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baeshijima · 11 months

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— hsr men in a royalty au

INCLUDES : blade ; dan heng ; gepard ; jing yuan ; luocha ; sampo + gn!reader

A/N : what started off as a duke!blade word vomit became a hsr royalty au brain dump. sighs. also once again pushing my knight!reader agenda bc the lack of royalty aus with knight!reader is criminal.

genshin ver.

imagine you're the personal guard for emperor!jing yuan, picked by his hand when he was still just a mere crown prince learning the ropes of what it meant to rule an empire. in truth, there's not much for you to do other than stand close behind when in public settings or indulge in his whimsical nature when in private and within the confines of the palace walls. in spite of that, you can't help but to wonder whether it's necessary to be his partner when he practises ballroom dances, despite never actually dancing in the banquets. well, who are you to question your duties, right?

there is no destination without a journey; jing yuan would know this best. having been thrust onto a pedestal from young, he's witnessed more types of people than he can count on his fingers: those who act nice in order to gain, those whose eyes cannot hide their contempt, those who are kind out of fear, those who act on behalf of others, those who hold respect without ulterior motives... he has seen them all. his view of the world grew dull, the predictability of those around him bringing only disappointment to the young heir. the days passed in a blur with nothing of note, other than a lingering emptiness which kept him awake at night and a passion which only emerges when sparring with his instructor. and so when he was told it was time to choose a personal knight after countless assassination attempts, he trudged through the halls with poise ingrained into his stride and a blank gaze reflecting his thoughts. but when he arrived at the training grounds to oversee the potential candidates his attention was immediately seized by another, his usually stagnant heart thundering. for the first time in his life, jing yuan discovered what it meant to want something as he watched you strike your training sword against your opponent, his world bursting into colours he never knew existed before then.

jing yuan sometimes finds himself envying those who can dance without care at banquets. he has an image to maintain in front of his people while you tend to be a stickler for this kind of thing, often refusing a dance in favour of maintaining your post. he supposes it's fine if you're both together, despite the numerous times he's imagined what it would be like to dance with you in front of everyone, as opposed to the privacy of the palace under the guise of “not becoming rusty”. but as he casts his gaze over to where you rest, having fallen asleep after a particularly thrilling game of starchess with your body tucked within the protective embrace of his ever-dutiful lion, he finds himself engraving moments like these into his memory and filing them away to look back on when nights to himself become a little too lonely for his liking. it's one of the many sides to you which only jing yuan has been privy to; one of which he takes immense pride in and vows to shelter from the danger which lurks around every corner.

(he will never let you know how your bright eyes is what set his once monotonous life ablaze in colour all those years ago — the aloof crown prince utterly besotted with a starry-eyed rookie knight. he will also never let slip how he still thinks back on the warmth he felt when you took his trembling, slumped form in your arms after he fought his stricken teacher all those years ago, the aftereffects of your touch still lingering on his skin even to this day.)

despite being duty-bound beside the impish emperor, there are times where you, too, are in need of some peace away from his scheming mind and watchful eyes. in these moments, you find yourself finding respite within the royal library built into the palace, a stack of books typically used as your makeshift pillow. and even if librarian!dan heng gives you a death stare from his designated place, you know he appreciates your company when he drapes a blanket over your shoulders and replaces the book pile with a cushion or two. although, you can’t shake off the feeling you’ve seen him from somewhere before…

for as long as he can remember, dan heng has always been on the run. from what? he’s not even sure anymore; it has been that long. it is but a mere shadow, a phantom which haunts him under the glowing sun and the gleaming moon. he can run — run until his body is weak and heavy with fatigue — but he can never hide, for it follows close behind and lurks around unseen corners. as unnerving as it may be, he has grown used to the chilling gaze and staying on edge. after all, no matter how far he runs, no matter how hard he tries to blend in, there is no escaping a shadow. maybe that is why he felt a churning sensation stir in his gut when he first met the emperor to discuss his newly appointed position as the librarian, whose gaze held an unfamiliar sheen of conflict veiled behind an amiable disposition upon making eye contact. amidst the eyes of the sun held a glint of familiarity, one which dan heng couldn’t put his finger on the longer he dwelled on the thought.

dan heng didn’t know what to expect when he first met you; you, the personal guard handpicked by jing yuan himself. with all the duties he’s sure keeps you busy, it wouldn’t surprise him if he never met you past the glimpses he catches here and there when in official spaces. perhaps that is why it came as such a surprise when you stumbled into the library one day, all bleary-eyed and attempting to stifle your yawns, and he could only watch in a daze as you pulled out a random set of books from the shelves, plop yourself down at the nearest table, set the books on the surface and slam your head atop the pile, your soft snores filling the once-quiet room. dan heng wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at you for, but it was long enough to wake you up and inform you of the library’s closing hour when the day’s hues bled into the night. what he thought would be a one-time thing soon became a regular occurrence — a routine — and he has become accustomed to your unceremonious visits and wonderful laughter and draping the blanket he now keeps under his desk over your slumbering form and admiring your peaceful expression over the rim of his novel. it’s come to a point where he can no longer imagine a life without it; without you.

(sometimes he wonders whether you enjoy the time spent with him as much as he does with you, in which he cannot help but to compare himself to the emperor you have pledged your life and devoted your loyalty to. amidst those thoughts, dan heng finds himself hoping you would favour him over the shine of the empire’s revered sun.)

royal guard captain!gepard is someone you have always admired, ever since you were just a rookie knight trying to prove your worth amongst a sea of prodigal candidates like him. he is kind as he is strong, a formidable ally and a terrifying foe. however, you can't help but wonder whether you’ve done something to offend him, what with the way he sometimes avoids you if you happen to bump into each other amidst the palace grounds and speedwalks in the opposite direction with hasty apologies trailing behind him.

the landau dukedom. it is known for its military prowess and defending the borders, but infamous for the strict duke landau. as well-respected he may be by the nobles of the court, gepard only knows a strict man more like a superior than a father. it wouldn’t be a lie to say duke landau was just that; a superior — a teacher, one who viewed his children as either heir candidates or a foundation to bolster the territory’s military power. while it may be a strict method, the respect gepard holds for his father is undeniable, feuling his desire to make him proud and carry out his teaching in the name of the honourable landau duchy. he stuck to harsh training regimens, endured countless trials of tactics and wit, witnessed his elder sister begin to refute against their father’s suffocating hold upon returning from the academy, watched as she left the duchy to have control over her own life with a promise to keep in touch with him and their youngest sister. these moments were fleeting, passing in a blur until he entered the ranks of the elite, eventually promoted to captain as he remained steadfast in defending the borders.

it took gepard countless sleepless nights tossing and turning in his bed and a highly amused serval laughing at his predicament to finally understand his feelings for you. love was an unfamiliar concept to him. he knew of camaraderie between fellow knights (which was what he assumed he felt for you, but just a bit more… intense?) and familial bonds between family, so this new experience of his heart palpitating, hands clamming up, words stuck in his throat and an incessant heat clinging to his cheeks was unfamiliar, thus his avoidance. though that didn’t sit well with him, as a longing ache only seemed to replace it instead. and so, despite the apparent awkward flair his body language carried, gepard decided to follow his heart when it came to matters pertaining to you. he quickly came to discover your likes and dislikes, your miniscule habits when practising swordsmanship, the subtle cues you display when uncomfortable, the smile you showed upon seeing something you liked and the grin you displayed upon besting him in a duel. they were all segments which made up the very being you are, and the pieces which fit within his heart to establish this newfound love he holds for you.

(as your direct superior there are many things he notices when watching from the sidelines. among many, the one which stands out are the eyes which follow you — some gaze at you with envy, others regard you with awe, but there are a few which regard you in the same adoration he does. love and jealousy were never something gepard thought he would experience; not until he met you.)

with your role as one of the empire’s royal knights and the emperor’s personal guard, it comes as no surprise to be inflicted with injuries of varying severities. as a result, you are well-acquainted with royal physician!luocha through your numerous visits. you’ve come to find his pleasant visuals and soothing voice does wonders to heal your fatigue, even if he does tend to go a little overboard in his lectures when you come to him with less-than-fine wounds.

being able to wield elements and being able to use divine powers are two different things; one is widely accepted, the other is not. at least, that’s the case in the xianzhou empire. those born with the ability to use divine powers have fled into hiding, unwilling to be outcasted — or worse, executed — for being afflicted with the cursed power of the divinity. as such, having lived the majority of his life in concealment, luocha is no stranger to hiding his abilities. curse or blessing, it’s an irrevocable part of him. still, he didn’t want to stop helping others the way the nature of his powers could. and so he resorted to learning medicine. he soon became a renowned travelling doctor sought after for his vast knowledge, all of which garnered the attention of the emperor when he stopped by in the capital and was offered the position of royal physician. with little drawbacks, handsome pay, and a grand place to stay without needing to be on the run, luocha accepted and became the sole royal physician of the empire.

there was very little luocha found himself to be afraid of. with no one but himself to rely on, he’s crossed many bridges on his own without care. there was no need for such sentiment in survival. or so he thought. in all his years, luocha doesn’t think there was anything more terrifying than the day you were rushed in by a frantic jing yuan, your complexion sickly and covered in sweat and breathing laboured. as it turned out, you were poisoned, having drank it in place of jing yuan upon sensing something suspicious. he doesn’t recall anything making his heart drop as quickly as the situation then had, his mind blank yet frantic as he forced the panic-stricken emperor out of the infirmary and laid you on one of the beds. your symptoms were dire, he noted, and there was nothing in the cabinets suited for this kind of quick-acting poison. your condition was worsening, a pained furrow of your brows and haggard appearance being clear indicators. a bright glow then illuminated the room, and luocha came to the belated realisation he had used his abilities for the first time since concealing them, for the thought of losing you was far more torturous than his will to hide his abilities.

(there was no thought to the act, just sheer desperation to not let you die. it took him a long few days to realise that, all of which were spent looking after you by your bedside. he never spoke of how he cured you when you asked, eyes bleary with confusion on how you’re still alive, instead choosing to keep it to himself as he chided you for being so reckless. you will never know of the inner turmoil he endured, even praying to a deity he never once believed in to ensure your safety. should you sustain more severe afflictions, luocha has no qualms using his abilities again — if it means you live, he will make an exception.)

thinking about duke!blade, whose… less than pleasant disposition does little to help refute the fearful rumours surrounding his name. you've met him a handful of times when he visits the palace under jing yuan's summon or catching him at the odd banquet or two, and even back when he used to train with jing yuan before his visits suddenly ceased. even so, you find yourself doubting those rumours, especially when he seems to wear an expression akin to peace more often than he does of one resembling disdain.

the cold duke remains an enigma to those around him — even those who work under him. is it due to his quiet hostility? or is it perhaps something no one knows, such as a secret known only to him, his butler, his family physician, and the emperor? a curse; one of immortality where his soul is torn to shreds only to be stitched anew before he can succumb to the paradise known as death. it's a never-ending cycle, one which causes him to no longer track the days when they all feel the same. the days out on leading monster subjugations and expeditions are just a temporary means of escape — an outlet for his pent up frustrations to let loose without worry. no one knows what truly goes on in his mind, only ever witnessing or hearing tales of his brutal yet awe-inspiring deeds on the blood-soaked battlefields, and the origin of his adopted alias: blade. his true name evades him, having been discarded the moment he lost his humanity.

he has always noticed you. it was hard not to when the favour you received was blatantly obvious, even from when you were just a fledgling knight and he the young heir of his duchy. there weren’t many opportunities for him to talk to you, what with the way jing yuan always seemed to divert his attention back to their instructor when noticing his wandering gaze to your distant figure, and even more so after the curse struck him full-force and he stopped visiting altogether outside of summons and banquets. it wasn’t until he returned from a monster subjugation as the sole survivor did he first properly meet you. with his mind torn and body regenerating itself, he failed to notice someone rush towards him, an unfamiliar warmth encompassing his bleeding torso as his conscience began to fade. an unfamiliar ceiling and an unfamiliar room was what greeted him when he awoke, but a warmth he registered as familiar gripped his calloused hand. what met his gaze then was your dozing figure, your head smushed against the duvet beside his leg with even breaths giving way to your unconscious state. his typically chaotic mind was silent as he stared at you. it was an odd feeling, one which elicited a sharp inhale when you shifted in place, your grip on his hand loosening as you sought out a more comfortable position, before exhaling in relief when you resumed your rest. it was an odd feeling, but it wasn’t unpleasant. and, for the first time in his life, blade experienced what it meant to be at peace.

(while he never spoke of that incident to you again other than a brief thanks for giving him (unnecessary) medical attention, he found himself drifting towards you more frequently — whether it be conversing with you during those bothersome banquets, stretching out the time you escort him before he enters jing yuan’s office-slash-meeting room, sharing specialties from his territory during garden strolls, or even requesting you to spar with him. the victory from either side is sweet, but the strained expression he catches from notable figures is even sweeter.)

amongst the many you’re acquainted with, merchant!sampo is the one you’re most on edge around in spite of the years you have known each other for. it’s not that he’s a bad guy, but there’s something about his easy smile and ever-searching eyes and his words that always seem to form into something people want to hear which all seem… off. well, maybe you’re reading too much into his demeanour. after all, if he truly did have sinister intentions, you’re sure he would have acted on them by now — he’s had plenty of time to.

there’s a certain level of cunning one must have in order to survive. whether that be wits, deceit, getting one’s hands dirty, it doesn’t matter. they are all just a means to an end, after all. sampo has long since tread on the path of deceit, a game of cat and mouse with unassuming clients and authorities. but business is business, and what better way to make use of that than exploitation? disguised in a bar known as “masked fools” mapped across the globe sits a wealth of knowledge, hidden behind a secret code only known by those who covet wealth or revenge. it’s a fun pastime; the information-slash-mercenary guild receives money, the client has their request done. sampo quickly discovered playing the unassuming fool in front of the target only for them to discover they were the fool all along to be exhilarating. it was a rush like no other, even more so when he mastered the art of disguise and blended in with the crowd, building connections and biding his time as the airheaded merchant.

sampo admits, he was a tad hasty in his judgement of you. just a little. well, when compared to the ever-imposing figure of the royal guard captain chasing him down when he makes his weekly medicinal run for the palace’s physician, you weren’t all that impressionable at first glance. maybe it was the way you passively regarded him before walking off which led him to that belief, or perhaps it was the unassuming expression you always carried despite being the famed personal guard of the emperor. whatever the case, he was wrong. he realised that when his balance was tilted, back flush against the grass with your body pinning him down. the tip of your sword was against his throat and your eyes burned so brightly when asking what he was doing sneaking around a forbidden area to outsiders. he doesn’t remember what he said or did in response; all he does remember is the adrenaline rushing through his veins at the stern countenance you bestowed upon him. unconventional as it may have been, sampo thought you were the most breathtaking in that moment, a wondrous sight for his heart which only knew of cunning and deceit.

