#Royal bedroom decor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellarkeselection · 2 months

Text

1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

Part 2

The Venus Muse

Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.

Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever.

“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me.

She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.”

“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center.

The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?”

“It is not my place to speak on.”

I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.”

“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress.

The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected, to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates todayâ€¦”

My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return? We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”

Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”

“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”

Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “

“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off.

I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”

“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me.

I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.”

“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled.

My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.”

“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say.

Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.”

“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion.

She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.”

“Mother, Iâ€¦that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears.

Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back.

“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him.

He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.”

“Ohâ€¦” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness

That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first.

“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.”

“Exactly that would be a tragedy.”

The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds.

“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree.

Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”

Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”

“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face.

I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”

“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were.

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @ritz-hell-hotel

182 notes · View notes

ladywuvly · 3 months

Text

♱ love bites pt.1 (vampireslave!simonriley x princess!f!reader)

summary|| The world stands divided, witnessing the dawn of a fierce civil war between mankind and vampires. Since the day you were born, your father, the king, has dedicated his life to mastering the art of manipulating the masses. However, his relentless pursuit of power has overshadowed everything else. Nevertheless, when a pale-faced servant is introduced into the castle, an inexplicable connection draws you towards him. wc: 6.8K

warnings|| MDNI; 18+ content, violence + mentions of, blood, swearing, abuse, slavery, child neglect, human trafficking.

masterlist. socials. recs.

It was the day of your birthday, a day that should've brought you joy and excitement. Yet, it wasn't as if turning a year older, granted you any additional control or responsibility over your own life.

Instead, you found yourself trapped in this house castle you called home. Surrounded by a series of unfamiliar faces, royal servants, and a new tutor every few months.

Isolated from the other children your age, a burning desire for freedom consumed you, as you watched them get the life you wanted; the life you yearned for.

While they were allowed to live freely, you were imprisoned inside this mansion. Locked away in your bedroom, walls covered in lavish decor. Shelves and dressers filled with things you rarely used - makeup and perfumes rarely touched, dresses and linens you dreaded to even wear.

You were merely a marionette, dressed up and down, manipulated at your parent's whim, while others turned a blind eye at your misery.

Although, what did you expect, you were a princess after all.

Marianne suddenly entered your bedroom. Crossing the threshold gracefully with her eerie ambiance of mystery and allure.

Marianne had been your mother's handmaid for as long as you could remember. She had been a gift to your mother, from your father, long before you were born.

Flawless porcelain skin and deep captivating red eyes that set her apart from the rest of the other servants around the castle.

Time seemed to have no effect on her. She had not aged a single day in all of your years. Frozen in time at the age of 26, and was, considerably, the only consistent part in your life.

Marianne laid out a dress for you. Placing it down carefully on your bed as she continued to busy herself around your bedroom.

Your head turned at the sound of her voice and you looked up at her sympathetically. "Do I have to go?"

Leaning back as her hands playfully combed through your hair, fingers gliding smoothly through your freshly brushed strands.

"It's best to get it done and over with." She said calmly.

As you made your way down the stairs, you took a moment to calm yourself before entering the dining room sheepishly.

Your father was seated at the head of the table, your mother beside him.

Catching sight of you, he swiftly fished his pocket watch from his coat. "You're late. I don't have the time to wait for you."

You followed your father outside to the waiting carriage. Accepting the kind hand offered by Louis, your chauffeur, and settled into the comfortable seats.

The ride dragged on, perhaps it was on account of what awaited you, upon your arrival. It baffled you at how things had reached this point.

Once the existence of vampires was revealed to the world, they were immediately labeled as a threat. Dangerous creatures of the night that lurked amongst the shadows. Monsters hiding among men.

On contrary to popular belief, they didn't burst into flames when exposed to sunlight. They weren't threatened by garlic, or crosses, or holy water. They didn't die from a stake to the heart and they were certainly not undead.

Although, they appeared pale in complexion, possessed immense strength and heightened senses, and required a dietary supplement of blood to survive.

It would be unfair to label them as monstrous, and you refused to believe this was the only way to live alongside them. They had once been people, just like you were. They experienced emotions and suffered pain.

Sure, it was different from the typical ways of the 'living' world. Still, that didn't justify enslaving their entire race.

It was argued that it was the only method to ensure humanities safety. Claiming that without it you’d be vulnerable, unprotected. Nevertheless, you wouldn't embrace the idea that this was the sole approach to a harmonious existence.

Soon the carriage came to a halt and your father got out. You peered out from behind him, surveying your surroundings before stepping onto the muddy road.

You trailed behind him into the building, entering a large auditorial room where the auction would be taking place. That familiar nauseous feeling swirled in your stomach as he led you to your seats near the back of the audience.

You anxiously looked around the room, taking in every detail. Within a matter of moments another man strode across the stage, approaching the podium.

The room became silent in anticipation as he began to speak. His words fell deaf to your ears, drowned out by the unsettling start of the auction.

Your eyes remained fixed on the stage. Witnessing as one after another, was forcefully brought out.

Both men and women, hands bound and feet shackled, appeared before the crowd. Some looked more heavily mistreated than others.

What disgusted you even more was the lack of empathy displayed by those around you, not even flinching as each individual was auctioned off to the highest bidder.

The sight was repulsive, and you couldn't bear to raise your bidding paddle held tightly in your hands.

As the auction began to come to an end, your father seethed at you through his barred teeth. "If you do not bid, I will do it for you."

Reluctantly, you shifted your gaze back to the stage, as another man was being dragged out.

He stood with an imposing height. Towering over the both men who held him captive at either side. His shoulders wide, and the shirt he wore did a poor job at concealing the dried blood and dirt that clung to his pale skin.

Your eyes couldn't help but linger on him, captivated by his presence. Despite his greasy blonde hair that fell over his eyes impedingly, it didn’t mask the strong features of his face.

He pulled away from the man on his right, earning a painful kick to the back of his legs that sent him collapsing onto his knees.

With his hair serving as a makeshift restraint, his head was raised. Lifting his chin defiantly, revealing his face in all its glory to the many interested onlookers among the audience.

His appearance was striking and as strange as it seemed, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. His rugged face, marked by dirt and blood, still possessed an undeniable beauty.

Soon bids were being placed, and although the thought of purchasing this man in front of you seemed unfathomable, you couldn't resist impulsively raising the paddle high into the air.

"13,000! 13,000 for..oh, and well if it isn’t the Princess herself, ladies and gentleman!" The entire room turned their attention from the auctioneer to you, causing you to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

As you looked back at the stage, the man's gaze locked with yours. His eyebrows furrowed harshly and he shot you a piercing glare causing your heart to ache.

"He's going to be difficult to break in." Your father disgruntled.

"You told me to bid."

"13,000, going once! Going twice! Sold to our Majesty and the Princess!" Your father rose from his seat, you instinctively followed. Waving and smiling as the men and women in the crowd erupted in applause.

As you glanced back at the stage, a wave of dread washed over you as you watched them forcefully drag the man away and out of your sight. Sorrow-filled, you tore your gaze away and hurriedly followed in his footsteps.

As he stood by the reception desk, meticulously filling out paperwork and a bill of sale. Your attention was drawn to the two familiar men who had been escorting individuals on an off stage.

They seemed to be engaged in a conversation with your father, he discreetly offered them a few coin each, before he turned and handed you a pen.

"What’s this for?" You ask, your voice filled with uncertainty. "Ownership papers." His reply caused you to freeze.

It was hard to believe that this was actually happening. You would be this man's owner. He would become your possession.

"Father… I-I'm not sure if I can-" You stammered, your voice trembling.

"That's enough." He said, silencing you.

It was astonishing, how effortlessly your father made you remember just how easy it was to hate him. He had managed to portray this as nothing more than a point of sale, stripping away all humility.

Swallowing down your tears, you leaned over to hastily scribble your signature at the paper’s edge. Every letter and each stroke of the pen, another stab wound to your heart.

You dropped the pen as if it had burned you, walking out of the building and leaving your father inside.

As you caught your breath out on the sidewalk, a laughing bunch of children dashed by you. Joyfully passing a vibrant red rubber ball amongst each other.

Their contagious laughter brought a fleeting smile to your face, but it soon faded as rearing envy flooded your chest. You longed to once be part of their innocent joy.

Your father appeared from behind you and as the carriage arrived he promptly took his seat without bothering to spare you a glance.

You took a moment to look for where they might have placed the man of such impending size. It would be difficult to hide a man of his stature, even on something as grand as the royal carriage.

As you glanced at Louis. He met your gaze before casting his eyes behind him towards the rear.

You cautiously approached the back of the carriage, stealing a glance around the corner to catch a small glimpse of him.

There he was, shackled securely to the luggage rack sitting upright on the short, compact shelf.

You swiftly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring that your father hadn't caught you gazing inquisitively at the cryptic man.

"Princess?" A gravely, somber voice broke the silence.

Startled, you jumped in surprise caught off guard by the sudden sound. Turning back to face the man who remained bound in place.

You approached him cautiously, his appearance became even more unsettling. Although his face remained somewhat concealed, the deep scars that were etched into his skin were too distracting to ignore.

The long jagged scars that scattered across his face. Remnants of a past wound ran across his nose. His face, a roadmap of strength and survival.

Cutting deeply over his lips like a badge of honor. Saw-toothed and jagged, narrowly missing his eye, dividing his eyebrow and cheek with a single stroke, which only added to his allure.

Each scar, a testament to a life lived, resiliently.

Your eyes welled up with tears, brimming and threatening to overflow. The feeling of self-disgust washed over you, utterly ashamed at what you had done. The depths you had sunk, purchasing him as if he were mere property.

