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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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Bodyguard Haldir + secret Royalty

This is for my lovely friend (I love you baby)

Words: 2,25 k

Warnings: violence, blood

Haldir was a professional – the very fact that he had to tell himself this in so many words might have hinted at the fact that, maybe, he was not as aloof as he tried to make everyone believe though – and he would behave accordingly.

In all his years in the service of Galadriel, a strong and ruthless businesswoman, he had never had any job even remotely as emotionally taxing as the one laid before him now; he was to play the bodyguard for a foreign dignitary, a young woman, while she was in the city of Lothlórien for diplomatic talks of the utmost importance.

“Haldir,” his boss had smiled – tight-lipped and charmingly enough for him to know that he was in serious trouble – as she had handed him the file of the young lady in question, “as she is such a tremendously vital part of these negotiations, she will be undercover; nobody is to know who she is.”

“I am to babysit a person who pretends to be someone else?” he had gasped in reply, “You seriously want me to supervise a young woman who’ll probably want to do all the things she’s never been allowed to due to her upbringing and name?”

Lady Galadriel – as the staff called her not without affection behind her back – had merely nodded and grinned.

That had been 2 weeks ago, and since, Haldir’s whole world had shifted.

“Princess Aahana,” Galadriel had introduced the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld, “this is Haldir; he shall be your shadow from now on.”

Oh, how those eyes – black as jet and ink – had radiated as they fell on him and – for the first time in his career – Haldir had wished, be it only for a single moment, that she might have seen him in his own well-tailored suits rather than the black on black uniform he was expected to wear while on a job.

“You’ve got to lose that suit,” she had giggled, “everyone will know that I’m travelling with a bodyguard otherwise.”

“As Milady commands.” He had hated the hollow sound of his own voice, but it had taken all his strength to dissimulate the treacherous tremor of admiration and breathless captivation he felt for that princess from a faraway land.

Already, minutes after that very first meeting, he felt his resolve mellowing; all his words of stern refusal of whatever fancies a young woman might have dissolved like snow in the sun upon seeing her fresh, open face full of life and joy.

Galadriel merely chuckled; she had been sure that Haldir was the right man for this job – conscientious to a fault but gentle enough to not disregard the princess’s well-being and happiness in the name of safety and decorum – and she loved being right.

“Ah come on,” Aahana, as she demanded to be called, laughed, “you look cute!”

Haldir made a face; he did not want to look cute, but – truth be told – he would have done almost anything to make his princess – for she was his for the time being – laugh; of course, he would have preferred to be called ‘handsome’, but any compliment falling like stardust from her perfectly shaped lips was a blessing he accepted in grateful humility.

It was hard to put into words how different she was from all the other people in his life; Aahana was a special kind of light that blinded his heart without hurting his eyes.

Looking at her felt as if he had slept through every single night of his life before, as if he had never seen the stars, for – unlike the pale and colourless beauty of those he called kin and friends – she made him discover and adore the endless nuances of duskiness.

Her skin was like velvet the colour of a sunset over the deserts he’d only seen once during his training years, and her eyes were as dark and mysterious as a moonless night.

Nevertheless, he had never seen anyone half as luminous as that young woman who could laugh and cry about almost anything; she had a quick wit and a tender heart, and – professional or not – he was already half in love with her.

On this fateful day, she had taken him into one of those malls where predominantly young people hung out to buy him a new set of clothes that would be less conspicuous as they walked down the street – discovering sights and restaurants – and visited museums of all sorts.

“I don’t know, Aahana,” Haldir muttered, looking down miserably at the tight jeans and the preppy sweatshirt she had chosen; it was the very opposite of the sober, clean style he usually preferred in his own private wardrobe.

“I like it,” she grinned, “it accentuates your butt.”

Haldir twisted and turned to check, freezing when Aahana’s soft fingers closed around his chin and directed his face and gaze to the mirror that stood in plain view just a few steps away from him.

“You look great, Haldir,” she repeated.

Someone cleared their throat and they both turned to the source of the ominous sound only to find an elderly saleswoman grinning at them.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, you lovebirds?”

Haldir froze, but Aahana only chuckled and assured the woman that they were more than satisfied with the wares; despite pretending to be normal citizens, nothing could dissimulate her good breeding and expensive wardrobe or – for that matter – his military precision and protective demeanour around her.

It was absolutely normal to think that they were lovers, Haldir tried to assuage the panic rising like acid in his throat, they were – after all – a man and a woman who went shopping for clothes together.

Also, Aahana stood suspiciously close to him, holding his face tenderly while she gave him one of those radiant smiles that always turned his insides to goo.

There was nothing strange about this and yet, he felt like he was breaking some sacrosanct rule by letting her encroach upon his personal space and break through the barriers of his heart so.

“You need to relax, Haldir,” Aahana laughed as they stepped out of the shop, “nobody will believe that I am not important if you keep looking at me as if I was made of pure gold.”

“It has nothing to do with your status, princess,” he muttered and bit his lip when he realised that he had said that out loud.

“Oh, really?” she pounced on this moment of inadvertent weakness with a sunny smile; her voice sounded like milk and honey – inflections of a faraway realm spicing it like her secret ingredients made her tea a symphony of subtle flavours – and he couldn’t help the slight shiver running up his spine upon hearing that sweet voice flow like a river of serene joy around him.