(it would be no lie to say money talks. in his line of business, it does all the talking. the only exception, sampo discovered, was when an ignorant fool attempted to hire him and have you… removed, to put it lightly. sampo couldn’t help the laugh which escaped him at the expression on the man’s face after his carefree refusal, a sound which ceased as he pointed his weapon to the man’s throat and demanded he spill the identity of the one who sent him. after all, a mere small-fry like him doesn’t have the ability to even dream of hiring someone against you — mercenary or assassin.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

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shiny-jr · 8 days

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I’ve just had a vision, what if a yan (e.g riddle or vil because they are most princess-ish) was a trapped in a castle away like in one of those stereotypical fairy tales and the reader decides to save them because they are a ‘damsel in distress’ and reader is like a hero… only to realise there is a reason why they were locked away (because they were batshit crazy)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: You are a thief with freshly stolen goods. Chased and hunted down, you avoid capture by finding a castle hidden in gloom and fog. Locals told legends of this place, saying a royal had been trapped within. Of course, you don't quite believe such tall tales. That is, until you discover the royal and learned that they were purposefully sealed inside...

Note: I think I'll call this one, not your valiant savior. It's just a placeholder name for now. Just a quick post, so sorry if it's bad.

It was too easy. What did they expect when they left out a priceless object owned by the royal family and estimated to be worth a fortune? Of course a famed thief on the loose such as yourself, would just be itching to snatch the relic. And snatch you did, living up to your reputation of thief. Each member having unique abilities to assist in stealing. Your mother had speed to outrun anyone in a chase, your grandfather had the talent of picking any locks, your great-grandmother could sweet-talk anyone then rob them blind. And so on and so forth.

And of course, you had your own talent. As quiet as a mouse and with fingers that stuck to valuables like glue, stealing became like second nature. Literally. However, it wasn't exactly a talent valued by the wider community, and if you stole enough you could end up on terribly drawn wanted posters. Which is why staying in one place wasn't wise.

From place to place, you went taking and claiming anything of worth. When you got very low on cash, you set your sights high: on the vault that stored the royal's priceless treasures. There was bound to be endless riches stored within, if only you could get your grubby hands on them. Well, after careful planning, you had. It wasn't a giant gem or sack full of gold.

Time was short, so you had grabbed the closest thing you could before guards could find you. A golden box encrusted with jewels. Who knew what was inside? Maybe some family heirloom, a magical artifact, or something else of high value. And with the box, you bolted, and the chase had begun out of the city and through the woods.

As fast as you could, you ran through the mystic woods, a forrest travelers and locals alike were all wary of. It was the safest place you could go when chased by frightening palace guards on horseback that would do anything to take back what you stole and drag you back to the gallows. Even the woods heavy with fog and dark from the clouds overhead, had deterred your pursuers enough for you to slip out of their reach and deeper into the forrest where there was no way they would be able to track you. Here, you would have to wait until tomorrow and depart early. Then, you'd be home free and rich beyond your wildest dreams.

After what felt like hours of walking, you stumbled upon a bridge over a gloomy lake. In the middle, sat an old castle of gray stone and dark windows. A castle once said to hold a royal captive, but of course, you didn't believe such stories that were so old they were told to your own grandparents. This castle would be your sanctuary for the night. And maybe, just maybe, you'd clutch the jeweled box and dream of simpler times when you were told fairytales of locked away royals waiting for a savior.

The castle was exactly like those set in spooky tales, haunted by vengeful spirits and claimed by ghosts. It appeared abandoned, that much was obvious by the crumbling stone bridge and the battered old wooden doors that once protected the inhabitants.

Cautiously stepping over the splintered debris of the front door, you didn’t bother boarding it up since no one would be stupid enough to follow you inside.

There was wreckage and ruin everywhere. If you had to guess, whatever happened here, whether the people were driven away by conflict or time, it was followed by the destruction of time. Time with weather were likely all factors that led to the disarray of what was probably once a grand estate. Strangely enough, there was furniture and decor. Everything coated in dust and grime, but still here. Had people been too afraid to enter the grounds? There were so many valuables that could've been looted!

"I'll definitely have to come back here later." You scoff, turning over a few clothes or broken furniture with your foot to uncover possible hidden goodies. Maybe something as small but valuable as a ring was lost somewhere on the ground.

Proceeding to carry the golden box under your arm, you decide to search for the cleaniest, not-so-moldy room where you could spend the night. On the third floor halls, you see ripped curtains and frames where portraits loosely hung. Every rug was brown with dirt and dust.

There were items left behind, which showcased the life one led here. A piano too big to steal, the skeleton of a chandelier and broken gems hanging from its limbs, empty glass perfume bottles now filled with dust. The place must've been wondrous once, but now it was like a tomb. A setting frozen in time.

When you found moonlight filtering through the open balcony of what looked to be the master bedroom, you paused to see the space wrecked more than the others. As if more than just weather and time had affected this place. The owner of this castle likely slept in this very room, on that very bed where the sheets were ruffled and unkempt.

"I wonder who used to live here..." You murmur to no one in particular, as you approach the balcony looking over the bridge and woods. This would be a good vantage point.

A heavy fog settled over the woods, extending over the bridge like water. Good, an extra layer for cover. You stepped back into the room, analyzing every carved piece of wooden furniture, makeup and brushes stored on tabletops, a separate room as long as a hallway and filled with all types of articles of clothing.

If all this was still here, then was it possible some jewelry was left behind? You scoured the room, looking for hidden compartments while murmuring to yourself to fill the ominous silence. As you pulled back a curtain against a wall, you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw an uneven lump underneath the wallpaper.

Could this be handle leading to a vault of treasures? With that in mind, you ripped off the old wallpaper. A glimmer of gold made your heart soar with hope, but when you caught sight of your reflection, you stopped and stared. A mirror. It was a large mirror, oval shaped, with golden borders so intricately decorated. However, when a hand suddenly appeared on the other side of the mirror, like a ghostly apparition, you screamed and stumbled back.

A hand– there was a hand in the mirror! You stared with widened eyes full of shock, as the hand pressed its palm against the surface of the glass. You couldn't see anything else, no one behind the hand. After a second, the slim pale hand delicately pointed a long dainty finger at the box you were holding in a vice grip.

"What...? This? You want this? But..."

You had worked hard to procure this golden box from the royals. Pursing your lips, you contemplated your options, with so many questions running rampant in your mind. What was that thing? A magic mirror? A magic mirror would be priceless, much more valuable than any gold. However, if it was magic, it would be tricky. Possibly even sentient. So you'd have to gain its favor.

"Alright, alright, the box. You know, I went through hell trying to get this."

You informed the mirror, unsure if it even understood you. You carefully set down the heavy box in front of the mirror, and watch as the hand made a motion with its fingers.

Click!

It had unlocked the box, without even a key or tool. A grin broke out on your face. Had it done it for you? Apparently not, because the box opened on its own and a heavy thick tome floated out from it and into the air. The hand beckoned the tome closer, and closer it came, until it was literally phasing through the glass.

"Hey! Wait––"

The glass shattered, the sound booming and ringing out in the silence like an explosion. You only had a second to react, instinctually using your arms to shield your face from the glass flying out in every direction. When it stopped, you looked around. The mattress was shredded, the curtains torn to shreds, wooden furniture cut as if done by an axe, but miraculously you were somehow unharmed.

A breath, not of your own, caught your attention. Your eyes darted over to the now broken mirror, awestruck at the vision of a figure stepping over broken glass. They were beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, more than any words could convey. Their hair like gold and eyes an alluring shade of purple like two amethyst stones, soft pink lips, and a tall slim pale figure clothed in odd robes. For a moment, whoever this person was, appeared disoriented for a brief moment, but they clutched the tome like a lifeline. The tome that came from the box you had stolen.

"Thank you––"

He breathed, his voice quiet as he attempted to stand tall and upright. When his legs nearly gave out beneath him, you were there to catch his hand and prevent him from falling as he looked at you with appreciation. You were just stunned, bewildered, in pure disbelief.

"You... You freed me. You returned my stolen tome...!"

He exclaimed in disbelief, as he restored his posture. Somehow, he was able to stand in heels, but heels were currently one of the least important details.

What did he mean freed?

There was no time to ask any questions. The loud sound of the shattering must've alerted any of your pursuers that had followed you thus far, because from the balcony you could make out the torchlights weaving their way directly towards the bridge.

The mysterious man from the mirror took notice of your expression of dismay as he glanced at the distant torchlights. Smoothing out his robes, he looked back at you and took in your expression. "Enemies of yours?"

"Yes..." You nod slowly.

"Now that just won't do. I can't have anyone harming, or even killing my savior. I've yet to even learn your name." Tapping some well-manicured fingers against the spine of the tome, he appeared to contemplate something. When he stopped tapping his fingers, he smiled so sweetly. "I am Vil Schoenheit, prince and prodigy. Here's my proposition to you, my savior: I will destroy your enemies for a small price. You must tell me your name, and I will grant you my protection."

Of course you gave him your name, and almost immediately you saw the fog below turn an odd color. The torchlights flickered out, you no longer heard their encouraged shouts to move forward but instead their screams echoing in the dark woods. All after Vil murmured a few words in a foreign tongue read from his tome, as he continued to gaze at your intently. What exactly was he to cause so much death in a single instant with hardly any effort...? And you were stuck in this abandoned castle with him.

The prince had no plans to abandon you, he's made that much clear when you attempted to casually part ways after thanking him for getting rid of your pursuers. Stay. I can make it worth your while. Once I reach my former glory, you'll be able to bask in it with me. Is what he said as you swore you heard the front of the castle be sealed shut.

The entire time he looked around the castle with disdain, cross as he complained about the state of his home. While helping him clean up some rooms, he told you more about himself. Vil was a prince who once lived in this castle, set to inherent the throne shortly after the death of his father. However, he was widely feared due to being a prodigy in dark magics and genius at brewing concoctions. For attempting to steal the life of a younger kinder foreign prince who specialized in good magic, he was trapped in a mirror with his tome being the only key to grant him freedom.

Vil actually appeared to be much too fond of you, which you attributed to his isolation. If you were imprisoned all alone in a mirror for centuries, you likely would've gone insane. It was a miracle Vil's mind was intact, but maybe he wasn't there entirely. Because what sane person killed people with the snap of their fingers while smiling so kindly at the one who set him free?

Pridefully he listed off his feats and accomplishments. Living prodigy. Most beautiful man in the land. Prince of the land. It felt too much like flaunting, as he wanted you to realize how truly great he was. He replaced your clothes with his own, and while combing your hair he reminded you that what's rightfully his will be returned to him one day, and you would be there beside him that day.

The crown was what he wanted, a crown he believed was stolen from him and passed down to the descendants of the very good prince he attempted to kill. He spoke of a future in the castle restored to its former glory, where citizens would be loyal to him once again, and those that wronged him will receive a fate worse than death. Positions were open for applying once he became king, he told you one day. He was still searching for a vassal, a knight, a jester, or a partner to wear a crown as well.

Was it the isolation that had driven him to become so attached to the one who set him free? It was possible, but you couldn't even be sure. For all you knew, he could've been like this before he became trapped in the mirror. What mattered now was that he did not make any effort to hide his attraction towards you. Vil was offering a thief all the riches he would attain after his plan for vengeance, and his heart in a golden box.

"Keep the knives I gifted you, although I doubt you'll have to resort to lifting a finger. Just allow me to handle it when the time comes. I want to extract vengeance slowly and painfully, make them hurt just as they did to me... And at the end of the day, you will be there, you little thief who stole my affections, to comfort me and drive away those memories of cold lonely centuries in darkness. You'll be there for me, won't you, my valiant savior?"

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #yandere vil schoenheit #not your valiant savior

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calisources · 6 months

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ROYAL, FANTASY ROMANCE AND SPICE. all these quotes and sentences are taken from different sources as well some made by myself. change pronouns and places and names as you see fit. some of these are heavy with tension or sexual intention, though nothing too graphic, but you are warned some of these are full of spice and forbidden romance. if you have more suggestions, send them to me and i will add them to this post.

ACTIONS AND SCENARIOS. add +reverse to change the roles.

(royal ball): our muses dance at a royal ball.

(captive in the tower): sender is held captive and receiver helps save them.

(arranged marriage): our muses are thrown together into an arranged marriage.

(childhood betrothal): arranged to wed since being children, our muses finally meet days before the wedding.

(ward): send is a ward at the receiver's house/home.

(stolen kiss): sender kisses receiver before a battle, away from prying eyes.

(mystery knight): sender is unknown at court and receiver wants to know them further.

(secrets): our muses are together in a secret relationship as their families wouldn’t approve.