"Everythin’ a’right there, Princess?" His voice was hoarse and deep, sending a shiver down your spine. Never before had the sound of someone's voice evoked such a whirlwind of emotions within you.

"Don’t call me that." You snapped, feeling far from deserving of such a title. At the moment you felt nothing like a princess. A princess was strong, courageous, and compassionate, someone who helped others, not oppressed them.

He seemed familiar with the tone of your voice and with a stern expression turned to look away. "No! I-I’m sorry. I just… I just hate being called that." You stammered.

"Then wha' is it I call you?"

Your ears hummed in pleasure, as he played with your name a few times under his breath.

"And you? What shall I call you?" You asked him nervously.

"Anythin' you please." He gazed at you intensely, causing you to shyly glance down at your hands.

"No, I want to know your name." You insisted, shaking your head.

"Simon." He stated sharply.

"Simon…" You repeated, before anxiously biting your bottom lip. Mesmerized, you couldn't tare your eyes away from his intense crimson gaze as it slowly drifted down to your mouth.

The sudden sound of your father's voice calling your name caused you to gasp, releasing your flushed lip. Shattering the moment, you turned your attention towards the front of the carriage.

Glancing back at the mysterious man. "I’m sorry, I’m truly so sorry." You panicked, stepping away, rushing to take your seat.

As you made your way back to the castle, the ride was filled with an eerie silence.

Once you’d arrived home and stepped out of the carriage, the sound of jingling chains caught your attention.

Your father disappeared into the castle, leaving you alone with Simon. Watching as Louis released him from his restraints.

You couldn't help but feel the stir of curiosity and anger emanating from his gaze, freezing you in place.

Perhaps it was the countless years of torment he endured, that over time had hardened his natural state.

He stood tall, towering over your own figure. He was incredibly intimidating, and with each passing minute, the thought of fleeing became increasingly tempting.

Simon possessed an imposing build, with muscles that commanded attention. His blonde hair was too long and unruly, but that only added to his overall delphic demeanor.

However, his facial hair proved to be quite distracting, diverting the attention from his striking features.

His tattered clothing barely held together, falling apart at the seams, while his feet remained bare.

Your boots protected your feet from the sharp gravel stones, and although you were aware that he didn't experience pain in the same manner as you did, it still must’ve been somewhat uncomfortable. His overall appearance upset you.

"I’m sorry." You mumbled softly, casting your gaze downwards in shame.

"You keep apologizing."

He sounded annoyed, angry, his tone filled with irritation.

"I don't know what else to say." Closing your eyes to keep the tears at bay. With a shake of your head and a sniffle, you took a deep breath to compose yourself.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the splintered rock caught your attention. You turned to see Marianne as she made her way towards you.

It only took a call of your name for you to run to her. Enveloping you into her warm embrace, cradling your head into her chest.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of emotions you broke down, no longer strong enough to hold back your tears. Sobs racked through your throat, causing your shoulders to tremble with each wail of grief.

In that moment, Simon's presence faded into the background. With tender gestures and the gentle stroking of your hair, Marianne comforted you. Her soothing words reassured you, easing your tears.

"Louis?! Louis?!" Marianne's voice rang out, beckoning the man who had disappeared for only a moment.

"What has happened?!" He exclaimed angrily, his accusatory gaze fixated on Simon.

"He’s done nothing." Marianne interjected, her voice calm yet firm. "You're well aware of the princess's nature."

Simon remained stuck in place, utterly surprised at your sudden outpour of emotion.

Throughout his years, he had encountered countless young women, but witnessing, a princess of all people, weeping uncontrollably in the embrace of someone who, by all appearances, shared his vampiric nature, seemed unfathomable.

Marianne regarded Simon with an inscrutable expression, her gaze impossible to decipher. "Louis, escort him to the bathing chambers. See to it that he is cleaned and attired appropriately before bringing him to the princess's quarters. We shall await his arrival there."

She instructed, gently tugging at your weeping form as she led you towards the grand castle.

"Goodness Marianne, it was absolutely awful." You said once you had distanced yourself from the men, finding the courage to explain yourself.

"They were all beaten and chained, some of them so weak they couldn't even stand on their own. It's sickening that I participated in such a thing. Heavens, I bought a man."

Tears continued to stream down your face as she guided you indoors. "It's alright now, my dear, don’t worry. All is well. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Simon squeezed into the porcelain tub, sinking comfortably against its back with his arms draped over the sides. He’d cut his hair, shaved his beard, and meticulously scrubbed all the dirt off his scarred skin, leaving it free from any traces.

As he indulged in the soothing warmth of the water, his mind wandered back to you.

Your wide tear-filled eyes that glistened as you looked up at him. Lashes that appeared fuller as they clung together from the tears cascading down your flushed cheeks.

The remembrance of your disheveled state, stirred a sense of melancholy deep within him.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he submerged himself beneath the water's surface.

Despite the fact that Louis had provided Simon with the largest clothes he could find. With his impressive height and broad build, they still seemed to be slightly too snug for his frame.

The shirt appeared to be undersized. It fell short, just below his hips, and was a bit snug around his shoulders. On the other hand, the old pair of boots that were given to him fit perfectly.

Louis guided him through the castle and when they finally reached your door, Louis left him standing in the hallway. Simon stood there for a moment unsure about what might lay beyond the door.

Sitting in your usual spot by the window, your lace-up heeled boots lay untied on the floor beside you. Sensing a change in the room, you turned around, anticipating Marianne. However, you were surprised when you saw Simon approaching.

Finally, with his hair cut short and his face clean-shaven, you could catch a glimpse of his true self. Though, his presence seemed so estranged in your feminine room.

You stood up, suddenly anxious. Yet, his height startled you and you took a clumsy step back, accidentally hitting the wooden bench with your heel, causing you to awkwardly plop down onto your rear end.

As soon as Marianne stepped in, you quickly stood back on your feet. Gently smoothing down the fabric of your skirt, attempting to alleviate the shakiness of your hands.

Simon obediently sat down into a chair not too far from him upon Marianne's request, and you gracefully resumed your own seat as well. Simon found it peculiar how willingly you followed Marianne's instructions.

"Simon, you are not t- Marianne..." You interjected, cutting her off.

From the moment you entered your bedroom, you had made it clear that she was not to address him in the same manner as the other servants.

Marianne let out a sigh before starting again. "Hello, Simon. My name is Marianne, the queen's lady-in-waiting. However, for all practical purposes, I have been taking care of the princess since she was a young girl."

Simon glanced back and forth between the two of you, catching your gaze as you observed him from your perch by the window.

"To ensure a seamless transition, there are just a handful of guidelines you need to adhere to." She informed him.

"Firstly, you will be residing in the servant chambers. Louis will assign you daily tasks to keep you occupied. Once you complete your duties, you are free to engage in any activities of your choice. Feel free to explore the castle grounds, take care of the animals and crops, or anything else that keeps you busy." She continued.

"However, you must always be attentive to the Princess herself. For you are to be devoted to her." Simon glanced in your direction, immediately catching sight of your somber expression, despite your attempts to hide it from him.

"It is strictly prohibited to enter the west wing of the castle. The library and ballroom, on the other hand, can be accessed with prior permission from the king, queen, or the princess." She finished.

After she’d gone over a few more things she’d eventually excused herself.

Once Marianne left your bedroom, you followed her to the door, closing it behind her. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you turned back to face Simon.

Marianne had encouraged you to make an attempt at talking with him. It wasn’t everyday a pale fresh face was introduced to the castle.

You found him standing in the middle of the room, his expression filled with uncertainty. "You have questions."

There was a brief moment of silence, before he suddenly spoke, taking a chance on your unusual demeanor. "Do I 'ave permission t'speak freely?"

"You don't need my permission to do anything." You replied honestly, yet, intrigued by his request.

"Neve' met someone like you." Simon paused, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Yet, his words caught you off guard, causing a blush to creep up your cheeks. "What do you mean?" You asked, genuinely surprised by his confession.

"All m’years, I've met thousands of people..." Simon explained, his tone filled with a mix of vulnerability and obligation.

"Ya’ see, I have been tortured, beaten, punished, abused..."

A lump formed in your throat, and tears welled up in your eyes as he confessed. "Stop that..." You whimpered softly, your voice barely audible.

"...but the first day I meet you, you apologized for nothin’." His voice remained steady. "You call me by my name, and allow me to call you by yours..." He stated in confusion.

"Simon.."

"I am at your command, your highness. I will not deny it... Simon, don't..."

You couldn't help but stare at the floor. Your throat constricted, a heavy lump settling in it, making it difficult for you to speak.

Simon's words struck a chord within you.

"I never wanted things to be like this." You confess, taking a step closer to him, unable to keep your distance.

"I never wanted to be trapped within these walls, raised by guards and maids instead of my own parents. Told how to dress, how to behave, how to speak, even how to feel. Forever alone, mocked, ridiculed..." Closing the gap between you, you continued.

"I may not know what it is like to be one of you, and I can never truly understand the pain of what you've been through, but I do know what it's like to have no control over your own life. To have every decision made for you. So, when I apologize, it's not for nothing. It's for everything. Everything that has ever happened to you because of me..."

As you stood just a step away from him. His face, a mixture of confusion and bewilderment.

"...so I find myself apologizing, repeatedly. Even though I know you may not believe me. I can no longer continue living this facade. Pretending that everything is okay, when it's far from." You let a breathless laugh escape your lips.

"I refuse to treat you in the same manner as my father would, and I was only at that stupid auction today because he insisted I had to be. So, please understand that I cannot treat you with anything less than kindness... and nothing you do or say can ever change that."

As you looked up at him, your hand softly touched his forearm, which dangled lazily by his side. Looking up at him, his captivating eyes met yours, an unbreakable connection.