“You are precious,” he simply stated, hoping she’d leave it at that.

Truth be told, Haldir cared nothing about the peace talks or the monumental role this young woman was to play in them anymore; all he could think of was how pearly her laughter rang out and how beautiful she looked in the silken robes of her people.

She was colour where he was blankness and – whenever he saw his own skin on hers – he couldn’t ignore the jolt of pleasure the contrast gave him; Haldir had never wasted a single thought on his own appearance before, but he could admit that he felt more handsome by her side as if they brought the best out in each other – inside and out.

Sometimes, when she was distracted by other things, Aahana would almost walk into traffic and Haldir necessarily held her back – his hand hard and white as marble on the dusky satin of her skin – which would elicit an apologetic giggle from her that made his heart cramp with longing.

Beyond a doubt, Princess Aahana was the most gorgeous and enchanting woman he had ever met and ever since he had clapped eyes on her and exchanged the first words with that sweet soul, his mission had become secondary.

He would have died for her, he would have walked into the inferno of lethal flames and off a cliff to protect her, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with his loyalty to Lady Galadriel or professional dedication.

At night, he would dream of exhausting all his life savings to cover her in jewels and precious metals for he didn’t doubt that the most valuable of gems in this world deserved to be worn and showcased on the smooth perfection of her pristine skin.

“Haldir?” Princess Aahana interrupted his shameful daydreams, “what are you thinking of?”

He would not, he could not tell her; his fantasies of holding her in his arms, of carding those stiff, white fingers of his through the thick, silken hair presently held by an exquisite pair of pins, or of kissing those warm, smiling lips were preposterous, for they would never come true.

“Nothing, Milady,” he sighed, tightening his grip around her wrist as she tried to hasten across the street.

Haldir realised that he had been momentarily distracted by her beauty, but – in a painfully blinding flash – his awareness returned with a sharp sting, the metallic taste of apprehension making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; someone was watching them.

“Milady,” he called, damning propriety to hell, as he wrapped himself around her like a shield.

To the people passing by, they looked like an ordinary couple hugging in the street, and nobody heard the muted ‘whoosh’ of a bullet finding flesh even though it missed its target by a hair’s breadth.

“Haldir?” Aahana stared up at the tremor of shock and pain that flashed over those features she had come to admire so much before all colour drained from them.

“Haldir!” she repeated, frantic now, as his cold fingers tightened around her upper arms; it didn’t feel as if he was trying to keep her from doing something injudicious anymore, on the contrary, she got the distinct impression that he was clinging to her like a man afraid of drowning.

“Get…to…safety…” he panted, his eyes huge with an emotion too close to fear to leave her unfazed, “run!”

That’s when – trying to pat his back reassuringly – she felt the sticky heat seeping through the new sweatshirt they had just bought.

“Go, princess, please,” he croaked, squaring his jaw in a heroic attempt not to topple and – in the worst case possible – take her down and pin her under his lifeless body.

Damn her pride, Aahana thought feverishly, damn the whole secretive nonsense; clearly, her enemies had found her after all and despite all the precautions that had been taken to keep them in the dark.

“HELP,” she screamed, a sob shredding her words into a cacophony of feelings, “help me! Call an ambulance!”

People started turning around, hastening to her side; they were all in danger, Aahana knew, but she accepted to build a human shield if only it would boost Haldir’s chances of getting to the hospital before bleeding out.

“Aahana,” he wheezed, “don’t! You need to…”

Words failed him as the pain and the numbing cold flooded his senses.

“Hush, friend,” Aahana caressed his cheek tenderly, “it will be alright. I’ll alert your people from the ambulance; don’t worry.”

For weeks now, he had kept her safe – physically as much as emotionally – and she would be unworthy of her title and its honours if she could not repay his dutiful kindness by stepping up in his hour of need.

It had been her fault; she had become too confident and frivolous.

If only she had listened to careful, measured Haldir, but now it was too late, and she prayed to her gods and his alike that he’d be fine; she knew not how she would deal with the guilt and the emptiness if he was to succumb to that insidious wound.

Wasn’t it funny that a man so discreet and stoic was taken down by an attack equally as silent and dignified?

“Milady,” Haldir gasped – jolted awake by a bump in the road – and felt around the sterile cloth for her hand, “why did you…? How could you put yourself in danger for me like that?”

“I don’t often get the chance to talk to someone like you,” Aahana replied softly, “let alone be with someone like you, or be myself for that matter; I owe you not only my life but what little happiness I have known in the last year.” With a gentle hand, she brushed away a strand of hair – tacky with sweat – from his fair brow as she went on: “I am not more important than you, Haldir, no matter what people tell you…what else did you want me to do?”

“Run, as I told you,” Haldir frowned at her, but he didn’t manage to look quite as severe as he would have liked to, “get to a safe house and call Lady Galadriel.”

“And leave you behind?” Aahana was aghast.

“Yes, I am but a small cog in the works,” Haldir replied without false modesty.

“Wrong,” Aahana protested, “you are the only thing that mattered in that instant to me….” He managed a sad smile – allowing himself for a single second to believe that the way she looked at him now was proof of more than just professional courtesy and basic human decency – and then, the world went black around him.

