#Medici x reader

[yoihoshi-maki]

Okay I need some help, I am trying to find websites to watch some of my shows like Medici and teen wolf and stuff like that but I can’t find any can you guys please help

[that1fanficwriter]

Hiii!! Are you still accepting requests for medici and are you willing to write a Francesco fanfic. I have a prompt in mind that i want to request. Thanks!!

So unfortunately I am not doing medici requests right now. If I do ever go back to them I'll come back and write this. Sorry!

[salliesimpkins]

“I like you a lot”

Isaac lahey x fem!Reader

TW: Smut, oral (fem receiving), use of pet names, claws, nipple play

+16 read at your own risk. I’m not your mommy A/N: first smut to write + english isn’t my first lang word count: 2.5K

You were at school, leaning against your locker. smiling at and laughing with Stiles, until you caught Isaac glaring at you across the hall, visibly upset.

"alright Stiles I've got to go now, I'll see ya" you walked away after Stiles nodded and walked to Scott, and you made your way to Isaac.

"hey" you flashed him a smile and he blushed. How could he not? he thought you were the most beautiful thing ever.

The beta glanced over Stiles before turning back to you. "hey.." he spoke softly.

"Just tired... I uhh, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately" he said slowly and softly, not wanting to ruin this moment between you two.

You nodded slowly, feeling bad for him. "well you know, you can always talk to me" you said softly, reassuring him that he's got someone by his side.

You watched him closely as he looked at you quietly, and you didn't want to rush him to speak, you knew how sensitive Isaac is. It made him feel pathetic when he opened up to anyone or asked for help, that's what his dad has taught him. That a man is a man, boys don't cry, but Isaac knew you, he loved you, trusted you, and he knew your listen and get him anytime.

"I've just been going back.. thinking about my family" He looked down as his expression softened.

"oh" you whispered softly and placed your hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "I know you've suffered from your dad your whole life, but his death Isn’t your fault".

Isaac flinched, but he didn't move away from you. Even though your gesture was tiny, it felt huge to him, It made him on top of the world. He let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know... I just-" he paused, unsure if he can keep going or not, but he really counted on you, so he kept going. "I didn't even cry at the funeral and everyone thinks I don't care, that I was wishing the whole time i'd get rid of him, and the problem is.. it's true. I was relieved that he's dead"

"Honey listen to me" you took a step closer, placing both your hands on his shoulder. "your dad used to lock you in a freezer. that night.. that night he hurt you and you ran like any other night, because you didn't know what he would die" you then place your hand on isaac's cheek, caressing it softly "you were just scared, you did nothing wrong"

Isaac paused for a moment and leaned into your touched as he shivered. The relief he felt when his father died was a burden to him, but he knew you were saying the truth so he bit his lip thoughtfully. He wanted to say that your hand felt to right on his skin, but he didn't and rubbed his face with his hand then looked at you hesitantly as he spoke. "I- Iwas scared" his voice trembled as he stammered softly, making you unsure if he meant you to hear him. he slowly smiled at you softly and leaned into your touch again, causing his breath to hitch.

you sighed softly as you try to build up some courage and confidence to ask him to go out with you, but you were too scared that he'd turn you down so you just looked quietly at the ground until you heard a familiar 5 taps on the locker next to you and looked to the direction to see lydia. She must have noticed your flustered face because she tilted her head at Isaac and winked at you. You two have been talking about it and she was eager for you to confess to him, and apparently she was so sure Isaac wouldn't let you down for a reason she wouldn't tell.

you snapped out of my trance as Isaac cleared his throat and looked at the same direction you were just looking at, except there was nobody there.

"sorry about that. I was just wondering if you would want to go home with me? I mean-" You paused and took a deep breath. "why don't you come over and we can just.. relax?" you asked nervously as he just looked at you quietly. "Scott's sneaking out with Allison again and our mom won't be home until ten.. so I was thinking if you'd want to just come over instead of staying alone or with Derek, he could be lame sometimes" I chuckle nervously and put on a fake confident grin.

Isaac stayed quiet for a moment or two, taking in your words, and he thought there was no way he could turn that down, the thought of you and him alone in the house with no distractions. He knew he wanted it but he wasn't sure if you did. if you were just doing him a favour because you felt bad, but he decided to push his paranoia to the side and smiled at you softly with a blush on his cheek, nodding. "I'd like that, if you're okay with it"

"ahh perfect! we are gonna have so much fun! we can watch the notebook too if you want to, or maybe cook or play or just" you pause for a second or two, not wanting to creep Isaac out with your sudden excitement. "we could just.. chill you know?" You looked up at him with a smile.

The two of you walked to your house, as Stiles has already left with his jeep, and while you were walking you felt Isaac's hand brush against yours until he took it in, intertwining your fingers together. you could feel how his hand shakes softly and you knew his stomach was probably flipping, he was a nervous wreck.

You held his hand confidently the way home until you reached it and opened the front door for the two of you. After walking in, you turned to Isaac and smiles. "do you wanna stay in the living room, or go to my room? or we can even cook something!" you asked excitedly.

"Your room...?" He asked hesitantly. Your room was usually off limits, that's where you go to relax on your own, away from the pack. He couldn't deny how much he wanted to be there with you. But part of him knows it won't end at just being in your room. Not that he had a problem but that he was worried from Scott's reaction if he knew Isaac was in his sister's room alone in the house. Scott and Isaac were best friends and Isaac didn't want to risk it, but he still loved you.

you saw the look on isaac's face as he started to look overwhelmed, and more anxious than he was, so you decided to cool it down. "I mean it's okay but if you don't want to that's fine. we can sit in the living room" you shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make as you looked at his eyes.

Isaac nodded slowly, looking at your lips then your eyes. "your room" he said softly and carelessly. He wanted to be with you alone. he didn't care what scott would think, he didn't care what the whole pack would think, he only cared about you and being with you, he wanted you.

you smiled and tilted your head for him to follow you. you walked past Scott's room until you reached your room then you walked to the bed, After taking off your shoes, sitting on the bed, then patting on the space next to you for Isaac to sit on.

Isaac followed you to your room, closing his door behind him. His heart skipped a beat when you asked him to sit next to you and the only thing he could think of is how nervous he is. he looked at you and he thought you look so vulnerable, sitting alone waiting for him to join you, so he took a few steps, trying to regulate his breath before sitting next to you. He was so close and nervous, slowly turning his neck to look at you.

"so.. what would you like to do?" you asked softly, trying to make sure he's not uncomfortable.

Isaac looked at you and for the first time he has walked in the room, he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss you and see what happened but he didn't want to make you pressured, and he didn't want to risk kissing Scott's sister, he was the leader of the pack, so he let the silence between you linger before he decided to break the ice.

"can I be honest with you?" he stressed.

"of course, I won't judge" i nodded in reassurance

Isaac struggles to speak so he leans closer to you. He just wants you to understand him, he needs you to know how he feels, what he's been thinking of, but it's hard for someone like him, someone whom emotions always were rejected. He took a deep breath and leaned closer as his eyes fluttered between your lips and eyes then he opened his mouth to speak but he failed so he looked one more time at you before smashing his lips on yours as he moved one hand on the back of your neck as the other ran over your back to your hips, pulling your whole body into his lap while you froze in shock before pulling him closer, cupping his cheeks while you kissed him back with the same amounts of passion.

After a few moments he pulls away, and looks at you in shock, he had expected everything other than you kissing him back.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have kissed you and if scott finds out he's gonna kill me and-" you cut him off pulling him in another kiss, slowly pushing him to lay down as you move on top of him.

"Scott doesn't have to know" you whispered pulling him in a deeper kiss that made him forget everything.

he was in a daze as he pulled away from you. "you look so beautiful when you kiss me like that" he said softly with a soft smirk that caused you to blush.

