king!simon x fig!reader ♡ the housekeeper
💌: @nbdblogger @twistedwaltz
the sounds of soft squeals and the padding of feet racing across the floors you just scrubbed on your hands and knees have you huffing out a frustrated breath as you swipe a strand of hair that came loose from your bun out of your face with your arm, the sponge held tightly in your grip.
when the king found you homeless at the height of winter, he offered you a job - to cook and clean - and in return, you could live in the castle. you gasped and nodded, forgetting your manners, wrapping your arms around him in the most grateful hug, which he warmed up to more quickly than he ever could've imagined. his guards shoved you off him, but he growled at them and offered you his hand, entirely unoffended, but rather endeared, whisking you away to his castle then and there.
for some reason, you forget he's a king. it seems so bizarre to you that you treat him the way you treat everyone else. you don't ogle or worship him. you are friendly, honest, and polite. and that's the exact reason you have made a sweet home in his cold, distant heart.
he insists you call him simon, and you do. it has the other girls jealous. their arms crossed over their chests, their eyes turning to daggers. you've never had to deal with so many insults in your entire life. you've heard rumors here and there about the harem of women who live here, and now you're forced to deal with them. they're the opposite of friendly, polite, and honest, and those squeals and footsteps belong to them, as the king is going to arrive any minute, and they cannot wait to kiss him, party, and compete to be his favorite.
simon arrives through the back door with freshly picked roses from the garden in his hand as you're on your way to the kitchen. 'i swear these floors have never been cleaner,' his deep voice booms, making you spin around with blushed cheeks, his gaze raking the shining work you've done.
'do you mean that?' you rasp.
he's nodding, cocking his head at you. 'do you take me for a liar?'
your eyes widen as fear grips your whole body. you're shaking your head no. 'oh no. oh gods no...i just-..i-'oh gods-
he's biting back a smile. 'it was a joke....i was being playful...though...i am not sure that translates well...'
with your bucket in hand and your sweetly flushed countenance, the king is smitten. 'enjoy your party tonight,' you offer politely, giving him a little courtesy. 'it is the solstice, and i spoke to the planners and have arranged a ritual for you to use the strength of the summer sun for protection and grounding. it will bring you more blessings.'
he steps to you, his heart skipping a beat. 'you are the most thoughtful person i've ever encountered,' he tells you honestly. though you cannot see his features aside from his eyes, you can always tell how he's feeling through the emotions they carry. and he's feeling tender.
you're blushing more, unable to look anywhere but the ground. 'you are most thoughtful. you've given me everything,' you croak softly.
he's offering you the flowers. 'i'm not very good at these things, but...i have learned from you that pink roses are a form of gratitude, joy, and admiration.'
you're gasping softly, your eyes meeting his as your entire being feels like a blooming romantic rose. 'simon,' you gasp. 'they're beautiful.' you're taking them, smelling them, the biggest smile gracing your lips.
he's smirking. 'join us at the solstice party,' he says, on his way to the next room. 'you work too hard not to play.'
you're hugging your roses so dearly as he's off to his other women, contemplating saying yes to an invitation for once.
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