I hope you enjoyed this, baby, once again, I love you truly <3

You are a really pretty girl and I hope I didn't say anything offensive. Love you ❤️

@eunoiaastralwings have her read this one to you <3

@fellowshipofthefics second entry :D

#fotfics may challenge #may challenge #haldir #haldir x OC #haldir x southasian OC #bodyguard #secret royalty #fluff #and violence #first part?

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rosieyart · 4 months

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royalty

#genshin impact #xingyun #chongyun #xingqiu #genshin impact chongyun #genshin impact xingqiu #royalty au things i did for a secret santa

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bellarkeselection · 9 days

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The Venus Muse

Princess Y/n has no desire to be just some man's wife. She wishes to explore the world and all the way up to the stars. And she may get her once in a lifetime chance when her mother, Queen Charlotte invites the Bridgerton family to the castle. The artistic Bridgerton son might possibly sweep the princess off her feet.

1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

2 -

???

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 @urmoom12345 @ritz-hell-hotel @ritz-hell-hotel

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spacebubblehomebase · 19 days

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Guys... GUYS!!!

I have an idea for a Chaggie + Radioapple AU and the world building... Oh my GOD do I have an idea. It's gonna be SO crazy and I'm on break now so hgwdgvdhwevdjyvwedjbwjd Should I??? SHOULD I??? Oh God Oh God Oh God it's INSANE I don't know. It's so long but oh WOW it's hahaha I don't wanna spoil anyone, but I remember doing this for another fandom I made comics for back when I was just starting online. That was so long ago now. But to honor my past self (hehe), what do ya'll think the #HHStargazersAU's gonna be about?

I guess I should say that this also serves as an interest check in a way. But don't be mislead now and don't think too much about the tone of this drawing. Anyone who've seen my art would know I mostly do fluff and humor anyways. ^v^

(Mostly.)

-Bubbly💙

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ninoxwof · 5 months

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Blaze the Sandwing

(Been waiting to be able to draw my dumb blonde dragon, I love her)

[Image ID: Two versions of a digital drawing featuring Blaze the sandwing from wings of fire. She is standing with a short plump build, and a snobbish look on her face. She has spikey cream colored scales with rose gold pink on her wings, eyelids, from her nose bridge to the back of her neck. She has a cream white underbelly, sail and tear duct markings similar to a gazelle's face. Rose gold markings in the shape of flames on her shoulders and upper legs are featured. She's wearing a gold crown with red gems inside of it, a chain earring, a nose ring on her left side, hoop bracelets and red royal cape with fur. The horns, her two nose horns and her tail barb are all a deep pink brown. On the tip of her tail barb, she also has gold plating. /.End ID.]

Older version under the keep reading

[Image ID: An older version of the digital drawing above. A lot is similar, except for Blaze standing with a more kind look on her face and she is only wearing a royal cape being simple pink cape with golden chains. /.End ID]

#wof #wings of fire #dragon #sandwing #royalty #wof arc 1 #wof arc 2 #wof blaze #sandwing princesses #the hidden kingdom #the dark secret #the brightest night #darkness of dragons #winglets #my faves

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velvetcloxds · 4 months

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LITTLE BIRD | S.B.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mafia!sirius, secret agent!regulus (not related to sirius in this au), prince!james, princess!reader, potter!reader, bodyguard!lily, future prince!remus- when I tell you I want to make this a series sooo badly, I've so many ideas

summary: when your parents go missing and hoards of people are trying to get into the palace to hurt you and your brother, you have no choice but to go and get help from the last person your parents would have you be associated with

There was a vibrant hum in the palace as you walked down the stairs, hearing aggravated groans filled with words that you simply knew they’d have swallowed had you already been in the room. You expected no less in your parents’ absence, everyone wanting to have their say in managing the situation at the gate, nearly hundreds of men and women gathering in angry hoards as they tugged at fencing, threw at windows, and cursed into the air. There were many opinions, always were, however, a queen and her husband missing and leaving her children to command her country while she was indisposed, prompted all the more than usual.

The door to your mother’s office opened from inside, strange faces meeting you as you stepped into the doorway, a silence shivering over the small space as James sighed, almost relived as men backed away from the corner, they’d talked him into, merely bowing their heads in acknowledgment of your presence.

“Ah,” he began and brushed his shirt into place as he nodded towards you. “Little sister, I assume you’ve come to enlighten us on the only right way to handle our little predicament?” he mused, and you knew his tone to have a familiar mix of sincerity yet belittlement to it.

Your brother was an odd creature, unlike either of your parents, unlike you for that matter. Never one for the politics of your home, the weight of your family, much rather cooped up in his room with his paintings, he’d have himself starved yet inspired instead of sitting about the throne dealing with issues of state. He was wise in his personal endeavors, but foolish in his belief that the Potter name held no purpose in his life, despite your shared responsibilities he’d always managed to twist your lives to benefit his own, though admirable for some, it left you plastered in his misfitting shoes.

“Consider the problem already solved,” You began and as if on cue, Lily came stumbling into the room behind you, momentarily stealing the men’s attention before demanding eyes fell back onto you. “Though I’m sure my parents appreciate council being offered so graciously to their children, I can assure you that we are capable of managing our own affairs,” You explained and cleared your throat as you stepped aside, hands folded in front of you as you waited for them to understand your request.