He smiled softly as he gently ran his fingers thorough your hair. "you're so beautiful you know? it's just so hard to focus on anything else when we are like that, when you're with me. We can take this as slow as you want"

you pulled him for a kiss in response, breaking it as you smiling against lips, and he moaned softly, slipping his hands under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

"i want this. you. Right here, right now, But I also don't want to hurt you so tell me what you want, darling." he whisper in your ear as his breath hit your neck, causing you to shiver.

"i want you, please" you whined and pulled him into another kiss as your tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. he let out a soft involuntary moan, as his caresses on your back got faster. His tongue danced with your and he began to grind on you, making you feel the hard bulge in his jeans that rubbed your throbbing pussy, until you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, pushing him up by his chest, reaching to his shirt, playing with a soft fabric slowly. He sat up on his knees in front of you between your legs, taking off his shirt. You looked up at him, slowly placing the balm of your hand on his chest, tracing your finger over it to his stomach. He let out a low groan while he watched you trace your fingers over his chest, his muscles tensed under your touch.

"you're killing me honey" He whispered, moving closer to you as he kissed your neck slowly, then he sat up again as his hands found their way between your legs. Should undo your bra, or maybe start with these pants?" he teased, and sprung his claws out, moving them swiftly above you, tearing off your clothes.

"i loved that set" you pouted and he smirked

"i'll get you new ones" he pulled your clothes off your body, tossing them away on the floor with his shirt.

He smirked when he saw the blush on your face when you looked away, leaning down to your neck. "don't be shy baby" he whispered, before tracing kissed down your collarbone.

you moaned softly, moving your hands to caress his back softly and he let out a sigh against your skin. His hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly, kissing lower and lower. His kisses and nibbles reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking around it while he groped the other one with his hand, pinching the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly.

"I love you, so much" He showered your stomach with smooches and pecks, until his mouth found your slit, running his tongue through your wetness, humming in satisfaction. "so wet baby" he flicked your clit with his tongue as you struggled to answer him back, running your fingers through his hair as you pulled them gently. He took one of his hand, wrapping it around my waist to keep me down while he slid a finger in you with the other, slowly and gently, causing you to moan softly.

he sucked your clit harder making you pull his hair tightly, causing him to moan which vibrates against your pussy as his fingers go faster, feeling you clench around them, sucking them in. "Fuck Isaac" you whined. "i'm so close" you whispered, wondering if he even heard you, then he confirmed as he added a finger in, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching you out as you pull his hair tighter. "Isaac!" you warned, and he understood as you reached your climax, coating his fingers with your cum while he kept his gaze on you then he pulled them out, lapping at your pussy hungrily, taking in your juices.

"you're so sweet baby" he moved up to kiss you as you taste your own arousal. He pulled away from the kiss and you bit your lip, panting for air and you moved your hand to his head, pulling him back down to kiss you, you couldn't get enough of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you guys liked this 🎀

[aphroditelovesu]

How many children would Yandere historical Men wish they had? If the fem-reader wanted five or more children. What would the historical Men reaction be?

Characters- Edward Seymour, King Henry V, Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, King Henry VIII, Charles Brandon, Lorenzo De Medici and Francesco Pazzi?

Hmm... I guess it really depends but I would say they would all like to have lots of children with her but they know it's quite common for a woman to die in childbirth so they would keep that in mind.

❝divider by: @cafekitsune

Edward Seymour ♡

Edward would like to have at least two children, both sons. He would like to have daughters with his beloved, but he would prioritize sons to keep his family in power. If his wife wants to have more than five children, he would be fine with that. The more children you have, the more tied and dependent you will be to him.

King Henry V ♡

Henry would like to have several children with his beloved, mainly because he is a Monarch and needs to keep his royal lineage continuing. If his darling wants to have more than five children, that's great! Henry would probably like to have at least ten children. Even though he is terrified at the thought of you passing away in childbirth, he still wants to have a huge family with his darling.

Napoleon Bonaparte ♡

Napoleon wants to have at least one son to also maintain his power through a male heir. He doesn't have a specific number of children he would like to have with his darling, at least one is certain. But if you want to have more than five children, Napoleon will be fine with the idea. The more the merrier, right?

King Henry VIII ♡

Henry wants a male heir above all else and when you give him that, he won't worry about the idea of ​​having more children unless you bring up the idea to him. Henry would be so caught up in the joy of finally having his dream son that he wouldn't think about his next children. However, I imagine he would like to have at least one more son, just in case. Henry would be worried about having more than five children because he fears losing you but he won't be against it if you want him to.

Charles Brandon ♡

Charles really isn't worried about the idea of ​​children at the moment, he's more focused on enjoying his wife and spending as much time as he can with her and he's well aware that he would have to share his attention with a child. However, he knows that he needs to continue his lineage and that's why I see him wanting to have only two children, three at most. He wouldn't like it more than that and mainly because he knows how dangerous childbirth is and this man can't lose you under any circumstances.

Lorenzo de' Medici ♡

Lorenzo wants to have many children with his darling and there is no discussion about that. Eight children at least, that's what he wants. Coming from a powerful family, I don't see him putting the Medici's power at risk because of the lack of descendants. Although he doesn't want to risk your life in childbirth, he will still have many children with you. Lorenzo likes to see you pregnant because it just affirms that you belong to him.

Francesco Pazzi ♡

Francesco would like to have a considerable number of children with his darling. At least four children, but he's not opposed to having more if that's what you want. He loves you and wants to make you, so if having more than five kids is what you want, who is he to judge? Francesco just needs confirmation that it won't kill you. He couldn't bear to lose the woman he loves.

[kiame-sama]

The Yandere OCs having a nightmare where they harm/kill reader

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, violence (nightmare), death (nightmare), reader centered gore (nightmare)

Walter Woods;

A body lay open on the operating table, the constant drone of an EKG whining out the flatline. Another patient lost because he wasn't good enough to keep them alive. Another patient gone because Walter let them down.

The sorrow weighed heavily upon his shoulders, a harsh reminder of his failure squealing in his ears as his eyes slowly trailed up the lifeless figure. A painful stab seemed to rip into his chest as he realized it wasn't just any lifeless corpse laying there, it was your lifeless corpse.

- Walter wakes with a startle, enough to disturb you from your peaceful sleep. He is breathing hard and shaking due to the nightmare that was still fresh in his mind. Walter is on the verge of tears at this point.

- "What's wrong?" Your voice is what snaps him out of the stupor he is in and gets him to return to the present. Truly, he is just glad you're alive and that his horrible nightmare was just another nightmare.

- "Nothing, love. Nothing's wrong." He will hold you close and kiss your forehead, relieved that his nightmare was not reality. He is likely going to stay awake for a while on account of the fright he received.

Evan Rothchester;

The satisfying squish of human flesh beneath his hand met his blade as he sank the knife deep into the person's stomach. Red blood seemed to burst forth like a fountain where the knife was sunken in. Another body for the pile that was Evan's life.

He sighed as he wiped the blood from his skin, using a hand to rip the black hood off of his victim's head. Evan's blood ran cold when he saw just who it was beneath the hood. Your eyes slowly drifted up to look at him, the betrayal clear in your expression before your eyes rolled back. The second your body went limp Evan rushed forward to catch you, to try and undo what he had done.

It was too late.

Your lifeless figure leaned forward against his chest, laying limply in his arms. How could he? How could he have done this to you? How could he live with himself?

- His eyes shot open as he sat upright with a small shout of fear. The shout quickly raising you from your slumber as you also shot up, wondering what the problem was and why Evan responded in such a way.

- "What's going on? Are you okay, Evan?" You are clearly concerned as you question your Mafioso lover, startled and disoriented by the sudden way Evan woke the both of you.

- Evan is panting and looking around in confusion, but as soon as he sees you next to him and safe in bed, he pulls you close into an almost crushing hug. He is shaking and gasping as he holds you close, trying to confirm to himself that you are still there and there is no way he could have done such an unforgivable thing to you.