They portrayed a deep sense of astonishment as you confessed, causing you to avert your gaze shamefully. However, you couldn't help but look back at him, wanting to appear courageous in the presence of such an overwhelmingly, intimidating man.

Simon was bewitched, an enchanted feeling he had never experienced before consumed him completely, leaving no doubt in his mind at your sincerity.

Initially, he had pictured you as a spoiled, immature, arrogant princess, who'd come from a privileged, lavish life. Someone who had everything handed to them on a silver platter, attended private classes and never missed a lesson.

Although, as he gazed at you, he saw the complete opposite.

The rosy blush on your cheeks, a beautiful indication that your heart pumped with life, and the sparkle in your eyes revealed a shimmer of hope for the future.

At your chest tightening confession, Simon realized that despite where he came from, an environment filled with poverty and hardship, where tainted hands met violence and hurt, you'd still welcome him with kindness and warmth. Something he hadn't felt since he was human.

"Please, do not make this difficult for me." You pleaded with him.

"I'm certain that the years you remain here will fade in comparison to the rest of your life, but it will be my entire existence."

Little did you realize just how wrong you were. Simon was already well aware that his time here would trump all the years he'd existed.

He knew that you, would surpass all the people he'd spent his everlasting eternity with.

The past few months remained somewhat peaceful. You had yet to ask much from Simon, other than helping hand here and there.

To be truthful, you were slightly embarrassed at your initial introduction of yourself, and your thoughts on the whole situation made you reluctant to ask things of him. However, that didn't mean you weren't observant.

Despite both of your seemingly busy schedules, it didn't deter you from watching him closely as he worked.

Tending to the horses and other animals in the stables. The times you witness him and Louis engaged in deep conversation.

He was truly a captivating sight to behold. You'd study him, working away, out in the fields, watching as he effortlessly hoisted those hefty bales of hay.

A task which would typically require the strength of two mortal men, he made, seem like child's play.

On hotter days, there were moments when you would catch him clad, in nothing but a pair of trousers and boots. His tunic-shirt, casually tossed over the fence as he tirelessly carried on with his work.

It was during these days, you'd take your time when admiring his naked upper body. With strong, powerful muscles rippling beneath scarred, sweat glistening skin. He was undeniably breathtaking.

He'd once asked you for permission to use the library and you had assured him that he no longer needed to ask your approval.

In fact, you'd even told him to let anyone causing him trouble know that it was you who had granted him access.

You'd ran into him a few times there, when gathering books your instructors told you to bring along to class.

Conversations were always short, neither of you talked very much. Simply a few brief, fleeting words regarding what each of you were reading or how you had been passing the time.

Once you began to feel anxious or perhaps even a bit flustered, you'd politely excuse yourself. Scurrying off to find solace in some deep, hidden corner of the castle.

Simon always found you incredibly strange. He was well aware of the fact that he had captured your attention, as he could feel your eyes fixed on him during numerous occasions.

In fact, he would often find himself going the extra mile just to amuse you. Whether it was casually removing his sweat soaked shirt or deliberately taking a bit more time to complete his tasks, knowing that you would be watching his every move.

It wasn't until your father had confronted you about your tutors' complaints, regarding your lack of focus during lessons. How they'd caught your attention slipping, or how easily you got distracted, often gazing out the window lost in your own thoughts, 'daydreaming' was what they'd called it.

As a result, he summoned you to his study, where he proceeded to ridicule you about how childish you were being. To waste their time and his precious coin on classes that you so stupidly couldn't comprehend, or didn't have the mental capacity to follow along.

His words cut like a knife, devoid of any kindness or compassion. His only purpose, to shatter the illusions you had created in your head, and to demand your undivided attention.

You quickly left his study, tears streaming down your face. Hurriedly, rushing through the grand halls of the castle. Your sole mission was to reach your bedroom, where you could finally surrender to the comfort of your bed and release all the pent-up emotions through a torrent of tears.

Yet, you were interrupted at the top of the stairs where you'd collided with someone with such force, you thought it would surely bring you both sprawling to the ground.

Instinctively, you threw your hands out to catch yourself, only to find them resting against a solid chest covered in well-defined muscles. A strong arm encircled tightly around your waist, keeping you from collapsing onto the ground in a puddle of tears.

Simon had spent quite some time in the library, secretly hoping he'd encounter you. Unfortunately, luck was never on his side. He'd abandoned his pursuit, making his way back to his quarters when he suddenly caught the sound of your hurried footsteps. The rampant rhythm of your heartbeat, and the unmistakable, sickly scent of your sorrow.

There were only a few things Simon found enjoyable about being what he was. Among them, was his heightened senses. With his newfound sense of smell and enhanced hearing, he had the luxury of knowing exactly how a person was feeling.

On occasion, he was able to catch the skipped beat of your heart, when he paid you a subtle compliment and the, oh so, delightful scent of your arousal that filled the air when he'd 'accidentally' brush up against you.

However, in this moment he didn't find it quite as appealing. The sight of freshly fallen tears, cascading down your flushed cheeks, and the sound of each wet breath you took in an effort to compose yourself, which had no effect, had Simon's chest constricting.

"Your highness? What has happened?" The sight of your distress caused a surge of anger coursing through him at the thought of someone causing you pain.

The unexpected appearance of Simon caused you to feel a sudden sense of relief. As his rough, calloused fingertips gently brushed away the tears streaming down your cheeks, and as his words registered in your mind, you shook your head.

Taking a large step away from him, distanced yourself from his comforting embrace. You swiftly wiped away any remanence of your tears, before crossing your arms tightly over yourself, in an attempt, determined to comfort yourself.

"Nothing. I am just being childish, that's all." You reassured him. Putting emphasis on childish, in reference to your father's patronizing words.

Simon tried to cheer you up teasingly. "Ain't a princess not suppose' t'lie?" Unfortunately he hadn't had much practice in the matter and his attempt only seemed to make things worse.

"You're right. I'm sorry-I just..." Your voice fractured, like delicate glass as you started to apologize, but he interrupted you.

"No. No, 's not what I meant." He said gently. Confused, you looked up at him. "You don't need to lie, not to me."

Reaching out, his fingers delicately brushed away a wayward piece of hair from your face, tucking the stray strand behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You inhaled deeply, preparing to speak, the words escaped your lips softly. "I'm falling behind in my studies." Simon would've asked why, but deep down, he feared he already knew the answer. Him.

"'s trivial." He said, attempting once again to displace your worries.

"To you." You sighed, while he simply hummed in response.

"Suppose."

Simon was never one for words, so he thought of something else that might cheer you up. "Come with me." He uttered unexpectedly, catching you off guard.

"What?... Where?" You asked him puzzled.

This time, he reached his hand out slowly, gently brushing against your wrist and palm, before finally catching the tips of your fingers with his.

Without saying a word, he led you carefully by his side, guiding you out of the castle entrance and towards the stables. You couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably as Simon tightened his grip on your hand, intertwining your fingers.

With your free hand, you lifted the skirt of your dress, in order to keep up with Simon's quickening pace. "Where are you taking me?" You asked him playfully. He didn't respond, instead pulling you closer to him as you approached the fence of the pasture.

"Simon I'm not allowed this far." You warned looking up at him. Once again, he paid no mind to your words, smiling down at you as he grabbed you by the waist to hoist you over the fencing.

"Simon!" You shrieked his name. Grasping his sturdy upper arms, at the feeling of him effortlessly lifting you off the ground and into the air. Once he set you back down on your feet, he placed one hand onto the railing, leaping to your side.

"Would you just come on." He said, grabbing your hand once more pulling you with him into the open fields of grass.

Suddenly, he came to a stop, positioning you in front of him. You could feel the firmness of his chest against your back, while his large hands firmly grasped onto your hips protectively.

"Si-Shh, shh, shh. Look." He interrupted you softly, gently nodding his head for you to look forward.

Straight ahead, in front of you both, was a harras of horses. Gracefully trotting over the lush grassy knoll. A handful of playful foals keeping pace beside their nurturing mothers.

As the sun began its descent behind the towering trees, it painted the flowery hills with radiant beams of golden light.

The view before you was absolutely breathtaking, and despite all your years living in the castle, you never imagined you'd see something quite this beautiful.

You gently rested your hands on Simon's, which were now wrapped loosely around your waist and leaned back into the comfort of his strong embrace. In that moment, all your previous worries and doubts seemed to fade away.

Simon felt you relax into him, drawing you tighter against his body, keeping you close.

He gently lowered his head, his nose grazing against the full of your hair and he took a deep breath, inhaling in your delicious scent, savoring the intoxicating aroma of vanilla that enveloped you both.

As his words escaped his lips, a gentle touch of his breath caressed the shell of your ear sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His tone, a confident statement, rather than a question.

You gave a subtle nod, your voice currently untrustworthy as Simon's head remained nestled in your hair.

His hands began to wander. His brain, no longer thinking clearly as his senses grew hazy. His mind, a clouded mess, suddenly consumed by you.

With one hand he gently traced the curve of your hip, gripping at the softness of your plush thighs through the fabric of your skirt.

His other hand ventured upwards, long fingers spreading wide as they glided over your rib cage, brushing against your sternum just below your breast.

As his lips drug against the delicate skin of your neck and a surge of warmth enveloped you, your eyes widened in recognition.

You quickly spun around to distance yourself from him, but his arm remained securely around your waist holding you firmly in place.

Your hands reached out to push at his chest, but the intense look of hunger in his eyes, caused you to freeze.

How foolish of you, allowing him to lure you out here all alone. As much as you were reluctant to accept it, he was still a predator and his thirst for blood, veracious.

As his hand gently cradled your cheek, his fingers tangled in your wild hair. His eyes burned with an insatiable lust as he tilted your head.