“I think what my sister is far too kindly trying to say, is that our mother fairs well without a bunch of old men telling her what to do and so will we,” James agreed and with a tired shrug he plumped down onto the leather office chair, gesturing the gaping men out of the room with an outstretched hand as he smiled at you. “So, what’re you going to do?” he asked once the room had cleared, assuming you’d miss the way his gaze lingered but a second too long on the woman who hovered at your side, hand resting on her gun halter as she looked at her feet.

“What I always do,” you informed him, allowing an arrogant smile to tilt into your lips, knowing it had no place there yet having no control over it all the same. “Clean up your mess.”

It was not long before you were pulling your coat around your body, ignoring the warnings that Lily was mumbling, a well-known mantra much like the one she’d heard from Regulus when he was training her to be your guard and much like you did to him, you paid the words no mind. You pulled the hood over your head as you reread the map on your phone to guide you in your escape, feet leading you past the staff rooms, through the fire escape that led you right into the hidden gardens where James thought he could smoke in secret.

“Princess, your parents wouldn’t approve of this,” Lily whispered, peering around the lawn as you opened the hidden latch that was made by the very person you were running to see. “Now is not the time to take this risk, not when they’re not here to get you out of trouble.”

“I have no choice, you know that, and they’d know that as well,” you bargained, knowing she had no intentions of making you stay when she followed you out of the gate and to the outside, the shouting and stomping growing louder as the two of you looked around for the car that he’d sent for you.

Not a word more was exchanged on the way from the palace, familiar apprehensive looks shared as the driver kept his eyes on the road, only looking down when his phone chimed with a text from the man in question, you presumed. You were unnervingly accustomed to the entire ordeal, knowing that despite the risk you were taking, the reward would be far greater, worth much more as you considered your choices. Lily was right when she spoke about your parents. You were making your own bed, as they’d taught you to, but they’d never approve of who you were inviting into it. You thought you’d have more time, time to butter them up to what was shaping up to be a yearlong conversation in hope for peace, but you’d never accounted for riots at your front door or death threats with blood stains thrown through your window.

The car eased to a still in front of the cold brick building, a hand on your back guiding you out of the street, away from wondering eyes as you looked back to see if Lily was close behind, the route was no different than before, the unhappy glares and whispered musings of disapproval being of no bother as you waited to be taken to his door.

“Princess,” a voice snarled, and you had no restraint as a frustrated breath left your lips, your mission was brought to a stop as a man stumbled into your way. “It’s been quite a while since we entertained royalty on this side of town,” he noted and you mustered a look of faux surprise, shaking yourself from the grip on your back as you looked him up and down.

“That might be true, but I am not here as royalty.”

“Aye? Who are you here as then?” he persisted and you scoffed, knowing that by the sudden silence that sauntered into the air the man in question was not far from the little scene that’d been formed, disrupting his time.

“My friend,” the thick accent fled through your senses as though it filtered through your veins, his frame begging your gaze to drift to him and it obliged, always did, a teasing smirk on his lips as he looked down at you from atop the stairs. “Does anyone have a problem with that?” he prompted, and it was as though the simple words held piles of threats as the men separated to make room for you to walk.

“Princess,” Lily gave a frustrated scoff as she was stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Be careful,” she insisted before you followed the man of the house to the office that you’d spent many nights hiding from the world, debating a settlement for families only known as foes.

“Sirius,” you sighed, closing the door behind you and smiling when he pushed himself onto the empty desk that sat askew in the corner of the bare room, his eyes trailed slowly over your face, trying his best to decipher why you were there without you saying anything, he had a frustrating habit of doing so quite successfully. “I need a favour,” you breathed after a second that seemed to last forever, squirming slightly under his gaze despite it being far from strange.

“I assumed as much,” he teased, nodding for you to go on as you walked towards him, tugging the hood from your head, fingers moving to ease everything back into place.

“There are people rioting in front of my home, threatening us, promising to kill us,” you began and stilled right at his side, looking down at the city as it lay in the streets, cars pulling up and then pulling away after mere minutes, a notion that you would’ve questioned in the past had you not learned to keep your nose from his business.

“I saw,” he leaned back against the wall to see you again, no doubt missing the smile that dipped into your mouth as he proved without much prompt that he cared at least slightly if you had managed to escape unharmed. “How did you get out?”

“Same way you get in.”

“Clever girl,” he tutted, and you’d have laughed at him if you weren’t to be in his debt in the future. “What exactly do you want me to do, hmm? Riots at the palace seem more like a job for the police, no?”

“They’re wearing your name, Sirius.”

You didn’t know how long you were supposed to pause after that. You were somewhat expecting him to jump to his own defense, half expecting him to accuse you of mistrusting him, yet you knew neither was to happen. Trust was a rather strong word to use for whatever the relationship was that you had. You knew he was true to his word, knew he would not allow you to come to any harm and though your power was much less than his own, you’d try to do the very same for him. Though beyond all of that, you knew that as many troubles lay with your name, there were many that laid with his own. He was a criminal, after all, some of the worst of his kind and you were in his home, begging him to help you when you knew it would earn you heaps of problems in turn. Your mother would have your head, she’d have his too. She didn’t take out his family, his entire line of kin just for you to allow their kind right back into your lives.