Carlos Vargas;

Carlos stares in a bored way as his hapless victim squirms within their binds, seeming to struggle for freedom. Just another day feeding the animals at his sanctuary and today it was human on the chopping block. The body tumbled and fell down, landing with a sickening thud as the tigers closed in.

He was about to turn away to continue his work when a familiar voice screamed out to him, "Carlos, please!"

The voice made him whirl around in time to see the tigers close in, your frightened and pleasing eyes begging for him to help you. He rushed forwards towards the fence, but there was no way he would reach you fast enough. Your cry was cut off sharply as fangs closed around your neck, silencing you permanently.

- "NO!" Carlos wakes with a loud yell, trying desperately to stop his beloved tigers from killing his dear darling. The shout startles you awake just as quickly, trying to find whatever it was that Carlos had screamed about.

- As soon as it dawns upon Carlos that you are not being mauled by tigers and it was all a nightmare, he will actually begin to cry. He will hold you and kiss you and just try to calm himself before anything else.

Jackson Locklear;

- Once Carlos calms down, he will insist on holding you while the two of you return to sleep. Even if you get back to sleep, Carlos will be awake for a while yet, trying to stay calm and keep himself from having another nightmare.

Your limp body lay in Jackson's trembling arms. His body wracked with sobs as he tried to get you to not leave him. There was nothing he wouldn't give or do to have you come back to him.

Your eyes stared in an empty way up above you, as if looking to the stars you would no longer see. Though you had once been so full of life, you didn't respond to anything Jackson did in an attempt to rouse you. It seemed there truly was no saving you.

With your death, Jackson's world crumbled away into nothingness, swallowing him whole into despair. The awkward way your body lay only made your tragic fall all the more heartbreaking to poor Jackson.

"I'm so sorry.... Please, don't leave me... Please..."

- Jackson wakes slowly, sobbing and trying to take a moment to breathe despite the absolute sorrow in him. He can barely hold himself together as he gasps and shakes in distress and anxiety. It felt so real to sit there and hold you in his arms, leaving him disoriented in a way he had not expected.

- You woke to the sound of heavy and heart wrenching sobs, seeing him sitting with his head in his hands. Jackson is near inconsolable at that moment. In his mind, he may as well have actually done it despite it all being a nightmare.

- Only when he actually takes a moment does he register the sound of your voice as you try to soothe him despite not knowing what was wrong. Upon hearing you and realizing you are still alive, Jackson will immediately grab you and hold you close. He will be so thankful that it was just a horrible nightmare and not actually reality.

Orion Medici;

Another snoop digging through his drafts looking for ideas to steal. Soon to be yet another body under Orion's belt. He had always prided himself on his quick wit and his even quicker skill with a blade.

The figure turned around only to have their throat meet the sharp end of his blade, a clean cut from one side to the next suddenly adorning their soft skin. What Orion didn't expect was the shocked and familiar face he was met with.

The knife fell from his hand with a loud clatter as the world seemed to pause, your throat gurgling where you had been cut. He barely had time to catch you in his arms as you convulsed, trying to stop the rapid loss of blood despite the clear futility of your efforts. Orion was no better as he tried and failed to staunch the flow, hyperventilating as he made continuous attempts to help you.

"Wh- Why, Orion..?"

- Orion woke with a sharp gasp, the blankets balled in his fists and damp with cold sweat. It takes him a moment to orient himself despite being somewhere very familiar to him. He will look around in bewilderment before seeing you and feeling his entire being relax with the sheer relief running through him.

- You are still asleep and resting peacefully beside him as he gets his breathing under control, watching you sleep for a moment. It has felt so real to him that he honestly thought he had killed you, and that thought alone made his heart ache with an intense pain.

- He will be able to return to sleep, but he will likely hold onto you rather tightly just to make sure you are still there with him. He will continue to hold you even while he sleeps, effectively trapping you until he wakes up again and releases you.

Hahne Yamare;

Hahne was a good right hand man. A damn good one. He would be damned if he didn't carry out Evan's orders to the exact, and this was no different. It was just another target he had to eliminate and Hahne would make sure he followed through.

The crack of a rifle went off, the body not too far from him collapsing to the ground with a pained wheeze.

Hahne was no monster, despite his more than monstrous actions. He would not leave the soul lying there to die slowly and in pain. But as he drew closer to the figure, a hollow thud seemed to resonate in his chest when he saw the frightened and dying eyes that he had once loved staring into.

"No! No, this wasn't supposed to happen!" He cried out as he picked up your body, watching the light fade from your terrified eyes, "please! I didn't mean to, please!"

Despite his desperate begging, there was nothing Hahne could do as the light faded from your gaze and left you laying there with an empty stare.

- Hahne jolted as he woke, falling from the bed in a confused panic. His panic woke you, making you look over to where he was on the floor in concern as he struggled against the blankets. When he finally managed to free himself, he was panting and frantically looking around for any sign of you.

- When he does finally catch sight of you, he wraps you up in his arms, trying to just hold you and make sure you were truly there with him. The thought of having been the one to kill you nearly drove him mad, and he needed to know you were alright.

- When he calms down he will tell you about the nightmare he had and he may start to choke up just a bit. The only way he can get back to sleep is if you hold him and let him hold you until he manages to drift off again.

Amira Woods;

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Amira cries out as you collapse into her arms, the clear safety shank she keeps on her person protruding from your neck. She can't help but focus on the way that it seems to move and twitch with every beat of your heart, spilling more and more of your precious lifeblood.

Truly, she thought you had been a stranger trying to grab her, not her beloved. She was in tears as she held you, trying to keep the bleeding contained despite having hit your jugular. If she could just get her brother Walter on the phone-

The choking cough that rattled from you broke off that line of thought as your eyes began to roll back, a clear sign that you were not long for this world.

- "Wait!" Amira wakes up with a shrill scream, tears pouring down her face as she practically flies out of bed and onto her feet. Her sudden awakening startles you awake as well, looking around in a panic to find whatever has set Amira off. When you don't see anything immediately, you look to her for answers.

- When Amira takes a moment to take a breath, she realizes that she is standing in your shared room and you are completely safe in bed. She will start crying all over again as she looks to you to comfort her following the nightmare that still held dominion over her mind.

(Didn't realize I pushed post, so I will reblog with Julie, Kaya, Hada, and Ollpheist added on)

[gulnarsultan]

Yandere Lorenzo De Medici and Yandere Cosimo De Medici with Mistress reader who pregnant

◇ Yandere Lorenzo De Medici and his pregnant mistress reader.

~ Soon after Lorenzo meets you, your fate is sealed.

~ This man definitely makes you fall in love with him with his intelligence.

~ He takes you as his mistress. He doesn't care what his wife and others say.

~ You will truly live like a Queen and be treated like one.

~ You will have the best food and care.

~The best doctors in childbirth will take care of you.

~ You will be very pampered financially. You will have the most expensive dresses and jewelry.

~ It will legitimize every child you give birth to. Children will also have the best life.

◇ Yandere Cosimo De Medici and his pregnant mistress reader.

~ When Cosimo saw you, he decided that you were meant to be together.

~ Thanks to his cunning, it is not difficult for him to make you his mistress.

~ He spoils you financially to the fullest.

~ If you have art or any other hobby, he will support you.

~ He is very careful about your health until birth.

~ You will live in a luxury castle with women enough to be in the same Palace or as a neighbor.

~ Every child you give birth to will be legitimized.

~ He won't listen to anything his legal wife or anyone else has to say about you.

[frost-queen]

Lost without you (Reader x Nostradamus)

Requested by: @sophia-winchester07, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @eliscannotdance

Brushing any wrinkles from your clothing, you softly cleared your throat. Readying your hand to knock. Two gentle knocks. Taking a step back, waiting for the door to be opened. – “Come in Y/n.” – the voice on the other side said. It made you furrow your brows confused. Stunned you opened the door. Popping your head in as Nostradamus was sitting by his desk.

