her footsteps heavy. She couldn’t stay—not with the princess looking at her like that.

[abbyfmc]

Yanderetober 10/10:

Yandere Dark King Ghost! X Urban Explorer! Reader:

TW:

In the 19th century, there was a king named Dorian, who was quite frivolous, classist and sometimes cruel to the people of his village. He was raised by his father to be that way.

He had murdered anyone who tried to remove him from the throne, or worse, separate him from his beloved wife, Queen Adela. A woman who was the complete opposite of her husband. She was gentle and kind to people of all social classes, which made her subjects, servants, guards, the court and even neighboring kingdoms adore her.

He grew up in an environment where he was not only pressured and despised by his parents, but also looked down upon by his siblings, against whom he competed daily. The only one who ever treated him well (or at least decently) was Adela, with whom he became obsessed.

The Yandere King never let Adela go again once he married her.

The Yandere King pressured Adela and her family to marry him, even unfairly imprisoning Adela's father to force her to agree.

David married her when he was still a prince, which temporarily made her a princess.

Adela tried everything to overcome him; From imploring her let her go to try to escape, failing in each attempt. Adela could not bear the confinement, manipulation, pressure of her position, as well as the punishments at the hands of David; which led Adela to take her life with a dagger.

David could not believe what his beloved did. From that moment he did not be the same again, but he became a vile and cruel king who took many lives during his reign (with the excuse that everyone is guilty of Adela's suicide, except him), until he was killed to His 35 years for the younger brother, who took the throne and calmed down a little.

What nobody knew at first was that David was a witchcraft practitioner who after Adela's death tried to revive her without any success, sacrificing criminals. In the end he ended up conjuring a spell that would make him able to meet his beloved in the next life.

This is where we travel to today.

You were a fan of urban history and exploration. It was super interesting and entertaining to investigate the history of abandoned places, as well as its passage through history without human maintenance. You have explored houses, neighborhoods, mansions, establishments, hospitals, mansions, hotels, resorts and even abandoned parks to see their passage and abandonment over time.

You've encountered it all; insects, stagnant water or aerated water, mold of every color possible, rust, decay (obviously) and even squatters and intruders. You have scary and funny memories in the form of photos and videos; however, you never took anything from those places.

You recently stumbled upon King David's abandoned castle and read a bit about its history, which you found very interesting, so you went to visit the castle with your lifelong best friend, Axel.

As you entered, you saw how big it was with its impressive architecture and interior design. The trees, bushes and undergrowth dominated the place, making it no less beautiful or interesting.

You walked around, admiring the place while taking photos and videos, until you came to a hidden room where all of David and Adela's belongings were. From paintings and robes, to jewelry and a pair of royal crowns.

What caught Axel's attention the most was the king's crown, and it didn't take you long to notice it.

-Axel? What's wrong?- You asked him as you watched the wine stick to his crown. Suddenly, you felt a strange aura near it.

-The crown is...calling me- He replied during his trance, walking up to the object.

-Axel, don't mess around. Let's explore the other rooms instead.- You stood up and walked uncomfortably to the entrance, hoping he would follow you, but you only saw a bright flash of light and turned around, seeing your friend kneeling on the ground in a daze with his crown on.

-Are you okay?! Holy jesus, what did you do?- You wanted to help him up and then you heard a strange voice.

The ghost of the yandere king had awakened after a long time in limbo.

-What am I doing here?- "Axel" asked himself, in a voice that was not his own, but a slightly more mature one. You were surprised, not knowing what was happening.

The ghost of the Yandere King felt strange in his new body. After so many years in limbo, he was now alive in some form.

-Axel, what nonsense are you talking about? We're exploring. Are you okay?- You approached him, who looked at you and revealed that he no longer had those characteristic brown eyes, but a pair of emerald eyes like David's. Before you could say anything out of surprise, his eyes lit up and he smiled from ear to ear.

-My Adela, you've returned!- He exclaimed happily, which confused you even more.

-What are you talking about? Have you gone crazy? Are you drunk?- He shook his head while still smiling. -Then stop playing this! You're scaring me!- You complained, starting to feel anxious and angry. He slowly walked towards you.

The yandere king began to tell you the story of his relationship with witchcraft, and how he used a spell to reunite with his beloved queen in the afterlife or in his next life, but was punished by remaining in limbo due to the murders committed.

The Yandere Ghost King remained alone all this time, tortured again and again for his crimes, but in the end his efforts bore double fruit.

The yandere king saw that you remained silent while looking at him a little surprised and disgusted, but you finally approached him.

-What's up, honey?- David asked doubtfully. -Do you believe me?- You didn't answer; however, he saw that you were willing to take the crown (his power) from him and he stopped you by throwing you to the ground and putting his hands on your neck. He strangled and choked you for a long time, while you kicked and struggled desperately, only to end up dying in his hands.

By the time you stopped breathing, he let go of you and, after checking that you had no pulse, he looked at your corpse with a smile on his face.

-One part is already done, the other is missing.- The Yandere King then searched around the room for something specific; a sharp object to be more specific. He walked around and looked carefully around the room, coming to see a small, old dagger that was among your things.

He took her in his hands and stabbed her in the neck, falling beside you as he died, getting rid of your friend Axel in the process.

In the end, he got what he wanted after two centuries and by a few seconds, but he was with you in your end.

-The End.

Hi, I know this isn't very well-written and it's VERY late, but this week I had body and head aches that kept me away from my cell phone and PC for about four days, but today I feel much better.

[beombunni]

BOUND BY BLOOD AND VENGEANCE ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ l.hs

》 In the kingdom of Aethera, the shadows whisper tales of revenge, betrayal, and forbidden magic. A cunning witch with a flair for deception, has spent years honing her craft for one purpose: avenging her parents’ deaths at the hands of the King. Disguised as a visiting princess from a distant realm, She charms her way into the castle, weaving lies and illusions to mask her true intent—murdering the king. Her plan is flawless, or so she believes, until she crosses paths with Heeseung, the brooding captain of the royal guard. Tasked with protecting the "princess," Heeseung finds her insufferable, too sharp-tongued and confident for his liking. But as they’re forced to spend time together, her wit begins to spark something deeper in him, despite his better judgment.

》 𝔢𝔫𝔥𝔶𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢...

pairings » witch hunter!heeseung x witch!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » fantasy » forbidden romance » longing

warnings » smut, gore, death, murder, dark themes, dark magic, mcd, angst, parental death, 1500s royal ideologies, blood, graphic depiction of some death scenes, more that I will add.

« 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔟! »

word count « est. 18k »

𝔈𝔫𝔧𝔬𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱'𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔟. 28𝔱𝔥! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Steel clashes against steel, the sharp song of sparring blades echoing off the cold stone walls of the castle’s training yard. Heeseung, the King’s favored captain of the guard and a relentless shadow at court, meets every stroke of your blade with a precision that borders on infuriating. His dark eyes narrow, a storm barely restrained as your mockery dances just out of reach. "You’re quick, Princess," he grunts between blows, lips curling into something between a smile and a sneer. "But speed won't save you forever."

You laugh, light and careless despite the strain in your arm. "And brute strength won't make you any more clever, Heeseung." The comment earns a sharp twist of his wrist, forcing your blade wide. He steps into your space, the heat of exertion rolling off him as his free hand locks around your wrist. You feel the rough leather of his gauntlet bite into your skin. The edge of his blade presses against your side — not enough to cut, but enough to remind you who holds the advantage.

"Who are you?" His voice drops low, dangerously soft. The question lingers between you, weighted with suspicion. Not just a jest. Not anymore. Heeseung studies you like a puzzle he's determined to solve. You arch a brow, masking your racing thoughts with an amused tilt of your head. "Why, I’m the Princess of Elderwood, sworn to serve and protect my kingdom." The sarcasm drips from your words like venom, but you don't flinch.

His grip tightens. "You wear that title like a mask."

"And you wear your doubt like a chain," you counter smoothly. "Careful, Heeseung. It's starting to choke you."

The air between you hums with unspoken challenges, thick with tension sharper than any blade. You shift your weight subtly, feeling for the moment. Heeseung doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late. With a fluid twist, you free yourself, using his momentum against him. In a blur, he’s on his back, the world spinning upside down as you land astride him. Your dagger flashes, the cool kiss of its edge resting against his throat. His breath catches — not from fear, but surprise. You lean closer, your voice a silky whisper that wraps around him like a snare. "Who am I? Do we ever truly know who we are?" The dagger presses just enough to remind him who's in control now. "Better yet, Heeseung — do you know who you are?"

Despite himself, his lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. "You're not like any princess I've ever met."

"No," you agree softly, a dangerous glint in your eyes. "And you're not as frightening as they say, Captain"

Your blade lingers a beat longer before you rise smoothly, offering no help as he scrambles to his feet. Heeseung dusts himself off, his gaze unwavering, as if trying to peel back your layers with sheer will alone. "I'll figure you out, Princess," he vows quietly.

You flash a smile sharp enough to cut. "You can try." The challenge hangs between you like smoke, both of you knowing this game has only just begun.

ʀᴀᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀɢɢᴇᴅ, ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ! ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ɪꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

[fatalhoon]

with love, the kids from yesterday

welcome! here you’ll find a collection of fics inspired by my favorite emo/pop punk albums from the 2000s/2010s!

— starring lee heeseung, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon

✩ starring — 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

✩ featuring —

A FEVER YOU CAN'T SWEAT OUT by panic! at the disco

↳ heeseung x burlesque dancer!reader ; 1920s au

THE BLACK PARADE by my chemical romance

↳ ghost!heeseung x ghost!reader

COLLIDE WITH THE SKY by pierce the veil

↳ demon!heeseung x angel!reader

AMERICAN IDIOT by green day

↳ heeseung x reader ; zombie apocalypse au

✩ starring — 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

✩ featuring —

PRETTY. ODD by panic! at the disco

↳ jake x reader ; soulmate au

DANGER DAYS: THE TRUE LIVES OF THE

FABULOUS KILLJOYS by my chemical romance

↳ killjoy!jake x killjoy!reader

NOTHING PERSONAL by all time low

↳ nerd!jake x band member!reader

A LESSON IN ROMANTICS by mayday parade

↳ surfer!jake x mermaid!reader

✩ starring — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

✩ featuring —

TOO WEIRD TO LIVE,

TOO RARE TO DIE by panic! at the disco

↳ royal guard!sunghoon x princess!reader

THREE CHEERS FOR

SWEET REVENGE by my chemical romance

↳ vampire!sunghoon x vampire hunter!reader

FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE by fall out boy

↳ greaser!sunghoon x soc!reader ; outsiders au

BRAND NEW EYES by paramore

↳ detective!sunghoon x detective!reader ; paranormal au

authors note (sorry its long lol);

hi everyone! this entire idea from the very beginning has been in the works for a very long time (i originally got the idea for something like this back in 2019) so i’m so happy its finally in the works!! this is gonna be a very heavy task for me but my goal is to get these all out by the end of the year <3 also i don’t know if all of these bands are considered “emo” but these are all bands that i listened to during that phase of my life. and its my series so idc LMAO. its heejakehoon centric cause that’s my bias line and i knew i would need a lot of inspo if i was going to commit to this series (plus a lot of different things in terms of planning and organizing that we don’t have time to get into rn lmao) soo i’m sorry to the jay/sunoo/won/riki stans :< p!atd (fuck brendon tho) and mcr were my favorite bands growing up therefore i know most music from them so that’s why each of them has one album from both bands! i don’t expect these to change very much but don’t be surprised if i switch any of them around. anyway i’m yapping SO i hope you guys are excited for this as much as i am!!

with love, judah <3

[arcielee]

the salver & the sword

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 2.8k+ warnings: AFAB reader, the threat of marriage, mostly just the beginning seeds of slow burn! author's note: This has been thrumming inside of my head since I finished jjk. Thank you for much @thenameswinter99 for reading this over and allowing me to ramble on and on about this au. 💜

Chapter I ~ The Beginning

“My lady, you have been chosen. You have been summoned by the crowned prince, Satoru Gojo.”

You blinked and looked up from where you were kneeling, your brow furrowing at the fairytale being spoken. The news of the broken engagement between the crowned prince and Princess Iori Utahime was something that seared throughout the kingdom, spreading to the outer borders to where even your village was tittering away with their speculation on what had happened. 

What followed was the royal decree from the queen, stating her only son must find a wife. It was also said she was furious of the spectacle he made it to be–but again, these were just the rumors shared amongst the commonfolk. 

It was not anything you bothered to dwell on, but that was before your garden was shadowed by the two men now standing before you. 