“They’re not mine,” he offered, and his hand settled on the table next to yours, tilting his head to see what you were looking at, humming as if to acknowledge your train of thought. “That’s part of our little agreement, is it not? Our little settlement of peace? I may not harm your family as revenge for what your mother did to mine, and you let me make a quick buck off taking out the bad guys the police miss,” he sighed at that, noticing the way you rolled your eyes at his almost mocking tone as he mimicked words that you’d spoken out of serious intents to do good. “Those men are trying to hurt you, Y/n, if they were mine then I’d have them tied and beaten already, you understand that don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” you sighed, and though you should be very much appalled by his words, you found an odd sense of comfort in his reassurance, smiling with him as he nodded at you.

“Good. Now, do you want me to take care of it for you?” he asked and needed no answer to know that that was exactly what you’d come here for. “I sent men down as soon as you texted me. The gate will be cleared by the time you get home,” he explained and chuckled softly at the shock that sifted onto your face. “You think I’m not the first one to know when you’re in trouble, little bird? Though, I’ll admit, you were very brave coming all the way here, would not have known you were nervous had it not been for those,” he informed you as he pointed to your shaking hands, you’d hoped your grip on the table would’ve hidden it, but it seems you were very wrong, warmth spreading across your cheeks. “You’re shaping up to be quite the leader, you know, your mother would be proud.”

“So would your father.”

“Oh, I would not say that, bowing to a Potter is what he regrets most.”

“I’m sure,” you smiled, looking up to the door when Lily stumbled through it, just like before, the same look on her face as she looked between you and Sirius.

“Your parents were just brought home by Regulus and the rest of the CIA,” she explained, holding the phone out to show you the picture of them arriving at the palace and you had to shake your head at the timing, Sirius’ words being anything but empty as there was not a single soul out on front of the place, barely any evidence left behind of the reason for your visit except for abandoned signs and makeshift weapons.

“I have a new car waiting for you outside,” Sirius announced and shrugged when you looked at him with what any normal person would describe as awe, though you’d never dare to label it as such, merely an appreciation for his capabilities. “I’ll call when you get home.”

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dumplingsjinson · 1 year

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I LOVED your new years one thank youuuuu may I request some royalty prompts/dialogue? Like maybe a royal x a royal OR royal x servant if possible please~

(happy new years btw hope you have a decent 2023). 🥂

(A late ass happy new year and I hope 2023 has been decent to you so far!)

List of “royal x royal” prompts

“This castle’s ground is all that I ever knew, until I met you — you, who brought me a whole new perspective of the world beyond these walls. And God, is it fucking beautiful when I’m experiencing it beside you.”

“My father hates you.” “Trust me, I know. My father hates me too, but I’m the only child who can inherit the throne so… You know. It’s rough out here.”

“You’re indebted to me for life, love.” “…Fuck you.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. We might run the risk of getting caught,” Character A murmurs as Character B’s hand settles on the small of their back. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” Character B says, staring into Character A’s eyes. Character A doesn’t say anything in response, and Character B smiles, hand straying further down. “Thought so.”

“I promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to take you down.” “And so will I.”

“I don’t want to take the throne. I don’t want any of this. I never asked for this.” “…Neither do I. Let’s… Let’s run away together? To somewhere else, where no one can find us. Where we don’t have to hide; where we don’t have to be under the control of our own parents.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” “I came to see you, what do you think?”

“How did you get into my room?!” “Might have sneaked past the guards and bribed some of the weaker ones who saw me and injured the ones who tried to fight me?”

Throwing cursory glances at each other whenever their families are in the same room as each other.

“We’re destined to be enemies, not lovers. At least not in this life. We’re not meant to be.” “I don’t care. Fuck destiny, we’ll make our own destiny if it means I get to be with you.”

List of “royal x servant” prompts

“You’ve been there for me since we were kids. You’re my best friend. You’ve been through the good and the bad with me. You’ve never left my side, and maybe you didn’t have a choice in the matter, but you never gave me any indicators that you wanted to abandon me. You’re everything I could ever want. I’m not letting them you send you away like this.”

“The thing is, you can give me anything in the world but yourself. You’ve given the world yourself, but you can’t give the same to me. And I don’t want anything but you.”

“Let’s elope.” “I can’t make you throw away everything just to—” “I don’t want any of those things anyways. I never asked for them. I want you, and only you.”

“Can you come into my room for a second?” “But—” “Do as I say before I make you.”

“What’s all of this?” “I bought all of this for you.” “You know you can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart with money, right?”

“Me or the throne?” “God, don’t fucking do this—” “Did I stutter? Me? Or the Throne?”

“Sir/Madam—” “I told you to use my name.”

“Did you ever think that maybe this isn’t going to work out? If you truly loved me, then you’d let me go and find someone I can actually be with.” “…But do you really want me to let you go?”

“You need to get off your high horse; you’re not better than anyone else just because you have your whole life planned out for you. Destined to sit and die on that throne, or have someone murder you in cold blood to take your place, and then being remembered as the one who died to some backstabbing asshole; a little sad, don’t you think?” “…No one else other than you speaks to me like this. It’s hot. Keep talking.”