You watched him salivate, his tongue darting out, licking his lips at your desirable taste.

A wavering sigh escaped your lips, leaving you utterly breathless. Fear gripped your trembling hands as he leaned closer, drawing you towards his awaiting mouth.

You knew there was no calling for help, no one would arrive fast enough to save you from him.

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes as a single tear fell down your cheek. Bracing yourself for the inevitable pain, accepting of his bitter-sweet bite of death.

His cold breath fanned against your lips, before a burning warmth enveloped them. Pleasurable tingles coursed through your jaw, gradually ascending to your face, caressing your cheekbones and even reaching your hair, which was held captive in his strong hand.

The rough texture of his scarred lips was nothing compared to the pillowiness of them.

Simon deepened the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You had never experienced such a sweet sensation before. You were still young and hadn't been trusting enough to share such an intimate moment like this with somebody.

A kiss filled with such an overwhelming sense of passion, surpassing any tenderness you had ever experienced. Your body relaxed, your hands, once tightly clutching his shirt out of fear, now clung to it with longing, yearning to pull him closer to you.

His mouth parted, gently drawing your lower lip inside. His tongue caressing the tender flesh as he kissed you furiously. He tasted like tea, earthy with a hint of something sweet, perhaps cherries or marzipan.

Simon couldn't get enough of you. The soft curve of your waist, perfectly fitting his hand, as if it were meant to keep you by his side.

Since his arrival, he'd been yearning for more. Longing for your taste, and to let you consume every part of him completely. The sickly-sweet flavor of your lips, the taste of your mouth that he savored like the most cherished elixir.

The sudden nip of his teeth against your plump skin stung, jolting you back to reality. The instant your eyes widened in astonishment, you pulled away from him.

Simon's brows were knitted together, as though the absence of your lip brought him some kind of unbearable pain. He breathed deeply, his chest, rising and falling, as if it carried the weight of his yearning.

He caught sight of the solitary tear that had escaped your eye, his thumb brushing it away along with your fears. You thought about how you'd gotten yourself here. How you had been so blind, up until this moment.

"Simon..." His name had never before sounded so beautiful coming from trembling lips.

Was it perhaps because he had kissed you silly, until you became lightheaded and breathless, or simply his ears playing tricks on him, he didn't know. Whatever it was he didn't care, his only priority was to somehow kiss you again.

"...why would you do that?" You said feverishly.

"Didn't think y’d mind." His voice was slurred as he spoke somberly. A hint of something playful in his tone that sent an unfamiliar sensation through your body.

Simon could smell the sweetness of your desire, yet your face, a mix of confusion and uncertainty. "You didn't ask..."

Of course that's what you wanted, he thought. A proper kiss for a proper girl. He smiled down at you, your eyes, filled with emotions, glistened innocently as they met his gaze.

"’ought ya might'a liked it." His gaze was soft as he shifted back and forth between your wide eyes and swollen lips.

"I might have if you'd asked."

In all honesty you did love like it. In fact it was better than you could've ever imagined. Although, it wasn't like you had anything to compare it to.

"Simon..." The purr that hummed in his chest sent tingles through you. He leaned down again dragging his nose along the exposed skin of your clavicle.

You flinched, the feeling of mouth so close to the bare skin of your neck. You shivered and couldn't help but whimper at the feeling.

Simon could smell your fading aroma of pleasure, replaced by the reeking scent of fear. He pulled away to look at you but you diverted your gaze. Looking anywhere but his captivating eyes.

"What's got ya so frightened, Dovie?" Amazed at how easy he could tell how you were feeling, you stuttered out a reply.

"I-We can't... If my father- Wait... how could you tell?"

"It reeks." He said blatantly.

"Y-you can smell fear?"

"Mhm..." He leaned back in, kissing up the side of your throat, mumbling against your skin between each one. "and sorrow... happiness... arousal..." You blushed deeply, bringing a hand up to hide your flushed cheeks.

"None of that, Dovie. 'm a proud man, like to see what I do to you."

The sun had set leaving the sky a dark blue-gray. The wind had picked up, the breeze whipping against your warm skin and tangling your hair into a mess.

Simon's hands began to move up and down against your arms before brushing back your wild strands. You leaned closer to him, his body bracing against the wind protecting you from the nipping cold.

"S'time to getcha inside, little one."

⇠ call of duty masterlist. part.2⇢

so this was originally just going to be one fic but it got way too long. so I figured I'd break it into two, maybe a third if y'all have some ideas/requests on how I could continue it <3 next part will be smutty!

#ladywuvly. m.list #18+ content #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #fanfic #navi.#18+ blog #fandom #vampireslave!simonriley x princess!reader #vampire!simon ghost riley

177 notes · View notes

ms0milk · 5 months

Text

𝟏𝟒 | 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He does not notice because you are a distraction, the tumult stirring in the castle behind you. He cannot understand his heart’s frustration at your warm fingers against his own."

no cw talking never works for the two of you, will a sparring match? bruises, grappling, unsubtle admiration (with a live studio audience). heartstopping smiles. the arrival of a new and dreadful ghost that reader tries to kill on instinct. 4.5k

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

The Queen of Takoba cracks open her bedroom door just as early as you suspected. Threats and growling stop in the face of her beauty, gulps and pulses start up when she yawns. You lower your head to the floor. You kneel beside her chamber door with three glaives pressed sharp to the back of your neck and three dull guards insistent on spoiling your apology.

“Go play,” she murmurs and turns back inside, disinterested.

“It was cute.”

“It was unnecessary,” Bakugou growls.

Princess Fuyumi hikes up her skirts in her floury fists and jogs to keep pace beside her sous chef, “You’re chronic Katsuki, this is ridiculous,” and smiles when he bares his teeth.

“She should be resting.”

“She is not your soldier.”

“She’s a soldier! She is ridiculous, not me!” The two twist in sync through frosty hallways towards Aizawa’s training pit. The castle is teeming with staff and lords this morning so they take back passageways. Morning meetings be dammed– party planning, flower arranging, appetizer testing, inseam measuring get fucked.

You have spent your morning hunting down queens and princesses and completely disregarding the one thing asked of you. You are not so dense as you pretend and as Bakugou storms to find you, he can’t help but be impressed by your dedication to being an uncontainable menace– finding all the places he might hide in Takoba not for his protection, but so you can avoid him when it serves you.

You should have been more careful, Bakugou sneers as he erupts onto the gallery, because where he underestimated you, you underestimated Half n’half and his propensity to be a fucking airhead.

“She looked well this morning.” Todoroki sat on a bench in the kitchen, eyes bleary and nursing a tankard of coffee. His sister and friend hunched over their latest attempt to recreate Alderan biscuits and both jolted when he spoke. Fuyumi sent every telepathic message she could to her brother who just kept talking. Bakugou’s stare melted holes in the table.

“She’s looking for you too Fumi,” the hotandcold prince yawned. Deku was wandering around somewhere with eye bags just like his and they both looked exactly like a stubborn guard had woken them up at dawn, “said she had an errand in the soldiers’ quarters so I gave her the address of your dressfitting in town tonight.”

Bakugou grips the gallery railing above the training pit and the metal in his fist starts to squeal as his magic slips out, because of course you’re there. Striking the training sword your opponent holds over their head desperately, over and over until it cracks and your weapon thunks their shoulder. Of course you’re smiling.

“Kirishima’’ll worry,” Fuyumi wheezes and plants a hand on Bakugou’s back to steady herself. Bakugou doesn’t take his eyes off the ring.

“Let him.”

You’ve overpowered two guisarmier by the time your prince winds through back passageways onto the floor of the pit because you are an Alderan halberdier and Takoba does not train much in polearms. You have also just cracked a middle-ranked sabreur over the head because you are a decorated fencer and your opponent didn’t prepare for melee combat before agreeing to duel.

Your cheeks are red with exertion and excitement. Half-armored soldiers lounge at the edges of the area laughing and hydrating. Some play cards. Uraraka is among them eating snacks and she nudges Shinsou forward with her foot, “You promised.”

“You promised,” you parrot and bounce a few paces into the center of the room because apparently you are well enough to fight Takoba’s future Armorer. Uraraka, the beast of melee and master-in-the-making, snorts and reclines on a pile of pads.

Bakugou steps forward before truly thinking and then Aizawa booms from the office above, “Halberds!” The doom spreading in your prince’s gut doesn’t know whether to multiply or dissipate. You still do not see him. You grin.

Two soldiers pass you the weapons their master ordered and you take your place eagerly while Shinsou finishes dusting himself off. The weapon twirls like a dancer between your hands.

As much as he berates him for it, Bakugou thinks just as much as Deku does.

Did Master Aizawa give you halberds for your advantage or Shinsou’s? Was it meant to embolden you– trick you? Did he predict how cocky you get when you think you have the advantage? Is Shinsou proficient? Is this to humble you?

He is thinking until the second the match bell rings and then gawks. Shinsou readies his weapon gracefully and crouches in position. You flourish the polearm once more in a figure-8 around your chest and shoulders and then abandon it entirely, spear thrust into the ground, to launch and tackle your opponent.

Aizawa wasn’t trying to embarrass you. It wasn't revenge for defeating his soldiers or discharging your weapon into a crowd of dinner guests. Shinsou grunts. He doesn’t drop his weapon but you are obviously too close to use it and his shoulders are already flat on the ground in defeat, “Shiny toys only help if you’re faster than me, weaponmaster.”

Shinsou erupts into laughter underneath you and nods in concession. Aizawa rumbles from his office, “You will learn creativity from Aldera or she will kill you,” clearly smiling as he speaks. Dread evaporates. It looks like they’re running a pin-drill, non-lethal, adaptive, against an unfamiliar fighting style. It’s just training. You’re not being held hostage by an army with a grudge. Takoba is not afraid to demean guests and it wouldn’t be the first time Bakugou picked a fight to defend the dignity of an Alderan. At home you are well respected and intimidating, but everywhere you are odd.