You focused on the one who was closer and he shifted under your scrutiny, an almost orchestra of the Queensguard armor that he wore, polished and glinting in the sunlight. He held onto his helmet, sweat beading at his hairline and his cheeks rosy. His eyes were wide and he looked towards the other man who accompanied him, waiting.  

The other man watching you was the renowned General Suguru Geto, friend of the crowned prince and his personal guard. He was as captivating as the stories; tall and lithe, unadorned by armor but wearing the queen’s sigil embossed on a leather cuirass across his broad chest, over his tunic. His black hair fell past his shoulders, some falling in his eyes that burned through you. 

Any other woman would have an array of emotions to pull for such a moment as this: perhaps an initial coy surprise followed by acceptance, the fantasy of becoming a princess staining their cheeks as their practiced bashfulness surfaced. 

Instead, you frowned. “Why,” you asked them, your tone flat. 

“Why?” The first man echoed but an octave higher. His eyes darted back to the general, bright with his disbelief at your question.

You also looked back to the general and saw the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. You held your gaze, contemplating him. You were almost certain it had to be the general, seeing the two distinct features always mentioned with his lore. 

The first was the broadsword that was strapped to his backside, its gleaming handle peering over his shoulder. A stone was embedded into the pommel, and its ever-changing iridescent coloring was said to be an enchantment, a sentience to this weapon. It was legend crafted–the tale of a sword capable of cutting through anyone or anything, as long as it was wielded by someone deemed worthy. 

And Geto was said to be just that: worthy. 

It was the sword you first recalled, followed by his eyes that bore through you, heating your blood beneath; the murmured moniker of the purple-eyed demon, as given by his enemies. 

The very same who now was smirking at your skepticism. 

You chose to break the silence. “Yes,” you pressed your palms into the soft earth, pushing yourself to stand and face them both, “I am aware, as anyone, of the mess that followed a very public…” you took a moment to settle on a word, “...dissolvement between the prince and the princess. But what I fail to understand is why he would then decide to marry me?” 

Geto continued to watch you with a quiet contemplation while the other man was quick to answer you, beaming. “The prince said that you saved his life!” 

Your kindness was your curse; you closed your eyes with an inward groan. “But that was a lifetime ago,” you argued. 

In fact it had happened almost eighteen years prior. This had been when you and your father lived more centrally to the capital, in a humble cottage by the river winding throughout the city. You had been outside when you heard someone fall in, his wail and frantic splash had you rushing to pull him from the water. 

You remembered the matted mess of his white hair, the celestial blue of his eyes that was a known trait in the royal family–Prince Satoru Gojo. He shivered through his wet clothes, confessing to running away, with his plea pitiful: please don’t tell my mother. 

This memory evaporated and instead, you said: “Who would even remember that?” 

“Prince Satoru does!” He was still grinning.

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “But what if I do not wish to go and marry Prince Satoru?” 

He looked incredulous, wilting back towards Geto, desperate for any guidance on how to handle this woman he clearly thought mad. The general remained quiet.

The knight looked back to you, past you, and nodded his head towards your home, a different decorum this time. “He said he only wished to reward the woman who saved him,” his words tactfully chosen, “and that he wished to liberate you from your life of poverty.” 

You recoiled, fury alight in your eyes. The poverty he was referring to was the bit of land that had been left by your father. It had been purchased with the reward given when the queen came to retrieve her son; it was enough to start anew, to find a home that was not so haunted. 

It was why you returned to the north, closer to the border of the Ryomen Kingdom, with enough leftover to build your home. 

It was here that your father rebuilt his reputation as an esteemed salver. He spent his days helping any ailment, and his evenings spent notating his accumulated knowledge of remedies in a leather bound book embossed: Atsumeru.

You shadowed him and he was happy to show you everything he knew, proud of your keen eye that could decipher the differences in herbs. He bought you a mortar and pestle, a smoky agate, teaching you healing concoctions that he used. He taught you to read, to write, and he brought you along to every house call, praising your aptitude to help instill your own repute. 

But despite all this, there was still a hesitation after your father passed away, a rough transition when you stepped into the void he left behind.  

You had your maternal determinations seeded in your bones, and it allowed you to recarve your niche back within the village. They, inevitably, learned to show you the same respect reserved for your father. 

It was not a rich life, not anything you could expect someone of a higher social status could comprehend, but you found comfort with its simplicity, a satisfaction when you were able to help those in need. There was a warmth that coiled in your chest as you continued the work your father devoted himself to; he felt alive whenever your cursive writing knitted into his detailed notes, forever bonded. 

Your father gifted your independence and you would be damned before you allowed yourself 

to be ripped away because some prince almost drowned. 

And this is exactly what you said to them. 

The knight was pained with your declaration. “My lady,” he licked his lips, nervous, “I am afraid that I have been commanded to bring you back with me…” 

Your boldness would not hear him. “You may inform your prince that I am pleased he never fell victim to another body of water.” You were already in motion, scooping up the half-filled wicker basket to balance on your hips, honeysuckle and lavender curling in the autumn air. “And you tell him that I am declining his offer, that I am choosing to remain in my poverty.” 

You meant to storm back into your home, to shut and bar the door, but you forgot about the general until he reached to catch your elbow. Your fury brimmed as you turned to face him and his amethyst eyes glowed. 

“My lady,” his voice was soft, low, but resolute, “I apologize, but I will see my prince’s command to the very end, even if this means I must throw you over my shoulder and carry you back.” 

You hated the heat that licked your stomach with his threat, something that spawned from his strong but careful touch. You forced yourself to glare back at him. “I…” but whatever venom that was poised on your tongue stopped. 

One of them heavily armed was an issue, but facing both was impossible. And even if you somehow succeeded, where could you even run to? Your entire life was ingrained into the very earth you were standing on, and they had been commanded to uproot you, to return you back to Prince Satoru as if you were a prize and not a person. 

What choice did you truly have?

Your shoulders slumped and you swallowed thickly. “Would he force me?” You wished your voice did not sound so small. 

His face softened with your words, a dawning revelation that relaxed his hold on you. “My lady, the prince is a proud man, but I swear he would never force himself on anyone. He only wishes for an answer.” Geto paused, a grimace flickering across his sharp features. “But in person.” 

You sighed, pulling at his fingers until his hand dropped back to his side. “Very well, I will come with you but only so I may tell Prince Gojo that I have no intention of marrying him. However,” you looked back over your garden, the molds you placed in the shade of the banyan trees, your hard work half done, “I request that I at least sell my stock at the charter market. It is my only source of income and it is how I am able to stock up to prepare for winter illnesses.” 

They both stared at you. Geto and his curiosity that knitted his brows together, his careful consideration to what you just shared, while the knight looked as confused as ever; he opened his mouth first. “Winter illnesses…?”  

You grit your teeth, caging you irritation, and explained, “I am a healer in this region. I help those who need it.” You paused, a smirk. “Like your prince, for example.” 

“You cannot expect to make him wait–” 

“You and the general are welcomed to help me, if you wish to leave sooner. But you know the market visits each region annually and I will not abandon my stock to traipse across the kingdom on a fool’s errand.”

He imploded. “He is a decorated general of the Queensguard! How can you expect–!” 

“Haibara,” Geto cut through, not by raising his voice but still commanding nonetheless; Haibara straightened his spine. The general looked you over, deciding to test your resolve. “And if we choose to see through what I just said?” 

You blinked. His tone was teasing you, his amusement returning with an upwards tick of his lips. “If you decide to drag me away,” you faced him, daring him, “I vow that I will not make the journey easy, by any means necessary.” 

Geto chuckled, unbothered. “Very well then. Haibara,” his focus returned to the knight while yours fell rapt to watch as the general began to unbuckle his harness to set his blade aside; his long and slender fingers were quick to unlace his chest piece, lifting it over his head before he began to roll up his sleeves, “you will return and tell Satoru that we found her and I will be bringing her back myself.”  

Haibara was flustered pink. “But what will you…?” 

“I will remain at her side, helping with the harvest or the market or whatever chores are needed to be done in order for her to willingly come with me.” 

He was incredulous. “You are truly going to help her?” 

You were equally surprised, still watching as Geto knotted his dark hair at the base of his neck, pulling it away from his face. “This is what I just said,” he looked back at you and you swore his eyes glittered. “If this is the only way I can see through to what my prince commanded–”

“Otherwise, I will be kicking and biting the whole way.” You could not stop your tongue. 

Geto grinned. “Then what choice do I have?” 

+ + + +

It was a myth: a sword said to be forged by the immortals, an impenetrable steel that could cut down the gods themselves. It could not be controlled, but you could hope to be worthy to wield the blade. Over time many tried, many undeserving souls that were cursed by its touch before it would disappear again, waiting, waiting. 

At the time Suguru Geto was a young man unknown, with only his loyalty to the crown and to his friend, Prince Satoru Gojo. He was a strong and fearsome fighter, with piercing amethyst eyes always watching, which was how he spotted the pommel and its chromatic glint of purples and blues. 

At the time war was rampant with the neighboring kingdom. Its new, brash king, Sukuna of the Ryomen Kingdom, rallied to expand past the borders that had been respected the last century, guided by his bloodlust and his greed.

It was said that Geto claimed the sword and the purple-eyed demon became legend embodied, worthy to wield this great power and halt the invasion. 

And now, this same sword and its iridescent stone was glittering in the sunlight.

You were quick to realize several things about the notorious General Suguru Geto. The first was the palpable respect he commanded. It was not bold, but his veritable demeanor that thrummed deep within, his careful composure with every action that had you enthralled. 

You saw it with how the knight Haibara did leave as he was told. His hesitation was set aside and he climbed aback one of the horses they rode it on. He left just as the general instructed. 

You watched as the horse climbed back up the slope that led down to your home, leaving you alone with the general. “So then, where should I begin?” Geto asked. 

The second was how you learned the genuineness behind every question, that the general was not a man for idle conversation. At first, you were almost uneasy with how his eyes settled onto you, the amethyst that shone bright as he listened to you explain the method to the chaos that surrounded you both. 

It was his sincerity with his question that followed that made you smile. “But what is it called?” 

Bars of soap was an endeavor your father poured himself into. He believed that hygiene was a vital aspect for maintaining good health and overall well-being. You remembered watching as he carved the molds into the thick, wooden planks, the outside decorated with jars and pots to collect the rainwater, the constant smolder of hardwood to collect its ashes. 

He allowed you to choose the scents, honeysuckle and rosemary and lavender planted in the garden outside. He showed you how to spud the cassia bark, claiming the pungent sweet and spicy favorite to add. 

You smiled from these. “It is cheap to make them,” you finished, gesturing around, “but it can also tedious.” 

The banyan leaves had been cut and were soaking, which would have them more malleable to allow you to wrap the bars individually and tie them with twine. Sprigs of its scent were slipped under the knot to decipher the smells easier. You showed this to the general and your curious eyes watched his slender fingers recreated, wrapping and knotting the string, tucking a lavender stem with care.

You burned with the intrusive thought of how many lives were taken by these same hands. 

But as the day waned away, you could admit that you found his company endearing. You enjoyed his soft cadence of questions, asking in detail about your life. In return, you pittered and pulled at his practiced stoicism, a sense of satisfaction to be rewarded with his small smile instead of another damn smirk. 

“Where is the charter market held in this region?” 

It was less than half a day’s walk on foot, but that had been before, considering the wicker basket you filled to the brim and carried. His brow raised. “By yourself?” 

You scoffed. “I am stronger than I look.” 

“I believe that.” 

You burned, quick to look away from the teasing curl of his mouth, and you mentioned the old buggy you had despite no longer having a horse for it. Geto offered his own and helped you load multiple wicker baskets, preparing to leave first thing the next morning.

The supper prepared was modest but savory, with a quieter tension settling over, the thought as to where you would have the general sleep. He suggested first that he would post to watch over the cart and stock.  

“Outside?” You could not help but ask. 

Another smirk. “I am stronger than I look.” 

And as you laid in bed, processing your day, your mind eventually wandered back to the general outside and his perpetual smirk, to the purple that shone bright in his eyes. 

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[unboundprompts]

Fantasy Writing Prompts

↳ a masterpost for fantasy writing prompts

↳ (#) is from my collection of random prompts, (list) contains multiple prompts.