(brother’s keeper): sender is receiver’s brother's best friend. Sender has been harboring a crush since they met.

(taken): sender is taken prisoner by receiver on their ship at sea after a shipwreck.

(horse ride): there is only one horse trope, our muses have to ride together.

(guard): sender is made receiver’s guard and they have to travel/spend time together.

(no one is here to help): receiver is taken to sender as their captive.

(aftermath): after a battle/war, sender and receiver reunite thinking the other was dead.

(my prince): sender falls for receiver, who is the realm’s prince/princess.

(tourney): sender gives the receiver their favor during a tournament.

(piece of me): sender ties a piece of cloth on receiver’s hand to wrap around a wound.

(you left): sender left receiver years ago, now reunited, receiver is upset.

(last kiss): unsure if they will see each other again, sender kisses the receiver before distracting enemies so receiver can escape.

(under my protection): sender proclaims himself receiver’s protector while receiver is traveling/captive.

(starcrossed): our muses find out they have to marry other people and they reunite at night.

(we were in love once): our muses were together in a relationship in their youth and now see each other after years.

(my castle is yours): sender pledges their castle as a fortress to keep the receiver safe.

(gentle touch): sender heals the receiver of their wounds and inevitably grows close.

(magic): receiver is a being of magical properties and sender finds themselves enthralled by them.

(my paramour): receiver becomes sender’s mistress.

(the bane of my existence): our muses never got along and yet, they harbor feelings for one another after a heated argument.

(maze): our muses lose their guards in a maze and they find each other alone.

(it was always you): our muses are childhood friends about to get married.

(to make peace): from opposite houses, our muses are now married to bring peace.

(corner): behind a corner of the great hall, sender corners receiver after seeing them dance with someone else.

(advisor): receiver works as an advisor for sender, despite objection around court.

(rags to riches): receiver is a bastard now made legitimate and people around the realm came to meet them. Sender is one of them.

(at your service): receiver is a lady in waiting/personal guard to sender’s sibling and a romance develops.

(saved): sender is saved by receiver, who is a healer/witch.

SENTENCES AND QUOTES:

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I want you—but I don’t want this."

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“I will not share you."

“Well, princess, let’s see what you’re made of.”

“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent.”

“Your eyes betray you. Your body even responds to mine no matter that you’re angry. You want me.”

“He is my ruin. My complete and utter devastation.”

“Just how long have you been sticking it to the girl who’s like a little sister to us?”

“There’s a certain sort of beauty in submission.”

“My story hasn’t been written yet, but I know it begins with you.”

“You will love this man. Do you understand? You will love him, serve him, and obey him in all things. This is your duty to me and to France. Am I clear?’

“She didn’t need a man. She wanted one.”

“Your wish is my command, my queen.”

“It is legal because I wish it.”

“Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.”

“She's magic, Cassandra. A single flower blooming in an endless desert.”

“Do you really want to put yourself through this? Is loving me really enough to endure everything you have to just to be with me?"

“Make no mistake.You are under my protection now, and I protect what is mine.”

“But perhaps, when you sleep, you will dream of me."

“I cannot come with you, my prince.”

“This woman was consuming him, bit by bit.”

“Call him. Claim him. Speak his Name. Make him thine before all others.”

“You are the harbor of my soul’s journeying.”

“We love what we love. We don’t need to justify it to anyone… not even to ourselves.”

“To love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”

“The heart is neither given nor stolen. The heart surrenders.”

“Give yourself to me.”

“I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your man to serve.”

“I married you to stop the bloodshed, and you keep killing. When will it be enough- when?”

“Marriage is a marriage- love or arranged. Both require the same level of commitment.”

“We are trapped by convention and must marry another.”

“We had both accepted the unwritten rule of arranged marriage: love, if it arrived at all, would bloom with time.”

“Be with me. Want me. Stay with me.I don’t know how to be without you.”

“We were doomed from the start. A lost cause. A losing battle.”

“Mr. Larsen, if you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You are my very own forbidden fruit.”

“I’m scared, but I’d rather have one real day with you than a lifetime of misguided security.”

“And you, are mine.”

“You think a courtship and a hunt are two separate things. They are not.”

“I will share him with you, I cannot lose him.”

“Why must you resist me so dearly? When you tremble under my touch?”

“You must be made of magic itself. Your touch is warm.”

“One day, I will be able to leave you.”

“Did he touch you? Did you enjoy the way he held you across the room?”

"I will be your husband. I will take a solemn vow to protect you until death do us part. Do you understand what that means?"

“And why, pray tell, should I make it easy?'

"You are the bane of my existence--and the object of all of my desires. Night and day I dream of you."

"I did not ask for this--to be plagued by these feelings."

“I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, and every time we've been together. You must feel it in your heart, because I do."

“Because,by the time I’m done, prayer is the only thing that is going to save you.”

“Suppose I told everyone that I had seduced you.”

“You’re not planning to refuse me, are you?”

'Tell me if I do anything you don't like.”

“Say you do not care for me. Tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away.”

“I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence.”

“If I wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps.”

“I have never met anyone like you. It is maddening, how much you consume my very being.”

“That scent. It has remained imprinted on my mind ever since that night of the conservatory ball on that terrace. Lilies.”

“I desire you. I burn for you. I can't sleep at night because I want you."

“You’re the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don’t give a damn that I’m about to be incinerated.“

“Whatever bad thing happened to you, it hasn’t made you less beautiful. There’s beauty in darkness, too.”

“I belong to you. Only you…I’ll always be yours. No matter what.”

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

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wttcsms · 7 months

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most noble ; kento nanami.

pairing kento nanami x f!reader word count 3.6k synopsis your beloved knight nobly defends your honor by participating in a tourney to duel the man who insults you. he does not realize that the reward for his victory is your hand in marriage. content contains medieval royal au, knight!nanami & princess!reader, age gap (reader is 22/nanami is 29), longing!!! it's about the pining!!!, requited unrequited love, romantic tension, nanami being hopelessly in love but feeling undeserving :( author's notes omg can y'all just get ur acts together n marry each other holy shit (make me make a pt. 2, plssss)

Kento Nanami knows that he’s made a mistake, perhaps one so major that not even taking another professional role within the castle will be able to cover it up. Then again, it’s not like him leaving his post the first time around has resulted in any change. Maybe him leaving only to return back to your side once more is precisely the reason why he’s making so many mistakes.

For example, earlier this week, his fingers brushed against yours while handing you your tiara. Or, just before that, he found himself remaining only two steps behind you rather than the traditional three. And maybe he’s just paranoid, afraid that he’s being obvious and overly obnoxious in his displays of affection for you, but he did not earn the title of Head Knight of the Royal Guard for no reason. The king — your father — would not have bestowed such a prestigious title to a man who is not always proceeding with constant caution.

To any visitor of the court, Sir Nanami is just another highly skilled knight, dedicated to protecting the princess. To Nanami, he is a lovesick fool trailing after you, failing to mask his true affections.

No one sees through him, except for the one person who he so wishes were blind to his feelings.

Easily excitable and sweetly endearing, you are the heiress to the throne and future ruler to citizens who adore you. It’s hard not to fall for your charm or the kindness that you bestow upon anyone who comes across your path. You’re considered to be the sun that shines over the kingdom, and Nanami knows of no star that shines brighter than you.

But behind your youthful exuberance and seemingly carefree attitude is a highly perceptive young lady of the court. With your cheery smiles and laughter that seems to flow so easily and rings through the halls of the castle, it is easy to forget that one day, you will be queen, and that you have been raised your whole life to fulfill your royal duty.

It is easy to remember this fact when you’re sitting atop your throne, staring down at him as he kneels.

“You regret it,” you say, absentmindedly tracing the intricate designs carved onto the handles of your seat. You still haven’t learned how to stop moving your hands every time you’re nervous. It’s your only tell; for as well as you can read Nanami, he can read you even better. Your anxiety only causes him to tighten his jaw, his eyes focused on the lower half of your face because this is all his role allows him to do. He should not dare to look Her Royal Highness in the eyes; not at his lowly level in comparison to you.

You frown at his silence, knowing that he’s doing it to raise the barrier between you two. Four years ago, he hadn’t tried to shut you out so firmly, and every day since then, you have spent all your free time wondering why he wants nothing to do with you.

The it you’re referring to could be many different things. “It” could possibly be him leaving his station as your personal knight in order to become one of the king’s advisors. “It” could also be referring to him returning to be your knight. Or maybe you’re talking about the kiss the two of you shared a fortnight before he decided to stop being your royal guard. The kiss that lingers on his lips, even to this day. He doesn’t even have to think hard enough to remember the wonderful feeling of your soft lips pressed against his own, or that saccharine taste of yours that is yours alone; no fruit, no candy, nothing has ever been able to mimic your sweetness. The kiss that never should have been. The kiss, the kiss, the kiss.

Maybe “it” is none of that, or maybe it’s all of the above. He knows you, and you’re not going to clarify because you believe that Nanami is a mindreader, and for the most part, he is. He knows what gowns you favor, and when you’re sleepy during court meetings, and he knows what order you’re going to eat the food on your plate. He knows where you go when you want to be alone (to the horse stables, to be with your beloved mare), and what your favorite tiara looks like, and that you snort when you laugh (but only ever in the presence of those you are truly comfortable with; only ever in the presence of him).

He does not, however, know about his place in your heart.

You wonder if he’s forcing himself to be unaware of your feelings for him. Sometimes, in the corner of your eyes and in your shadow that he follows, you catch him staring at you longingly, hopefully. With a type of reverence that differs from the one grateful citizens show you. This one feels… intimate. A look meant to be shared only with lovers.

Lovers.

You had toyed with the idea four years ago, when you were eighteen and bright-eyed and much too hopeful for your own good. You craved romance and passion, and whichever suitor you came across, you always found them to be lacking, none of them comparing to Sir Nanami. And you knew, with girlish glee, that it is Nanami that you want. And then came that fateful afternoon in the gardens where you kissed him, and you swore that flowers started blooming on the bushes as a result. The birds were singing, and the sun was shining much brighter than ever, and you felt weightless. As if the inevitability of having to rule a kingdom was no longer a point of stress, and the burdens of your royal duty slipped from your shoulders and melted into the dewy grass beneath you. All that existed, for that brief second of bliss, was you and Nanami.

And then, two weeks later, he resigned and decided to work for your father.

His return had come as a surprise to you. During the years he stopped being your knight, you saw him only once a week, if the fates decided to bless you. For the most part, you’ve grown accustomed to only seeing his broad back or a flash of blond hair passing you by in the corridor. You wonder if he knows that he’s your first kiss — your only kiss. Surely he must. He’s spent a good portion of his life ensuring that your virtue was to never be tainted.

“I do not know what you speak of, My Lady.” He says. He speaks so little to you now that you savor the sound of his deep baritone, the smoothness of how words seem to glide off his tongue. Nanami takes something so mundane as talking and turns it into an art.

“You regret the duel.”

And here lies the grand mistake that Nanami cannot figure out how to fix. He believes that being cold to you will perhaps dissuade anyone from assuming how closely he holds you to his heart (his act of emotional indifference towards you is so convincing, even you sometimes believe it), but he’s only human. He is a slave to his emotions — the utterly irrational ones, the ones that make him act a fool — as all men are.

Nanami hadn’t intended on participating in the tourney. He’s nearing twenty-nine, after all. He’s reached the highest status any knight could possibly aspire to, and he no longer is a squire from a commoner family with something to prove. Tourneys are a thing of the past, a memory from his boyhood.

But there are visitors from all sorts of lands who came down for this royal celebration. A lowly lord from a kingdom ruled by Mahito is precisely the type of scum that does a disservice to all men. Crass, vulgar, and entirely immature, Lord Shigemo has a dastardly reputation for never keeping his disgusting comments or filthy hands to himself. And while it was not his touch that threatened your very virtue, it was the perverted proclamations he kept declaring that had Nanami seeing red.

“She’s a bit old for my liking, but I still bet her maidenhood is ripe enough for the taking. I’d love to see her bleed all over my cock.” Lord Shigemo snickers as he loudly announces this, his beady eyes staring right at you. He’s smart enough to not say your name, lest his head end up on a stake outside your father’s castle, but he’s dumb enough to not heed the warnings he’s been told.

The princess is protected by the bravest of all knights, and the most honorable of all gentlemen.

For that comment alone, Nanami is ready to unsheathe his sword and behead Shigemo, but he knows he cannot. There has been no direct threat to you, and Nanami has just enough restraint to remember that his anger cannot get the best of him. He is not to harm visitors to the kingdom, no matter how deserving of punishment they are, because maintaining peace between the lands is of the utmost importance.

But the way your body stiffens and the almost sickly pallor of your face that occur as a result of Lord Shigemo’s verbal transgression is enough to have Nanami pledge his participation in the dueling tourney. He signs his name in the same competition bracket as Shigemo’s, and you’re pleasantly surprised when Nanami kneels down, asking for your favor and a blessing as he goes to represent your family.

“And what has made you so keen on dueling now, hmm? Why, King Gojo has spent the better half of today trying to goad you into jousting with his knight.” You’re teasing him, eyes sparkling, your gibe gentle and without malicious intent.

You’re not trying to convince Nanami to not partake in the tournament. In fact, you take secret pleasure in watching his swordsmanship, even going out of your way to sneak into the training grounds and watch as he practices moves you’re certain he’s already perfected. For a man with so much muscle mass, he moves swiftly and with a sharp, quick precision that does not befit his firm build.

“It is to defend my lady’s honor.” He curses himself for being so forthright with his intentions. He could have told you that it was to honor your family, and it would not have been a lie, but it wouldn’t have been said with the same strong conviction he speaks with now. It is not the king or any of your cousins that he is fighting for; it is just you, only you.

Removing the brooch from your gown, you attach it to the cloth of his shirt that is soon to be covered by armor. It’s a dark blue gem, matching the color your house favors.