“How… how did you know it was me?” – you asked curious, closing the door behind you. Peeking over your shoulder to the door to see if any magic had made it able for him to see through the door. Nostradamus chuckled putting the feather pen back into the ink pot. – “Did you have a vision of me visiting?” – you asked, back pressed against the door. – “No.” – Nostradamus he replied getting up. You watched him go round the desk towards you.

Looking up to him as his warm hands cupped your cheeks. – “Simple keen observation as you always come to my quarters around the same time Y/n.” – Nostradamus explained. Pouting your lips, you were a bit disappointed with his answer. Nothing magical about it, you were just a creature of habit.

Nostradamus chuckled once more, letting his hand brush against your cheek. – “I don’t need visions of you for I dream each night of you.” – he whispered before pressing his lips against yours. You smiled against his lips, kissing him deeply back. Your hands going over his back, feeling his sturdy upper body underneath your palms. Letting your fingers crave deep in his back, wanting him even closer. Nostradamus pulled back with a surprised glance.

He smiled touching your nose playfully. He kissed you one more time before returning to his desk. You followed him, coming to sit at the edge of his desk. Picking up an object that was sitting on his desk to occupy yourself with. – “Y/n.” – Nostradamus sighed out, taking the object from you. – “Sorry.” – you mumbled out watching him set it at the other side of his desk.

“Do you have much work?” – you questioned, trying to read his notes. Tilting your head to do so. – “Quite.” – he answered letting his feather pen dip into the ink bottle. – “Shame…” – you replied looking up to the ceiling, tapping your foot in the air. – “Does my princess require attention?” – he asked with a cheeky smile. You touched your lips thoughtfully. – “It depends what the physician has in mind?” – you replied with a blissful smile.

Nostradamus kept staring at you with a certain expression. It didn’t last long as he slightly shook his head. Returning to his papers. – “It will only take a moment. Then I am yours.” – he reassured you, scribbling some words down. You hummed loud in response, looking at the window behind him. Nostradamus kept writing  as you occupied yourself. Fumbling a bit with your dress. Staring out into the distance, slightly humming.

“Are you almost done?” – you asked, leaning in, letting your hand brush over his shoulders. Nostradamus was about to answer when the door opened. The sudden noise made you flinch. Jumping off the desk in the matter of half a second. Nostradamus got startled as well. Accidently bumping against his ink bottle as it started to stain some of his parchments.

He placed the bottle up to prevent more stains whilst keeping an eye on his new visitor. Catherine entered with a surprised look on her face. – “Princess Y/n what are you doing here?” – she questioned. Nostradamus looked briefly at you as you dared not to look. Not wanting to make it obvious.

“I was in need of some assistance… I…I am having trouble sleeping at night.” – you lied to her, trying to sound as convincing as you could. You moved away from the desk, curtsying before Lady Catherine, moving behind her then. – “Yes uhm I shall have some herbs be delivered to your quarters to help with your insomnia.” – Nostradamus called out, standing up from his seat.

You stood behind Lady Catherine, motioning to him to come find you later. Lady Catherine turned her head as you pretended to stretch your arms up. Nostradamus nodded, slightly ushering for you to leave. You curtsied once more to Lady Catherine before taking your leave.

 Catherine found it a bit suspicious, but left it at that. Perhaps she just thought that off you because of your sister Mary. She and her hadn’t been having a smooth relationship. Nostradamus gestured to her to have a seat so he could listen to her worries. Catherine seemed to be confiding more and more with him lately.

Taking his visions by heart and depending on them. Disappointed, you left his quarters, making your way outside. Holding your own arms at how your moment was ruined. You almost had him all to yourself if Lady Catherine hadn’t come in and claim him. You weren’t jealous, it was just starting to get annoying how many times that woman asked for his advice.

Wandering the hallways of the castle, you went outside. Encountering Lola on your way. She curtsied at your presence as you only smiled politely back at her. You ventured away from the castle walls towards a place in the gardens. Coming to sit on a bench, slightly hidden and out of sight. There you sighed deep. Staring down at your own hands as you waited.

Waited if even Nostradamus was able to join you fairly. From afar, you saw workers tend to the gardens. Looking to your side, you saw a bush of roses. Sighing soft at them as you missed him dearly. It was strange how it happened, but you hardly remembered which point gave the tipping away. A princess, Queen Mary’s sister none the less falling in love with a commoner. The physician with a golden heart.

Thinking off him brought a smile to your lips. Looking away from the roses, you staring back in front of you. Hearing some rustling behind you, barely gave you any time to look. A single rose appearing before yours eyes. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Nostradamus with one hand behind his back.

“For you, my love.” – he said as you were gawking at him in delight. You got up, throwing your arms around him. He hugged you firm back. Pulling away, he presented you with the flower in the middle. Offering it to you. You smiled about to take it from him.

Your fingers close to the flower as you were almost grabbing it. – “Y/n!” – your name got shouted out loud. Making you flinch. Nostradamus too as the flower dropped to the ground lifeless. Turning quickly around, you saw Mary with Bash at her side.

“I…It is not what it appears.” – you quickly called out, waving your hands across. – “Oh I am quite certain of what I just witnessed.” – Mary responded loudly. – “Your majesty I…” – Nostradamus spoke as Bash came stepping in. Pushing him further away from you.

“I think you better step away.” – he told him. Nostradamus obeying with his hands up. – “Sister I…” – you began as Mary held her hand up. – “Whatever it is, I need you to end it now.” – she insisted upon. Tears sprung making your sight glossy. – “Mary please…” – you said, not wanting too. She couldn’t.

“It ends now!” – she made herself more clear. Your lips quivered, trying to hold back your tears. Looking over your shoulder to him, he saw how much you were hurting from this. He moved forwards wanting to reach you and comfort you if Bash had not kept him in place.

Bash came nearer, taking you by the elbow. – “Come Y/n.” – he said guiding you away. Nostradamus wanted to call out your name, but didn’t dare. At a loss with himself, he exhaled loud. Mary came close. – “You are a man born of common blood. What you want doesn’t matter.” – Mary made clear.  

She turned round as Nostradamus watched her step on the rose that had fallen. He sunk to his knees out of agony that he could never be with you. Mary’s words sounding through in his mind. For a commoner could never have you.

-------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[hiatuswhore]

Viper IV

Reputation: The Princess of Conde, said to be a lover of games. Perhaps chess, a game requiring one to think many steps ahead and anticipate your enemies next move. For every missteps brings you closer and closer to defeat.

VIPER III: Versatility

YOU NEVER KNEW FRENCH COURT TO BE SO DULL. The privy council drolling on about issues they will never resolve. No plots or ploys, you settle on a ceasefire allowing the Queen Consort a period of reprieve. You busy yourself with strolls with Sebastian and feigning interest in many high Lord's pursuits of your hand. This does not stop the Queen Mother from focusing on your every movement. Nor are you a fool to the servant in your ranks who reports to her. All information they receive perfectly curated to your liking.

Sitting at your vanity, you huff like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Whispers containing scandals so minuscule you are certain the histories will write you as the first to truly die from boredom.

“Dahlia, any news on the parchment I sent to my brother?” You ask. The shake of your handmaiden’s head garnering another huff. “He wants me to come home, but I have far too much to do here.”

“Princess, you must stop fussing so I can finish your hair,” Dahlia’s silvery voice and gentle touch gaining an apologetic smile. The light tapping of your chamber door stills your handmaiden, your head turning toward the door. Dahlia crosses the room. Opening it, she bows respectfully before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.

“My King,” You rise to your feet, a grin on your lips as you curtsy. Francis chuckles, shaking his head as you ask what you can do for him.

“My wife seems to believe you have a vendetta against her. I am no fool of the deep care you hold for your brother. This afternoon you will invite her on your evening stroll, just the two of you,” Your head tilts to the side, a wide smile taking your features, hiding the thorns beneath rosy-colored petals.