“Status? That doesn’t mean shit if you’re not by my side.” Character A sighs, running their fingers through their hair, their head drooping. “Just— I’m sorry, I know it’s selfish for me to say, but please don’t leave. I’ve only ever had you. You’re the only one who can look me in the eyes and tell me how it is; the only one who understands what I really want. The only one who understands the real me.”

#long post #i was SOOO EXCITED TO POST THIS LMFAOOO #this isn’t a trope i usually would write for but GOD #i do love the ideas of these #i know you said OR but… i wanted to do both #writing prompts #otp prompts #angst prompts #royalty prompts #royal prompts #royal x servant #royal x royal #prompts #dialogue prompts #enemies to lovers prompts #enemies with benefits prompts #forbidden love prompts #secret love prompts #request

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scifrey · 3 months

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NINE-TENTHS

Part Ten

This is a panic attack. I am in the emerg, and my arm is bleeding, and I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe—and I can't say it, because I can't suck in the goddamned air, and Dav's hand is back on my forehead, the soft touch of cloth beside my eyes (I'm not crying! I'm not!), and it's a friggin' handkerchief, and he murmurs, "I'll be right back," and then he's gone, he's gone, and I reach up, try to grab his wrist, but I am already alone, I don't want to be alone, I don't, I was wrong, I’m not fine, I'm shaking and I can feel the blood oozing from the holes, feel it sliding down my inner elbow, am so focused on it I can practically hear it, and I want his warm hands again, and I am scared and I am a liar and I want, I want, I want—

"Lord above, Colin, breathe," Dav says.

He drops something on the floor, but that’s okay because his hands are back on my face, cupping my chin. "That's it. Big breath in."

Oxygen shudders into my lungs.

"And out."

The exhale sounds thick and gross. Dav doesn't care. A smile blooms on his face, and even though it's tight, there are furrows on either side of his mouth, not quite deep enough to be dimples, but kind-looking and honest.

"In again, Colin, there's a lad."

Right, Dav's rarely-before-seen-smile, that's one thing I can see. A small paperback book on the floor, white text against a field of familiar lurid purple. Two. A candy bar beside it, black wrapper. Three. Dav's dress shoes framing both, smeared with dried espresso. Four. The stretch of wool over his knees, a faint stripe of light yellow in the check I hadn't noticed before. Five.

On to touch: Dav's palms against my cheeks, scratchy on my scruff. Two, the blanket over my lap, weighing me to the earth so I can't go flying off. Three, I tap my chucks against the linoleum floor, plasticky and hollow. Ground. Four, I wriggle in my seat, the thin padding pressing against my skinny-ass hip bones. Grounded.

I can hear Dav's voice, In, out, that's it, Colin, well done. Muzak in the waiting room, a clarinet rendition of something by Lizzo. Behind the desk, the administrator on the phone, trying to soothe someone, telling them to "bring her in, honey. We'll take care of your baby." That's three.

Two for scent—I can smell charred fabric and the acrid stink of over-roasted beans.

And I can taste salt from my own tears pooling at the corners of my mouth.

"That's better," Dav says softly, and he's not speaking from the end of a tunnel anymore.

"So," I say, and my voice sounds shaky. I reach up with my left hand, wrap my shaking fingers around his wrist, pull his hand back far enough to get a good look at the sodden square of lemon-yellow fabric that matches his pre-burning button-down. "An honest-to-god handkerchief, eh?"

Dav blinks at me for a second, a sweep of copper eyelashes over high cheekbones. Then that smile gets deeper, settles into his face. I sort of expected his teeth to be pointy, or for him to have fangs, but the only draconic thing about him in this shape is his tongue, and his eyes. I wonder if he can change them to look more sapiensesque too, if the sunflower color of his irises and the slightly-slit pupils are a personal choice.

If they are, I hope he never changes them.

Dav passes me the handkerchief in question. I appreciate him not saying anything about why I need it. Then he scoops up the book and the candy. I've never seen him order a dessert, so yeah, I'm a nosy jerk and point to the chocolate.

"For after," Dav says, and he's being cheeky. "If you're good for the doctor, you can have a sweet."

"Awww, thanks daddy," I say, making sure the sarcasm is audible. "But that'll keep me in here."

Dav frowns. "The chocolate bar?"

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p'. "But I appreciate the gesture."

"Is it the nuts? I've seen you drink almond milk."

"The cocoa," I correct. "A rare but annoying food allergy. Do you know how many restaurant desserts have chocolate in them? All of them, is the answer." It feels good to be bantering with him again, feels normal, and natural, and not at all like I just had a freak-out in public in front of like, two dozen people. Some of whom are still staring.

"Chocolate," he murmurs, chagrined.

"Don't tell me you're one of those people who is going to weep for me because I can't have it. Cause I'll tell you, to me, it just tastes like puking after birthday parties."

"Vivid." He wrinkles his nose.

"You eat it for me," I tell him.

Dav pockets it instead. "I'm not fond of sweets."

"It'll melt in there."

He makes an annoyed growl-purr sound, and hands the chocolate to a wrecked-looking mom holding a sobbing infant a few seats down. She seems grateful.

"And what's that?" I ask, pointing at the novel.