“My most noble of all protectors. You have my favor, then, and all my prayers.” As you always do is the real ending to your sentence, but you fear that if you reveal too much, then Nanami will not be able to focus and give this tourney his all. You wonder if you should reveal the prize for winning, but decide against it at the last minute when he dares to look at you, a glimmer of the same affection from four years ago shining in his dark eyes. It’s a similar look to the one he gave you before your lips met his.

The urge to kiss him again rises, your heart thumping against your chest, but all you allow yourself to do is smile at him.

The tourney itself is a quick event. Usually, it lasts far longer than the hour it takes up, and the gambling a tense, exciting affair. With Nanami entering at the last minute, most gamblers changed their bets to go all in on him winning, and for a good reason. He makes quick work of every opponent unfortunate enough to be paired with him, and the only time Nanami truly takes his sweet time is when he comes face to face with an anxious Lord Shigemo.

Even toying with him doesn’t give Nanami much pleasure. Shigemo is a weak opponent, a poorly trained fighter, and a pitiful excuse of a man. Tired of his time being wasted, Nanami has the man shaking underneath the sharp point of his sword within seconds after deciding he is done playing these games. Even after being declared the winner of the whole tourney, an outcome he isn’t surprised at, he doesn’t feel any satisfaction. Flowers and handkerchiefs are being thrown at him as a show of respect and celebration, but only when he looks up into the crowd, his eyes focusing on your smiling visage, does he feel an ounce of pure happiness.

Before he can climb the steps leading to the showbox that houses all the prominent royal families, one of the tourney competitors stops to congratulate Nanami.

“Lucky bastard.” It’s Naoya Zenin, Crown Prince of the neighboring kingdom. Nanami is glad he was not competing in the same bracket as the prince; not because of a difference in skill, but because wounding a Zenin’s pride was considered treason to them.

“It’s just flowers.” Nanami says. He doesn’t understand what Naoya’s fascination with them are, but perhaps it’s the glory of being a victor that he’s envious of.

“Don’t be a fool.” Naoya scoffs. “We all know the real prize that every damn man was trying to claim.”

Nanami is still confused. Of course, Naoya talks incessantly and most of the time, Nanami does not care what the Zenin heir has to say, but he did notice that there were far more competitors signing up for the tourney than previous years. Is there a monetary reward no one told him about?

“So, how much for you to forfeit?” Naoya asks, completely unaware of Nanami's ignorance.

“Pardon?”

He rolls his eyes, as if Nanami is some type of undomesticated animal, untrained to following commands. Nanami wishes he had been placed in the same bracket as Naoya now, treason charges be damned.

“Never mind, then. I’m sure the princess herself will just make an announcement rescinding the reward.” Naoya smirks at the thought of that, and Nanami struggles to fight the urge to demand the prince stop being so cryptic and to just explain what the hell he’s rambling on about. Rescind what reward?

A familiar head of pink hair pops up by his side, and Nanami immediately recognizes his young student. Eager Yuuji Itadori is smiling widely, happy for his teacher, and for once, Nanami is grateful that young Itadori does not know how to beat around the bush.

“Wow, congratulations, Sir Nanami! I had no idea that you wanted to marry Princess [Name]! Will you still be able to train me as Prince Consort?”

Nanami’s blood runs cold. Oblivious to his mentor’s sudden anguish, Yuuji continues on.

“Her Royal Highness was so kind to open the competition for her hand to any class. Of course, some people dared to criticize her and claim it’s because she’s becoming too old to be a maiden so she had to cast a wide net, but I know plenty of ladies who are unwed in their twenties. Will you still be her knight as her husband, or will that role have to go to someone else? Say, Sir Nanami, are you feeling alright?”

You’re beaming with pride at your beloved knight’s victory, yet nervousness at watching him interact with Prince Naoya started creeping in. You start to relax when the Zenin heir walks off, but your peace of mind shatters when you watch Sir Itadori engage in conversation with Nanami. You watch his facial expression tighten, his body tense up, and you realize that Nanami knows. He knows that he has a right to be betrothed to you, and it dawns on you, from his poor reaction, that this is not the outcome he wanted.

Which leaves the two of you here, alone in your throne room. Your father had found your idea of a tournament for your hand in marriage to be a silly one, but he had indulged you because you promised to be betrothed to someone at the end of it. By standards of the court, you’re much too old at twenty-two to remain unwed.

You’ve been plotting ways to get Nanami to participate, even daring to consider commanding him to do so, but never has being a victim to malicious comments ever been as beneficial as it has today. Nanami signed up for the tourney by his own will! His words ring in your ear, looping incessantly as you watch him fight.

It is to defend my lady’s honor.

He does not know the effect that title has on you, at least when it’s coming from him. My lady. His.

“If the idea of marrying me causes you so much ire, I will call off the betrothal at once and relieve you from your knightly duties, as well.” You do not want to do such a thing, but… You love Nanami. You love him so much that if it is your presence that pains him, you will take your leave now.

“No.”

The word comes from somewhere deep within himself, throaty and raw, like it hurts to say it, but it had to be spoken. The fates demand it.

“No?” You repeat, slowly, almost as if the word is something foreign to your tongue.

“Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to speak out of turn.”

“You do not want to leave me?” You say it softly, but it’s just the two of you in this room. Every word exchanged seems to bounce around the walls, ricocheting, hitting the both of you in the face.

“Princess, it is not a matter of my wants.” Why must you torture him so? While he knows he can never marry you, there was a second of elation that excited his soul at the prospect of being your betrothed. He’s lived a rough life, his calloused palms and hardened heart proof of it. He hasn’t allowed himself to indulge in fantasies for quite some time, but you inspire just enough hope that it stabs him in his heart. Daring to dream of the impossible is a fool’s game.

“Ask me what I want.” You say it firmly. He obliges.

“What is it that you want, my lady?”

“You, Kento.”

No title, no boundaries. You have spoken his name, and that sting in his heart, the harmful side effect of his hope, grows. He dares to look up just a bit more, his eyes staring deep into your own.

All the walls Nanami painstakingly built to separate you two threaten to crumble right before his very eyes. His battlefield tact is of no use here. Had this been any other battle, he would charge forward with his head and sword raised high. Retreat is not an option for a soldier such as himself.

So why does he flirt with the idea of fleeing now?

“I am not deserving.”

“It hurts me when you say that.” And you say it with such a wounded look on your soft features that Nanami knows it must be true.

“I am not even a lord.” He’s fumbling for an excuse, anything to convince you that marrying him would be a mistake. He finds your stubbornness endearing, but he must get you to understand that you will regret marrying him.

“I have no need for a lord.” You retort, almost scoffing at the notion.

“I am seven years your senior.”

“Much better than the suitors decades older than I.”

“You must understand that I am not the gentlest of men. I am not built for care.” The tips of his ears turn red, a giveaway to his shame and embarrassment at the fact.

“I am not fragile.”

Stubborn. You are much too stubborn for your own good.

“I have tainted you.” He chokes out, staring you directly in the eyes. Showing his sins to the broad daylight filtering through the stained glass windows of this room. “I have stolen a kiss meant for your husband.”

“I kissed you! You have tainted nothing, you have robbed no one!” You exclaim, shocked at his misery.

“And now I have stolen your fate.” He continues. “You should not wish to marry a man like me, and you will only come to regret this impulsive decision of your youth if you force this betrothal.”

“Am I forcing you, Sir?” The title seems almost like a mockery, especially after you exchanged it for his given name just minutes prior.

There is nothing Nanami can say that will change your mind, and he realizes this. He realizes the pure selfishness of wanting you to not change your mind, but he is stubborn as well. The tension in this room wraps around the both of you, binding you two together. It’s a battle of wills, now.

Perhaps it always has been.

“You will regret this, my lady.” This is what he says. Inside, he begs of you, please do not regret me.

Satisfied at seemingly having your way, you settle into your throne, leaning back.

“So noble of you to want to save me from what you consider a dastardly fate, but I shall be the judge of that.”

And thus, the engagement period begins.

#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #one shot #drabble #imagine #jjk x reader #royal au #omg me actually posting two fics in one week? it's the end of the world

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vbecker10 · 27 days

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Loki's Silent Sentry (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 ( Part 6 in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You are not just a soldier in Asgard's Royal Army, you are Lieutenant Y/L/N, Prince Loki's personal guard, his sentry and you are not supposed to fall in love with him. If you followed your training properly, you should never have even spoken to him. As a sentry, you are expected to remain silent and invisible as you shadow your appointed member of the royal family or member of the court protectively throughout their daily tasks.

Rumors (that happen to be true) begin to circulate through the palace that you serve the younger prince of Asgard both outside and inside his chambers. There is little you can do once word of your off duty activities spread through every maid, cook, gardener and seamstress in the palace. You soon find even the soldiers in your own company are now questioning how exactly you had come to earn your seemingly quick rise to lieutenant.

As the annual Winter Solstice Ball approaches, you come to the heartbreaking realization that your relationship with Loki must come to an end if you are both to fulfill your duties.

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Thor being an absolute ass, Odin being a terrible father

A/N: I did some googling quickly for military terms and ranks (since I have no previous knowledge of them) as well as some basic information about the royal guards in England. I took some of what I found interesting and then made up most of the rest to fit what I needed for my story so there will be some similarities. Also... I haven't written anything in like a year (maybe longer) so be nice please 💚💚

You stand at constant attention in silence outside of Prince Loki's private office. You listen to the birds singing through the open window across the hall from where you are posted and wonder how long you could go without making a sound. You have been trained by the Royal Army for years to remain silent, vigilant, always listening and watching your surroundings for anything dangerous or out of the ordinary. You are always on guard, ready to protect Prince Loki should the need arise. Not that someone with his fighting skills or magic would need protection from a simple soldier like you. You were assigned this post purely because it was customary for each member of the royal family to have a sentry, whether they actually need one or not.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching from your left. You are unable to determine how many people are coming but judging by their pace and heavy boots, they are most likely all soldiers. Commandant Thorn, the soldier in charge of your company, makes his way down the hall at a steady pace. He is followed by your captain, Captain Skye who is holding a leather bound book containing the names of all the sentries and their current posts. Trailing the two older men, are four low ranking soldiers you can't remember the names of.

The group of soldiers comes to a stop in front of you and your fellow guard and you both salute your commanding officers. "Lieutenant Y/L/N," Captain Skye says, opening his book for a moment. He closes it and looks up at you, "Prince Loki will of course be attending the Winter Solstice Ball. You will be required to escort him to the ballroom and remain on guard there until he dismisses you for the evening."

You nod in response, carefully hiding the heavy emotions you have surrounding the upcoming ball. The soldiers move on and you are left alone with the other guard again. She says nothing to you and even if you were allowed to speak, you know Sergeant Sands wouldn't talk to you. She is not your friend, none of the members of the Royal Guard are your friends. It wasn't always this way though, it is only since you were promoted to the rank of lieutenant that the guards you work with began to distance themselves from you.

You had been assigned to Prince Loki for three months when you were promoted from sergeant to lieutenant. Your fellow soldiers immediately assumed the young prince had a hand in it as he did little to hide how he favored you over the other guards who were previously assigned to him. The rumors about you spending the night in Loki's chamber instead of guarding it flowed through the palace soon after. You adamantly denied these rumors and any favoritism from the prince but it was a wasted effort. It also happened that the rumors were true to a point.

The door to Loki's office opens and you stand at attention as the court accountant exits, holding several rolls of paper and mumbling to himself. Sargeant Sands follows him without any orders needed, she is his sentry and will go where he goes. As she walks past by, she glances at you with what can only be described as a look of disgust. You look down at your boots, fully aware of what she is thinking.

You wait quietly for Loki to open the door again but you know him, he will want to read through all of his notes from today before he finalizes his meeting schedule for tomorrow. You have roughly half an hour until he will be done, half an hour to stand here and think about the dreaded Winter Solstice Ball.

Another half an hour later, as expected, Loki opens the door and walks out. Waving his hand towards the door, he uses his magic to seal the room. He smiles warmly at you and you smile back at him for the first time today. This was your favorite part, the part where the sun goes down and Loki frees you from your constant silence.

He touches your cheek softly and leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back but pull away quickly as you hear footsteps approaching. You step away from Loki and stand at attention as Prince Thor comes around a corner. You keep your eyes straight ahead but you can feel Loki stiffening next to you, he and his brother get along much better when they are at court than they do in private.

The brothers greet each other politely and you silently wish the older prince would simply continue on his way but it doesn't seem likely. Your attention shifts to the window across the hall from you again, you can just barely glimpse the sunset over the tall evergreen trees in the distance. You know Loki will tell you if he and Thor discuss anything interesting so there is no need for you to listen to their conversation. The two of them continue for several long minutes before you realize Thor has said something to you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N?" Thor says and you shake your head as you shift your focus.

"I'm sorry your highness, I was unaware you were speaking to me," you apologize. He had never spoken to you before and you were unsure why he would start now. Loki folds his arms across his chest and you feel uneasy at how annoyed he seems.

Thor laughs which does nothing to make you feel better. "I was wondering what it was about you that made you my brother's favorite," he says. "You must truly be special, a sentry's post typically only lasts three months, perhaps six at the most. You have been with Loki for how long now?"

You think for a moment before replying. You had been assigned to Loki for only a month before he first spoke to you and you had quickly become close friends. Three months after becoming friends with the prince, you slowly became more until you were completely in love with him.

"Fourteen months," you answer him in as few words as possible.

Thor looks at his younger brother with a smirk, "Fourteen?" Loki remains silent and you can tell his older brother is not even close to letting you leave soon. He turns his attention to you again, "So is it true then?"

"Is what true your highness?" you ask quietly.