“While I admit I was not very fond, I thought to have clarified my intentions with your wife. Very well, we will have a lovely evening at once,” Clasping your hands in front of you, stepping forward, you peck his cheek. His nose grazes your cheek as he turns to meet your gaze.

“We are not children anymore. You know this is not appropriate,” His words leave him in a breathy whisper. You wet your lips, offering a warm smile.

“I meant nothing untoward, Francis. You are dear to me. I would never have you jeopardize your honor,” Only run it off a cliff, the heat of his skin warming your own at the proximity. His head tilts forward so slightly you nearly miss it as he stiffens. You pull away first, brushing past him with a knowing smirk.

The long corridor from your chambers holds a sea of faces that matter little as you make your way to the kitchens. Fetching to chalices of wine, your smiles large as Mary and Catherine’s eyes land on you. They stand in the throne room, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

“Queen Mother. Her grace. My apologies for the intrusion. I hoped to steal the Queen for a stroll. I even brought us wine,” You say, holding out the chalice. Silence dances between the three of you. Both Catherine and Mary eye the cup in your hand warily, the smile on your lips wicked. She knows she cannot refuse. To do so slights the Princess of Conde--another slight against the De Bourbon family, her kin-in-law.

“Of course, Princess,” Mary swallows thickly, her voice wavering as her fingers brush your own against the cup. She glances at Catherine a final time before joining your side. You wear a kind smile, your airy aura filling the halls. You ramble to Mary just as you do with a dear friend, noting how the chalice in her hands has stayed there.

“What a lovely day. Isn’t it lovely?” Stepping outside, you turn to Mary, her strained smile and stiff posture fueling your amusement. Catherine stands with Francis on the second-floor terrace watching the two of you.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mary mutters, following your toothy smile up the terrace. She’s greeted with differing expressions. Francis wears one of encouragement as Catherine stands as though a guillotine awaits.

“Mary, you are not very good at this game. You went to Francis of your fears, rightful fears, but now here we are. Let me help you understand your particular situation. This is a game of reputation. I very publicly invited you to wine and a stroll. The part the people do not know is that it is at the King's behest. Now imagine if word spreads, you refused my efforts for peace after all you brought upon my brother? What a lecherous cunt,” You scoff, speaking barely above a whisper, shaking your head, a smile painting your lips. Mary’s eyes narrow, her shoulders falling at her side. Stepping into the trap before it was even set.

“I am the Queen. You are my subject in my court!” The ferocity of her tone unlike anything you ever expected of her. You would have commended her in another life, but now your smile falls as you stumble back. Mary’s frown distinct as your eyes well with tears. You shift your gaze down sharply, cowering like a frightened child—the antithesis of your nature.

“My apologies, your grace. Will you excuse me?” You curtsy, wiping the faux tear from your cheek. Mary’s eyes bounce around the open grass field. Ladies and Lords alike lounge around different fixtures watching the exchange. Realization cuts through like a blade to skin, your sorrow not reaching your eyes. Oh, how this game suits you.

“Princess,” Mary breathes out, watching as you fiddle with your fingers. The comely and giving Princess standing before the aggressor, the cruel Queen.

“My apologies, your grace. I know our histories are—” You cry out, the approaching mop of blonde hair arriving with impeccable timing.

“Mary, a word,” The clench of the King’s jaw clear despite the mask of calm he wears. You offer a respectful curtsy heading back toward the castle with your head low. Inside, Catherine greets you with a sneer; taking her hands, you smile.

“I detest you. You wretched girl,” Catherine squeezes your hands tights, to onlookers a warm exchange between family. The Queen Mothers' smile as warm and deceitful as your own.

“Oh, Catherine. To hate me is to hate yourself. I learned all I know from watching you,” You lean forward, kissing both her cheeks. The softening of her glare was not lost on you before excusing yourself. Like wildfire, the word spread of your exchange; invitations of tea and strolls pouring into your chamber like water to a glass.

By noon, you receive word of a private family supper. You naturally assume it to be the workings of Francis but still consider others. While Mary navigates your game as well as a blind man at sea, you await Catherine to guide her hand. You wear a courteous smile as the hundredth invite for tea arrives, your empty promises of soon arranging a meeting becoming almost instinctive.

“(Y/n)!” Your eyes widen at the squeal. Claude rushes down the corridor, her arms wide open. She nearly tackles you to the ground in a hug, squeezing so tight it may very well suffocate you.

“Thank god! This place is so terribly boring,” You exclaim, stepping off to the side. Claude smirks. “I was so upset to learn I had just missed by mere hours the day I arrived.”

“I hear my brother's wife made you cry, and I know for certain that is not the case. You must tell me your machinations at once,” Claude whispers, leaning in close. The two of you stop at the corner, appearing like giddy children.

“That would spoil the fun dear cousin!” You say, crossing your arms and mirroring her smirk.

“The Scottish Queen is doomed then, but that must wait. We have much to catch up on,” Claude hooks her arm in your own. She leads you down the hall, her animated rambling taking the whole of the conversation as you listen intently.

“You slept with Ser Harlin?” You gasp, stopping in your tracks. The French Princess bit her bottom lip, grinning like a madwoman. She spares you not a single detail of her exploits with the pagan warrior, a burly man of few words.

“How have you not? I know, no Lord who looks like him. We must have our fun before our brothers decide to try and marry us off,” Claude says, shrugging your shoulders, your matter-of-fact tone dripped in certainty, “I believe my brother knows if he forces a husband upon me, that poor soul will not make it to our marital bed.”

“Well, if Francis makes me marry, can I count on your diligence in my indoctrination to widowhood?” Claude teases. Nodding your head, you stand straight up with a playfulness to your tone, “I swear this oath to you in perpetuity, my princess.”

“I see you two muck about once more,” Francis greets his sister with a warm hug, his eyes meeting yours with a long pause. Claude’s gaze bounces between the two of you, chuckling shamelessly.

“All these years and nothing changes. Well, you two clearly need a moment. Mother!” Claude calls out, skipping away before either of you can say a word. You bite the inside of your cheek, certain you will not lead this conversation.

“I wish to apologize on behalf of Mary,” Francis says, studying how you render your face expressionless.

“It’s clear the Queen does not seek forgiveness, but who I am to ask that of the Queen. I do not believe she likes me very much. I think I should soon leave,” You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. A huff leaves him, taking the bait as easily as you threw it.

“You will do no such thing. I want you here, so that is where you shall be.” Francis taking your hand in his own, the closeness intoxicating—inviting far too inappropriate for the open hall. You wet your lips, watching his eyes travel to them.

“Of course, my King.” The batting of your lashes and low hum of your voice garnering a deep sigh. Francis closes his eyes, rolling back his shoulders as he releases your hand. “Are you unwell, your grace?”

“You very well know what I am at this given second,” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. Leaning in closer, your pointed stare and lopsided grin doing the young King no favors.

“You are King, Francis. It is well within your right to reach for what you want. Who you want,” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you trail your pointer finger up the side of his neck and back down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“I will not be my father,” Francis says, disappearing into his own mind before you. Your hand travels up to his cheek, pulling him back to the present, testing your limits with your thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“You could never. Far too honorable. Too good,” You draw your words out, the slow whisper and dark eyes evaporating those around you from view. The few who linger in the corridor pretend as though you both are not the center of attention. You lean up, pecking his cheek once more, resting your cheek against his, your breath tickling his ear. Your eyes on the dark mop of hair down the hall, “I am your first love. Mary shall be your last, it seems. Your grace.”

You step back, noting how he stares at you, the adoration clear as day. Curtsying, you brush past him. At the end of the hall, you stop shoulder-to-shoulder with the Scottish Queen. Her glassy staring forward as though someone has commanded it. You do not spare her glance on even turn to address her, your face now one of stone.

“Please, Princess. Ask anything of me, and it is yours.” Mary swallows thickly, her eyes on her husband's back as he continues down the hall. When he turns the corner, she turns to you, your gaze still forward.

“Your demise.”