He hands it to me and retreats into himself, as if waiting for me to find something wrong with this offering, too. "I had nothing to read to you, so I went to the gift shop."

A scantily clad woman in a white Gothic dress smolders up at me from the cover. The dress is mysteriously clinging and wet while her flowing blonde tresses are dry. She's leaning back against a dude with a faint bluish tinge to his dark skin, slit-pupiled eyes the piercing color of a Polynesian sea, rippling biceps patterned with tattoos, and his forearms peppered with cobalt scales. Both models are showing the same amount of cleavage—which is to say, lots.

Yum.

"The Azure Ariki's Royal Bride." I read aloud. The flop in my stomach turns back into a flip. "Are you making fun?"

"No?" Dav says. "You said you liked draconic romances."

I did, didn't I?

"That's… thoughtful," I allow. "Thanks."

Oh god, he’s actually nice.

It’s weird.

It’s cute.

Oh, fuck.

"Shall I read?" He holds out his hand, waits for me to relinquish the book. The gesture is small, polite, like he's not comfortable with touching me now that my panic attack has passed. He hasn't taken me accepting it before as blanket permission to keep at it, and that's, yeah, that's thoughtful, too. That’s attractive.

I'm exhausted, and still sweating, and aching, and I wish like hell I could get comfortable in this chair. I want to be read to. I give him the book.

Dav leans on the armrest between us, so he's close enough that he won't be interrupting anyone else. I wish he would wrap one of those careful arms around my shoulder.

"Chapter One," he says gently, and I let my eyes slip closed and lean as far into his space as I think I can get away with. "Yalente's father had been a missionary during the Wars. He had uprooted them from Zeeland in 1844, and it was 1846 before Yalente again found herself between four walls in a place she could call home."

Dav is a lovely reader, and when I realize his shoulder is just the right height to rest my aching head on, well, I can blame it on the exhaustion, right? Panic attacks take it right out of me.

"It was a...ah, a small reed house," he reads, voice hitching as I get comfortable. "And newer than the little stone cottage over which her dying mother had left her mistress at the tender age of fourteen. Now twenty, Yalente was losing her second home, for the Māori Rangatira had triumphed. The Pākehā had lost, and were now being evicted from the land they had stolen. Including Yalente, who began to understand what it meant to have unknowingly and unwittingly been a thief…"

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watercolorfreckles · 4 months

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The Pretty Prince of Avenglow

This is a secret santa snippet for @thepenultimateword ! Thank you for arranging this fun event for everyone, and for entrusting me with your prompt. I've been in a long writing rut, so this was really tough for me to finish on deadline. But I did it! I know this is far from the best thing I've ever written, but it is something! Hope you like it!

Her prompt was: "Fragile pretty boy x strong/buff lady. He is super smitten with her. This can be a hero x villian universe thing, or a prince and a lady knight, or a captured sailor/aristocrat/etc. and a pirate queen, or whatever you want, I just really love this type of relationship dynamic"

“Well, now, you must be the prettiest piece of treasure I’ve found all year.”

The prince coughed and spluttered, thrashing at the coils of fishing net that entangled his limbs. His clothes, sodden and leaden, seemed to weigh him to the deck.

“Shh, hush now,” the pirate captain before him spoke again, crouching to his level, balanced deftly on her booted heels. “I take excellent care of my belongings.”

The prince stilled, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. He nearly choked again, though all seawater had since been purged from his lungs.

The stories he’d heard, the wanted portraits pasted on village walls, paled in comparison to the figure leaning over him: Vespertine Crow, captain of the Evening Star.

His insides swirled.

She was a unique kind of beautiful, with long black hair twisted into a braid loosened and tousled by the sea’s salty breath. The contour of her silhouette struck him as statuesque, strong and muscled and gracefully carved. He imagined that she might be as impenetrable as stone, too.

“H-Hi,” he said dumbly.

Vespertine’s lips spread into an amused smile, sharp as the glittering knife twirling between her fingers. She wiggled her free hand in greeting. “Hi, pretty thing. I have to say, I hardly expected my nets to scoop up the Spare Prince, Evrin of Avenglow, soggy and half-drowned in the middle of the Tempest Sea. How serendipitous.”

As he swallowed, the prince's mouth felt abruptly dry. Though he couldn't see past the railing, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder toward the sunken wreckage of the ship he'd spent days on, cooped up in a damp and creaky cell.

Captain Vespertine followed his gaze, then tilted her head. “Poor thing. Taken and held for ransom, were you?”

The memories flashed behind Evrin’s eyes. It was while he'd been visiting the village to check on his people that he'd been ambushed near the docks, plucked away from the fragile safety of land to be thrown on board the traitors’ ship.

He'd been helpless, no better than a spoiled house cat tossed into the bath.

Evrin managed a nod.

Vespertine made a pitying sound. “Sweet thing. Sinking that vessel was my doing. Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?”

The knife in her hand moved and the prince jerked back.

Vespertine paused and tutted. “Now Your Highness, I could have nicked you. ‘Can't go risking that pretty face of yours, you should know better.” Her voice was a balm against the aching burn of him. Soothing, though the chill of it still had enough bite to nip at his nerves.

He stilled once more.

Unpicking the tangles of net with the edge of her blade, Vespertine cut him free.