"That you follow my brother's orders when you are wearing your armor and when you are not?" he laughs and his sentry smiles then looks towards the ground. "I could use a sentry like that, I grow tired of being followed by these shadows."

Loki's fist clenches but he answers Thor calmly. "Maybe if you learned your sentries name and weren't so insufferable to be around, they would remain at your service for longer than a month at a time," Loki says. "And you are the last person I would expect to listen to palace rumors. According to the most recent ones I've heard, you've slept with nearly half of the kitchen staff this month alone."

Thor smiles, proud of himself. You and Loki realize the stories you had overheard were true, if not understated. He explains, "That is why I assume the rumors of you and your little pet are true as well."

You find yourself in that brief moment wishing Loki would confirm everyone's suspensions. Not necessarily that you were sleeping together, that you were in love and wanted to be together. You know wishing for this is as useful as wishing it would rain gold. Once again you remind yourself that this is the way it will always be, until he marries a woman of high status and you are forgotten.

Instead of responding, Loki turns from his brother and walks down the hall towards the stairwell that leads to the royal family's chambers. You follow him silently, staying a few steps behind as always.

"Come now brother, I was merely joking," Thor calls from behind you but neither of you stop walking.

The two of you continue on in silence until you reach the top of the stairs and Loki's pace slows so he is walking next to you. His hand finds yours, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. As soon as you feel his touch, you begin to relax.

"I'm sorry about my brother," he says quietly.

"His behavior isn't your fault," you reply. "And he is far from the first person to corner me about our relationship. I am used to denying the truth."

He stops, causing you to turn back towards him, your hand still holding his. He then takes a few small steps, closing the distance between you. Loki touches your cheek gently with his other hand. "I'm sorry Y/N," he tells you again. "I wish we didn't have to hide but you know there are some rules even I cannot break so openly. Maybe I should have hid my favoritism towards you better but I couldn't bear to have you reassigned. You mean too much to me."

You smile, "So I am your favorite sentry?"

He lets out a laugh, "You are my favorite person in the nine realms." You giggle at his answer and his fingers trail down your cheek until his thumb gently runs across your lips. He leans down to kiss you but just as his lips touch yours, you feel your heart jumps in your chest.

You hear several sets of footsteps and separate yourself from Loki in an instant. He looks down the hall as his mother, two of her maids and one guard come into view. She smiles brightly at both of you as she comes closer and you bow to the queen in respect. You find it hard to miss the side eye from her sentry or the whispers shared between her maids. Loki gives his mother a hug and wishes her a goodnight. She tells him to have a goodnight as well and continues on her way.

You and Loki walk off in the opposite direction towards his chambers and once you are alone again, Loki moves to take your hand but you flinch away. He looks hurt by your momentary rejection but he doesn't say anything. He knows how nervous you are about being seen touching him or speaking to him. You round the next corner and are flooded with relief as Loki's door finally comes into view. You fight the urge to smile, holding onto your composure as you've been trained.

Loki opens the door and steps inside, you follow him as you always do and he closes the door. He flicks his wrists towards you without a word and the heavy armor you wear over your clothing instantly settles itself neatly into a large chest. You take a few deep breaths, feeling as if most of the weight you have been carrying leaves you, but not all.

"Thank you your highness," you say out of habit.

"Please, never call me that in here," he reminds you gently. "In here I'm not a prince, I'm just Loki." He walks towards you and you don't realize you are moving away from him until your back hits the door and his body comes flush to yours. One hand settles on your hip while his other hand lifts your chin, causing you to look up at him. He continues, "And you are not Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are Y/N. The woman I am so deeply in love with." He smiles and you can't help but smile back at his words. All your worries vanish the instant his lips meet yours.

You lay in Loki's arms watching the sunlight fill his room through the sheer curtains. You try to memorize the sound of his slow, steady breathing and the feel of his heart beat against your back as he holds you even in his sleep. You inhale deeply and focus on deciphering every herb and oil Loki uses to keep his hair soft. Closing your eyes, you use your senses to bring an image of Loki's face into your mind and try to hold it there.

"What are you thinking about my love?" he asks in a sleepy voice. You open your eyes and shift closer to him, pulling his arms tighter around your body. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asks, now much more awake.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. You had been thinking about what you needed to do most of the night but now that it was time, you weren't sure you would be able to do it.

"I've told you, you can speak freely here," he says softly, urging you gently as always to speak your mind when you were with him. His fingers move slowly up and down your arm as he tries to comfort you without knowing what is causing your distress.

"I need to transfer to a new post," you tell him. You hear him inhale sharply as his fingers suddenly go still.

You stand outside Loki's office with Thor's new guard and two others in silence waiting for a very long meeting to conclude. You stifle a yawn and shift uncomfortably on your feet before regaining your composure. The tall guard standing across from you rolls his eyes while the woman next to him mumbles something that can only be about you.

It has been two days since you told Loki you wanted to transfer and you hadn't heard anything from your commanding officer. In the meantime, you decided to go back to sleeping in your assigned room at the soldiers quarters. You had forgotten how much you hated it there. The common areas are loud and there is little privacy, everyone is in everyone else's business. You barely leave your room, which is a surprise to no one. They wouldn't speak to you even if you did. You live in a world of utter silence surrounded by never ending noise.

You feel as if you are shattering from the inside out and you try to remind yourself that it needs to be this way. The two of you hid in his chambers as if it protected your relationship but it could never be real. How could it be when he could barely acknowledge your presence when in public. He is a prince and you are a soldier as were your parents, you were not high born. Loki is destined to marry the daughter of a council member and you will guard them and their children.

The door to Loki's office opens, you and the three guards stand at attention. Prince Thor walks out first, followed by two council members. They walk off in different directions, shadowed closely by their sentries but you remain, as always, at Loki's door.

You stare at the wall in front of you for what feels like eternity. Your mind wanders between your favorite memories from your brief time with Loki and the crushing weight of your current reality. You stand up straighter when you hear the door swing open and Loki steps out.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," he says, "I need to speak with you."

You nod and follow him into his office, closing the door behind you. You stand motionless, taking in his office and how much it feels like him. The dark wood bookshelves crowded with leather bound books, the chair pulled close to the window so he can see the garden below when drinking his afternoon tea, the green and gold accents on various pieces of furniture.

You sigh to yourself as you follow him to his desk. He takes a seat and you stand across from him with your arms behind your back, waiting for him to speak first.

"Y/N," he says informally but you don't relax. "Your transfer to a new post was not approved."

"Can I ask why your highness?" you keep the formalities as you've been trained.

"The Winter Solstice Ball is in less then a week," he answers as if you could forget. "The Royal Guard seems to be too busy tightening security and preparing for everyone's arrival to complete your paper work at this time."

"Understood, your highness," you say. "I should return to my post." You turn to head back outside of his office.

"Wait," he calls and you freeze just before you reach the door. You hear him get up from his seat and walk around the desk. "Please stay, talk to me Y/N. I miss you so much it hurts."

"I can't," you say almost in a whisper

He touches your arm and you turn to face him, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I miss the way your laughter filled my chambers. I miss hearing you hum to yourself when you think I can't hear you. I miss the sound of your voice and how easy it is to talk to you," he says and you force down a smile and the urge to hold him tightly.

"I can't bear to be without you," he tells you and you want to tell him you can't be apart from him either but you remain silent for fear you'll lose your resolve completely. He strokes your cheek gently and you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too," you tell him, seeing a spark of hope light his eyes. You shake your head and take a step away from him, "But I can't do this. I'm sorry." Before he can say anything else you tell him, "It will only hurt more the longer we wait to end this."

"We don't have to end this, now or ever," he insists as he steps towards you. "I promise I will find a way for you to be mine, not just when we are hidden away, but always. You believe me, don't you?"

"I want to," you tell him truthfully. Loki had promised several times to find a way to marry you but you thought it was false hope. "But this isn't a fairytale my prince, we don't always get a happy ending."

You want to disappear into the marble floor, to be sucked into the wall behind you or simply vanish into thin air but you can't. Instead, you must stand perfectly still and silent as you watch the dancing and merriment around you. You momentarily wish you would go back to a time when you didn't feel an ache in your chest at the mere thought of another woman being in Prince Loki's arms. Shaking your head just slightly, you chase away the thought. As much as this hurts, you will always cherish the limited time you shared with him.

The music changes tempo as the first of seven courses comes to an end. Couples begin to take to the open floor in the center of the ballroom. Prince Thor and Prince Loki make their way to the group of single, eligible women awaiting them, each at a different pace. The older prince seems to now exactly which woman he would like to spend time with first. He offers his arm to her and declares her the most beautiful woman at the ball, causing her to blush and giggle. The younger prince takes his time walking to the crowd and simply takes the hand of the closest woman without so much as glancing at her. His lack of interest does little to dampen her excitement however.

The dozen or so women who were not chosen move away from the dance area and you have to hold back a groan as they gather directly in front of you to wait for a chance with one of the princes. You can't help but listen to them discuss which prince they think is better looking or who they would prefer picked them. The first song ends and the two princes each select another dance partner. Again, Prince Thor takes little time deciding who he wants while Prince Loki simply offers his hand to the first woman he sees. You can practically hear him sigh as she holds his arm and walks quickly to the dance floor.

As the second song begins, one of the women briefly looks at you over her shoulder before motioning towards you to her friends. Your ears go red with embarrassment as she tells them the rumors of your past relationship with Loki just loud enough that she knows you will hear. Of course she gets the ending wrong. She assumes, like everyone else, that the prince grew tired of you and banished you from his bed chambers. You had to admit, it seemed a far more likely story than the truth.

You shift your attention to the ceiling for a moment, hoping that counting the candles in the chandeliers will distract you from their stares and comments. You only count to twenty seven before the sound of a glass shattering draws your gaze back to the guests. A council member laughs loudly, clearly drunk already, as a servant cleans the wine glass from the dance floor.

Your eyes scan the room and easily find Loki at the center of the crowd, a third woman in his arms. Your drawn to his face, studying his features. He smiles at the woman as he twirls her and she giggles but she doesn't know him like you do. She doesn't know that's the smile he uses at court, not the smile he shows you. Showed you, you correct yourself. He glances away, not holding eye contact with her as they move effortlessly across the dance floor.

After the final course is served, the dance floor fills for the last time and you sigh with relief that the night is almost over. You shift on your feet, looking down for a moment when the chatter of the women in front of you begins again. Why must they stand here to wait, you think to yourself.

The princes once again make their way to their potential dance partners and Thor makes his pick quickly. Loki stands in front of the women for a moment and your eyes lock with his as he looks between them.

"Pardon me," he says politely to the crowd as he moves forward, slipping past the confused women. He makes his way towards you and your breath catches in your throat. He stands in front of you and holds out his hand. You look at him, stunned by his actions. He smiles when you don't move, "Will you dance with me, my love?" Still you remain silent, looking past Loki to see how much attention his actions have drawn. "Don't look at them," he says, touching your cheek softly as you look at him again.

You steady your nerves and place your hand in his. The moment his fingers close around yours, you are surrounded by a light cloud of green, shimmery smoke. When Loki's magic fades, you are wearing a flowing emerald green gown with golden trim, perfectly matching his dress uniform. Your hair has been restyled to hold a small gold tiara with short horns, mirroring the helmet he had worn during his entrance.

"Gods, you look gorgeous in my colors," he says with a wide smile, causing you to blush. "To be fair, you are always beautiful but now it is clear to everyone here that you are mine." You feel as if your heart might burst when he calls you his, he had said it before but only when you were hidden away.

Loki keeps his fingers interlaced with yours as he leads you to the dance floor, straight through the group of now very angry women. Some cross their arms, others give you dirty looks and several make rude comments as you pass. You pause before stepping onto the dance floor, the chatter and stares coming from the guests near you holding you back. He senses your hesitation and leans down to place a kiss gently on your cheek.

Your mind can barely begin to process what is happening as he takes you straight to the middle of the dance floor. He places one hand on your hip and you place your hand on his shoulder as you had done so many times over the last few months. You and Loki shared several secret dances in his chambers and his office, he found it difficult to listen to music sitting still.

He holds you close, his eyes never leaving yours while you dance between the other guests. You focus on how amazing it feels to be back in his arms, ignoring the strange looks and whispers that surround you. He twirls you gracefully and you spin back into him, giggling as you final feel at ease. As the song draws to a close, Loki spins you one final time. When he pulls you back to him, he leans down slightly and your lips meet his.

You smile up at him, hoping this isn't a dream when you see his mother approaching you. You take a step away from Loki but he keeps his hand on your waist, not letting you go too far. You bow to the queen and she says, "I think it is my turn to dance with my son."

You nod quickly in agreement and Loki let's go of you, his magic fading instantly as your armor reappears. You walk through the crowd with your head down and return to your post, once again wishing you were invisible. The women watch you, gossiping wildly as you pass again. You can only imagine what they are saying but they are not your biggest concern at the moment.

Anxiously, you watch Queen Frigga and her son move across the dance floor. You can't hear what they are saying of course, but you can tell by her expression that there will be consequences for his actions. As the song ends you see your captain approach you and your stomach drops. Loki will not be the only one to be punished for choosing you.

"The king had summoned you to the throne room," he says in a stern voice. You nod in acknowledgement and when you look back towards the dance floor, Loki and his mother are gone.

I'm almost done with the second part so please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I hope you liked it and if you did, please like, share and comment 💚💚

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elronds-meleth-nin · 1 month

Text

I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

I heard a song and one of the lines got stuck in my head, so here's a fic. (If you're curious, it was "Figure You Out" by VOILÀ.) No idea why, but Thranduil just felt perfect for this.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Thranduil x Reader

[A/N: This is mostly just fluff, but there's some innuendo, so... 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Elf x Human romance, mutual pining, idiots in love, Thranduil being dramatic, fake betrothal speedrun, Thranduil being soft for one (1) person only, protective Thranduil, Human!Reader has been adopted by elf who had no idea what he was getting into and Thranduil thinks he's an idiot, mild innuendo.