“s’not like we’re going to war,” Shinsou grumbles as you help him to his feet and dust off your knees.

The sabreur cackles under his bag of ice on the sideline, “Lucky us.”

“Royal contender!” Uraraka suddenly sings because she’s bored and has spotted entertainment from across the room, “An exotic prince wishes to challenge our victor.”

Your eyes shift from shared apprentice smiles to the place Uraraka gestures with her chin, the place where Bakugou has forgotten, momentarily, that he has a body.

He shakes his head without taking his eyes off of you.

“What? Does the prince not spar with his soldiers in Aldera?” Uraraka stops short of booing. He only knows she is mocking him because he has known her so long. Your face goes slack like his. “Todoroki trains with us all the time.”

“I’m not fighting an outpatient.”

“Right, of course. Worried three days of coma made her too strong?”

Bakugou scowls knives in her direction. When Master Aizawa descends from his office there is obviously no way out of his apprentice’s instigation.

“Would you consider showing my recruits an Alderan combat exercise?”

He knows you well enough, he has known you all your lives, and when Bakugou looks to you for a response he knows what you’re going to say before your lips part.

“Yes sir.”

“Weapon?”

“Unarmed sir.”

Aizawa nods, “Alderan hand-to-hand then. Takoba relies too much on magic anyway.”

Warmth drains first from Bakugou’s fingers and then his feet as the Master disables his magic and tips his head toward you, standing sure in the center of the arena under sunshine.

“Good morning, Highness” you murmur as your prince skulks into the light and takes his begrudging place in front of you.

“You’ve been fucking busy.”

He is skilled enough not to hurt you, and so this show will be simple. That’s all it is. A performance for the incompetence of Takoba. Aizawa takes a seat beside his apprentices to keep dust far away from his eyes, “Learn something, the lot of you.” His battalion falls silent.

Aldera excels in two things, combat and cultivation. Fruits richer than any on the planet. Warriors fiercer than you could find in hell. Bakugou is a culmination of his parents’ perfect magic and his mother’s aptitude for violence. He can speak the languages of the continent, he has trained under her men and has chosen his own Champion. What are you made of?

Right now it’s something like apprehension as he extends his fist towards you and your open palm to him. Jeanist’s defensive stance, a wide open hand ready to swing, grab, or close. You assume he’ll attack first. Your eyes are bright and focused, muscles warm, and usual braids tied back high with a length ribbon Fuyumi snuck into your dressers. Of course you would recover from a three-day coma overnight. Worry falls from him like a bucket with a hole.

He steps forward in a crouch. Your wrists cross.

“She’s not made of glass, Kats!”

There’s a grunt and he can only assume Aizawa thwacked his apprentice over the head but it’s enough for him to harden his stance because any warrior would dream of the opportunity to catch him in disorganized anger, even for a moment. You don’t flinch.

He wasn’t wasn’t wrong, apprehension fills you and now his worry drips higher. You are no blank unreadable foe and your own worry is written all across your eyes. Jeanist taught a terrible poker face.

“Any day,” Aizawa grumbles this time. You have spent the morning cracking the skulls of Takoba’s guards and now Bakugou is the one who appears apprehensive to a room full of strangers. He looks to you one more time and ducks forward to strike with his fist.

He meant to hit a rib, durable, flexible, and send you to the ground without the danger of a drawn out grapple but you step carefully out of his way. You’re fast, which he knew, but when he readies himself for retaliation you take the beat to solidify your footing and don’t make a single move towards him. It’s just your open palm and a crouch in his direction. The crowd hums.

Fine, one more. This time Bakugou skips forward with his arms drawn high at his side and dips in close to feign a strike to your chest. His kick to your ankles is well timed and serves to surprise onlookers but you only pounce with your feet together, then land beside him where you should have had every instinct to knock him prone. Instead you slip back two more steps out of range and ready yourself again.

Oh, Bakugou rolls his eyes as he stands again on two feet. He’s overcomplicating the obvious, “You’re permitted to fight me.”

Your ears perk like hound.

“Wouldn’t you like a real opponent after a morning of,” he gestures to the lounging soldiers, “this?” They suck their teeth but do not clamor. Your eyebrows raise in thought because you really do have a terrible poker face. Was that it? Apprehension at hurting your prince? “Cmon then.”

You do not make him wait when, lightfooted, you prance back into striking range. He plants one foot and swings forward to leave an obvious opening, it’s simple and always has been. You will dive into his fake opening and he will pin both your elbows in one arm to drop you on your back with the other.

You do not take the bait or a strike against him. You jump and tuck your head close to your chest to roll across his shoulders when he is still stuck in the motion of his faux swing. Bakugou growls and reaches behind himself to catch you where you land, which you somehow do not, hooking one leg around his waist to sling yourself back where you started. His heart pumps a little faster.

Where he punches, you duck, where he knees, you dodge, where he reaches, you redirect until you have danced your way around the ring a full rotation and still not exchanged a blow.

Are you really this useless without a weapon? Only able to defend? Bakugou spits and dives for your stomach in a full body attack. His heart pumps faster. You fall to your knees and bend far enough to slip under him and back upright on the other side.

He’s seen you fight and knows you’re capable of more than just taunting. Why will you spar with these useless fucks in a foreign kingdom and not him? Prince Bakugou does train with his soldiers at home but never with Jeanist’s precious Second. Everything but gratuitous hardships, a waste of time. Beneath you.

“Does this coward serve my kingdom?!” He roars, heart snapping, and spins when he lands on his palms like a cat to charge. Still like a hound, your ears pull back with his words.

“Take note,” Aizawa mutters.

Now your poker face– a bronze mirror really, channeled through your heart– blazes white hot, perfect. Two more steps. Bakugou was trained by Jeanist too and so you cannot hide from him.

Not that you’re trying to. Not that anything Jeanist taught would help him anticipate your dropped shoulder and open palms coming for him in a head on collision. You’re just as hot-headed as he is if a little shit talk riled you up this much.

Before Bakugou can tackle, you have dove flat underneath of him and grabbed his bicep with those ever-ready fists Jeanist tried to teach him to use. He’s thrown through the air with his own momentum and over your head faster than his heart can beat again. With your fists you pull, with your knees you push, and with two feet planted firm you sling him over your shoulder and sprawled onto the ground a few paces away. You are at his throat before he can blink.

“I am not a coward,” you hiss and hold a hand across his neck in clear victory.

Your prince watches the shape your lips make when you’re biting your cheek like he’s never seen anyone do it before. And the forest fire behind dark lashes. “No,” he breathes.

Aizawa’s knees crack when he stands and normally a few men would giggle, but every eye is on the foreign prince and his secret weapon. “Most deaths on the battlefield happen through carelessness.” The Master is probably pointing and lecturing but all Bakugou hears is the pulse in your chest and the crackle sand makes when sweat drips from the soft parts of your body. You blink to the crowd for a second.

“You should all remember your lessons from Aldera today on the element of surprise.”

“Rematch,” your prince grins. His arms fly above his head and he brings them down faster than you can get away, trapping your limbs against you and flipping you onto your back, much to the entertainment of the audience who, along with startled Aizawa, have forgone the lesson.

He pins your wrists above your head to keep them from gouging his eyes out and pushes hard on your thighs with his hips. A full body hold.

“Cheater!” Uraraka boos.

You think so too because you send a knees straight between his legs. With your speed he can only dodge one strike at a time so when he shifts to block, you pull your arms back in tight. He’s lost fights before, spars against Kirishima and the rest, but he’s only lost to unmatched brute force or poor magic pairings.

When he falls forward, you bow away and wrap an arm around his neck to trap him flat against you with a grunt. Cradle his back with your hips. Lock your arms tight around his throat and taunt him with easy breath over the shell of his ear. It’s been an awfully long time since he’s had to think in a fight. If either of you could hear over the blood in your heads you’d be charmed by the excitement of Aizawa’s men.

“Three out of five,” your prince wheezes and before you can utter your huh, he leverages his weight to roll onto his knees and without any of the gentleness he cautioned before, jerks forward to throw you over his head.

Your grip does soften but not because he’s caught you by surprise. It’s so you can lock your legs around his neck instead of your arms and twist him, writhing, back onto the ground beneath you. His weight won’t help him here. Magic might not make a difference either.

Bakugou has tucked a hand beside his neck to keep you from knocking him out and grunts with two squeezed cheeks between your thighs. The tighter you squeeze, the slower he moves because you’re not the only one with tricks. Think about the body like armor. He snakes his hand through the sand to hide the noise and grabs at the crease where your thigh meets your hip with thick vicegrip fingers. You shudder around him instead of yelping and his heart swells, half at the sound, and half at the opening he’s made.

Slipping out of your hold and back onto his feet where you no longer have the advantage in flexibility or wrestling, he spits sand and gravel. “Ticklish?”

You’re already on your feet just two strikes’ distance away and Bakugou’s heart does something different than beat this time, because you wipe the blood from your split lip and grin. Big and cheesy. Your eyes crinkle like he always imagined they might.

“Four out of seven?”

“Count to ten,” his mother instructed fifteen years ago. “Katsuki, don’t let go of her.”

“Mm.”

She hoisted her beautiful cape over your shoulders beside one another and promised to be right back with clean clothes. The King and Jeanist had scattered in search of the doctor.

“What’s your name?”

You didn’t answer. A gash in your eyebrow had started to swell.

He squeezed your little hand tighter, “You’re at my house.”

“is my mother okay?”