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Royalty/Medieval Prompts:

The Merchant (#21)

You Had One Order - Prince and Knight (#71)

Princess x Guard (list)

Princess x Knight (list)

The Handmaiden in the Maze (#102)

Royal Painter x Knight (list)

Prince x Prince (list)

Thief x Princess (list)

Whispers of Treachery (#184)

Royal Coup D'etat (list)

Prince x Princess (list)

Assassin x Prince (list)

Non-Human Character Angst Prompts:

No-Longer Human Character Reuniting with Friends and Family Part 1 (list)

No-Longer Human Character Reuniting with Friends and Family Part 2 (list)

No-Longer Human Character Regretting What They've Become (list)

Non-Human Character Revealing Themselves (list)

Doctor Finding an Injured Non-Human Character (list)

Betrayed Your Kind (#123)

Quiet Monster x Human (list)

Alien x Human on Opposite Sides of War (list)

Vampire Prompts:

Fangs (#47)

The Vampire and the Girl on Floor 3 (#110)

Werewolf Prompts:

Remnants of Humanity (#169)

I Know You're Still in There (#177)

Mermaid / Siren Prompts:

How to Write Mermaids

Get in the Water (#151)

Phantom of the Deep (#160)

Lungs Filled with Salt (#174)

Pirate Prompts (list)

Gods, Angels, Demons, & Deities Prompts:

Nothing to Do with Fate (#9)

Fallen Angel Dialogue (list)

Fallen Angel and Fallen God (list)

Apotheosis (#112)

Asking for Favors (#137)

Favor From an Old God (#157)

The Gods of August (#173)

Shapeshifter Prompts:

Anything You Want Me to Be (#91)

Shapeshifter x Human (list)

Witch Prompts:

Witch x Fairy (list)

Angry in the Tavern (#158)

Guardian of the Old Ways (#161)

Fantasy Character Description Prompts:

How to Describe a Character with Wings

How to Describe a Character with Bug Wings

The Dream Walker (#140)

Modern Fantasy Prompts:

The Bartender (#23)

Turning to Stone (#105)

Mind Reader on Campus (#134)

Pockets Filled with Shadows (#141)

The Brain Implant (#148)

The Boy in the Library (#162)

Ghost Revealing Themselves to a Mortal (list)

Immortal x Time Traveler (list)

Magical Object Prompts:

Blank Pages (#85)

The Door to Other Places (#139)

The House's Memory (#183)

Math and Science in Magical Battle Scenarios (list)

Fantasy Setting Prompts:

The Town Engulfed by Flames (#67)

Zombie Apocalypse AU (list)

Music in The Dark Wood (#138)

The Sun Stopped Setting (#164)

The Portal to Realms Unknown (#168)

The Astronomer in the Coastal Village (#179)

Two Dystopian Criminals (list)

Fantasy Worldbuilding:

Currency and Time Measurement Ideas (list)

Ideas for Earning Money in a Fantasy World (list)

Problems that May Occur in a Dystopian/Apocalyptic World (list)

Pirate Ship Name Ideas

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟖 | 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He glows like fairylight at every place sweat pools. You don’t realize he’s carrying you, running, sprinting, because you don’t realize how much blood you’ve lost– how many pieces of you Takoba took on your warpath."

cw reader does her job detrimentally well, mortal wounds and soulmates cradled in pools of their own blood. ambush from an undead mage and the carnage that follows. descriptions of violent burns, be warned. rage, revenge, sparks unleashed in anguish, the muddy little girl who loses spars in the bailey and un unshakable harrowing greed. a second ghost crashes the massacre, halo of the moon 6.6k

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The second your blood waters the dancefloor, baubled lords and ladies stumble backwards and through a crowd half–too drunk to realize something has gone wrong and half-too whelmed by music still howling. The ball devolves at impossible speed.

Bakugou pulls you onto your side and underneath of him faster than you’re able to slip down the spear towards the bite it carved from the floor. It’s nearly the length of your arm, it’s meant to fell boars, it’s meant to be hilt deep in a monster at the bottom of the sea and you are meant to be dancing, pretty and red in his arms. His hand jerks behind you to burn the blade from its shaft without taking his eyes off the rhythm your shocked lashes flutter. With a single singed fistfull of spark, the wood splinters, it panics, it clatters to the ground.

“Eyes,” he is still, not calm, beside you in a white suit that laps your blood hungrily up its hems. His fingers grope at every warm and suddenly limp part of you, trembling through the pleats of your red dress to pull your hips nearer, to cup your cheeks again– your jaw, to press hard at the flow of blood from the faucet your own blade made from your ribs and cry wordlessly when your firelight eyes contort first then dim with the pain. Bakugou shields your body with his on the bloody dancefloor, “Y/n!”

“Get clear,” you murmur into his palm as your head drops to the marble.

Shrieks and glass shatter the air when the first blue candles melt in clumps from a chandelier. Bows die on their fiddles. The ballroom might be a graveyard already for all your prince knows– for the terror that sounds off in every direction– but his captain’s blood feeds the prowling dragons of his jacket and you are the only person here who cannot die.

When Uraraka throws her princess over her shoulder the masses succumb to chaos. “Cover the throne!” Aizawa cries, Queen Rei! Majesty! Open the doors! Raise the alarm! Soldiers struggle through the sudden current of fleeing guests to reach their royals at the back of the room. Glass shatters, pearls burst from snapped jewelry when hundreds of people threaten violent stampede and you are right to hate crowds. Shuzenji.

“Y/n!” Kirishima cries. Shuzenji, the doctor. Bakugou’s gaze flies up towards the panic, he prays through the chaos with eyes the color of treason. He keeps you near with useless hands the color of heartbreak. “Attacker on the catwalks!” The champion shields both of you with the width of his shoulder but Bakugou isn’t paying enough attention– he isn’t– Kirishima’s saying something and your eyes have closed.

“What happened?!”

“Y/n!”

“Y/n!”

How did you know?

Agony from every direction. A burnt cackle floats above the clamor like foam. There is a ghost at the party. He walks unwaveringly forward through servants that startle and shove past each other and he tilts his head to muse over panicked ants in their pretty glass box. The ghost shakes out his throwing arm with a smile. Every now and then he makes a candle drink its wick whole and catch blue on curtains or a fleeing gown and that makes him smile too.

“Katsuki!” Mina screams over you but her prince is frozen between kneel and rise, staring, begging through the seagreen throngs. He needs the doctor. He knows he knows he knows he knows. You lost consciousness too quickly. You whisper to thunderstorms. You prefer rye. You– you’re– he– Bakugou’s breath doesn’t come. If you are moved wrong once from the floor you will die. The ghost is bored.

There is a shriek worse than the others when a woman and her teal silk slip go up in flame from heel to crown. Not far ahead of her, two men choke as blue fire blankets melt their tongues to their throats.

Any order the guards had maintained falls away under threat of cremation. The delicately dressed masses panic to every corner of the room and even more begin throwing their bodies at the unmanned elven doors. Enji should be executed if he is not killed tonight, for keeping his family so prisoner in a palace where doors open only inward.

None of you should have come to this place, he shouldn’t have allowed it. A blue comet arcs overhead and Mina throws her friends under a wave of her hand and the shield of her magic, “We have to move!”

Bakugou’s breath doesn’t come til it does, because as his champion makes to lift both him and his red captain off of the ground, the Todoroki Champions come harsh into focus. They defy the crowd, Shinsou soaring, Deku crackling black, Uraraka– she carves escape from the wall of people climbing over each other at a crack in the doors, with her princess over her shoulder and the doctor small under her arm. Breath becomes thunder.

You are scooped tight into his arms before he can explain to Kirishima, in tears, or Mina or Sero armed above them, as their prince cradles his wounded captain like porcelain and bursts from the ground.

“Kat– wait!”

The old doctor winces as she is spirited through fleeing coats and gowns and armor, through the smoke, and startles at every immolating shriek in every scalded throat. How many has he killed? The fire smells familiar before it smells like flesh. The yolk of Fuyumi’s heart breaks on Uraraka’s shoulder.

It is the death of a prince sixteen years ago, it is Rei’s final smile, it’s Aldera’s first trip to the sea, it’s a curtain of white hot stars that shine brighter the closer they burst in their warpath. When Bakugou lands he takes Uraraka with him, hard against the pearlescent wall.

She drops her princess before she is crushed by impact or runners, and growls, but the body in Bakugou’s arms keeps her from striking. “Get her out!” He roars, again pressing the weak bundle of you into her chest at the edge of a cannibalistic crowd. A bloody spear juts from your bodice like a lighthouse. Your fingers still twitch in pain but your face has gone slack and your wild braids fall without purpose over your prince’s sleeves. A child shrieks. A woman throws her daughter above the chaos and through the pathetic opening in ballroom doors and goes all up blue, arms still outstretched, behind her.

The champion isn’t given a choice. Fuyumi’s trembles as she wretches Uraraka’s arms around you, “We will!” princess promises prince. Shuzenji is steadied on Fuyumi’s back and Bakugou has never seen the old woman shake; she cannot look at blue fire. He keeps the women and you now with them, tight against the wall inside his chest and not one of you questions why you haven’t gone up in flames, only when.

He cups Uraraka’s face in a blood-soaked hand but speaks to the doctor, “Keep her alive.” And rips his cape from his shoulders with the other, “No one’ll hurt you. Won’t get close.”

His hands are the last thing to leave you. The fireproof cape is fastened over Uraraka’s shoulders with Fuyumi holding tight close behind and your blood ensures victory because his hands are warm with it. Strings of flowers pop as they succumb to fire, violins wheeze in the heat. He has to fight. When Bakugou dares one more glance you are the ache of the last dragon in his friend’s arms. His fingers linger on your stomach, the lift and fall there where fire is meant to be and he is ten again, on the battlements, watching you lose spar after spar in the muddy bailey below.

The Alderan prince is airborne faster than any mage might follow and he fires five missiles at the catwalks through a clenched fist. At the height of his arc he twists to face the stubborn doors in collision. Kirishima and Kaminari are busy below him collecting wounded Takobans to pile behind Mina’s growing greengrey shield. Sero and Shinsou cut through the air, flying like acrobats on ribbons between the chandeliers towards the mass of armored guards at the back of the room. Aizawa backs the queen against her throne and beside him, the king stares without moving. Not one lick of fire slips from him.

Bakugou hits the doors and the shrieking masses at exactly the same moment, foam and teeth to pull him under. They will kill themselves to escape, they will kill each other. Silver nails dig into whatever flesh is nearest for purchase over thighs and shoulders. The bodies never stop. Bones break unmistakably, wigs and shoes succumb to flame almost at random, the laughter– Bakugou fires every pearl of sweat on his knuckles down into the marble he is pressed against and the new destruction creates enough space underneath to breathe. One wrong move, you’ll hemorrhage, you’ll burn, worse, you will crawl out of paradise to get up and fight for him if he doesn’t get you out now.

Deku fails at every turn to keep the Todoroki prince behind him against the great window of starlight. The champions are smart to keep their royals far apart, the prince thinks as he digs his fingers into the only marble seam in all of Takoba. Magic the color of greed, pink, white, orange, and gold, detonate the lower hinge of the ballroom door.

The crack of escape becomes a maw as the door, fifty feet, buckles over itself and slips to the side supported only by its highest mechanics. “Go!” He cries under the crowd, he pulls lords to their feet, his jacket is ripped from his frame, he lifts the wounded through to safety, he tackles diplomats before they are hit by blue comets and he remembers to breathe when Uraraka erupts through the thinning throng in her armor, barely grazing the floor as she soars from the ballroom and into the chill of the entrance hall outside. Fuyumi grips her cape and the doctor with it and all four of you are launched by magic into the night.

You are safe in her arms. You are ten years old in the bailey on a rainy day and you are the only one of Jeanist’s recruits soaked in mud. You are gone. Bakugou is a boy watching you always.

The ghost pouts over the guardrail before he drops from it. He is lean like his mother. His white hair tickles the collar of a blue suit as fire bursts forth under his feet to slow his descent. “Begging your pardon, Majesty.”

Everyone but the king, comes to terms with horror. Enji freezes where he stands with arms outstretched in commanding order among his men, and flame dies from him on the stairs of the throne. His wife is quick to her feet, silent. Natsuo does not move. Confused Alderans are the only actors in the room for just a moment.

“Attack!” Aizawa barks. The second the master’s eyes fall on the mage, his fire dies beneath him and gravity snaps that lithe beautiful body to the ground. Bakugou erupts alongside scattered soldiers. He catapults from the elven doors on magic every violent calculation of fireworks. He is the one who shot you. He is the one who dragged you to the sea. The blue mage is dressed for a ball and catches himself easily in a landing against the filthy ballroom floor. He is the douse of your bonfire heart and your prince will have his head.

“You don’t listen,” the mage drawls. His suit jacket is the blue color of dusk, so dark it would be black if he weren’t framed by the night sky in the window behind him. He raises a lazy arm towards the guards mobilizing from the throne ranks like it might be the easiest thing in the world to order their surrender. Who wouldn’t submit to such delicate blue eyes?