~*~

My mind wandered during my guard shift. Given that nothing ever penetrated this deep into the realm without the king's consent, the risk of allowing my focus to roam among my busy thoughts was minimal. The night air was brisk as I sat on one corner of the king's balcony with my bow laid across my lap.

Normally, the night air was soothing, but at that moment, all I could think about was how different everything would be soon. There would be no more extravagant views of the stars framed by elaborately gilded windows, no more training with my bow, no more front row seats to royal audiences, and - the worst of all - no more late night conversations when King Thranduil grew weary of his work.

I'd taken those things for granted. Oh, I hadn't squandered my time once I'd become one of his guards, by any means, but now that I might be forced to give up that position sooner than I'd anticipated, a list of regrets seemed to be cycling endlessly in my mind's eye. One that caused me the most pain was that I would very soon no longer be the recipient of his majesty's secret smirks when something we'd discussed privately occurred in his court.

The sound of a quill scratching away on parchment within the king's study ceased abruptly, but not even the anticipation of a quiet, intimate talk with him could lift my spirits. Not after the news I'd had that morning.

The swish of a cloak being removed was followed by unhurried footsteps toward the balcony, and then he was there beside me. The King of the Woodland Realm stood less than a few feet from me in all his finery, save the little circlet that usually rested upon his brow. He tended not to wear it when he retired to his chambers for the evening, choosing instead to lay it atop a book of poetry which resided permanently on his desk.

"On a lovely, cloudless night such as this, what cause would a newly-engaged lady have to look so forlorn?" The smooth, regal voice of my liege met my ears, and under any other circumstances, I might have scrambled to my feet to bow before him, as was his due. All I could muster, however, was a quiet, sincere apology over my shoulder as I remained seated on the balcony. I could feel his keen, pale blue eyes on me as I set my bow aside and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, dear. Is he that repulsive?"

"Not physically, but...all he seems to see is himself. I am perfectly aware that the betrothal wasn't either of our choices, but he could at least pretend that he's interested when our parents are nowhere to be seen." I was aware that I sounded ungrateful, but just because I was a mortal woman in a realm of Elves didn't mean that I had to like it when I was constantly looked down upon by others.

One of the few people who never gave me the impression that he thought less of me took a seat beside me in robes much too elegant for anything less than a perfectly padded chair to touch.

"Have you spoken with your guardian - apologies, your father - about your fears?" Instead of sounding judgmental, Thranduil's voice held only softness - a rarity, to be sure, but such a tone was more common when he conversed with me than with anyone else. I nodded my head as I recalled the cold aloofness in my adoptive father's voice as he'd dismissed both me and my protests.

"He seemed more concerned with maintaining the status associated with his name than with some silly little mortal's concerns." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, I really did, but the sharp edge that crept in made me cringe a bit. "After all, who am I to complain when he took me in? My life could have been over before it had even truly begun. He could just as easily have left me to die in the ruins of our burning village and adopted an Elfling instead. I...owe him for all that he has done."

One of Thranduil's hands rested lightly on my shoulder, coaxing me to face him. My eyes met his, and his free hand laid over my wrist. The warm weight of his palm covering my pulse made my heart flutter in my chest.

"Is that what he told you?" When I stammered about it being nothing more than the truth, he shook his head while stormclouds gathered in his expression. "What foul words of comfort from one who claims to care for you."

To that, I had no response. Naturally, several statements sprung to the tip of my tongue - defenses for my father's actions - but I swallowed them all down when my king's gaze warned me that he would tolerate no such excuses.

"Remind me, mellon-nin, how long have you served in my guard?"

"Twelve years and a few months, sire."

"And in all of our many conversations, have I ever given you any reason to doubt that I value you as highly as any other in my kingdom? After that first fortnight, when you were terrified of making a mistake, have you ever felt out of place because of your mortality?"

The memory of that fateful night drew a smile to my lips.

"No, mellon-nin. That rather thorough tongue-lashing you meted out made your stance quite clear to all in the palace," I murmured allowing myself the small liberty of turning my hand beneath his and threading our fingers together.

The guards he'd berated for their rudeness and bigotry had practically fled the throne room when he was finished with them. After that night, he'd ordered that whenever I was on duty, I would be assigned to his personal detail.

"Then, what cause have you to believe that I would tolerate anyone treating you so poorly anywhere else in my domain?"

"This is different–"

"How? Enlighten me," the king ordered giving my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Father has the right to demand that I repay him for the time he has spent on me," I hedged, but Thranduil shook his head.

"Just because he raised you, that does not mean that he was unaware of what he was choosing. He may not have known the full extent of the demands made of a parent, but that was not the fault of the innocent babe he rescued." He sounded so calm, so casual about his assertions that I could do no more than blink as he spoke. "I do not expect Legolas to sacrifice his happiness to satisfy some imagined debt incurred at his birth, nor should your guardian make such ludicrous demands of you."

We sat quietly for a moment, side-by-side and hand-in-hand beneath the moonlight before words began flowing from my mouth almost without my consent.

"He's an ass, you know, the man to whom I have been promised. Nothing brings him greater pleasure than a mirror, and nothing strains him more than remembering a preference held by someone other than himself," I murmured feeling as though this confession of my unkind thoughts about the Ellon would give me some measure of comfort beyond another's commiseration. "Six different times he has insisted that he knows my favorite flower, and six times have I received something completely different. He claims that I keep changing my answer, but, truly, I have given the same response every time."

"He chooses not to listen," Thranduil muttered almost to himself.

"Quite correct, aran-nin. He is dismissive...practically ignores me when we are in the same room..."

"Had he been listening, he undoubtedly would have heard your scathingly pointed sighs, not unlike those which you direct toward any who insult your king in the throne room," he teased, and a huff of laughter bubbled out of me. "I shall have you know that I enjoy those little sighs. They convey a great deal about the receiver's lack of intelligence and manners, whilst simultaneously broadcasting that you would like nothing more than to drag them from the gates by the scruff of their neck. Quite effective, do you not agree?"

"Oh, yes, mellon. As I recall, you've allowed me to do just that on several occasions," I said glancing over at him. The answering sparkle in his eyes coupled with the wicked little smirk adorning his lips made my heart thud faster in my chest.

"And I reveled in every second of their humiliation at your beautiful hands," Thranduil practically purred in satisfaction at the memories, but I sobered rather quickly as I recalled the reason I was so down in the first place. He must've seen my smile slip. "Forgive me, I was certain that you enjoyed dragging witless rats from my sight...?"

"I do...rather, I did." The correction was small, but he pounced upon it immediately. The hand that had been on my shoulder grasped my chin and forced me to look back up at him. He didn't need to say a word. The question floated between us unasked, yet requiring an answer. "My betrothed made it clear that he believed a guard was no proper wife. He has demanded that I resign my position here."

More seriously than he had all night, Thranduil gazed into my eyes.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to give up the station you fought so hard to attain for a man who cannot remember even the simplest of things about you?" I shook my head as hot, desperate tears filled my eyes. "Then tell me, what do you want? What desires fill your mind when you allow yourself to dream under cover of darkness?"

I most certainly could not give him the whole truth. I couldn't tell him that over the course of our acquaintance and friendship I had fallen in love with him. Nothing could ever come of my pathetic heartache. I was only a guard. A peasant. Peasants might fall in love with royalty, but they did not end up with them. That was not the way of the world.

"Love," I breathed instead. "I want to be loved for myself, not my father's position. I wish to be cared for and to care for another. I wish to remain a guard, a warrior for the Woodland Realm, and to be accepted as I am, not swept aside. Obviously, I am not without fault, but while I attempt to grow wiser and gain experience, I do not wish to be impeded or judged by someone who could never remember even the most basic facts about me. I...What I want is impossible."

A small, gentle smile crossed the king's lips, and an intense, burning desire to kiss him fought a war within me against my common sense. Thranduil could forgive much, but a lapse in judgment as severe as throwing myself at him? Never.

"Your presence here is proof that nothing is impossible. You are much easier to love than you have allowed yourself to believe." His deep, rumbling voice sounded at once comforting and sensual, which proved quite effective at helping me blink back my tears before they could even begin to fall. "When are you next due to meet with this unworthy cad?"

"Tomorrow. My father has invited both he and his parents to our home for the evening meal as it is my day without a shift." I was surprised at how steady my voice sounded after how vulnerable I'd just been. Strangely, though, I felt no shame in having allowed my friend to see my pain.

King Thranduil nodded his head pensively, brushing his thumb over my chin as he did so - why had he not yet released his grip? Not that I was going to complain, of course. Being this close to him, touching him, speaking with him in confidence...that was as close as I was ever going to get to him, and even that might soon be pulled from my grasp, so I savored every moment that I was afforded.

Neither of us had much more to say. Instead, the Elvenking slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me close enough to his side for me to lay my head on his shoulder. We sat in companionable silence until the time came for the guard change. Bidding me sweet dreams and a safe trip home, Thranduil dropped a soft kiss onto my hand and retreated back inside his rooms.

As usual, the guard who was to replace me gave me a raised eyebrow at my familiarity with someone so far above my station, and, as usual, I ignored him.

Sneaking to the stables on my way out, I plucked an apple from my coat pocket and headed to the gilded gates of the stall holding the king's mount. Slicing the fruit quickly in half with my dagger to delay my return home by a few extra seconds, I cooed gently to the large elk, stroking the soft fur on his muzzle as I offered him the treat.

"Who's a good boy? Hm? You are! Yes, you are," I praised as he gingerly bit into the first half of the bright red fruit, then the second. He was a gentle giant, in truth. Much of the kingdom supposed that he would be as prickly as his rider, but nothing could be further from reality. Firstly, the king was only short with those who deserved his ire. Secondly, the admittedly imposing elk upon which he rode hadn't a mean bone in his very large body. "Aww, you're never grumpy with me, are you, mellon-nin?"

He chuffed and snuffled, nuzzling gratefully into my caressing fingers as a 'thank you' for his treat. Even he would be a far superior companion for life than the idiot with whom I'd be forced to spend yet another pointless evening the next day...and perhaps the rest of my life.

"Don't worry, mellon, even if he makes me resign, I'll still find a way to sneak in and bring you extra apples." The pleased little snort he gave me drew a giggle from my lips, but I knew that soon the guard patrolling this section of the grounds would be here. I bid goodnight to my tall, fur-covered friend and set off on the path toward home with our secret intact.

Had I so much as bothered to glance back, I would've seen a familiar head of bright blond hair watching as I tugged the hood of my cloak over my head.

When I awoke the next day, it was still early morning. The lateness of my shift usually tired me out well enough that I slept for at least another hour or two, but after a few bleary blinks, I realized that I'd been awakened by voices.

Odd. My adoptive father did not usually entertain guests at this hour. Either something had happened, or today was destined to turn out rather strangely. As he hadn't bothered to come wake me, I gathered that there was no urgency in whatever had transpired. What was not in question, however, was the way my stomach growled as I tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

With a sigh of defeat, I climbed out of bed and dressed, even going so far as to tie my hair back in a quick braid since it looked as though it might rain. Thus, clothed and presentable, I cleaned my teeth and ventured from my bedroom in search of food.

The voices seemed to be coming from my destination, so it seemed as though I would get both sustenance and an answer to my curiosity all at the same time. A fortuitous turn for such a gray morning.

"...ere she is now." I was able to make out my father's voice as I intentionally stepped on the creaky board in the hallway. I wasn't as quiet as an Elf when I walked, but I still didn't like to appear as though I was eavesdropping or sneaking where I shouldn't be. When I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.

There in all his regal, perfectly-groomed glory was King Thranduil, sitting at our tiny wooden table.

What in the name of the Valar was the king doing in our kitchen?

"Aran-nin," I greeted him, bowing slightly less steadily than I might have if I'd been awake for more than a few minutes. A low, velvety chuckle floated around the space.

"Come now, meleth, you know there is no need for such formality," Thranduil crooned giving me a charming, mischievous smile as I straightened again, but that statement alone nearly shattered my poor tired mind.

He'd said 'meleth,' but...that meant 'love.' He'd never called me that before. And I still didn't know why he was in our kitchen.

Glancing between my king and my father, I tried silently to piece together what the hell was going on here. Thranduil must have seen my lack of progress in my eyes, because he continued as if this was all completely normal.

"Come, break your fast. Your guardian has been kind enough to make tea and lay out some provisions for us," he said standing and pulling out the chair directly beside him.

Almost without thinking, I did as he asked, and my heart thudded rapidly in my chest when he seated me as if we were at some lavish feast instead of around our small, wooden table. He acknowledged my hastily-murmured gratitude, then resumed his own seat with his usual flourish. The three of us ate quietly for a few moments, staunchly ignoring the fact that the king was in our tiny kitchen eating with us as casually as if he had always done so.

It was...pleasant. Strange, obviously, but much more enjoyable than my usual solitary morning meal.

"So, meleth-nin, would you like to tell him the good news, or should I?" Thranduil asked, and I looked up at him. Slightly more cognizant than before, I recognized the glint in his eyes that usually accompanied a desire for me to play along with whatever he said next. I could do that.

"I'm quite certain that it would be much more eloquent coming from you," I demurred, and I very pointedly avoided looking across the table at my father's reaction to whatever bit of theater my king had orchestrated. Less than a heartbeat later, I found my free hand firmly in Thranduil's grasp as he looked at my father.

"The betrothal you arranged for your ward is hereby declared invalid by order of the king," he said, and the stunned expression on my father's face was worth every moment of confusion I'd experienced that morning. He took a moment to gather himself before clearing his throat and looking between us in askance.