He never could have guessed what the bloodsoaked puppy in his autumn carriage would turn into. That your eyes would go as big as the moon under his magic or that you would love his library and chat with the wind through open windows instead of eating with everyone in the Hall.

This time he is flat on chest and you have both his arms bent behind him tight at the elbow. Aldera doesn’t excel in shit, you excel, in everything. You protect his kingdom on a whim like a brooding dragon.

“I’m unarmed,” Bakugou winces, smiling.

You huff lightheartedly, “me too,” and thumb over the callouses magic made in his palms.

He does not notice because you are a distraction, the tumult stirring in the castle behind you. He cannot understand his heart’s frustration at your warm fingers against his own.

Others notice before he does. You certainly beat him to it.

“What was that?”

“What? Tired already?” He coos and snaps his biceps away from you like he probably could have done this whole time. Your prince is too distracted by everything that makes you– his odd little dragon– neatly trimmed nails and shiny scars like lace sprinkled across every part of your body. The thin line in your eyebrow. The cursed smell of the sea that still clings to your hair and the sweet sour of sparring all morning. He rolls back and bursts to his feet to coax you into another round.

You’re not quite paying attention. For the first time this morning you take your eyes off of him and pebbles drop in his chest because maybe not even a dragon can heal overnight, but you are not in the same daze as yesterday. Your fingers twitch like you’re remembering how to hold something as you rise to face him again– facing but glaring at something through him.

“Down Highness,”

Which is, all in all, a terrible omen because you only look the way you do now when you’re preparing to kill someone you are certainly not supposed to.

Bakugou snaps around when the doors of the soldier’s quarters explode from their hinges in hellfire.

If the flames had been blue, they might not have been able to stop you. An intruder looms in the smoke of his destruction in the seconds before charging but you are already between Bakugou’s legs and out the other side before he can finish the syllables of your name, diving for a discarded handaxe from earlier duels and leaping– arms crossed over your face to shield from fire– as guard and executioner.

“Wait!”

“Majesty?!”

“Y/n!” With her half suit of armor and two biceps braced at her shoulder, Uraraka crashes into you and destroys your momentum before you can get one good step off the ground. Two guards collide. One is smashed flat across the training room floor.

The intruder does not stop and wouldn’t have flinched if you took his head; he is the most despicable man after all, undeterred by evil or the stench of death.

“Attention whore,” Bakugou spits as Enji Todoroki clears the floor in a wake of screaming flames his soldiers can barely escape. Magic from Aizawa doesn’t refill your prince’s veins fast enough to stop the immolating man from knocking him four good lengths and picking him up again by the front of his tunic in his giant stride. He’s huge. And he’s set himself on fire in his fury.

“Majesty, stand down!”

“Which Alderan rat set fire in the North Wing?” He roars as the prince shakes sand from his hair.

Bakugou bares his teeth so sharp the crowd worries he might bite. He’s close enough to. “Can’t even do absentee father right.”

You are struggling in a poor match between Aldera’s strongest soldier and Takoba’s lightest. No matter what hold or jerk you attempt, trying to escape from Uraraka is like screaming underwater. “I’m sorry!” She groans, mostly at the pin she uses to hold you but also at the fire that hops just out of reach of her greaves. No one remembers the might of the mellow apprentice until she stops smiling. Before you hit the ground your ax soared into the air with a life of its own– it’s still there now. It spins rapidly in its trapped momentum but still floats, harmless, up towards the glass ceiling.

“Highness!” You grunt and Uraraka apologizes again, and again after you try to break her nose with a weightless headbutt.

“I’ll put down your yapping dog and light up every rat infesting my castle,” the King is almost foaming. Bakugou itches at the prospect of a fight.

“Declaration of war, old man?”

“Enough!”

It’s not an accident that you escape– that Uraraka softens– as the princess appears in the arena. The intruder tosses your prince away before sparks can ignite his hellish beard and swings hard at the new voice. You barrel into her. You like a shield and poised in seconds to take his arrogant hand with a shortsword.

You couldn’t possibly know who this is. No one could have guessed he would return, today or at all. Bakugou could only pray that he died at sea long ago.

Mountains of soldiers ready at your back, archers trained on the new man’s neck, hesitant faces twisted with contradiction in every flow of movement– drawing weapons, dashing to the scene, racing to protect their princess and still somehow hesitating– before the giant hand freezes, and you with it, before your sword can cleave it off at the wrist. The flames disappear.

“She said, enough,” Aizawa barks. It’s not a shout, it’s something much more terrible, something like poison. It’s horrible enough to back away with the princess kept tight between your shoulders as the Master approaches. The intruder is not less intimidating without fire. They both glare. Four dozen soldiers watch.

Fuyumi hollers, “I gave the North Wing order!” over your arm when you won’t let her push forward and then your skin prickles at the grating of a voice you hoped was knocked unconscious, safe but out of the way, on the other side of the room.

“No she fucking didn’t,” Bakugou growls, and it’s everything you can manage to keep a hotheaded princess and a live grenade behind the cover of your back. Your prince presses forward, “I’ll burn down this whole fuckass seashell to keep my people warm.”

“Not helping!” Uraraka hisses with a group of her men racing to pat out pockets of flame before they catch on piles of padding. It wasn’t meant to.

The pit is an echo of heartbeats and rapid breathing. Half of the soldiers frozen in their attempt to stop you from killing their King and the other half frozen, now with fear, in their attempt to help. Fuyumi stares at her father through the adjoined shoulders of the Alderan prince and his Captain.

The King looms over the Master with his hands set in fists. No matter how intimidating he tries to be, he is still extinguished. “It was your job to protect my kingdom.”

Aizawa bristles at the insinuation.

“I have been rotting at sea for the sake of this kingdom and you can’t keep a single rat away from–”

“We weren’t expecting you, Majesty.”

“Would you have done a better job if I penned you a letter? Like a yearning fucking maiden.”

“It’s been eleven years.”

Bakugou knows what he’s doing. Keeping the King from exploding again, but it’s everything he can do to stay beside you on the sidelines and listen without exploding himself. Enji Todoroki looks like shit now that the fire has died down. Expensive shit. A thousand yards of now-ruined silk wrapped and spooled around and over his open chest. Blue and silver as far as the eye can see. What has he been doing for a decade? The belt at his hips drools with obscene wealth. A decorative sword Bakugou would like to see buried in his guts.

What do you think of him? This King. He’s half-giant and half-sea mad already, a waste of muscle and trimmed always in fire. His hair and beard, the ridges of his fingertips that singed round shapes into the collar of his tunic. Bakugou makes a note to ask you about it later, if not just for an excuse to poison another Alderan against him. Not that it would take much push. When he looks down at you, the torchlight behind your eyes flickers furiously with thought.

The King takes one more look around the room when he decides he can’t win in a staring match with Aizawa. “Your Masters never taught you to kneel?” He seeths at his jumbled soldiers and the room immediately scrambles to the ground. You don’t flinch. Shinsou crosses his arms beside his master and Uraraka lays flat on her back in exhaustion some ways off. The King takes his satisfaction with a suck of his teeth and storms back across the room through the doors he destroyed. Fires still hop in the hallway beyond.

You don’t take your eyes off his shape even after it’s gone, “Was that..”

“My father,” Fuyumi answers quickly and equally as distant as you.

“Forgive me, princess.”

“Better luck next time.”

Bakugou watches you both somewhat frozen together, staring after fire, and moves before he’s thought out the action. Your knuckles are white on the sword you still raise.

“Stand down,” he murmurs as his hand wraps around yours. You are so strange. You both know too much. At his touch your weapon drops immediately through your fingers to the floor.

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @dreamingoftomorrow @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @king-dynamight @sky-angel101 @rosiejacklyn

could not tag for some reason :,(

#ch 15 will be out soon as well <3 sister chapters #it just got too long to publish as one and the content of each section was too different to try and keep together #a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #bnha #mha #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo

179 notes · View notes

mimisplayground · 6 months

Text

Soft Hands and Softer Whispers ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

Tags: Soft!Ghost, Oral, Hes so sweet to you, Gentle Sex, AFTERCARE KING, domestic life, he convinces you to move in, SOFT!!, not really touched on but clingy!ghost

guys uhmmmm leave a request if u wanna see him be rough and mean :3

——————

Ghost was, by all accounts, the best sex but the worst hookup.

He knew how to leave your legs trembling and your breathing ragged, with fingerprints on your hips, neck, and jaw. He left you with a limp for days to come and he knew all the right spots to press his lips when he felt nice enough to push his mask up. The perfect mix of rough and gentle that would leave any man, woman, and inbetween falling at his feet.

He did NOT know that when the sex was over, the hookup usually left the same night or morning after. Breakfast in bed and royal treatment (because no matter what you are, he’s treating ypu like royalty after demolishing your insides), while they were all nice, they weren’t hookup behavior. Holding your hand and grunting out that you were his was sexy in bed, but felt a touch more romantic than you felt it should when he extended it to the baths he ran for you while he washed your body.

He would show up at your place after he got back from deployment everytime without fail. Spending weeks and months there while making jokes that sounded a bit too serious at times. “Just move into my place, lovely. Be nice havin’ ya around.” You giggled about it, leaving the answer in the air.

Until one day you’re watching him carry boxes into a shitty one bedroom apartment, that had little to no decorations, a key in your hand, and as he grabs his deployment, he pats your shoulder and says “give it some flare.” And with that you’re left alone for the next few months in an apartment of a hookup.

And when he came back, he showered, grabbed you up off the couch, laid you down on his bed that now had soft fluffy duvet to cover the top, and ate you out like a man starved.

