#maybe 3

Oh boy what's she trying now?

hiya this is my first x reader + there is a part 2 coming ;))) i tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible for all the cuties,,, i hope you enjoy!!

divider creds: @/sister-lucifer

Jeffrey Woods is many things. A thief, a traveler, a killer. He roams the land, stealing food and jewels to sell at an inflated price to the next poor merchant he can trick out on the road. He’s extremely good at going unnoticed, so much so that he gets cocky on the very night he arrives in your kingdom.

You are the heir to the throne, always carrying yourself with such grace and dignity. You keep the people happy through your own charity and natural charm. Whether you like it or not, you are the next ruler, so your father has been training you on the nuances of politics and diplomacy as of recent.

The night is cold and windy, though you do not rest. You are up, studying a large stack of books full of prepared speeches and phrases meant to placate. The soft click of your window latch goes unheard, but the frigid air pooling in moments after makes you still. You did not leave that window open.

You stand, looking around your chamber. The room is creepily silent, and now you’re on high alert. Slowly, you approach the open window and shut it, making sure to lock it before you begin searching your bedroom. You check under your bed, behind every large piece of furniture, even inside of the fireplace. Nothing. You grab a makeshift weapon from the fireplace.

Jeff is quick and efficient, stalking through the large hallways of the castle faster than you even noticed the breeze circling. What he didn’t anticipate before breaking in, is the complicated layout of this floor. Doors leading to private baths and luxurious bedrooms, an entire library larger than any he’s ever seen, and the fact that every room connects.

The hallway is dark. Then you’re standing in front of him holding a candelabrum and he jumps, almost shrieks, but then quickly remembers where he is. You are staring at him; your gaze calculating and eyeing his dark, filthy clothes and the small leather bag now anxiously clutched to his side. He’s silent, unable to think of what to say. He’s never been caught before; not in the act.

“What are you doing here?” Your stern tone cuts through his train of thought, and he averts his gaze. “Thieving? From a royal family?” You almost laugh, but your voice stays quiet, ensuring not to alert the guards. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jeff doesn’t know what to say. He wants to turn back and run, but he knows the power you hold, the number of men proudly at the ready to protect you. That is also why he ignores his instinct to threaten. He frowns.

“Uhm,” he starts with a small sigh. “I’m sorry?” There’s an uncertain tone to his words, though not an inch of guilt on his face. In fact, he is still holding onto his bag like a lifeline. You cock a brow, amusement etching your features.

“Sorry? Are you a child?” You reach for the bag, but he quickly pulls it away. You furrow your brows. “Give it to me, or I will scream.” He obliges. You start digging through the bag, the contents completely random. There is a small loaf of bread and some berries, as well as a small flask, then there are a few jewels and silver coins. You come to a conclusion.

This guy is dead broke. And an idiot.

With a sigh, you turn on your heel and begin walking down the hall. “Where are you going?! Hey!” He sputters, following after you. You saunter back to your quarters and shove the bag into his arms before opening the window.

“Out.” You point at the window, the wind chilling you through your sleepwear. He looks perplexed, staring at you with a dumb expression. You roll your eyes. “Listen, I do not wish to endure a lecture from my father for ‘not being careful’, nor do I want you dead purely for entering the castle without authorization. Leave, and never show your face again.”

He tilts his head. A plethora of royals would grasp at the opportunity to execute others for far less. So many kingdoms he has visited in the past were led by corrupt rulers. The thought never crossed his mind that, perhaps, you are not. There is something unrecognizable in his gaze as he looks toward the papers strewn across your desk, then at the open window.

“Thanks,” he mutters reluctantly as he approaches the window and slips out without another word. You watch him descend the palace with practiced ease, then shut the window tight. Your books are left abandoned on the table when you collapse onto the bed, the mattress firm and grounding against your back. You stare up at the ceiling, contemplating your life choices.