MASTERLIST

[littlweirdostuffwritesworld]

The golden sun

Summary: Many things have happened to the marriage of Francesco de Pazzi and Andrea Sabini, the speech of Jacopo de Pazzi and the appearance of the most talked about woman in Florence, Tamara D'Amato cousin of the bride.

"I can't believe Francesco de Pazzi is getting married," Giuliano said

"So it's true that a good woman can change you," Botticelli joked

"Apparently" Lorenzo took a sip of the wine looking at the new couple, you could see that they were in love.

"Our poor Lorenzo is jealous," Giuliano said

"What? Jealous of Francesco? Never, I'm just happy that he's no longer influenced by Jacopo Pazzi"

"Of course, it's not the fact that you feel a little lonely"

"Not at all, if I want to marry someone I can choose any lady" he laughed

"Sure, what about the woman mother introduced you?"

"Clarice Orsini, Carlo was unable to pessuader her and she became a nun" her brother looked at him for a moment and it seemed that he was about to explode with laughter.

"Don't try to laugh, and let's talk about you instead"

"There is nothing to talk about, because you are doing the same thing" Lorenzo was about to reply when their sister arrived.

"Bianca where were you?"

"With the bride's cousin Lucia D'Amato" she explained and pointed at the young woman

"Do you think the d'Adamato will show up?" Botticelli asked

"If they show up this will be the most remembered wedding in Florence" Giuliano commented, across the hall The Pazzi brothers were talking.

"Congratulations brother" Gugliemo Pazzi was really proud of his brother, even if he did not want to say it, he did not expect Francesco to fall in love, and he had gotten into oace with the obsession of the Medici

"Thank you but if it wasn't for you I don't think I'd be here to toast"

"You did the same thing with me and Bianca, you are my brother this is the least" it seemed that the Pazzi family was going through a period of rebirth and prosperity.

While everyone was celebrating Jacopo Pazzi entered it seemed that he had drunk too much he was drunk.

"Congratulations to my nephew Francesco" he applauded

"How come you are all silent, I thought this was a wedding" he sobbed

"And it is, Messer Pazzi you can stay as long as you want" Andrea said approaching the man

"No more titles we are family now" he smiled, a trail of chills rose on the back of the groom.

"Do you think he has something in mind?" Guglielmo whispered

"I'm going to see" he no longer needed to muster up the courage to talk to his uncle.

"Uncle I'm glad you came"

"I would never miss my brother's son's wedding"

and the man goes away and approached other nobles.

"My love are you okay?" he said

" Yes why?"

"Jacopo Pazzi is never happy for anyone, and now that his most precious pawn is dispossessed he is afraid that I will be against him"

"Honey don't worry, the only thing I can tell you is to follow your mind and your heart, and if you don't know what to do, talk to your brother and your wife" she advised.

"Yes" the major domus interrupted the couple

"Madonna Pazzi, Tamara D'Amato has arrived" he announced

"Well thank you, honey you will meet my best friend"

"I can't believe it, Tamara D'Amato is not ashamed, she shows up here after having canceled her engagement" a noble woman said

"And with that scar on her face who will marry her?" they snickered

"I advise you to ceaseyour gossiping, Tamara D'Amato is still part of the D'Amato family if she wants your heads, she will have them, if you insult Tamara, you insult Venice and Florence" Lucrezia Donati said, and two women stopped talking

The most talked about woman in Florence entered the room and brought a stir and shock with her.

"Congratulations cousin, may you have a prosperous life together," she smiled

"Oh Tamara, your presence here is the best gift" Andrea hugged her

"I would never miss my cousin and best friend's wedding"

"So the rumors are true, she is really a beautiful woman" Bianca said, without taking her eyes off the woman, she had seen noble women but there was something about Tamara, maybe it was her red dress or the long braid that gathered her hair almost to the floor.

"It's not just a beautiful face, his father Leonardo D'Amato has always believed he was raising his children despite being a son or daughter, the woman excels in economics, Latin, Greek, Italian and helps her father" their mother Lucrezia said

"She seems to be a great woman" Giuliano commented

"A woman worthy of being a wife" the mother winked and left

"Mother will never change"

"If it weren't for that scar she could be the most beautiful woman in Florence …" Botticelli said

"A beautiful woman is always a beautiful woman" Lorenzo interrupted

"Are my eyes deceiving or Lorenzo is quite interested in Tamara D'Amato?" the painter teased

"No, but the D'Amato family is a powerful and rich family, our father and Leonardo were about to make an agreement for the sale of silk" he explained, he continued to look at her and it was clear that even with the "scandals" she was charismatic woman.

The woman was approaching the group, the closer she gets, the more Lorenzo looked at her, he had noticed that she had a mole near her left eye.

"Good evening family de Medici and Signor Botticelli" she greeted

"Lady D'Amato is a pleasure to meet you this evening" Bianca greeted shyly, respected the woman

"I'm sorry for your father's death, he was a good man, may he rest in peace"

"I knew that our fathers were friends, my father is getting old unfortunately things have left certain things pending"

"We, their children can continue what they were doing"

"Interesting, I hope we could" before leaving the music began

"Dama would you like to dance with me?" he offered himself and gives her a little grin and accepted her hand. The music started and everybody was ready to dance

"Messer Lorenzo"

" Yes?"

"If you wanted to talk about business, it was enough to talk to my brother Benedetto, there was no need to invite me to dance"

"I didn't invite you for business, I'm just a man who can't resist a beautiful woman" Tamara laughed

" Is this how the famous Lorenzo de Medici steals the hearts of the ladies of Florence?" she smiled

" Steal? No my lady a thief steal, I'm a keeper, the heart of the lady I will love is more precious than diamonds and gold" he whispered on her ear.

" So you are poet too?"

" I'm a man who loves the art, I heard your family supports many artists" he said

" Yes my family support artists, from painters,writers, poets and musicians. House D'Amato is not only selling tessile but we make clothes out of them" she explained, and with the last twirl the dance ended, but their hands was still intertwined.

" I would like to see you" he blurted out

" I mean I would like to see more of your family products" he corrected himself blushing

" Of course our shops are always open" she smiled, bowed and walked away. Leaving the young Lord following her with his blue eyes.

[icarusignite]

What fandoms do you write for or would you be open to writing for? And are there any specific characters you'll write for? Any limitations or topics/content you won't?

Hii great question actually, I realized I didn't make a list lol.

Requests are always open btw!

Fandoms:

- Game of Thrones

- House of the Dragon

- The Last Kingdom

- Medici

- Bridgerton

- Criminal Minds

- Ateez

- Lockwood and Co.

- Percy Jackson

-Harry Potter (golden trio era and tom riddle era)

-Hunger Games

-Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows

-Dead Poet's Society

- any other media that I hyperfixate on.

I'm not super picky about characters, so send in a request, and I'll let you know! As for content as well, I'll write pretty much anything at all (no explicit smut tho). I love it when yall send prompts or some sort of synopsis you would like, definitely makes things easier. Drabbles, oneshots, series, and headcanon requests are all always open.

But I do ask that you be patient with me. I'm also working on several long fics and it might be some time before I get to your request.

All my works can be found in my masterlist 💜💜

Would love to hear from you, send in those asks!

[ejfiction]

Masterlist part 2

List of prompts I’m working on (not all though) in a random order:

1. Winx- Church bells (silrah) - forgot about the existence of this, found it recently and am now excited about it (Written now: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46338238)

2. Winx- fitting in (Farahxreader mentor/comfort relationship) - Like this but struggle with reader POV’s

3.Winx- no more drinks (Silrah) - Smut prompt that I’m struggling with as I’m still new to it...