He grabbed your hips when they tried to twitch away from overstimulation, and the slurps coming from him were downright sinful. You felt your eyes roll back and the knots in your stomach snap again and the liquidy burst that came from you had you blushing with tears leaving your face. “Si…quit it…” You huffed with big crocodile tears rolling down your cheeks. He climbs up and kisses away the tears for a moment, rubbing the back of your head.

And you sigh when you feel him push inside, hushed whispers of “mine, all mine, my sweet thing” chanted out of his gravelly voice. He’s so sweet and gentle with you. Rolling his hips firmly while kissing all over your face.

It was in the bathtub as he scrubbed your back that you said aloud “this seems a little too…romantic for a hookup.” There was a silence that overtook the bathroom before Ghost huffed and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into an embrace. “We ain’t just hookin’ up anymore, are we?”

You hummed for a moment, your hand reaching back to feel his stubbly beard and lean into him. “No, I guess we aren’t just hooking up anymore.” You left a small kiss on his temple and you feel him smile.

You suppose it was fine Simon didn’t know hookup etiquette. If he did, then you wouldn’t have a boyfriend who was great at sex AND aftercare.

————-

errmmmm sry its not da usual jjk content i just luv luv luv soft ghost

anyways asks and requests AND commissions are open guys pls leave stuff for me to do

#ghost cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut

199 notes · View notes

rafedaddy01 · 2 months

Text

Warnings: not really any, maybe some angst? Rafe admits feelings for reader in the end but he’s kinda an asshole in the beginning..

A/n: hey lovely’s 🥰 I just wanted to say thank you for all the support. It’s been a journey and I’m so happy to be able to be back and writing, I know you guys have some ideas so I’m asking if anyone is willing to share to help me get out of my writing rut. (Comments, reblogs, likes are appreciated but not mandated.) Thank you!!

The music blared as the flashing lights blinded you, but you were too caught up in the moment. Drunk off a couple drinks and shots you downed with your friends, your hips swaying to the beat of the loud music. “Look whose here!” Your friend shouted over the music and nodded her head in the direction of the boys that just walked in.

“Shit” you groaned as you felt your high slip at merely the sight of him. Rafe Cameron. Kook King. Fuck boy of the island, you name it, that’s him. Overall he was a royal douchebag and also happened to be your ex boyfriend who lived to torment you. “Funny seeing you here” Rafes eyes lingered on your body a beat too long as a small smirk rose his lips.

“Fuck off rafe” you snapped at him as you pushed past his boy toys, topper and kelce, and made your way to the drinks table. “Rawr, baby’s got claws” he teased back and you heard the boys snicker at Rafes childish remark. As you pour yourself another drink that familiar smell of sandalwood invaded your nostrils, a smell you used to adore and now only fills your insides with disgust. His hands come on either sides of the table, caging your body against his. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “wanna dance baby?” You turn your body around and nudge at his shoulder to get him to move but he doesn’t budge. “Come on, y/n, once dance? For old times sake?” You know Rafe well enough to know he won’t take no for an answer and you know him well to know this is all part of his game. It’s a power move he likes to play, reminding you that you’ll never get rid of him, even if you’re not in a relationship anymore.

“Fine. I guess one dance with the devil won’t hurt” you take a chug of your drink as Rafes smile grows wider, his hand outstretched for yours. He leads the two of you onto the dance floor, turning you around and placing his hands on your hips as you start grinding onto him, feeling his erection start slowly rising. He leans his lips down to your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck and making you hotter than you already are. “Let me have you tonight, y/n” he whispers softly in your ear and your head lols to the side as you give into the moment.

Rafe abruptly takes you hand and pulls you off the dance floor and up the stairs, you follow him like a lost puppy, wagging your tail and waiting to be rewarded for being good. You know in the back of your mind you shouldn’t do this. Rekindling your past with Rafe would be a mistake, once you fall into this trap you won’t be getting out again. But your so horny and your so wet already, truthfully you were wet from the moment he walked through the door with his mischievous grin and rings decorating his fingers, but still, you knew you shouldn’t do this yet you wanted to so bad.

To be fair you were also a few drinks and shots in and your mind was a little hazy. Rafe opened the door to a spare bedroom and tossed you onto the bed after shutting the door and locking it. “Are you sure-“ he started to ask only to be interrupted by you “shut up, rafe” you knew that if he spoke you’d change your mind. “Y/n, I need you to know something before we do this” he made his way over to you and took a seat on the bed, cupping your face, he kissed you. A deep, soft, gentle, tender kiss that was unlike anything Rafe ever gave you. “I need you to know that I miss you. You were my everything, the love of my life and I was stupid for letting you go. I was an asshole and I can admit that now. Y/n y/l/n, I love you.

Your in utter shock. Not knowing what to do or say. Rafe has never been this vulnerable with you. Usually he would deflect his feelings with anger, but this, this was something new. Something you’ve always wanted Rafe to be and you weren’t sure if it was all an act.

The music blaring from the party downstairs flooded the awkward silence as you and Rafe stared at each other. He awaited an answer from you but truthfully you didn’t know what to say. “Y/n” Rafe softly spoke. “Say something..” he pleaded as he searched your eyes for any sign of forgiveness or understanding.

“D-did you hear me?” Rafe cleared his throat as he suddenly got self-conscious. Being vulnerable wasnt his thing but yet when it comes to you he finds himself doing a lot of shit he wouldn’t normally do. “Rafe. I-I don’t know what to say. I mean, what do you expect me to say” you scoffed a laugh as you tucked your hair behind your ears, scooting a bit back from rafe and you saw his face drop in hurt. “I-I don’t know what I expect. But I wanted- I needed you to know” Rafe ran a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes now avoiding yours from embarrassment. “I’m not saying no, rafe. I just- you can’t expect me to forgive all the things you did to me because you finally discovered what you wanted. I need time to heal and recover from my trauma before I can give you an answer, I need time” you placed a hand over his on the bed for reassurance. His eyes shot up to meet yours and you noticed the small tears gathering at his waterline. It broke your heart, you wanted to give him the answer he was expecting but you just couldn’t, not yet at least.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @hoesindifferentshows @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv

107 notes · View notes

hinakazino · 2 months

Text

Royal Reverse Harem, Gojo/Reader

#1 Continuation of the Royal Reverse Harem series! This'll be a mini series, just with interesting scenarios with JJK. <3 Warnings: Obsessive Gojo, mean gojo, toji/reader & gojo/reader.

When you'd first transferred into the novel, you were in a state of shock. The fancy bedroom, the beautiful decor, the utter amount of respect you were given, and the overly expensive food was awesome. Reality didn't really hit you until after a week or so.

You felt so stupid, you had wasted a week doing pretty much nothing except enjoy your new lifestyle. Sure the maids, butlers, and EVERYONE seemed terrified of you but all you really thought about was being nice to change their opinions.

Your idea of "I'll just be good and live my life happily watching my favorite characters" came completely crashing down when Gojo decided to pay you a visit. By now, thankfully you already set in motion your plan to change public opinion but Satoru had other ideas.

Satoru was stunning, a majestic being. He looked like an angel who had been sent from the heavens, sculpted by the gods themselves. His soft white hair and striking blue eyes, and oh goodness, his soft lips. It was a little embarrassing, how much you admired him.

When you first saw him, there was no doubt in your heart why the villainess loved him so much. Satoru was fascinating, not just in his standing but his mere presence demanded respect. You felt the air leave your lungs as you sat at the dinner table.

It was quiet for awhile, which made you feel awkward as Satoru himself was the one who requested your attendance. However, what you didn't know was that Gojo was just as confused with your silence. Normally you'd be speaking to him, in your confident haughty mannerisms.

He couldn't quite understand what was different today, you seemed, nervous? He didn't know, but what he did know was that at the moment he was fed up with your schemes. It was just too bad, he didn't know you weren't the actual villainess!!

"I don't understand why you're so silent, especially when you of all people should know why I'm here," he stated. Oh, now you were panicking, because you honestly had no idea what he was talking about!!

Silence seemed the best choice but this had only angered Satoru more. As the night progressed he had begun shouting at you, violently clattering plates to the floor, and commanding you to simply stay away from him.

It was a traumatizing experience, safe to say, after that Gojo Satoru did not look the same to you. Now whenever he was near you, whether it be just passing by or due to political, social, or marital reasons you tended to shift away whenever possible. Even when you were pressured by your family, which sucked, Gojo wasn't interested anyway so you snuck away most times.

In the end, you decided on a divorce, it was also the best step to ensure you stayed alive, which you asked for two weeks later after your dinner session with him. Satoru, although surprised by your request had asked whether this was a tactic to gain his favor.

"No, I truly want this divorce," you responded quietly, eyes not being able to meet his as you glanced everywhere but forward. You didn't know what to say to him anymore, it was not longer a feeling of awe and captivation anymore with him. Now, you simply wanted to be as far away from him as possible too.

Gojo on the other hand was delighted, had quickly signed the papers, and had pressured his father, the emperor, to confirm it a week later. Everyone was caught off guard by the sudden divorce, and word spread like wildfire.

Can you believe that the crown prince and, well, previous-to-be princess divorced? , I saw it coming from a mile away! That witch would've ruined this empire. , What does this mean, could it be that the rumor of the crown prince having a secret lover is true? Who is it? , Oh, I feel so sad for poor (y/n), she really is a kind woman, have you even spoken to her before?

The last statement made you proud when you heard of it from your lady-in-waitings. At the very least, public opinion had changed for you to some extent. You intended for it to continue turning positive for the better. Now that you stayed with your parents, maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

What you didn't realize was that after 3 months of divorce Gojo was beginning to rethink his choices. Firstly, he was annoyed because despite the divorce being official his father still pestered him on the daily. The truth was evident, the emperor did not approve of a commoner becoming the future empress (that said commoner, the female lead).