It reminded him of a bird he'd freed once, legs and wings knotted up in fishing line. The mental comparison warmed his cheeks.

“That's better.” She tugged the shed netting over his head, tossing it aside and straightening onto her feet. A calloused hand extended out to him. “Up you get, pretty.”

Evrin hesitated, eyeing her hand. His limbs felt terribly heavy. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand if he tried. “Thank you, for….saving me.” The end of his sentence lifted into something more like a question.

That startled a soft laugh from the captain. Her eyes glittered with mischief, holding a Tempest Sea of their own. “My pleasure, Highness.”

When he didn't take her hand, Vespertine reached down, hands locking under his arms, and hauled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. Wobbling on weary legs, he caught the pirate's sleeve, looking up at her.

His attention snagged on the fact that she was a few inches taller than him, and certainly far stronger. His belly did a stupid swoop.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Mm… That is the question. Let's discuss it in my cabin, shall we?” Draping an arm around him, the pirate captain swept him away, leading him down below deck and into her quarters.

Her will was as irresistible as the moon's will over the tides.

Vespertine gave his chest a light shove and the prince buckled back onto her bed. Catching himself on his hands behind him, his fingers curled around the woolen blanket atop it. It scratched lightly at his fingertips.

Evrin put up no fight, dazed. She drew his gaze with the same allure as the sky and the bottomless sea. Beautiful, dangerous, powerful. Graceful in its dance of crest and fall.

He watched the captain as she rifled through her closet, pulling out a white, long-sleeved shirt with ties to lace the top, as well as a pair of gray trousers. “Here. I'm sure you'll feel much better when you're out of those clothes.”

The prince's cheeks warmed again. “You…want me to wear your clothes?”

“You're a delicate, skinny little thing, I'm sure you'll fit. Besides.” She unsheathed her sword, leveling it with his chest and using it to lift the fabric above his heart where his crest was attached. The prince's breath caught. “I'll need this from you to prove you're alive if I'm to collect the reward.

“Re…Reward?”

Vespertine shrugged. “I assume they prefer ‘reward’ to ‘ransom.’ One comes with a multitude of fewer threats and scandal. Which do you prefer, Highness?” She pressed the blade a fraction harder into his chest.

The prince itched to skitter away but kept still. “Reward is good,” he breathed.

“Good.”

She wielded her sword like an extension of her being, fluid and quicker than his eyes could track. There was a slash and then his princely crest was in the captain's hand. His eyes darted down to the bare square on his chest, in the spirit of every novel he'd read where the protagonist had been stabbed or harpooned and was too shocked to process the fatality.

His skin was unmarred.

Vespertine threw the clothes at the prince. “Get dressed, unless you're waiting for me to do it for you. I could be persuaded, if you say pretty please.”

Evrin’s cheeks burned at the thought, casting his gaze away from her and down to the clothes in his hands. Awkwardly, he peeled his shirt over his head.

“Smooth, pampered skin.” Vespertine tutted, sheathing her sword and stepping closer to trace a finger over the soft curve of his shoulder. “You've never seen a day of hardship, have you?”

Prince Evrin shivered, shrugging the clean shirt on. Its weight rested warm and gauzy against his skin. Embarrassed, he shucked his trousers off next, replacing them with the clean pair as quickly as he could manage under the pirate captain's stare.

“Not many, not of the physical variety, anyway,” he answered.

He straightened the clothes which fit surprisingly well, picking at the laces.

When he looked up again, she was grinning, blatantly pleased. “There, now. isn't that better? You look like a proper pirate. Very pretty.”

“Like you? I mean-” the prince squirmed, shifting to stand, then changing his mind. Submissive. “Sorry.”

She laughed again. “Sorry? For thinking I'm pretty? I'm flattered, sweetheart. You're quite lovely yourself. Now. Back to business.”

“...business?”

“Well, if I'm to return you safely, I expect a reward of… proper proportions. There's the money, yes, but I want something more from you.”

“O-Oh?”

Vespertine plopped onto the bed beside him, turning to face him. “Firstly, I want a pardon. A clean slate I can dirty all over again when it suits me.” She winked at him, and his heart fluttered between his ribs. “Secondly. Your brother took something from me. I want it back. You will get it for me.”

Transfixed, Evrin studied her face. “What did he take?”

She leaned closer to him, her gaze sharpening into something a fraction more dangerous. “My child.”

Evrin’s eyes widened. “Your child? Who–” He paused. “Iara? He said that she was an orphan; that he took her in to spare her a life of hardship and inequity.”

“Your brother lied.” Her voice was the crack of a whip; lightning striking water. When the prince startled, she softened only a fraction, looking him up and down. “You are…kinder than your brother, I can tell. Mousy, certainly, but. Sweet.”

“He is better fit to be king,” Evrin whispered. “Bolder and stronger and braver.”

“But crueler. Are you cruel, Prince Evrin?”

It seemed, suddenly, as though he was balancing on a very thin wire. He watched her face, tracking her every underlying thought.

“No. No, I’m not.”

Captain Vespertine smiled, the flash of a victory banner, and sat back. “Good. Tell me, Pretty. Spare Prince of Avenglow. How would you like to be king?”

Merry Christmas!

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