A flame rears from his open palm. The mass of it could rival any dragon and the heat kills sixteen soldiers so quickly they cannot make a sound. When the light dies, armor hisses in puddles and bone. “I have a question,” he clears his throat. There’s no time for Bakugou to pivot in the new chaos. The prince releases pressure from his fists to slow ascent and clips warped weapons from how close he hugs the floor. 

When eyes fly to master Aizawa he is suddenly wrestled between his queen and his own soldier who means to kill her, no longer watching the mage. The Takoban soldier drives a blade through his master’s arm and only falls when he is slit by Aizawa’s knife. The damage is done. Forces rush to pull the traitor off the platform of the throne, but they are grappled in turn by the surprise of more traitors in their own silver uniforms. Soldiers who eat and sleep and live and love together, begin to kill each other and Aizawa is as far from focused.

Why!? Bakugou seethes as his feet hit the wall in front of him. You would know, you would see it. He retches his head against gravity and stars shoot from his fingers towards the back of the flame mage, but their hidden attack– the chain of explosions they’ll make upon contact– let loose before even getting close.

“You’re just flammable, princeling,” he coos in his dark suit. A blue flower stands sadly in his lapel, “I am ignition.” Again the bombs detonate five meters too far to do damage in the waves of heat that reach from him in every direction.

Some sort of peace is found in the ambush. The guests have either fled from or hidden in the reaches of the ballroom. No attacks touch the undead mage and to his horror, Bakugou realizes that every other mage in the room is struggling against a new civilian enemy.

Cowering dancers pull weapons from their blue silks and strike at the soldiers attempting to help them. Kaminari hardly pushes Mina down fast enough to avoid the mace of a lady who was dancing only minutes ago. Shinsou is trapped at the base of the throne between treasonous soldiers, corpses, and suddenly armed diplomats and Master Aizawa can’t be seen– he’s been struck– the king does nothing, Bakugou doesn’t understand but you would.

You fire weapons into crowds. You remove unpleasant guests from his mother’s council. There’s no room for shame when you have never been wrong. You creep into the battlements at home to watch the stars and not once in twenty years has there been an intruder at the castle. Bakugou did not die the first night in Takoba because you, soggy with river water, trembling with cold, kept him behind your back– pinned him tight to the ground– when the fires started. He didn’t die in the gardens because you would pluck him from hell if he tried. Not even his own champion moves so quickly.

On the debris scattered floor, Bakugou considers strength. How much of his invincibility is not his at all? And how much of his complete and total inability to think now is yours too?

“Your sweaty guest could tell you all about this one,” the ghost tuts. The elegance of his stride almost distracts from the scars that rot and steam under his cuffs. He rummages in his sleeve, the silver buttons glow with heat, and twirls a vial between long fingers. “Call it derealization. How does it feel now, Master? How did it feel Alderan? To have your magic sucked and twirled down a drain out of your reach with just the nick of an arrow? The twist of a little knife dipped in an even littler bottle?” He pivots when a fallen beam catches blue in proximity to his stride and leans closer towards the throne in the clearing he has made around himself. “How does it feel to learn? The easiest part of this whole night was paying Takobans to kill you.”

Whatever solutions Bakugou had come up with for the confusion of this hellnight, evaporate. “Eijirou!” He shouts. His champion flies unheard over marble towards the ghost and all his blind spots, skin splintered like armor, when his prince’s voice cracks over the din of combat, “the girls!”

His attack might have hit. Kirishima, out of all of them, can withstand the most heat and he hates to reveal his friend’s position, but something so much worse is surely happening. Uraraka, surrounded and suddenly swarmed by assassins disguised as diplomats fleeing fire. You, cold in her arms and patrolling guards not quick enough through the maze to help her. The fact– the horror of a thought that scant castletown staff might have already fallen to the mage’s infiltrators.

Kirishima abandons his path towards the mage and dives under the incoming strike of a turncoat soldier. Newly armed with a broadsword, he careens through the crack in the great ballroom doors and into the dark of the castle, understanding his prince all too clearly.

“Do you want to know why?” Ash drips cruelly from the stitching along the ghost’s jaw, “Why the king returned home– who sent for him? Aren’t you curious?” There is something so smothering in his whine, like sadness will suffocate every person here before smoke. “Doesn’t anyone want to know why I need Alderans? Or do you already know? Clever boys. You already know what will happen when the prince that you promised the world you put down, claws his way back from hell to kill the heir of the Aldera. Of course you do,” he sucks his teeth, Natsuo goes white beside his mother who hasn’t made a sound. The queen keeps her son behind her even as her soldiers struggle to keep traitorous daggers at bay in a sea of noisy silver. 

The ghost raises his hands again, right towards your calculating prince and left towards the royals on their frozen thrones. King Enji stares, unblinking. Rei’s hands fly from her sides and trace frost through the air.

“A beautiful, unwinnable war.”

“Touya!”

 “Mama.”

Two Todorokis regain themselves. As flames scream out from the mage’s fingertips, Rei’s incalculable wall of ice splits the room in two. It cracks marble, shatters chandeliers, it butts the ceiling and grips through the stone so hard that dust plumes from the weakened foundations. At the same time, the youngest Todoroki, and his champion, burst into the open air, rocketed forward by his own frozen and rising pillars. Bakugouwinces as he ricochets through Takoba’s new obstacle course. His skin chaps from violent heat and shocking cold.

Shoto makes an egg of his undead brother, cased all in ice as he flies past. Deku isn’t more than two seconds behind him and in a flash of black light, the casing shatters like the person inside couldn’t possibly remain in anything but pieces. Unsatisfied, two familiar ribbons jolt over Bakugou’s shoulders. The three of them shoot higher together into the night, between and against the pillars of ice and the playground they made of the party. Sero is faster. He smirks, bloody, in the clearing Mina made for the injured. His magic reaches through obstacles, over his prince and whips like bandages around the ghost’s broken prison.

“Heel, Blasty!” Kaminari grunts because every fighter in the room realized at once that the mage’s fire would always be stronger than his brother’s cold. The cracked pieces of ice become water in an instant and when Kaminari lets his magic loose up Sero’s ribbons, that same water boils. Cracks of lightning blind the dim room lit only by moonlight and sad stray blue candles.

Bakugou’s magic punches him to the ceiling. His burnt white vest and a tattered shirt glow, the sweat down his neck, at his jaw, down his sides, sting and pop and crackle. Starfall, yeah?

Before the scent of burnt flesh can drift out to sea, the prince bears his weight and magic down on the place the mage should be in smoking tatters. If this ghost is the reason you stare down dark corridors, Bakugou is the reason you never rest. Mage or prince, he won’t forgive either. He lands in a dehisce of pink and golden sparks, “Fucking die!”

“In due time.”

When the prince detonates, the mage holds him close. As Bakugou hangs he thinks of Aldera.

There are too many days without sun in the summer, and too many without thunderstorms in winter. Your prince loves spring best, wet and warm. Which is your favorite? He cooks like staff in the kitchens when the chefs away to have their babies; there is always a baby being born in Aldera. It balances out all the idiots that get killed in the forest. Did Jeanist send you on patrols too? To keep clueless hunters away from the unicorn nests? Does Eijirou know? Does Kaminari gossip with you in the potions pantry? Does Sero joke with his captain like he does with his prince? Who do you tell about your life? Mina? The queen?

Bakugou has never been able to escape from love. At every turn, he is held hostage by it. It is his friends yapping about their days, their fears, their anger, it is worry and exhaustion and forgiveness. You are the only one of which he couldn’t draw a perfect map.

Your prince detonated five meters too far to do any damage because the mage is ignition. The mage holds him up by the jaw, dazed over the lip of the platform of ice. “Now you finally know,” his long fingers trace the air around the prince’s chest where flammable sweat bursts without permission from proximity to blue heat. He jerks and grunts in the mage’s grip, “how that destructive magic of yours feels. They called me destructive too, s’ why my father tried to have me killed.”

Bakugou’s fist bursts from his side in his concussed haze but the mage, the ghost, the undead prince, heats the fingers holding his face up to scalding and on instinct he clutches at his captor’s wrist instead.

“And so I perfected destruction. I am sorry that you have to die– and that your little red thing got in the way the first time.” He grins as Bakugou thrashes against the ice, half blinded by his own unwilling sparks and half deaf from the wringing of his misfire. “My friends and I make such an unfathomable fortune from this little elixir. Enough to raise an army for hire, enough to bring down every magic-blind kingdom– maybe derealization will hit Aldera after you die. Maybe it’ll be dripped into the queen’s favorite ales as she wages war for her dead son. Wouldn’t it be beautiful? Watching the continent that relies so much on its odd affinities be forced to take up clubs and spears like animals? A world without magic.”

The mage pats his unmarred breast pocket where the vial lies. In flashes Bakugou is flush to your body on horseback. The poison beats through his heart in place of blood, just enough to steal his sparks and not enough to kill him. He is weak but safe in sunsoaked blankets beside you. You don’t need magic.

“You’ll take me there princeling. Your head will start the war that kills Takoba.”

“You’re so fucking chatty.”

As long as you’re alive, the world doesn’t need magic. You’ll show them. You’ll teach them. Bakugou’s frame begins to tremble with sparks as the last white skin under the mage’s grip burns to the muscle. He has a lesson to teach first, his very last one.

“Katsuki!” There is a guest at the cursed party. When Aizawa soars into the mage’s range behind flying blades he snatches the back of the prince’s collar, dipping, ducking, half-conscious, and clear off the edge of the platform. The fall of the guest’s blood is the only sound she makes.

The sudden plummet shocks Bakugou’s consciousness into some semblance of function, the Takoban master’s arms around him, and together they crash into the bodies piled below to break their fall. A sea of battered soldiers, Deku, Shinsou and all his armor– collectively wheeze under the weight of impact.

There’s nowhere to hide in Takoba. The ghost smokes from every rotten seam high above the crowd and flames lap his lips in frustrated exhales. His nightblue suit cannot withstand him. There’s nowhere to hide, not one crack for the bugs, not for maids, not for mages and Bakugou’s eyes go wide when the ghost begins to breathe fire.

Queen Rei is not fast enough, her son is not fast enough, their ice doesn’t fly– his Alderans– Mina is battered among wounded civilians and traitors alike, her magic withers. Sero and Kaminari, the last soldiers, Natsuo, his father, weeping lords and ladies– the night sky shines back in Bakugou’s eyes.

The image is framed by it, stars, always. A blue mage unleashes hellfire from his jaw to start a war. The body of Aldera’s Captain, blades and arms drawn close to her face, launches off the catwalks like she might have learned to fly, like she might be a dragon.

Your silk dress is torn at your knees, the bodice ripped to tatters, and your prince’s cape is woven in strips around your chest and the wound there. Your body arcs with the promise of a deadly impact. You hang in the stars the moment that time freezes for him, like a painting his mother would wear. The hunter is caked in her own blood. You are beautiful above him, eyes the color of arson. You are greed like he’s never seen. You are ten years old in the bailey on a rainy day and you are finally victorious with a guttural cry and a squire pinned in mud beneath your staff.

“I can’t take more than you have Y/n. This could kill you.”

The cape does its best to bandage the leaking wound under your shoulder. Your halberd and its marksman missed your heart, missed both lungs, and still punched you through the collarbone, blade doused with poison.

“How badly do you want to live?” The doctor had asked, fingers trembling. One hand clutched the spear your body pushed out with two rounds of recovery magic.

War hummed outside the closet Ochako used to hide you. How did you ever have the energy to dance peruro? “Will is dwindling,” you’d groaned back. You reached for the princess who nodded in her silly beautiful ballgown and took up your hand with her mother’s ferocity. The three of you held your breath in the dark. The sky would learn to kneel.

Your first dagger bends inside the mage’s back as it hits bone and the second is swung and retched like sunrise, through his throat. It would have killed him too, had the heat off his skin not melted the metal to its hilt in your fist.

The ghost makes a point to grasp you tight when he reaches over his shoulders and snatches up silk. He doesn’t forget to warm his hands up to branding. “Monkey–” he gasps at the exact same moment as the great ballroom window shatters behind you both into thousands of violent shards. You snatch something before you go, tucked away inside your bandages. Red feathers punch through the immediate chill of midnight sea air and you are yoked into much more temperate arms.

Captain Hawks beams above you, “You called?” His lips form the words you can’t hear over his speed and you are all too quickly tossed, wound yowling, out of his grip and over a bridge made of ice. The hands that catch you this time reek of caramel.