The emperor only agreed on this divorce because Gojo did make some sense, and, he didn't want to lose the support of one of the highest nobles in his empire. That being said, he either now expected Satoru to find another noble lady (many available) or crawl back to you (honestly emperor has given up on trying to be civil).

Due to these factors, Satoru has still be thinking of you. However, he wasn't that interested until just about the 2nd month after your divorce with him. See, the reason was that he had eyes on you anyway, his spies in your estate told him anything they deemed necessary. What were you going to do? Go after the female lead again?

It was all too predictable, which was why when Satoru's father yelled at him for not doing anything he was confused. "What is it now father?" he responded, irritated. "YOU FOOL. (Y/N)'S ALREADY COURTING OTHERS, THE ZENIN, SOUND FAMILIAR? Oh.. you're a lost cause now..." his father had responded, tired and exhausted of his son.

That was when Gojo was informed by his spies, that you, in fact, had been in much contact with Toji much recently. Then, when Gojo asked why his men hadn't reported anything, they stated that they had mentioned it once already but nothing important seemed to come up other than you both being acquaintances. Plus, the rumor was everywhere anyway, they'd assumed he'd heard.

Now, Satoru began to watch you more intensively, peaked even higher when at a social party just 2 days later, you were dancing with Toji. Both of you so friendly, even Gojo was dumbfounded as to how. Didn't Toji not like you?

After Toji, there was Geto, Gojo's best friend turned into one of the Empire's sole enemies. A true tragedy that was, and yet, you were spotted with him as part of reports following his activity! Which occurred to everyone considered an enemy of the empire, but you? What were you doing with him?

Then there was the flirting with Choso, and your newfound friendship with Yuki. You were on a roll of drama, being front and center on stage whilst promoting good deals which pleased all classes on the social hierarchy. Gojo was at a loss and at the same time, thrilled? No, maybe jealous, not of you but those associated with you.

He hadn't seen you like that before, you looked genuinely happy now. You were having fun at social gatherings, not having a care in the world. Despite your obvious scandalous behavior, you were no longer committing acts of evil and, no longer glancing at him. Which didn't feel right!!

Gojo Satoru hated to admit it, but if this was another one of your games it was definitely working. Only a couple months after separation, and he was watching your every move. Even beginning to reconsider his choices, thinking how the female lead wasn't as interesting anymore to him.

Sadly, it was a bit too late now but Gojo has decided, he wants to win back your favor. A crown prince, a noble lady previously wed to him, what could potentially go wrong?

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk reverse harem x reader #jujutsu kaisen reverse harem x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #Satoru gojo #yuki tsukumo #choso kamo #choso x reader #yuki x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji

115 notes · View notes

queenie-official · 7 months

Text

Chapter One: ‘To find a king’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

a/n: some of this is going to be time accurate but i’m definitely taking creative liberties 😭 im not a historian so please don’t come for me if certain parts are unrealistic for the time (this goes for all future chapters as well btw)

you take a sharp breath in as the air is pulled from your lungs with the tightening of the corset. your lady-in-waiting finishes with one final tug on the laces that makes you huff in protest. “sorry your highness” She says in a brief whisper. “it’s quite alright Eleanora, you’re only doing your job” she nods in acknowledgment as she begins to put on your Pannier.

tuning back into the rather unpleasant conversation you where having with the man standing outside your bedroom door- Barclay your royal advisor had claimed the matter to urgent to wait for you to get ready before he spoke to you, Thus leading you to your current setup- “the people do not think you can rule without a king” he continues on with the same Argument you’ve been having with each other for days now.

“my father ruled by himself for years when my mother past” you counter while shuffling slightly so that Eleanora could put on your petticoats easier. “i’m aware your majesty but with all do respect, he was The king and you will be just a queen” as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth a bitter taste enters yours, glaring daggers through the door that you could only hope he’d sense. “i am not just a queen, i am The queen. its my birthright.” you state sternly as a final white decorative silk petticoat is placed on top of your other three petticoats. the process of getting dressed already aiding in your exhaustion that the conversation was providing you.

“i must remind you that you are not the queen yet. as of right now you are merely crown princess until your coronation day” he says matter of factly, god if your father hadn’t trusted him so much you’d have had him removed from the Castle effective immediately. unfortunately he was one of the only things aside from your own kingdom you had to remind you of him.

you had a feeling he knew this otherwise he’d be a lot less outspoken. regardless of all that you where still the soon to be queen and therefore had every right to put him in his place. “i’d choose your next words very carefully Barclay” it’s more bark than bite, the worst you’d do is send him off to his room for the day like a child who’d gotten in trouble for eating sweets before dinner but that didn’t make the threat any less real.

you hear Barclay take a deep breath, clearly trying to think of a different approach. “your majesty i of course see you as our queen, but the people not so much is what i mean. i think it pertinent to remind you the people must feel heard, and they want a king.” he tries and all you can do is scoff.

“utterly ridiculous, i am just as capable as any man” You reply curtly, moving your arms as Eleanora puts your dress on.

“it’s not necessarily that they think you ill fit, but you also must consider that a husband secures the throne..” your brows knit together in confusion at this admission. now standing impossibly still as engageantes where now being basted onto the elbow part of your sleeve, not wanting to get accidentally pricked from the needle. “secures the throne?” you ask unable to deduct what Barclay had been insinuating.

“with a husband comes the ability of an heir” a silence fills the air as he awaits your response. “oh” was all you could muster out as your mind now raced, how that had slipped your mind. You truly didn’t know but at the very least the need for a king made more sense in your mind now. Of course the people thought you fit to lead, but they also want to make sure you wouldn’t be the last.

“though that aside i think the people would trust you more with a man leading as well” Barclay said cutting off your string of thoughts immediately. you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more then to curse him out but you bite your tongue.

“he would not be leading- i would be leading and maybe i’d allow him to aid me” you say as Eleanora finishes, now just adding the final touches of jewelry and perfume. “your majesty-” he began clearly taken aback and slightly appalled by your statement. “Barclay” you cut him off, just wanting the conversation to end. “it is your most important role as queen to provide the people their future.” he chimes back, doing his best to redirect back to the main point of all of this.

you sigh, brows knitting together as you walk out of the bedroom now facing the Annoying man head on. “provide them a future by baring an heir- to place the weight of that on a child” you state slightly appalled at the thought. “you’ve handled it well” he points out, making your face sour.

“have I really..” you trail off, thinking back to your own childhood. you’d been blessed to have a father that tried to shelter you as long as he could. but of course there was a point where the truth was told and the weight of it all crashed down on you, at the time you weren’t sure if you would have rather known sooner. maybe it would of felt less world ending, then again you knew it wouldn’t have made it any easier to cope with. Having the entire kingdom of Alderaan watching your every move as you grew, a scary thought and even scarier reality you live.

“a husband then” you say forcefully pulling yourself from your own thoughts. Beginning to walk down the hallway with Barclay trailing after you. “correct” he says seemingly pleased with your sudden shift. though in your defense days of his constant blathering about finding a king had worn you down, at least you could say you put up a good fight. “easy enough i suppose” you say while mulling the idea over, keeping your head high as you walk towards the dinning hall.

“he must be of sufficient status” Barclay adds quickly making you pause and turn to face him.“how am i to find someone of sufficient status in such a short time between now and my coronation?” you ask in disbelief and frustration.

“well…” he starts clearly not having thought of that either. “whatever we do we’ll have to be discreet about it, if word gets out that you’re simply marrying a random Man just so he’ll fill a role- it would be a scandal. the people would question how much you truly care if you are to put a stranger on the throne beside you” he warns.

“well they wouldn’t have to worry about that at all if they just let me lead the way i wish. Without a King” you huff and yes you’re aware how childish you must be coming off, but come on marrying a man just to gain your people’s approval? it all seemed rather arbitrary.

“your majesty.” Barclay says clearly annoyed, he looked like he was about to go on another tangent to explain why you must marry someone. the idea of having to listen to him go on and on again made a headache form and you quickly interjected before he could do so “yes i’m aware Barclay.. we’ll keep this a private matter for now, let’s not tell anyone including the royal council” you say reaffirming what he’d warned you about as you enter the dinning hall, honestly you weren’t even that hungry.

Between your conversation with Barclay and how tight your corset was you truly didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment. “it’s a matter of the people, for the people” he says surprising you. utterly confused you turn to him, giving your full attention. “i’m sorry didn’t you just warn me that if word got out it’d be a scandal?” you raise a brow at him, and he scoffs “i meant the people of Alderaan not the royal council” he states with crossed arms a unamused look on his face.

“my private life is non of their business” you say say with a glare, crossing your own arms mocking him. “your business is all of their business, you are the queen” he’s quick to point out and all you could do was laugh at the audacity. “i thought you said i was merely the crown princess? funny how quickly that view changes when needed” before he could fight back you hold your hand up silencing him. “we can discuss this more further later, currently i have more pressing matters to attend to. I mean it when i say we tell no one Barclay, not yet anyway.” you walk away before he can respond, off to do your duties for the day.

part 2

okay here’s chapter one🤭🤭 i hope you guys like it- i actually had a lot of fun writing this and researching certain things. this is going to be more of a reverse Queen Charlotte bridgerton story situation. 😗Anakin is going to be introduced in the next chapter, i’ve actually already got like two more chapters started so i’ll probably work on those tonight 😋 anyway i did go in with the intent to make this a one shot but quickly realized that was not gonna work if i didn’t want it to seem rushed 😭 so yea… anyways i think that’s all i had to say, have a good day huns Xx<3

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #rots anakin #atoc anakin #bridgerton #bridgerton au #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker edit #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x you #bridgerton!Anakin #bridgerton Au!Anakin #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

281 notes · View notes