"If it is not too presumptuous, sire, may I ask why you have done this? Her betrothal to–"

"That engagement was no more than a farce. We meant to announce it earlier, but with how busy I've been attending to my royal duties, I fear I have been remiss." The king cut him off, and the indignation in my father's eyes gave me a sick sort of pleasure. "You see, your ward is not available for the suitor you preferred, because she has already accepted my own marriage proposal."

Oh. So, that was what he had in mind. A faux betrothal. Somehow, that was both intensely flattering and a knife to my chest.

The announcement worked to perfection, though. My father looked as though he'd been punched soundly in the face.

"You...?" He blinked and made a second attempt at speech. "Why would a king want her?"

Thranduil's head tilted in a manner I recognized as indicative of the imminent rise of his temper.

"Why does a king desire anything? Tell me, why should a king not desire a worthy queen for his realm?" He asked, and my father caught up rather rapidly with the realization that he'd said the wrong thing. Thranduil looked back over at me as he lifted my hand to his lips. "Why should an Ellon not marry the one whom he loves?"

Ow. Those were the exact words I'd longed to hear from him for so many years, but to hear them now knowing that they were all an act...

"And why should I not wish to marry the Elf with whom I have grown so close over my many years of guard duty?" How far he intended to carry this fiction, I didn't know, but I could play along for now. I could hide the pain.

"I...Congratulations," my father stammered hesitantly, but he was no longer relevant. Not now.

"Thank you," the king said without taking his eyes off of me. "Meleth, I believe it is time for you to live in the palace. It will be your home once we are married, and if you are prepared, I can take you back with me. My mount is outside."

"Of course, but I shall need a few moments to pack–"

"Nonsense. You needn't do such menial work. You are to be my queen. I have already arranged for your belongings to be brought to you this evening. For now, you need only bring yourself and a riding cloak," he insisted with a warm smile.

"Might it not be simpler, my king, if I were to save you the trouble of taking her with you? I could escort her to the palace myself this evening so that you needn't be burdened by sharing your mount," my father said, and the blush that sent my cheeks burning at the thought of the pair of us riding together atop his elk was automatic. No acting required.

I prayed that Thranduil was unaware of how drastically he affected me, even within my own imagination.

"Bringing my queen to the palace is my responsibility and privilege. And, if you shall forgive me for saying so aloud outside of the solitude of our marital chambers, meleth-nin, I view the opportunity to feel you in my arms with great anticipation," the king said turning my hand over gently and placing a slow, sensual kiss right over my racing pulse. My breath caught in my throat at the hunger in his eyes. His lips lingered a few beats longer than I expected, only pulling away when my father cleared his throat pointedly. "My apologies. In the presence of such beauty, I find that I am transported into the realm of fantasy."

Thranduil's words did not match his expression. He was an Ellon who found vast satisfaction in playing those around him like an orchestra. He wasn't sorry at all.

"As much as I adore seeing you like this, my darling king, I do hope you will be more discreet while holding court," I teased, but his smirk only grew.

"When my queen is so breathtaking? Never." If it wasn't for the disgustingly sexy wink he tossed me, I'd have thought he was laying his act on a bit thick. As it was, though, he seemed to be staying in character quite effortlessly. For my part, I was one shaky breath away from giggling like brainless idiot, or bursting out in tears because of the simple fact that this was all an act.

Ducking my head in what I hoped was a passable semblance of bashfulness, I tried to steady my breathing.

"I...trust that you still plan to give up your position in the guard?" My eyes flicked up and met my father's. There was something in his expression - disbelief, confusion, suspicion - that I couldn't quite place.

His obvious lack of trust after all these years angered me.

With the sweetest smile that I could muster, I tilted my head curiously.

"Not at all. A queen must be willing to fight for - and alongside - her people if she expects them to fight for her in return. Loyalty must be earned; it is not a gift to which one is entitled." Thranduil gave my fingers a gentle, supportive squeeze. "Surely, after your many years as a warrior, you of all people understand how crucial it is to inspire loyalty in those whom you command?"

He couldn't protest. When Thranduil said nothing, giving him neither a change of subject or an opportunity to dodge the question, my father stammered about his question being a foolish one and about the change in suitors being so sudden.

Almost as soon as we stepped outside, the king's elk snuffled happily. He walked over to us, but to my surprise, instead of vying for Thranduil's attention, he made a beeline for me. Without thought, I patted his muzzle and ran my fingers down his neck. Snuffling lower, as if he knew I usually kept his apples in my pockets, he looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mellon, I don't hav–" I was silenced by a large, gentle hand landing on my shoulder.

In my king's grasp was a bright, ripe, red apple. The same kind I usually smuggled out of the larder as a treat for my furry friend. He'd already sliced it in half - when had he even found the time?

"Thank you, but how did you...?"

"Nothing happens in my realm but I know of it," he whispered, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my scalp.

Choosing to temporarily ignore the implications of his statement, I accepted the apple and fed it to his elk. After a moment, Thranduil moved nearly soundlessly back toward my father.

"Ah, before I forget, this is for your ward's former suitor," he said pulling an envelope with the royal seal from his pocket. "Please convey to him that if the contents raise more questions than answers, he is most welcome to see the palace healers about his obviously failing memory."

With his cloak swishing behind him, Thranduil swept back over to me and helped me onto his mount's back. Once he was seated behind me with an arm wrapped firmly around my middle, it all sank in.

This might be an act for my father, but this was happening. I was really riding toward the palace with my king's chest pressing against my back. The guards who manned the gate would see us. Any who encountered us would bear witness to the king's act. How far did he mean to take this?

Surely, he wouldn't actually marry me just to get me away from one unsuitable Ellon? And when he did eventually end this ruse, what then? Would I be forced to go home with my tail tucked between my legs?

When we were around the halfway point in our journey - far enough from both my home and the palace that I was certain we wouldn't be observed - I asked if we could stop for a moment. Despite his confusion, Thranduil gave the command, and his elk trotted to a graceful stop. Without waiting for assistance, I slid off the saddle and landed rather hard on my feet.

Ignoring the new ache in my ankles and the ache that the loss of Thranduil's steadying grip left in my chest, I took a few steps and tried to slow my breathing. The sound of my traveling companion landing infinitely more gently than I had met my ears along with a concerned call of my name, but I just shook my head.

"Are you hurt, meleth?" He asked, and I swallowed heavily.

"No, but...my king–"

"You are perfectly allowed to call me by my name. After all, we are betrothed. It would not do for our subjects to see us behaving as if no love exists between us," he said as he patted his elk's neck, and a pang of hurt wound through my heart. Thranduil was saying all the right words, but it was an act. There were no longer any witnesses. There was no longer anyone to watch as my heart broke.

"Why are you doing this?" At the pain in my voice, confusion and concern washed over his features.

"Whatever do you mean?" The Elvenking asked stepping away from his elk's side. His cloak billowed around him, and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees at the sheer majesty of the figure he presented. All it did, though, was reinforce what I already knew: Thranduil was not for me.

"Please, do not misunderstand, I am grateful that you have saved me from such an unfortunate match. However, you needn't spare my feelings by pretending to love me. There is no need to waste your precious time playacting, mellon-nin."

"'Pretending'?" The word escaped him as a harsh, dangerous whisper. Oh dear. I'd seen the king's rage before, but never had his icy fury been turned upon me. Despite the outrage in his tone, his next words were at the same hushed volume as before. "'Playacting'? What do you take me for?"

I could see why Prince Legolas had insisted that raised voices were preferable to the fear that his father's cool, piercing anger inspired. I wasn't afraid, but I was acutely aware of the severity of his emotions. I wasn't intentionally trying to anger him, but I needed him to know how close he'd come to breaking me beyond repair. Before I could answer, he advanced another step and continued.

"And, pray tell, what am I, in your estimation? Cruel? Unforgiving? Demanding? Judgmental?" His eyes flashed with something akin to pain. "Perhaps your censure is not based upon personality, but upon appearance."

The glamour he kept constantly in place over his scar melted away.

"Is this the source of your misgivings? Am I too ugly for you to accept, even as a king?"

"You know that's not true," I snapped, with an edge of warning in my voice, recalling the first time I'd seen him without the glamour.

A few months after my appointment to the king's guard, I was given a jar of pain-dulling ointment by one of the healers to pass on to the king. I'd delivered it, of course, but when I'd been hesitant to leave him, going so far as to ask if he was injured, he'd locked the door and showed me what the fire drakes of the north had done to him. Thranduil admitted later that he'd intended to frighten me that night, but all I'd done was ask if he needed help applying the medicine. Once he realized I thought no less of him for his injury, he'd let me.

Yet he had the gall to stand before me and accuse me of being shallow? Had he learned nothing about me over the years?

"Then answer the question," Thranduil bit out quietly. "What exactly do you take me for?"

"A king," I breathed looking up into his eyes. Confusion mingled with his anger. "Peasants may fall in love with royalty, but they are not offered the luxury of marrying them. Kings do not give lowly guards a second thought, even if they afford them the title of 'friend,' so I will ask you again, sire: Why are you doing this? Why are you acting as though hope abounds for my doomed heart where none has ever existed?"

His brow smoothed, his lips parted a fraction, and his glamour slipped silently back into place as he processed what I'd said. Oh, Valar, what I'd said! I'd confessed to loving the king!

Comprehension melted his anger away into nothingness. Instead, he moved within a single step of me, lifting one of his large, graceful hands to caress my cheek.

"You truly do not know?" I couldn't even bring myself to answer as I leaned into Thranduil's touch. This might be the last chance to do so after what I'd just admitted. He'd dismissed guards in the past for much less severe transgressions. "When we spoke last night, you told me that you desired to be loved - not by the whole of the Woodland Realm as I believe you deserve, but by one person. The Ellon your father chose for you certainly could not do that when remembering something as small as your favorite flower caused him such strain."

Low and gentle, his voice trickled over my ears as smoothly as honey. He...He didn't sound angry, anymore. Why wasn't he enraged that someone like me had dared to cross the more-than-generous boundary of friendship that he'd allowed me?

"My king–"

"Thandruil," he corrected, but there was no real bite to his words despite having to repeat himself again. He never repeated himself, yet this morning alone he'd done so twice. "You adore the blue wildflowers that grow along our western borders, but if you smell them for too long, they make you sneeze. During the summer, you set them on the sill in your room and keep the window open so that you might enjoy them without discomfort."

I blinked in surprise. I could vaguely remember a conversation years ago where I'd mentioned the flowers, but it was such a trivial thing that I was quite certain it would've been forgotten by morning. After all, what I did with flowers had no bearing on the fate of the kingdom.

"You prefer your tea sweet but not overly so. When you believe it might rain, you take the precaution of braiding your hair so that the humidity will not render it impossible to untangle when you return home."

The Elvenking began slowly, allowing each small fact that he'd observed about me to sink in along with the realization that he'd favored me with his attention frequently enough to accrue them.

"Your confidence with daggers is low, but with a bow, you are as bold and graceful as any skilled Elleth warrior. When I express my anger at some wretched fool in my court, you often struggle to suppress your laughter at how close they come to wetting themselves in the throne room - do not deny it. Your body gives you away each and every time."

Had he truly seen so much of me during my service to him?

"When your temper is tested, there is a small line that appears just here," he touched a spot between my brows, "that brings me great consternation. On the one hand, I wish to give you my sword so that you may more easily remove the head of whomever has dared incur your wrath, but on the other, I wish to soothe your frustrations with my words, my lips, my body, whatever you will allow–"

"Thranduil–" His name fell from me as no more than a whisper. The leaves on the trees surrounding the path rustled in the breeze, but the Elvenking could not be stopped.

"Your free time is often spent reading. Once a week before you return home, you sneak out to the stables and feed my elk an extra apple, because you find him sweet-tempered. When you laugh, your eyes sparkle brighter than any star ever could, and you steal the breath from my chest each time you look at me."

My vision blurred, and only when my king's thumbs brushed tears from my cheeks did I realize that I was crying. I'd loved him for so long that this felt as surreal as a dream.

"You said that you wish to be loved, meleth-nin. To answer your question, I am doing this because I can give you exactly what you desire. I could love you with my eyes closed, because I have done so with them open since the day you were assigned to my guard."

Thranduil leaned closer, freezing but a hair's breadth from my lips.

"If you do not feel the same, we can remain friends, but if there is the slightest chance that you could find happiness by my side, then marry me. Be my queen. I am yours." His whispered promise was filled with so much tenderness and hope that my restraint snapped, and I closed the distance between our mouths.

My fingers gripped his robes in an attempt to ground myself, but this heady feeling of being wanted - being loved - robbed me of all coherent thought. There was only the feeling of gentle hands drawing me close by my waist and the nape of my neck. Only soft lips kissing me with the skill of thousands of years' worth of experience. Only a king claiming his queen's heart.

There was only love.

~*~

mellon-nin = my friend

aran-nin = my king

meleth-nin = my love

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #Thranduil x Reader

269 notes · View notes

n3ptoonz · 28 days

Note

Could you please write the reader waking up from a wet dream with Smoke? reader mumbles his name during it so it isn't that hard to tell what's happening and helps when you wake up after maybe... 😵‍💫 established relationship. I LOVE your stuff so much by the way every time you post it's Christmas for me.

christmas 😭😭😭 i love that analogy TYSM anon❤️💚

now...this is what i'm talkin about 😈😈 let's get it DONEE

'Love On The Brain'

Pairing: Royal Guard!Smoke/Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit, service top!smoke, switch! smoke, gn reader, reader is a switch, wet dream, established/secret relationship, creampie, m!nipple play, cowgirl, prone, missionary, handjob, sphinx likes when men beg, somnophilia, reader is like the heir in a primarily female tribe (very outworld-esque)(idk i just wanted to sound cool), barely proofread apologies for typos

Word count: 1.9k

Explicit content under the cut

To be the heir in a tribe that was ran by mostly powerful women, it was naturally a blessing to be in your position. Because here, gender didn't matter. First born = next in line for leading. Period.