4. Winx- Frying pan (silrah) - Light hearted, slightly funny prompt that I’m nervous about writing, I’m not great at writing funny things

5. Winx- you, me, our little family 7 (FarahxRosalind) - Have so many ideas and have to condense them

6. Winx- Save me don’t let me stay alone 5 (silrah) - I have to write more words than I currently have to make it resemble a chapter

7. Winx- Student soulmate (bloomxfarah Romantic) - Never thought about this ship before but it should be interesting

8. Winx- Sun’s up (silrah) - Smut prompt, still learning to write this stuff, I’ve read badly written stuff and I don’t want to be that person

9. Reign- Shiver (cathry) - Basically finished, in the editing process

10. OUAT- Unbreakable (Dragon queen) - I love this ship and I’m still finding the guts to write something for this fandom

11. Big shot - sweater weather (Ava/Louise) - Never tried this ship before and am new to the fandom, it should be interesting

12. Big shot - I spy (Harvyn) -Cute little prompt but I keep losing interest even though I find it interesting???

This entire list might change in a few days but at the moment these are the fics that I’m looking at more right now.

[barnacles34]

Diamond Ring (Karina x male reader)

tags: 2.4k, historical smut (French Empire), subby sub karina, marriage, and sex.

Wealthiest of them all, you are the Medici of North Europe. Your vast estates span back to the plantagenets - an everlasting relationship established between the English and French - Duke of Touraine, wealthiest of them all. 

It would be an understatement to state that you have seen greed - you are the epitome of greed, and even you would be appalled by the display of greed and such bad humors. And there’s no such thing as the French without bureaucracy: a long, lengthy, powerful bureaucracy.

And, you, Duke of Touraine, are the master of the bureaucracy. This wasn’t some practiced effort or a hereditary nepotist agenda. You were akin to Ivan the Terrible: all hereditary claims stripped, your entire family stripped of its glory and massacred in cold blood, but you weren’t killed - that was Frankia’s fatal mistake.

Coal turned diamond, endless pressure as if you were held under the deepest part of the Earth, and forced to endure its endless torture for years gone will drive anyone to adapt - it just happens to be you.

This backstory, alongside the natural cunning of the plantagenet dukes before you, led you to gain some significant, absolute, palpable advantage over all else. Stories of you utilizing those very debased by this society: cunning troubadours, your faithful concubines (most of which you never engaged with in lustful relief), and all else ignored with a distaste. Somehow, someway, this became the lever with which the entirety of medieval Europe moved, and you jammed it, over and over, until you became Master of Europe.

And, this lever, also became the bane that you resent - the lever that led you to fall in love with the serene, beautiful Karina. 

“Emperor Napoleon? He’s decided to invade Prussia?” You ask, with a pen in hand, mostly focused on the writing rather than the person begging to talk to you.

But when you hear that first word, laced with everything that you desire, deeply pavlovian, your eyes stick on Karina.

“Yes, Master, he’s set his sights on Prussia and likely Russia if he crushes the coalition.”

“He’ll crush the coalition.”

“What?” A surprised remark from Karina, she’s never so informal, dear bird.

“He has an army that has stuck with him since the time he first commanded control, dear. Experience in this dastardly elitist century beats all else. The only thing that could possibly kill his momentum is if his army is slowly dwindling, and that’s something that he hates to the very core, paradoxically, those who die first are one of the most faithful to him. He’d rather use them for menial and laboriously easy wins.”

“Excuse me, amor, but how would he go about this operation? Winter is rapidly approaching and the coalition is only of the most efficient winter warriors.”

“Confidence is a trap that is waiting to be set up. Expect some sort of feigned retreat, then absolute destruction.”

All of this conversation, natural to the core, all happened during the duration while Karina - now, your only concubine, and by proxy: lover - placed your favorite tea and a cup of the sweetest Swedish mead atop your table, that was brought across the Ottoman Bosphorus.

And during this moment, slight and short kisses were exchanged. First, she’d plant a peck on your cheekbone; then, she’ll decide that it wasn’t enough, then plant a peck on your lips; then, she’ll indulge her own desires, into a kiss that was more involved, of tongues and spittle.

It was clockwork, and she didn’t for a second notice this routine that she so adorably set for herself. And, how could you resist her? This matchwork routine never bored you, in fact, excited you to the very core.

And so, it’s very distressing when you can’t destroy her over the table, let her back bend in angles only ventriloquists even dare to attempt, let her throat return to its usual color after a daring handprint - white where you gripped - makes her squirt all over your expensive table.

But she leaves regardless, that’s her duty, because you’re so buried in work these past months, of course, being master of Europe is a job that’ll always be difficult. But, you don’t let her leave without a few words of encouragement. You grip her thin, soft wrist, leading her on so that her ears are closer to your mouth.

“I’ll fucking destroy you today.” The words had the intended effect, you felt the tremor in her body, that’s how you deconstruct Karina. If she’ll train you pavlov-style, you’ll fight back, fire with fire, and you’ll fucking win.

You let your hand go below her dress, and grab, hard, on the soft ass-cheek that so cheekily points towards you. God. You’re already salivating thinking of all the ways you can get Karina to wet your entire master bedroom.

It’s a shame she’s so brilliant at desktop research: you would’ve had her, under your desk, suckling on your nuts and your length till hell freezes over.

Royalty from the eastern world, Karina was suddenly here, in Paris. She cites her reasons to be fairly absurd, she was just forgotten: she wasn’t royalty to the extent of high status, rather a scholarly sort of lineage that lost any sort of favor with the Chinese Emperor, and to your understanding, was a sort of exile. You just hope, somewhat, that you provide her the homeliness that she deserves and desires.

Oh, and, yeah, it’s a fucking surprise that Karina loves to be submitted so fully.

—

The steam of the bath rose in the heavily humid room, dew drops form on your face - the day’s hardships melted off your face, physically and mentally. Especially because Karina was next to you, with a scrub that’s often too harsh for princely skin rubbed considerately all over your body.

“Eyes up here, amor.” While she scrubbed the remaining area of your chest.

“No.” As is, cause, how can anyone keep their eyes off.. that?

“Heyy!” She splashes some water toward you, some sort of cover to hide her beautiful breasts.

Oh, now her arms are covering it, such a shame.

“Karina, let me.” Pointing towards the scrub, and of course, Karina suspects some ulterior motive; and, it’s justified, you’ve failed 100% of the time to avoid her breasts.

You place your hand on her shoulder, let handfuls of water flow off the perfect curve of her back - you could do it for hours. Then lightly press on her skin with the palm of your hand; then, softly moving your palms around the entirety of her body while you are behind her.  She’d already washed, and your request to wash her body was a pathetic excuse to touch her body - but, she never seems to mind it, her face knits in a fake frustration, then when she’s turned around, she slowly vibrates against your firm touch.

Sometimes, this turns into a wet fuck session around the large bathroom, and today, might just be one of those days. Because, the hand that trailed her shoulders, then her collarbone couldn’t stop its firm grasp on her throat. 

She lets out the faintest gasp, she wants it, she so badly wants to be ravaged against these tiles of various blue hues. Her head retreats back, letting it slot right in the dip of your clavicle as you begin pinching her pink nipples - erect in a place as humid and hot as this place can only mean one thing only: an utter rutting desire to be fucked into oblivion.

She’s just begging for it, her resting head on your clavicle turns to the side, trying her best to goad you in some way - and, you’d wish she’d stop, otherwise both of you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Yet, still, she nibbles on your earlobe, trailing kisses on the side of your princely face. If you asked her what reward she desires, and as a joke, she’ll say your dick, your hands, your lips, but sometimes you suspect whether or not that was some Freudian slip showing her true intentions.

That hand that endlessly teased her breast trailed down her body, letting you feel the curvature from the tip of nipple to her underboob, then the slight curvatures of her abdomen, sleekly muscular yet feminine. Then the purely smooth lower pelvis, and finally, her flower - a word that she begged for her pussy to be called, rather than it being used for its intended purpose, it quickly turned to a joke.

And… this is where she seriously breathes in, preparing for the soft onslaught she has to face with the pads of your fingers trailing over her sopping wet cunt. Circles around her hooded clit, wet to the touch, slick, and you’re just dying to have a look. And she’s just dying with the arousal, not even penetrative, and she’s already creaming on your fingers.