“You rotten,” he gasps, face full of you, “horrible asshole.” Bakugou glides, over ice and under fire that has lost its mark in the new chaos. Pieces of window sink into jackets and coats and flesh. Salt suddenly plagues the fresh air, chill from the goddess. He holds you as tightly as life will let him.

Clingy, you swell. Landing is the worst part as always. Your prince hits the far edge of the throne area on sparking boots and swerves circles on their heels until the momentum dies enough to let him straighten. Blood trickles from one ear and the skin at the underside of his jaw is burnt and bubbled in the shape of four long fingers and a thumb. The hands under your thighs won’t release you. Not without a promise. “Get out,” he breathes, “disengaged, run.”

“You’re welcome.” He shakes his head and you with him, smiling, “Don’t go where I can’t see you, Highness.”

Rei catches the threat before you do and her ice pierces the back of a man in blue satin racing closer with a longsword in hand. It is a horrible thing to jump from your prince’s arms. Shuzenji was right, your heart might not make it. Your prince crowds you away from screams of fire and the threat of veiled assassins, but he is bleeding all over his fine clothes. His chest threatens to burst from its vest and send its sun-shaped buttons out like birdseed. It’s impossible to focus over the whip of wind in the now-open ballroom above the sea. You’ve lost too much blood.

“Old man!” Captain Hawks screams over every hellish iteration of flame mage’s attacks. His blue fire, horrifyingly, is searching just for you. Red wings swoop, the captain is a swallow hunting for a perch, “Wake up! Your Majesty!”

The king’s men have done well to protect him. They have swarmed his giant useless body to keep attackers away, they have fallen at his feet in droves and piles while he stares through blue fire. Shuzenji was much the same, frozen at just the sight.

“King Enji!”

“Please!”

The blue mage’s voice creaks like a campfire. His body is losing the fight with his magic and you have never seen something so horrifying. Obviously the nightblue suit is magic, but his flesh blacks like meat in patches the longer his fire rages from mouth, hand, and chest, “Well?” Orange light crackles just slightly at the sound almost a voice, “Father?”

The awful syllables are punctuated with flame. The last chandelier shatters, the queen and her son choke on the heat thrown towards them before they can react. Traitors are caught in the cross as the mage makes to kill his family. His horrible family. His horrible father suddenly offers red fire up just as high as his wife’s melting wall. The king’s face is still hollow but light licks his edges and the mage is thrilled for long enough to forget about you.

Defense is bleak. Kaminari can only electrocute so many turncoats before the puddle of champagne he’s using as conductor dries up. Mina is barely conscious; she’s been hit by something, and Sero makes as many trips as possible with a bruised Shoto to evacuate unconscious guests before he comes back for his friend. There’s no way to tell how many traitors were among the ranks of the castle tonight. It’s impossible to count how many remain, hiding under the guise of injury, and how many have snuck deeper into the castle to wreak the mage’s havoc. Bodies litter the floor.

“Eijirou?” Your prince whispers as he both keep you tight behind him and traces the path of the king’s errant flames. Enji’s fire arcs like the crash of waves into a melting, smiling mage alone above the dancefloor.

“With Uraraka and the princess.”

Aizawa never got back up. Deku carries him out the crack in the doors alongside his prince and the last of their refugees. Instead, Shinsou is the general leading Takobans through their ranks to retrieve their royals. Not a single reinforcement has come from the depths of the castle besides a bleeding foreign captain.

Bakugou nods and instead of threading a path of escape through your fingers, you watch him. You reach for him.

Hawks abuses blindspots like a demon and primary feathers become blood red swords faster than opponents can counter. He’s not fireproof though, and the mage must know because the winged captain hasn’t been able to land once since arriving. Blue and red flames wash overhead, spurred by the air off the sea through the broken window and mers if it’s not colder than death when you’re not dodging meteors.

“Highness.” Your hands catch the swell of his temples when he turns to face you. He is even more the Sun soaked all in blood and his brows are desperate with thought. “No one’s coming.”

You think he tries to reach for you, "And we're going home." You think he really does mean it.

You nod in the shadow of debris he’s tried to hide you in before you move away, before you smile, before you command the sky, "Yessir."

Sharp under his right arm, you drop, pinch the wrist of the silent assassin behind him and drive forward until her elbow breaks. The next seaglass woman doesn’t stand a chance. She throws a punch towards your bandaged shoulder and with all the momentum her body contains, you wrench your palm under her chin and over her head. She’s gasping on her back just in time to avoid the canonfire your prince releases to cut down the men with their weapons raised to you. He’s hiding injuries. You shouldn’t be faster on the draw in this state.

“Cover Shinsou’s retreat!” The sun will obey you. You call back as his face falls. Does he know? How hard it is to leave him here– do you hide your heart properly? Did you do a good job?

It is exciting to be alive again. Traitor-soldiers fall to your simple defenses. The joint lock of a wrist or shoulder and a brief stint with the air over your back is enough to keep men down. Training you mastered at ten will bend a kingdom to your will. If the flame mage needs Alderans for war, he will fight for you, you will do, and the others will have time to escape. Your prince is calling your name. Explosions shower the path you’re carving through the ballroom with golden sparks. It was a decent party. Peruro– Bakugou, your prince is a wonderful dancer.

“Captain!” Your Alderans hold shock like water out of a sieve. The three of them stare after you, Mina slumped with an arm over Sero’s shoulder, Kaminari with his arms raised in attack ahead of them. It feels so good. The mage’s soldiers attack anything that moves, you’ve always hated it here, and it feels good too, to strike them. You don’t need a weapon, you couldn’t properly hold on in this state. The last pieces of your halberd smolder between corpses. The air is a tangle of limbs in your wake. You are Aldera’s Red Captain, back from the dead. Attackers in blue silk fall under your dancing shoes.

King Enji finally takes an offensive step and claps his hands to bring two crashing plumes of fire together on either side of the mage as he dances down the last of Rei’s ice. The force of the impact is purple and white out the window over the sea. The castle must be breathing fire, must look like a dragon from the town below, like Alderans were invited to the party.

You relieve a man of his shortsword and only regret for a moment, turning tight and running him through with it. The meat of your shoulder weeps with exertion.

Shinsou will force the queen and her family through the crack in the ballroom door, he has her under a shield now, racing. Your friends will follow, Hawks– he– the captain hits the ground like a horrible beat of thunder in your path, his wings singed in both red and blue. You jerk your head back to the war of flames overhead.

The blue mage takes advantage of the shadow of the catwalks in moonlight and his father fires indiscriminately upwards. Ceiling crumbles. The overwhelming scent of the ocean pulls in howls and gusts of wind through the shattered holes in the room. If you were stronger you would tackle the ghost back off the cliff into the sea.

“Y/n!”

“Fall back! The king– he’ll–!”

No one else can tell just how badly the ghost is melting. When you struck him, nothing burnt. You could cling tight just like the night in the gardens. The heat only came to his skin when he needed it to– to burn your prince, to catch your knife. It cannot exist all at once, he is not the surface of the sun, he is in pain. He begs and bargains for his magic. He is a monster but he is much more easily killed than you. The only horror here is in how badly Takoba hates its king and how easy it was to ensure no one came to help him.

“Touya!” You scream over the boom of crown molding cracking the floor to pieces nearby. You heard it from the queen, “Prince Touya!” Tight in your fingers and high overhead, you hold the vial you plucked from his breast pocket.

Suddenly his father is much less interesting. Blue fire and a midnight suit dive for you but you have studied dragons. You lurch behind the closest mountain of debris because marble does not conduct heat well; it hardly even wilts as blue bears down on it from every sweltering direction. You crouch through hell, through the screams of your name, through the mage’s last breath and dive out of cover the second his magic pauses for air. The king is quick to charge across the floor now that his son has landed and the stolen vial is tucked back tight between your bandages.

Pearl hot flames lick your silk hem and you hardly leap to the platform of the throne fast enough to avoid either fate, red or blue, mage or king. The dance peruro is destructive. You twist out of the path of a thrown dagger and roll when the floor gives out beneath your shoes. Fire only dreams of touching you. You are soaked in the warm puddles that remain of Rei’s wall, and up again. Run, to every corner of the room, make the mage look for you, and let the blind king kill everyone in your way.

The last Todoroki clears the crack in the elven doors under Shinsou’s orders. It was a beautiful, horseshit party.

Stars every color of the rainbow pour like tears through the fire of the night as a soldier takes you off your feet. They are wild, face burnt from ear to nose, and their blade would have driven through your throat hard enough to shatter if Bakugou hadn’t hurtled them out the window and into the sea. He glows like fairylight at every place sweat pools. You don’t realize he’s carrying you, running, sprinting, because you don’t realize how much blood you’ve lost– how many pieces of you Takoba took on your warpath.

Whose turn is it to apologize?

There is cheering, someone calling you think. When flames lick the prince’s heels he covers your head with a magic-calloused hand. You’re bleeding onto his pretty clothes and Shuzenji was right.

The prince vaults over a falling chandelier with magic on the balls of his feet. He’s faster than before, he’s not growling or screaming, but he’s still alive under the hand you press to his chest. You knew he’d follow you. You think you’re at least owed one or two chances to play general because in just a few more jerking strides your prince, and you against him, break clear through the elven door as if from guns. The last two Alderans almost free.

You aren’t awake to note the path refugees take through the castle. Not awake to share Shinsou’s anxiety around every corner or to count the bodies in the halls. Bakugou carries you deeper into the bowels of Takoba among his fleeing friends. He keeps you safe in strong arms and you no longer plan on dying.

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[seattlesellie]

knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t… owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.

[sunflowerzyk]

Royal Guard Simon Riley x Princess Reader

Part2.

SFW

Knight! Simón who is an exceptional watchdog, assists your aldo in all your royal duties by taking the place of your mother as queen. Budgeting for decorations, banquets, festivals, palace maintenance and making appearances when your father was unable or too busy to do so.

He came to all of that.

Even though he knew it would be extremely uncomfortable for him, Simon agreed. Because of you.

He could have sent one of his subordinates or even some of your maids to keep you company.

But he was a selfish bastard who wanted to be there, by your side, to make sure his little princess was okay.

His. Keeping away the gazes of the vultures that watched your tender, calm flesh.

He was willing to put up with your tantrums and tantrums when you asked to go out to tea parties and he denied you.Willing to listen to your little gasps behind the door that only he guarded. Listening to your little discoveries like how ants, no matter how small, would commit more war crimes for an insignificant piece of bread.

He would accept anything just to see your eyes fixed directly into his without fear. Without hesitation.

Your voice although sometimes awkward in connecting your tongue with your thoughts, you never failed to be direct and look at him as.... Perhaps if a terrifying man, but he had understood that you were strangely uncomfortable.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess" he asked quietly, standing in front of your bedroom door, not allowing you to leave. "I said you're not going to the orchard today."

You glared at him, protesting your excuses for going to check on your little new sprouts, downplaying the threat your father had given you for doing things for lower-class people. You didn't mind getting reprimanded by your old dad.

But Simon did. It made his blood boil to see you with your head down. Always.

"Wait until the waters calm down," he asked in a gentler tone. Which definitely confused you, taking the frustration away from your face.....

He liked that expression too.