However, your mother was no stranger to keeping men in their place. Most of the guards that did nothing but protect and serve were in fact men, especially ones that were chosen from clans with high status.

Your quarters, like your other siblings, were a bit far from the main part of the land, but that meant you had your own guard all to yourself--like everyone else. One man that was capable of just about anything, if not everything.

His name was foreign; that of a whole different region outside of your knowledge. What was it again? Ah, it was-

"Tomas-!" you choked out a whine as your eyes shut tightly. Tomas held one of your hands while the other was gripping your other hip, watching the stomach bulge appear with stars in his eyes as he had no shame going at a relentless pace.

This was the third time you came in one round. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it right. Who knows how long you've been going at it by now? Honestly, who cares. To basically have the shape of him molded inside you, time was the least of your concerns.

You were signaling that you were about to cum again by the slight grip you had on his hand while the other flew over your mouth. He suddenly stopped his movements and leaned forward to kiss the back of that same hand.

"I want to hear you. Can you do that for me?" he whispered. He said your name over and over in a sweet, gentle manner, as if he was trying to get your attention. What was once a hazy and muffled voice was becoming clearer every time he said your name. And as you opened your eyes-

You shot up in your bed and panted, shielding your eyes from the sun rays that assaulted your vision. Your breath stilled you turned to look to your side; Tomas was standing at the foot of your bed in position but a concerned look on his face--he was typically bad at hiding his emotions, it's an ongoing joke between you two.

"I heard you calling my name, are you alright?" he asked, a faint tint of blush betraying him. You were about to get up off the bed when you felt a sort of...sticky substance in your underwear. You froze in your spot before sheepishly looking up at him.

"I am, thank you...Could you, um..." you trailed off.

With these three words he has heard before, he's assuming you're about to ask him to leave so you can have your privacy. Being in a secret relationship with your own guard wasn't exactly all fun and games, he still took his job very seriously, but boy did he enjoy the thrill alone.

He had already made a move to leave the room when you hopped out of bed, remembering that feeling between your thighs as soon as you took a step. If there wasn't a bloom of even more concern on his face before, it's there now. He takes one look at how you were standing, and one look at your bed. Upon seeing a bit of a stain where you were just laying, he was no fool. He knew it exactly what that meant. From you repeatedly whispering his name in your sleep, to the slight jolts every few seconds...

"Did you...uh-"

"Tomas," you said as now stood in front of him with no intention to break eye contact. You looped your index finger around a piece of his armored chest plate and pulled him in for a short, but meaningful kiss. Eventually going back in for even shorter seconds and thirds. You felt like a starved bear woken up from hibernation, and you needed your fill.

"You are going to fuck me. And you will do it how I tell you to. Is that understood?" you whispered. The color red almost completely took over his entire face upon seeing this newly discovered hunger in your eyes, but he was more than happy to oblige by your commands. He did serve you, after all. Why not put it to good use?

The only sounds that could be heard was the bed shaking, skin slapping together, and your cries muffled by your pillow. The swiftness in which Tomas put you in the prone position and pinned you down with his body, he didn't even really need to use his hands for anything besides holding himself up.

"Look at you loosening up for me. Is this how the heir behaves?" he taunted. You gave him free rein to speak how ever he pleased. Your nails drug against the sheets and you panted as the room grew hotter and your skin felt prickly from the cold sweat.

The pure bliss of his long, thick dick dragging in and out of you and the contrast to what was once cold metal armor to his sweaty, warm muscular chest atop your back made you see stars. This was a thousand times better than your dream, honestly.

"Nothing to say?" he asked, slowly yet agonizingly pushing himself into you and bringing his movements to a halt. He was holding your hips down at the same time until a good amount of his weight engulfed you. The angle he was laying at had him brushing right against your g spot, but not enough to get you to cum in an instant.

"Tomas--!" you cried out, squirming and groaning underneath him. You couldn't see it, but Tomas himself had to pause before responding because he was getting overwhelmed. You felt so good around him, he almost moaned your name back.

"You feel...so fucking good wrapped around me..." he whispered. He didn't expect himself to say it out loud, but the cat's out the bag! He slowly shakily pulled out and flipped you onto your back, the sight of your slick mixed with his pre-cum leaking out of you made him dizzy.

Your face was flushed, eyes glossy, and chest heaving; he looked the same. Without second thought you pulled him close for a deep and passionate kiss, reaching your other hand between your legs to grab and pump him. He nearly got choked up mid-kiss. You smiled and chuckled against him as you could feel his hands grabbing for the sheets next to your head. His body was trembling with love and lust.

You continued to stroke him and made sure it was known he wasn't allowed to be inside you again...yet. And this? This...newfound dynamic of power, he loves it. He instinctively started thrusting his hips into your palm and wishing it was you.

He broke the kiss and started nipping at your neck, his shallow breaths and breathy whimpers all too familiar right in your ear. He knew it wouldn't be possible to mark you up the way he wants to, but that didn't really matter. Only he gets to be this close to you and he relished in that alone.

His breaths picking up meant he was close, but you weren't having that. Him coming before you? Especially if you haven't yet? Madness. Though, you knew he wasn't about that either.

You quickly angled him in front of your hole and pulled away right as he thrusted forward. The both of you groaned in pleasure at the sudden contract on both ends and a cold shiver washed over your bodies.

He couldn't help but cum instantly, but he was no punk. He just kept going at the same time you were being filled to the brim. The room couldn't be louder with his determined grunting and the sound of squelching coming from between your legs.

You came shortly after and dragged your nails down his biceps since he had you caged in. He had your back arched, seeing stars, and out of breath.

There must've been something about this morning air because neither of you felt like this was over. Or maybe you didn't want it to be...

You smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, giving him a quick kiss on the nose before pushing him off of you and crawling on top of him. You watched his gray eyes practically twinkle at the sight of you--spent but willing. But also the rays from the sun shining through your window.

One of your hands carefully wrapped around his neck while the other simply put his length back inside. Being on top of him now, you could feel his quick breaths and the slight bucking of his hips.

"No touching while I ride you. Understand?" you said, tone just above a whisper when you leaned in closer to him. He gulped and shyly nodded. He was determined to try his best not to, because he knew you'd be even more willing to punish him for it.

There was no more starting slow. You both wanted and needed to chase this high as fast as possible especially under these circumstances. You took turns having control, and you were going to make the most of it. You were already pumped full of his seed so who needs slow and sensual now?

Your body was kicked into overdrive as you took all of him again. You tried to keep a not so expressive attitude, but damn that was growing harder by the second. No pun intended.

Since there was a free hand that wasn't on his neck, you decided to try something new. You gently rubbed his nipple to see if he'd have a reaction. And boy DID he have a reaction.

"Fuck-" he cursed multiple times. His face contorting and hips bucking harder was all you needed to see. "Ah, don't stop, please." he whispered.

He had to keep balling his hands into fists so he wouldn't just grab your hips and fuck you til you cried again. "By the gods, I'm so close. Don't stop-" his own words interrupted by a combination of a gasp and a moan. You've never seen this side of him before. Even if you did have sex the amount of times that could be counted on one hand, you didn't expect he'd act like this. Of course, he's a sensitive and sentimental guy at heart even if he doesn't show it much outside of being alone with you.

Good thing you were also about to blow too. Would you believe me if I told you he was about to cry? Well, you should. Because he's doing so right now.

"Can I- Agh- Can I please touch you? I can't go on like this-" he begged. You denied him just to watch him cry some more. And as the tears poured from his eyes, you both came together. He wasn't sad or upset. Quite the opposite actually. Little did you know it was so fucking hot to him that you wouldn't give him what he wants right after he just had you pinned to the mattress and filled with his cum.

After you calmed yourselves down, cleaned up, and changed the sheets, you convinced him to take a bath with you and cuddled close to him. You didn't want him to go back to his post yet. It had been some time since either of you had gotten the time to yourselves to do something like this, clearly. You innocently sat in his lap while you two cleaned each other off--including the dried tears under his eyes.

And then you woke up.

Kidding! After your nice, hot bath, you pulled him close as you plopped down onto the fresh sheets just to hold him for longer...Thank the gods today was your off day.

a/n: HI...! XDXDXD COLLEGE WAS WHOOPING MY ASS, my bad y'all! i hope yall fw this bc deadass this person asked for this in fuckin january, i feel like a shitty author rn😭😭but we got it done 🙏🏾 idk when imma be able to focus on tumblr fics again, but hopefully it won't take as long like this did!

#n3ptoonz #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #tomas vrbada #smut #mk smut #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada smoke #smoke mk #mk smoke #mortal kombat smut #mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas mk1

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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

Text

yandere!athanasia de alger obelia with fem!reader headcanons

Warning: OOC, obsessive behavior, implied violence, mention of death, stalking, implied manipulation.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, hope you all have had a lovely winter solstice and a Merry Christmas! Somehow, this fic got deleted, so I'm re-uploading it! Special thanks to @lxdymoon0357 for helping me write this fic. Check out their content, it is amazing!

Just a heads-up, I am temporarily removing Loving Promise on a Broken Ring from the masterlist so that I can polish it to be the best version it can be. When it's ready, I will post the fic back onto the blog. I will be posting a couple of fics in 2024 here and on my other blog, @an-idyllic-novelist.

These headcanons can see read as either romantic or platonic :)

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive inside the pages of novel.

Amongst the supporting characters Anthanasia had read about in The Lovely Princess, there was one person who had stayed beside the original First Princess of the Obelia Empire even when it seemed like the entire world was against her: [First Name] [Last Name].

[First Name] [Last Name] had come from a well-known family, trained by Felix Robane himself until she was worthy enough to be sworn as the ‘sword’ and ‘shield’ of the First Princess, her personal gaurd. Although Jeannette had won over Claude’s affection with her unrealistic optimism and kindness, [First Name] was not swayed over to the female lead’s side. Nor did she believe Anthansia would try to poison her own half-sister out of spite. In fact, she had been the only one.

Regardless of what the knight believed, however, the First Princess still died by the Emperor’s hand. The loss of Anthansia drove [First Name] to commit suicide in her grief, and then she disappeared for the rest of the novel. After Chapter 9 in The Lovely Princess, the novel’s world revolved around Jennette Margarita and the male lead.

…Which is complete and utter bullshit! [First Name] went through so much character development in the spin-off stories featuring Anathansia, which she had actually enjoyed reading a lot more than the original content. Why would the author throw that out of the window again like she did with Lily’s character?! Augh, stupid book, stupid writer!

Now that she had been reborn as Anthansia, she refuses to allow events in the novel’s timeline that will endanger her life before and after she turned eighteen. Anthy's initial plan had been to steal as much as she could from the Ruby Palace, hoarding it in a secret area until there was enough funds to escape the country.

Plan A went up in smoke because she had met Claude four years earlier. Now….God, she had to act cute and try to make sure he doesn’t get bored of her or else he’ll kill her! He’s a meanie! A tyrant! What kind of asshole would just sit and watch his daughter drown in the lake or carry her like a sack of potatoes! If there’s anything that was remotely positive about this series of unfortunate events is that she got to know Felix.

Felix was nicer than Claude, and he was the one who had recognized [First Name]’s potential to become her knight!

Maybe. Maybe if she played her cards right with the Emperor and Felix, she’ll get [First Name] to come to her palace sooner!

But if Anthy does that, then [First Name] will have to go through two, or even four years of training under her Daddy’s personal guard until she is deemed qualified to protect a member of the royal family! Argh, even calling Claude that name is embarrassing enough!

And yet…

If she does change the story even a little bit for the sake of her survival and bring her favorite character here sooner than how it’s written, then…[First Name] won’t throw her life away as she had done in the original work. She’ll get to live a comfy life here, train to her heart’s content, maybe even join Anthy for tea parties! Anthy would like that very much, and she definitely wouldn’t tell her to take ten steps back when they walk through the palace together.

Then when the time is right…when Anthy is able to leave the palace and allow her half-sister to become the new princess in everyone’s lives….she’ll bring [First Name] with her. After all, there’s no other reason for Anthy to stay here except for Lily. And a lady always needs an escort wherever she goes, right?

….Right?

Athanasia de Alger Obelia will use her intellect and charm to ensure that you, her most precious knight and favorite character, will survive the series of unfortunate events that were written in this crappy novel world. Even if it means she will have to play the part of a sweet and cute daughter in front of the man who had caused her death in the first place.

If she wants to go for a stroll in the garden or gets dragged to go on a boat ride with Claude, make sure to stay nearby. She doesn’t want to lose sight of you.

Athy will insist that you come to her tea parties too. She would love to see you in a dress, but knows it would damage your reputation if she began to treat you, someone of a lower status, as an equal…even though she desperately wants to.

When there is time in her busy schedule, she will come and seek you out at the palace training grounds. She wants to see how you are progressing under Felix’s guidance and be assured that you aren’t being treated badly by the rest of calvary. If you are, just say or point your finger at the culprit. She will handle the matter personally.

No hard feelings if she becomes a little bit clingy though, okay? Athy adores you, and it’s normal to spend a lot of time with a person that you like from morning to night. Just don’t leave her for side. That’s all you have to do….if you want to survive in this hellhole. Don’t even think about asking the court magician about the princess’ behavior towards you. Luca will just shake his head in pity, wondering how in the world did the princess become so infatuated with someone like yourself and not see Duke Alpheus’ son stares at Her Highness with that same disgusting expression.

Taglist

@nunezs-stuff

@that-one-pretty-bitch

@swallowtailcherry

@dxmoness

@dragonempress18

@abelheilonwife

@sleep-all-day-everyday

@technikerin23

@gyatdamnpookie

@lyomeii

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #x reader #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #who made me a princess #wmmap athanasia #yandere #yandere female #wmmap x reader #tw stalking #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive love

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