[dalivanmagritte]

NCT FIC REC : NA JAEMIN

back to the nct fic rec

nct fic rec : na jaemin part.2

favs

new town, new me (fav, smut, weewolf!au, witch!au)

new habits (fav, smut, highschool!au)

ghosting you (fav, smut, fluff, realestate!au, entrepreneur!au)

by the window (fav, smut)

no smut

to love (fluff, suggestive)

fake dating! (fluff, bff!jaemin, fake dating!au)

day8: seduction (fluff)

classics (smut)

can you stay up all nigh? (smut)

one more rep (smut, perv!au)

be there for you (smut, doctor!au)

take a bite (smut, buffy!jaemin)

can you stay up all night? (Smut)

thin walls (smut, roommates!au)

go there with you (smut, roommates!au)

his sundress (smut)

strawberry lemonade (smut)

high sex drive (smut)

sweet spot (smut, masseur!jaemin)

love on the floor (fluff, smutish, office!au)

barbie girl (smut)

kitty girl (smut)

catgirl princess part.2 (smut, catgirl)

i love to get 2 on (smut, biker!au, streetracer!au)

biker jaemin (smut, biker!au)

truth or dare (smut)

start of something new (smut)

princess treatment (fluff, smut)

smile (you're on camera) (smut)

excessive lube (smut)

high sex drive (smut)

cockwarming (smut)

clueless (smut, roommate!au))

pillow princess (smut)

daddy (smut)

peach (smut)

hey angel (smut)

bad religion (smut)

mean obsessed jaemin (smut)

big big jaemin (smut)

catgirl (smut, catgirl!au)

succession (smut, ceo!au?, succesion!au)

jaemin loves messy pussy (smut)

jaemin's chain (smut)

and they were roommates (finished serie, smut, college!au)

firsts steps (smut)

trauma (smut, angst, mafia!au)

alternate universe (magics, gods, royalty, etc...)

when the stars align (fluff, guard!au, princess!au)

jaemin and the yule ball (smut, hogwarts!au)

chill kill (smut, fluff, angst, hogwarts!au)

hogwarts!jaemin (fluff, hogwarts!au)

a dreams come true (fluff, cupid!jaemin)

dedication (fluff, crack, hogwarts!au)

what do you desire? (fluff, hogwarts!au)

cuddle with me (fluff, hogwarts!au)

quest for romance (fluff, demigod!au, greek mythology!au)

love and war (fluff, demigod!au, mythology!au)

captain sparkle fingers revives me from the dead (fluff, angstish, demigod!au, mythology!au)

of love and lust (fluff, demigod!au, mythology!au)

worship (smut, mortal!jaemin, goddess!reader)

dumb bunny, sly fox (smut, hybrid!au)

go! (smut, abo!au)

tutor alpha (smut, abo!au)

dreaming (go continuation, smut abo!au)

angel baby (smut, fluff, abo!au)

pretty girl (smut, fluff, abo!au)

with another member

sextape (x jeno and haechan?) (smut)

the sequel x jeno (smut, phonesex!au, ghostface!au)

sos x jeno (smut, abo!au)

i'm a mouse duh! x jeno (smut)

they're roommates x jeno (smut)

fortuity : a chance encounter part.1 part.2 (fluff, royal!au, prince!au)

just so you know x jeno (smut)

sos x jeno (smut, abo!au)

cookie jar x jeno (smut, stepbrother!au)

Pervert jaemin (smut)

movie and a show x mark (smut)

sharing is caring x mark (smut)

popular guy! jaemin part.1 part.2 part.3 (smut)

can you handle it? x johnny, jaehyun, jeno (smut)

morally gray (and tw)

destruction in my mind (smut, yandere!au, kidnapping!au)

mean coworker! (dubcon, smut, barista!au)

a little help (dubcon, smut, doctor!au)

give into things i (don't) want to (smut, dubcon)

blur (dubcon, smut)

son of the landlord (dubcon, smut)

the walls are thin x jeno (dubcon, smut)

prey ->hunter (DUBCON, smut, horror!au, kidnapping)

sleep therapy (DUBCON, smut, demon!au)

can your hear me? (DUBCON, smut, perv!au, stalker!au)

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 4

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, virgin reader, first kiss

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: It’s time to head to the safehouse that Ghost set up for the both of you. Before you leave though, Ghost introduces you to some new experiences in your own country. While he takes care of you, you find yourself falling for him even more to the point where you want to test curiosity of yours. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8

“Has the duke spilled his guts yet?” Ghost asked Soap, making the last minute arrangements for the safehouse as quick as he could. While he would’ve liked to have been the one to interrogate the bastard in his own special way, he didn’t want to leave you alone for too long. Luckily, Soap arrived quickly to take care of the interrogation for him. He was glad that his sergeant didn’t mind talking with his fists too. 

“Bits and pieces. Not much though. At least, nothing that will really bolster our investigation. He seems like he genuinely doesn’t know much about the organization he decided to trust. They just made him safety and financial promises which he took without question.” Soap revealed, wiping stray specks of blood on his arms with a warm, moist cloth provided by a maid.

Ghost hummed in annoyance. An idiot like the duke, who was so willing to sell out your life along with your country, wasn’t worth breathing the same air as you. He would kill him if he could. It would be doing the world a favor. “What about the servant?”

Soap shrugged and shook his head. “Still working on that one, Lt. He’s been asleep.”

“Asleep?” Ghost repeated, hardly believing what his sergeant just told him.

“According to the guards, when the man was taken in for custody, he just dropped dead asleep. Coma-level sleep. We can’t get him to wake up. I’ve contacted the team about it and Kate is going to send an expert to test for drugs. We think that he might’ve taken something before being taken into custody. Capsule in the teeth kind of shit.” Soap explained carefully, making sure he covered everything that he needed to cover.

“What about guest statements? Anything useful?” Ghost continues, his patience wearing thin. He needed a win. They all did. This was no longer just a concerned parental request. A whole country was truly at stake of being taken over by terrorists. 

Once again, Soap shook his head. “Sorry, Lt. Everything is on record so you’re free to read through everything just in case I missed something, but the only thing we can do is continue our investigation and wait for the servant to wake up.”

Little did they know that you were just outside the doors, listening to their whole conversation. You were finished packing what you thought you needed with the help from your maid staff. So, you ended up leaving the room in search of Ghost to let him know that you were ready to go. 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You only meant to wait patiently for their conversation to wrap up. But you couldn’t unhear what was being discussed. It scared you that they haven’t been able to uncover much regarding these terrorists that were after your country and life. It was even scarier to know that there wasn’t much you could do except trust in Ghost and his team. 

Finally, you mustered up your courage and gave the door a light knock before coming in. “Pardon me. I’m all set to go to the safehouse.”

Soap’s expression lit up at the sight of you, his lighthearted, playful side coming through immediately. You were fascinated with how different he appeared compared to Ghost. A little shorter, stylish faux mohawk, and a smile that brought life to the prim and proper room. A part of you was expecting Ghost’s teammate to be more like him. Was the 141 actually quite diverse? What was the rest of his team like?

“Well hello, Princess Y/n! I’m Sergeant Mactavish, but people call me Soap. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after all the things Ghost has said about you.” He greeted you warmly, holding out his hand for a casual handshake. Without thinking, you took it, your own eyes brightening up along with your cheeks.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Sergeant Mactavish. Ghost talks about me?” You couldn’t help but clarify, your eyes meeting Ghost’s who just averted his gaze. God damn it, Soap!

“He-”

“That’s enough, Sergeant! Get back to work.” Ghost shut him down swiftly, the word of the lieutenant being final. It didn’t hurt Soap though. In fact, he was used to Ghost reacting this way which he thought was hilarious. 

With a chuckle, Soap took his leave out of the room. “Aw well, maybe next time! See you later, Princess.” 

As he walked out, you smiled, feeling uplifted by the interaction. Meeting Soap was like meeting an old friend. You hoped that you would be able to meet him again, especially to hear the kinds of things Ghost said about you. For now, you redirected your attention back to Ghost who looked more tired than usual.

“Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant Ghost? You look like you need some rest.” You gently pointed out, your brows furrowing in concern. Ghost’s soul warmed up like a fireplace being started at your consideration.

“I’ll be alright. No need to worry about me. You said that you were all ready to go?” He switched topics quickly, not wanting you to worry too much about him. He would catch up on rest later. The most important thing was getting you to a safer place. That would be his safe space to rest too.

You gave a sheepish smile as he redirected the attention onto you. “Indeed. I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later. I hope that me being ready does not rush you.”

He wanted to shower you with praise over you being such a good girl. Ghost was incredibly grateful that you weren’t fussy whatsoever. “No, that’s perfect. We should be getting out of here now.”

An armored car was waiting right outside the palace to take you to the safehouse, already loaded up with just a few suitcases. You weren’t sure how long you were going to be at the safehouse, but you only packed necessities. No formal wear, no jewelry. Nothing that would take up too much space. As you stood on the palace steps, you took a deep breath of fresh air. Birds were chirping excitedly, a slight breeze cut through the would-be heat. It was a perfect day to finally leave your marble prison. Not without protests from your parents, though.

“Are you absolutely sure that this is necessary? I mean, how else will we know that the princess is safe if she is so far away?” Your father nervously blurted, his eyes shifting from Ghost to you to the car in an anxious cycle. 

Your mother wasn’t too happy either, though for different reasons that almost had Ghost snap. “How will we know that she is keeping up with her studies?!”

Before Ghost could combat their nerves, you huffed and faced your parents for the first time in your life. This new courage was found in knowing that there was really nothing your parents could do to stop this from happening. “Mother, father, I will be perfectly safe. I will continue to study as usual. However, this will also be a great chance for me to learn what the world is really like outside of the palace. We won’t do anything unsafe, so please, just let me learn what I need to learn.”

For a moment, there was pure silence between everyone. No one was expecting you to stand up for yourself, even if it was about time that you did. Then, your father places his hands on your shoulders, his gaze softening. “Y/n, when did you become such a wonderful young woman? It was only yesterday that I was holding you in my arms for the first time.”

Your eyes widened for a second, not expecting your father to become so affectionate all of a sudden. He was certainly more affectionate than your mother, though, you couldn’t remember the last time your father told you that he loved you. You blinked back tears he pulled you in for a sweet hug as if you were leaving forever.

As Ghost watched, he felt his anger begin to melt. As much as he hated the decisions your parents made regarding your life, at least he knew that it came from a place of love. At least for the case of your father. Your mother, on the other hand, still had a sour look on her face. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut in a tight line.

“Lieutenant, keep my daughter safe.” The king ordered to which Ghost gave a firm nod to. He would rather lose his life than have you in danger again. 

After you pulled away and said your final goodbyes, you got into the armored car. Ghost got into the driver’s seat and started it up, eager to help you see the world outside of the palace walls. As you looked out the window, seeing your parents get smaller and smaller with the distance, you felt a surge of excitement run through you. 

Ghost noticed how your demeanor changed. Now without the pressures of royal conformity, you were free to be yourself. More courageous. It seemed like you had some bark and bite in you as well after all. He wanted to know you even more. “You wanna choose the music for the ride?”

You perked up at his offer, eagerly nodding your head as he handed you his phone that was already connected to the car’s bluetooth system. After perusing some options, you settled on a playlist that surprised Ghost. Even under the mask, you could tell that he was questioning your choice. “I want to hear all kinds of music. I want to hear every single song that was banned for me.”

He gave a chuckle for the first time that you’ve been together. The sound had your heart skip a beat. You didn’t even know that he was capable of laughing with how serious he looked all the time. “Very well. I’ll make sure you get your chance to experience anything you want that you normally wouldn’t.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the utter joy you felt, completely forgetting that your life was in danger just for the moment. 

~

It was a long drive to the safehouse in the deep countryside. Your eyes were trained on the views through the window like it was television. You never knew how pretty your country looked. The architecture was classic with plenty of brick buildings and natural curvatures. There were plenty of sidewalks to cater to pedestrian travel rather than cars. Ivy vines with flowers crawled on the side of buildings, the natural beauty of nature colliding with man-made structures. 

There were plenty of open-air markets as well. Produce stands, custom art pieces, coffee trucks. Everything was conveniently available, no matter if you were heading home from work or just taking a stroll. As you passed a farmer’s market, you noticed how busy it seemed with families. Kids running around, parents picking out ingredients, business owners offering samples to treat the good children. 

Ghost noticed how you looked out the window, longing to join the streets to really experience what life was like. He debated if it would be safe to allow a little time for you to explore. He wasn’t keen on the idea of so many people around you. However, if he stuck close to you, then it should be fine, right? Besides, how could he deny the pretty little look you gave as you yearned for a little adventure. 

Before you knew it, Ghost found somewhere to park and got out of the car. Then, he opened your door and held his hand out for you to take. “Just for a little while, okay? Stick close to me.”

The smile you gave was so big and bright that it almost hurt your cheeks. You couldn’t help it, though. Ghost was granting you one of your biggest wishes. You took his hand and stepped out of the car, taking in the sounds of the city. People conversing, bike bells ringing, dogs barking. It was unlike anything you have ever heard. 

Obeying his orders, you did stick close to Ghost, your arm naturally looping around his without much thought. This was the usual hold for an escort that you have performed many times. It was a natural instinct as Ghost led the way to the farmer’s market. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t notice how strong his muscles felt underneath his shirt. You definitely felt how hard your heart pounded as he held you just as securely to his side.

When he paused to swap out his balaclava for the skeleton face mask that he wore at the party, you nearly tripped over yourself. In the natural light of the sun, his blonde hair seemed brighter like sunshine itself. His eyes seemed more open as well. Warmer. You blushed and stared down at the sidewalk for a moment, trying to catch your breath that he ended up stealing from you.

“Everything alright? Having second thoughts?” He wondered, compassion present in his voice as you all of a sudden seemed shy. 

With a shake of your head and a smile, you reassured him. “I’m fine. Just eager is all.”

With that, he led you into the market that was flooding with people. Ghost kept a careful eye out on everyone that passed by. His arm also tightened just a little more firmly to ensure that you didn’t get separated from him. As you walked, your eyes scanned over all of the products up for sale. Baked goods, ripe fruit, crocheted clothes, beautiful art. Before you knew it, you were dragging Ghost from stall to stall to ensure that you could see everything that the market had to offer.

Ghost found it amusing. He noticed the way your eyes lit up when you tasted a free sample of fresh cheese or juicy apple slices. He noticed the way the corners of your mouth lifted into a grin as you admired the craftsmanship of art. He also noticed when your eyes lingered on a particular homemade hair claw clip that was decorated with pearls, thin gold chains, and delicate flowers. 

“You want it.” He pointed out as more of a statement rather than a question. Your cheeks flushed pink, feeling a little embarrassed by your obvious infatuation. The truth was that most of your clothes and jewelry were chosen for you. You were allowed to mix-and-match with what you were given, but you have never really chosen out anything yourself. 

“I’m just impressed with the details. It is quite a beautiful hair clip.” You danced around the topic, wanting to seem more humble. However, Ghost didn’t really buy it. With a swift motion, he fished out his wallet from his pocket and took out some bills. 

Your mouth opened in shock. “Lieutenant, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine. Consider it a souvenir for your first real outing.” Ghost dismissed you with ease, handing over the money to the seller. He picked up the hair clip and handed it to you to try on, happy to indulge in your wants.

For a moment, you separated your arm from Ghost to put your hair up, loose tendrils naturally falling to frame your face. You let them be as the rest of your hair was fashioned up with the clip. The seller handed you a small mirror to see your reflection. You almost cried when you saw yourself. You never imagined that your bodyguard would buy you such a wonderful gift. “Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost.”

Ghost found his heart skipping a beat as he took in your new appearance. The clip matched your princess personality perfectly. The delicate chains that dangled down pearl and flower beads guided his eyes to the smooth nape of your neck. 

The thought that he wanted to kiss that nape crossed his mind. 

Clearing his throat, he took your arm again. “It suits you. Wouldn’t look better on anybody else.”

It was hard not to fall even deeper for him when he complimented you like that. Your heart pounded as you walked beside him again, your steps feeling lighter than air. Nothing else at the market caught your eye as his compliment kept echoing in your head, turning your feelings into goo. 

As the market neared closing time, the amount of people began to dwindle down. Ghost felt his shoulders fall, feeling more at ease with less people around. Circling back around, he led you back to the produce stalls, wondering what ingredients he should pick up for the safehouse. 

The safehouse would be stocked with food, but not with a lot of fresh ingredients. He wanted to continue making this a good day for you with a homemade dinner rather than whatever TV dinners were waiting in the freezer. He wasn’t a chef by any means, having spent most of his life eating MREs and military canteen food. At the very least, he could make you something simple yet good. 

Remembering the cheese you seemed to enjoy as a sample and how it was tomato season, Ghost picked out all the necessary ingredients to make homemade tomato soup and grilled cheeses for tonight. You watched him curiously as he picked everything out before something in the distance caught your attention. 

“What kind of bread do you like?” He asked you, holding two different loaves of bread in his hands while he considered the options. When he looked to you for an answer though, he could tell that your gaze was trained far into the distance. He turned to look around, trying to find what you were staring at. 

In the distance was a person with a dark hoodie and a bandana covering their face. Bright paint brought color to their sleeves and jeans. The figure was walking away, but it was obvious what they were just up to with what was close to him. 

“Shit.” Ghost cursed as he pulled out his phone with Captain Price on speed dial. 

The other line was picked up quickly. “Lieutenant?”

“Tagger going east on Clover Street. Black hoodie, blue jeans, red bandana, covered in paint.” He informed, his voice low as he kept an eye on the distant figure. He observed how they walked down the street, waiting for them to change directions if they were planning on it.

“Getting a hold of local cameras now. You’re with the princess?” Captain Price inquired, his hands moving fast to find this figure through the city cameras. Finally, he found the person that Ghost described.

“Affirmative.” 

“Sending Gaz to pursue. I recommend that you two get to the safehouse pronto. I didn’t think they would be out in broad daylight.” Price advised, already contacting Gaz to give him his new assignment. Once Gaz accepted the orders, the captain hung up. Ghost knew that his captain needed to focus on this immediately, so he wasn’t offended by the sudden hang-up.

He bought the groceries, now in a bit more of a rush. Securing your arm around his once more, he began to lead you back to the car. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Your face fell as the day seemed to be ruined by another case of danger. However, there was something that was bothering you. You noticed the paint on the person’s clothes and a strike of color against one of the brick walls he was near. Curiosity was getting the better of you. 

“Wait!” You paused, your stance suddenly strong and pulling back from Ghost. 

His bold brows rose as you defied him for the first time. Surely you had a good reason to. “What is it? Something wrong?”

You all of a sudden grew a little shy as his intense eyes bored into you, waiting for your explanation. Despite how bashful you grew, you persisted. “I want to see the graffiti they were making. Can we? Please?

“Oh, Princess, it wasn’t a piece of art they were making.” Ghost said knowingly, flashes of the pictures he’d seen crossing his mind. Tags of revolution. War. 

“I still want to see. Please, Lieutenant?” You pleaded, trying to follow your instincts as closely as you could. 

With the way you looked at him, it was hard to say no. He wasn’t sure if you knew that there were tags around the whole city calling for your head. Probably not since your parents didn’t tell you the truth about your life being in serious danger. But. . . he supposed that you deserved to see them just this one time. This was your country after all. “As long as we’re quick. You have to stay close to me too. Got it?”

You eagerly nodded and latched onto his arm, letting him swiftly guide you to the spots of paint on brick in the distance. As you got closer, you could make out specific shapes and color switches. Getting even closer proved Ghost wrong.

This was art.

You stared in awe at the giant mural before you. A crow with a golden crown in its ebony beak. Feathers wrapped in fire and barbed wire. The crow was about to drop the crown into a pit of hell below it, filled with skulls, demons, hellfire, and sharp blades. Ghost was surprised as well. The pictures he saw depicted small tags here and there of the crows. Here, this was a full blown work of art. 

Your free hand drifted up to touch the now colorful bricks. The paint was still a little tacky, but nothing that would stain you. As you looked up, drinking in every detail, Ghost watched you. He was nervous about what you were going to say. 

What you did say startled him. “Crows are a symbol of transformations, prophecies, and death.”

“Your mother said the opposite, save for death.”

“For her, death is an inescapable darkness. Evil. In reality, crows can bring fortune during bad times. Death is good fortune since it is a new beginning. This message isn’t a threat. It’s hope.” You concluded, tracing the swooping beak with your fingers. The shadows and highlights made the crow look almost three-dimensional.

Ghost wasn’t sure how to respond. He normally had an answer for any situation, yet what you said stumped him. How could he respond to something so poetically profound? 

You did give him something new to look into though. He would find the time to talk to his team about it later. For now, he had to finally take you to the safe house. “Come on, we gotta get moving.”

~

The drive through the countryside was long and soothing. Ghost took control of the music once you began to doze off. Something light at a low volume was played so you could continue sleeping peacefully. You had a long day out. You probably burned a lot more energy than what you were used to as well.

Once the car hit the dirt road, you stirred awake. The stars were beginning to come out, having driven for hours. You were surrounded by endless fields of local wildflowers with only the occasional tree. While you did love the looks of the city, there was something to love about the countryside too. The land that felt infinite made you feel like you could do anything. You were eager to see what the land looked like during a beautiful sunrise. 

Soon, the car pulled up at a rustic cottage with a large shed beside it. Ghost stepped out of the car for a second to open it up, turning it into a garage that would just barely fit the vehicle. Once the car was parked, you were led into the house.

A thin layer of dust hung in the air along with the fresh scent of nearby wildflowers. The cottage contained the essentials as far as you could tell. A living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. Generically decorated, yet cozy compared to the sterile fanciness of the palace. 

Ghost brought the luggage in, setting yours in the bedroom of your choosing. He gave you some time to unpack and settle in while he got started on dinner. 

As you placed some of your clothes in one of the empty dressers, the fact that you would be living with your bodyguard for who knew how long began to hit you. Your heart picked up speed along with your breath. Not that you expected anything to happen or develop between the two of you, a part of you still had a sense of hope that your relationship would grow stronger at the very least. 

Before heading back out towards the kitchen, you caught your reflection in a bedroom mirror. The hair clip was still fastened to your hair, giving you butterflies. It was still hard to believe that he had bought you a gift so easily like it costed him nothing. You could’ve sworn that he seemed a little stunned when it was in your hair too. In a good way. 

Ghost was a gentleman. He was just being kind. He wouldn’t do anything that could be considered unprofessional or unfriendly. 

Bodyguard protecting a princess. That’s all your relationship will ever be. Right?

-

Tag List: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess @cum-tea-and-towels @littleghostbride @meowzerzstuff @izziyuwh @literaturewh0r3things @bi-witch-bxtch @victoriareadsbooks

[im-poltergeist]

Towers and Thorns (Fanfic vers)

tags: bodyguard!Ghost x royal!reader, older Ghost, first fic, might be crappy idk, multiple parts, might be nsfw down the line, english is not my first language so feel free to correct me. 🌻

Part 1 🌻 Part 2 🌻 Part 3

Lenses begin shuttering the moment that you step out into the light. Your parents wave to the crowd that has formed outside the gates. You just smile, and breathe. Remember that part. You think to yourself. Crowds have never been your cup of tea. But with your oldest cousins recent scandal it has been worse than ever. One wrong move and the reporters will write about if for weeks.

You continue to walk along the gravel path towards the podium where an older man stands with his hands behind his back. He has two bodyguards on either side of him. Your mother walks up the stairs, greeting the recently elected president with a handshake. He smiles at her with far to white teeth and bows down to kiss her hand. Next is your father and last, you. You walk towards him with a smile plastered on your face.

"Mr President", you greet him and extend your hand towards him. He takes your hand in a firm grip, a too firm grip. It makes your hand ache but you don't move a muscle. You feel Ghosts eyes burning into your back as if he could sense your discomfort. The president lets go of your hand without saying a word and you move to the far side of the podium. Ghost following you and stands behind you. His frame towering over yours and you feel the heat from his body radiate into your back. It's a strangely comforting feeling.

Your mother and The president hold their speech. They talk about how "We need to work together more than ever in these uncertain times" and "With this cooperation we will ensure that both England and The United States of America thrive towards a better, safer, future". You hardly listen. You may look in their direction and smile. But most of their speech fall on deaf ears. You are much too occupied with your aching right hand to pay much of it any mind. You massage the area between your thumb and pointer finger absentmindedly behind your back. That's when you feel a large, warm, hand wrap around your wrist. You twitch at the unexpected feeling before relaxing in to his grip. Ghost twists your hand slowly, checking for any serious damage, you suppose, and rubs the sides of your fingers gently before letting your hand go.

When they had finished speaking and had given the photographers plenty of time to take pictures of them shaking hands and holding their joint hands up into the air the left the podium. Walking past you on the way to the garden. Your mother walking first and The president as well as your father walking after her. All of their respective guards following close behind. You, on the other hand, walk back towards the palace. It's not mandatory for you to walk with the president through the garden. Even if it would provide a good image to see you speaking with the president, it's best that you don't. You don't need to make a fool out of yourself.

You walk down the stairs to the podium but as you reach the fourth step your flat slips off the edge. You feel yourself fall forward, your stomach sinking. Two hands catch you by the waist and hip setting you upright on the next step. Your eyes widen and you pause before taking the next step down. The smile gone from your lips. You gather yourself again and smile towards the crowd outside the gate. You continue walking towards the palace. Back stiff and smile faltering.

"You okay", Ghost whispers. His warm breath hitting your ear through his balaclava.

"Yeah", you breathe and wave to the crowd outside the gate.

This is going to be gold for the news articles tomorrow morning. You can already imagine the headlines. "The princess of England is falling head over heals" and "Knight in shining armor, the princess saved by her bodyguard".

The doors close behind you and you run a hand through your hair. Well more like half your hair since you use your right hand out of habit and the pain makes you tense up. You turn around to face Ghost but he is nowhere to be seen. I swear to god, that man can disappear into thin air, you think to yourself. Just as you finish that thought you hear someone clear their throat behind you. There he stands, with an icepack in his hand.

"Oh, thank you", you mumbled, reaching out for the icepack.

"Ill do it", Ghost replied, placing the icepack on your hand gently and wrapping it in place with a piece of cloth.

"We don't need you to be all black and blue in time for dinner, your highness", he continued. He clearly didn't trust your medical skills. You suppose that he was right not to since your first aid skills consist of bandaids.

"Right, dinner", you muttered. As if a stroll in the park wasn't enough, you had to have dinner with The president too. Great. More opportunities to make a fool out of yourself. Exactly what you need right now.

"Don't worry, by next week they will have forgotten all about your little tumble", Ghost interrupts your thoughts. Do I have to add mind reading to the list of things that this man seems to be able to do, you think to yourself.

"Maybe a few months ago. But after the scandal theres no chance in hell that they'll let this opportunity for more gossip pass them by", you sigh and look down at the floor.

Of all the things that your cousins have done. This takes the cake. Your eldest cousin fell pregnant. Under normal circumstances this would be wonderful, but she isn't married. After a text between her best friend and her got leaked to the press, with a picture of a positive pregnancy test, the whole world has been asking who the father is. The most popular rumor, her own bodyguard. Which obviously isn't helping your current situation.

"Letting you fall wouldn't have been a good look either", He says, bringing you back to reality.

"I know. Im sorry. Im just under a lot of stress right now. Not that it justifies it", you apologize and take a deep breath. You glance up at him. His brown eyes look back at you. His usually cold eyes soften ever so slightly.

"It's alright, your highness."

You sit in front of your mirror putting mascara on your eyelashes. Your right hand feels considerably better. Still sore but considerably better. In thirty minutes you need to have dinner with the man who caused the damage, just great. You put the mascara wand back in its tube and stand up from your vanity. The lilac dress you are wearing slides back down your figure, the shimmery fabric contouring your body in the light. Your hair is curled and put up into a bun. Everything is flawless, just as it is supposed to be. You sigh and walk to the wall mounted mirror. The frame reflects the dim light. You give yourself a once over in the mirror, straighten out your dress around your bust and wipe some gloss out of the corner of your lips. You take a deep breath and turn around, straight into something solid.

"What the-", you look up and meet a pair of dark brown eyes. The eyes are outlined by blond lashes. How have you never noticed that before?

"Better not finish that sentence. Would be inappropriate, don’t you think", Ghost suggests, the corners of his eyes crinkling briefly.

"Sneaking up on me isn’t", you ask tilting your head to the side and crossing your arms over your chest.

"I would hardly call that sneaking", he replies, crossing his arms and leaning forward.

"Oh yeah? What would you call it then",

"Checking up on you", he replies, grabbing your right arm gently. "How’s your hand doing", he continues. You clear your throat.

"Fine, a bit sore still", you answer. His fingers trace over the bones in your hand. You swallow and advert your eyes. They drift towards the opposite wall. Towards the clock. Shit.

"We need to go", you exclaim and wrench your hand out of his grip. You rush towards the door. Purple silk whirling around your ankles as you hurry out the door.

[hyperactively-me]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your series of King! Ghost x princess AU.

I'm watching Bridgerton right now and I wanted to ask if you could write something like them planning a big ball and when it starts, Ghost seeing reader in beautiful dress, all pretty, going down the stairs, all eyes on her, looking at her in awe. (Main character vibes, yk what I mean.) Like him falling in love with reader again!

king!ghost x reader -- ball

warnings: none

The fabric of your gown rustles as you settle into the seat of your vanity, the strings of your corset being pulled from behind by a helpful maid. As she secures the last knot, she takes a step back, bows, and leaves you to finish getting ready. 

You shift in your seat, trying to even out the feeling of the corset pressing into your ribs and abdomen where you were stabbed a month and a half ago, sighing with relief when it eases into a more comfortable sensation. Turning your attention to your hair, you sweep it away from your face, adjusting the tiara sitting proudly atop your head. 

Standing up from your vanity, you look in the mirror for a final inspection. You trace the delicate patterns on your gown with your fingertips, the golden threads and intricate embroidery garnering your gown seemingly glittering with a life of their own, embodying the glory fit for the queen of Kastron.

The idea of hosting a ball in your honor was daunting to you, to say the least, but many members of the royal council insisted on it. They wanted to commemorate your first year as queen of Kastron, and while you could hardly believe that you’ve been here for a year, the reflection in the mirror tells a different story. You’ve grown and learned so much from Kastron, and without it, you’re sure you’d be extremely unhappy back in your home kingdom. Without Kastron, and without Simon’s guidance, you would’ve never thought that you would be this educated, this aware of the world. At home, being kept in a protective bubble for the sole reason of being a woman, was destructive and insulting to you. 

As you stand before the mirror, your gaze lingers on the place where the corset conforms to the contour of your healed wound. The memory of the stabbing is a reminder of the strength and courage coursing through you. The discomfort is a small price to pay for the contentment you have with yourself.

With a small breath, you turn away from the mirror, ready to step into the grand ballroom.

A footman standing outside your door ushers you to the double doors guarding the grand staircase you are supposed to enter. As you stand behind the doors, doubts creep in, and you find yourself hesitating. The bustling sounds of the ballroom makes you realize that all of these people are here just to see you. You know that Simon is down there, waiting for you, but the mere fact that this is something you have to do on your own is a little scary. The whole prospect of your grand entrance suddenly feels overwhelming.

The footman notices your hesitation and offers a reassuring smile. “Your majesty?” 

You don’t turn to look at him, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress. 

“I just… walk down the staircase, right?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

You nod, taking a breath.

“Okay… but what if I fall?” you ask, twisting your hands in your grip, looking up at him.

The doorman pauses and his gaze softens.

“Your majesty, a fall is unlikely. Stand tall, proud. You’ve done so much for our kingdom. Take each step with confidence, just how you’ve led Kastron alongside His Majesty. I believe in you.”

You didn’t expect your eyes to get a little watery from his words, but his genuine encouragement strikes a chord deep within you. A small, grateful smile forms on your lips as you blink back the unexpected tears. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and the doorman bows with reverence. 

With newfound resolve, you straighten your posture, shoulders back, and take a final deep breath. You focus on the supportive words from the doorman and on spotting your husband.

In the ballroom below, Simon stands as stiff as a board beside the end of the staircase, hands clasped behind his back. He’s dressed head to toe in his military and royal regalia, a perfect blend of his identity. He scans the ballroom with an air of impatience, just dying to catch sight of you at the top of the staircase. Simon hasn’t seen you all evening, much to his dismay. You had giggled about wanting it to be a surprise for everyone, including him. He had grumbled at first, saying how it wasn’t fair to him, but he relented with an infatuated twinkle in his eye. 

Simon finds his thoughts drifting to you, lost in a little daydream, when suddenly the doors at the top of the staircase slam open. A blare of trumpets sound, and your full name and title is announced by a guard. 

As the doorman opens the doors, revealing the anticipation of the grand staircase, you step forward into the light cascading from the crystal chandeliers in the ballroom. Your hesitation transforms into a purposeful stride, each step guided by the realization of how much you’ve truly done and accomplished in the past year. The glamor of the ballroom unfolds before you, and the collective gasp from the attendees echoes in the cavernous room. The ballroom, now in full view of you, welcomes you with thunderous applause. But in that instant, all he sees is you—radiant, confident, and a symbol of exultation.

Simon swears he blacks out the moment you catch his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. The applause is deafening, but the only sound Simon registers is the rapid beating of his heart. His gaze, usually commanding and unyielding, softens into an expression of pure and unadulterated adoration. All around him, the court and guests might see a king, but in that moment, he feels like anything but.

As you descend the staircase, the eyes of the court, nobles, and dignitaries are fixated upon you. The rich fabric of your gown trails behind you, and the golden threads reflect like liquid sunlight, catching the glinting chandeliers above. 

Simon watches you intently, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that could rival a forest fire, each step you take closer to him causing his heart constrict in his chest, threatening to burst. In this moment, you are not just the queen of Kastron; you are the center of his whole universe.

His mind races, replaying the past year he’s spent with you. The memories of challenges and blossoming love flood his thoughts. Simon thinks about the times you stood by his side, the strength you showed even in vulnerability, and the unwavering support that gave him new purpose, an anchor of his rule. He’s overcome with gratitude for having you as his wife, his confidante, and his love. The responsibilities and trials of his status fade into insignificance compared to the depth of emotion that resting his eyes upon you elicits.

As you reach the bottom of the staircase, and your hand finds his, Simon feels a surge of warmth engulf him. You stand before him, a vision of resilience and beauty. Simon bows deeply and reverently before you, nose brushing against your knuckles as he presses a delicate kiss to your hand.

You smile, cheeks warming at his revere. Simon lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes reflecting a mixture of awe and profound love. “My queen,” he murmurs, his voice a low, resonant timbre that resonates intimately between the two of you.

“Simon,” you reply, your voice a soft utterance that only he can hear. 

Simon straightens, a proud and genuine smile gracing his features. “Shall we, love?” he asks, offering his arm. You accept it with a graceful nod, and together you make your way to the center of the dance floor, leading the opening dance. As the music envelops you both, Simon leans in, his words meant only for you. “You look absolutely stunning tonight,” he compliments, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chuckle, the intimate moment lighting up your insides. “Thank you! And you are the epitome of regality. This uniform suits you well.”

Simon’s quiet laughter echoes in your eardrums, the sound blending seamlessly with the music. “Only because I have such a remarkable queen by my side.”

The courtly dance begins, and Simon guides you with practiced elegance. As you move in tandem, whispers of admiration from the onlookers fade into the background. It’s just the two of you, caught in a lovestruck dance. 

As the opening dance nears its end, Simon pulls you closer into him, his gaze unwavering. “To think,” he muses, “a year ago, we were at odds with one another. And tonight, we stand here together.”

You smile softly, the shared sentiment passing between you, unspoken yet deeply understood. “And look how far we’ve come since then,” you reply, your voice soft yet resolute.

Simon guides you into a twirl, your dress rippling across the floor at your feet. When he pulls you back in, you don’t hesitate leaning against him unabashedly. 

“Do you remember our first dance at the first wedding?” he whispers, a hint of nostalgia evident in his eyes.

“Vividly,” you reply, an amused smile playing on your lips. Your first dance was definitely something; you were scared out of your mind, and Simon had promised that you wouldn’t trip, and he made sure of it. You think that it was one of the first moments that you had felt a slight emotion for him other than disdain. 

Simon’s expression softens, his eyes holding a hint of humor. “I remember thinking I had never seen someone so captivating. Even then, you held a grace that inspired me. And, I have to admit, your spirit was quite something. Made me appreciate the fact that you were so combative to begin with, that you’re someone who’s unafraid of standing up for themself.”

You laugh at his admission, the memory of your initial clashes and the unexpected turn of events that brought you to this dance. “Spirit?” you tease, “I prefer to call it determination.”

Simon grins, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back as the music slightly shifts. “Determination, then. It’s one of the things that drew me to you. You never backed down, not even when faced with this idiot of a man at times.”

“As if I could back down,” you reply, squeezing his hand in yours. “You weren’t exactly making it easy. Your jawline is what really sold you to me.” 

Simon’s laughter resonates through the room, a rich and genuine sound, his fingers tracing circles on your back as you continue to sway with the music. “My jawline?” he repeats bewilderedly. “Well, ‘m glad it worked in my favor.”

You chuckle, reveling in the lighthearted banter. “It was a contributing factor, let’s say that.”

Simon’s gaze deepens, his tone turning earnest. 

“In all seriousness, though,” he begins, the mirth in his eyes giving way to a more vulnerable expression, his voice a soft murmur meant for your ears alone. “There was always something about you. Through every challenge you’ve stood strong. And in your strength, I’ve found my own. Just knowing you has changed me for the better, and for that I am grateful, not just as a king, but as a man who found his equal, his partner. I’m so proud of you.” 

You don’t know what to say, getting choked up by the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Simon notices the tears welling up in your eyes, and he cups your cheek tenderly. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and you bite your bottom lip. Your love for each other, immeasurable and boundless, spills over into every glance, every touch, and every step of the dance. Your heart swells at his words, and you find yourself staring into his eyes, captivated by the depth of emotion reflecting in them.  

“God, Simon. I love you so much,” you finally manage to whisper, the weight of your feelings breaking through. Simon’s eyes soften even further, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too,” he murmurs against your skin, his hold on you tightening. As the dance concludes, the courtiers erupt into applause. Simon guides you off the dance floor, his arm wrapped around you protectively. You exchange glances filled with unspoken understanding, squeezing his hand once more. You lean into him, moving to rest your head against his shoulder, a serene smile gracing your lips. The warmth of Simon’s embrace, the quiet hum of the music in the background, and the knowledge that you’ve found your person makes you forget all about your anxieties. At that moment, it feels like the two of you are the only people in the universe.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

taglist: @analyseeeesworld @dragonstoneshortcake