“You’re a fucking slut.” You nearly growl into Karina’s ears. 

And her eyes are closed, fighting back against the onslaught of pleasure, yet still, she has something witty to say, “I - I’ll seri- seriously just leave.”

“I doubt that, you good-for-nothing slut,” you tighten the grip on her throat, and she just begins gyrating her hips over your fingers, speeding up every so often until she’s just about to climax.

And then she’s just rutting her hips, against nothing, and every so often her pussy looks for the phantom feeling that your fingers left just at the cusp of her orgasm, leading to an unsatisfactory orgasm. Now, that’s fucking irritating, and she’ll press you until the end of time for that, and you’ll fucking love it.

The finger that dwelled on her wet cunt, that also left prematurely, swiftly went to her face, first, a soft slap on her cheek, then a shove into her mouth - there, she’ll taste the essence of herself. 

Oh, and she’s just loving it, you don’t even have to look at her to see in your peripheral that her mouth is just perpetually letting out these uneven moans - moans indicative of the highest pleasure - and her dilated pupils just rolling everywhere.

“How do you feel that you get an intense orgasm from just the cyclical motion of one or two fingers, huh?”

You pull her neck in, and she’s just blasted out of her mind - all sorts of pleasured, and she hasn’t even sampled the main course yet.

“I lo…ve it… so much,” you swore you could see heart pupils for a moment when Karina was staring at you: she wants your dick to punch against her cervix.

“That’s right. Who’s the master? Who owns you entirely?” 

“You! Amor, you are my master.” She’s back to reality, but she’s even more insatiable, the way her eyes dart every second down to your erect length.

Well, you’ll just have to give it to her.

This time, you both enter back into the knee-deep part of the bath, and as standard protocol would have it, she’s bent over, perniciously waiting and rutting.

And then you realize something, that she doesn’t have the largest bedazzled diamond ring on her ring finger. The smack was loud enough that Karina immediately, abandoning all pretenses of a submissive session, came over to attend to you. 

“I’m sorry Karina.”

And, she seemed to know exactly what you were thinking about, the facepalm, the tone.

And she hugged you, “That’s okay, amor, I would’ve waited until the end of time.”

A contradiction that shows how badly she wanted to be called your wife.

It’s rather ridiculous, this situation, this relationship, all of it, but you couldn’t be happier.

You’d propose, and she’d say yes, then you would resume destroying her soft and supple pussy, then cream it with your baby batter.

“I’ll get the biggest diamond ring.”

“Hmph. You better.” Pretty angel.

“That’s a yes?” You ask, just to be sure.

“Dummy.” Karina kisses you deep, stroking your cock while she’s at it. 

And she knows that you’re gonna say something stupid like, “cockdrunk slut, you want it so bad?” so she’d rather just seal your mouth with a kiss, either way, you’re happy to oblige.

Then, the fateful penetration, the way Karina still stares at you - the same as the day you deflowered her - is always the extra hardness that drives Karina crazy.

Face-to-face, your dick prods at her squishy entrance; then, you enter, the velvety folds full of the arousal that Karina accumulated, likely, from the assgrab at the office, so almost the entire day. That’s why it’s so soft, yet so succulent. Everytime you exit, her pussy drags along, smearing a trail of her delicate arousal, flowery, from her flower.

And, she’s just fucking losing it.

“I love it! Amor! I love it so fu- fucking much!” Her voice gets all manners of shaky, and misconstrued, yet she’ll still profess her love for you.

And, you just know exactly what’ll drive her over the edge. A grasp on her throat, and a steady stream of hard slaps against her ass, or the side of her thighs - any place’ll do, in fact.

Up and down, up and down, her breasts - perfectly aligned with the law of inertia, has a delayed bounce that just interests you to no end, and Karina will stare at you, confused at how a person could love someone’s breasts so much. You probably couldn’t name a single thing that you disliked about her body, or her personality or anything for that matter.

And that’s the progressive upscale, the deadly slope that you climb, your thoughts get more opulent and luxurious as you approach climax. Everything becomes one-sided truths, that’s when you know you’re about to cum.

“Karina, where do you want it?”

“I want it everywhere, especially inside me.” 

“As you wish, dear.” One thrust, then two, then three.

You grab hold of her asscheeks, one completely red and the other normal, both’ll get the treatment that you administer. Then you enter to the deepest part possible, and you’re just completely painting her insides, your throbbing length pulsating till the very last second.

“Argh!” You growl against her.

And she moans, squeals, an unintelligible amount of squirt trails down her legs while you’re still face-to-face. 

She’s on her 5th orgasm, she must’ve really like the assurance for the ring.

As you pull the plug, a stream of semen just trails out of her, passing her folds, then trailing against her left thigh - what a fucking sight.

And, with an intense propensity, you pull Karina down, holding all her hair as she cleans your cock.

When she finishes, remnants of semen still on her chin, looking up, she says, “Amor.”

And you reply, “Dear.” Rubbing her soft, pliant face.

[giuseppe-yuki]

gladiator

gladiator!ollie bearman x goddess of victory!reader

w.c.: 1.7k

warnings: slightly graphic descriptions of gore, angst

summary: yet another young gladiator prays to you in your temple

a/n: very unedited + there might be glaring historical inaccuracies :(

picture credits from pinterest :)

he’s young, not unlike all the ones before him. with tousled brown locks that ruffle as he darts along the marble floor, eyes that glow the colour of syrupy ambrosia in the dim flickering of the torches, and perfect muscled body, he reminds you of venus’ adonis in a way. your gleaming statue, wings outstretched, robes flowing, and holding your iconic laurel wreath, gazes upon him knowingly as he hesitantantly approaches your altar at the base of sculpture. your priests barely spare him a glance- they are too busy preparing a new sacrifice that lays neatly on your stone altar- a once-magnificent bull. its mouth is open in a silent scream and its eyes are glossy as the priests collect its crimson blood in a decorated jar and shave off selective portions of its raw flesh to burn as offerings. he watches as the head priest raises his glistening knife, sticky with blood, and brings it down into the bull’s rough hide with a rough thwack, and he thinks he is going to be sick.

still, he falls into a kneel in front of your statue, like a lowly subject in front of an emperor, and like the ones before him, prays for victory.

you sit near the emperor’s viewing box, in a seat only the highest generals could afford. your appearance flickers to those around you- sometimes appearing as a beautiful maiden or a wizened old man. the crowds don’t notice your wavering form, instead focusing all their attention to the sandy center of the amphitheater, where the boy cowers with a silver sword and flat-planed shield, awaiting his opponent. above you, the emperor lounges lazily on a plush couch and inhales grapes from the vine. when he gives a signal- a mere flick of his hand- the gates of the amphitheater rumble open to reveal a snorting bear, prompting the audience to roar in approval. it was obvious- they were here to see blood, and that was what the emperor would give them. 

within the first minutes, the beast had already batted away the boy’s flimsy shield and raked his sharp claws against the length of the boy’s leg. rivulets of red, like rubies against his pale skin, flow down from the wound, satiating a fraction of the crowd’s hunger. you can see how he grips his sword tight enough that his knuckles turn white and the fear in his eyes as he tries to limp away from the bear. you can also see the hesitance in his swings that open up deep cuts that flow vermillion along the animal’s hide like the wound on his leg. you help the best that you can. a miscalculated stumble of the bear, a slight push away from the path of the beast’s paw, a guide of the sword towards a critical artery. but, when he finally plunges his bloodied sword into the throat of the exhausted animal, like a knife through butter, it is all his doing. it reminds you of the first fight of another young champion of the past, sebastian, and the roar of the lion that he had fought with a spear. when the animal lies, dying, in its own pool of blood, does the boy finally collapse onto the sandy ground, exhausted in his own sense. before he passes out from blood loss, he raises his head, and it’s like he looks directly at you. 

you come to him in the form of a young medici, a bag of bandages, ointments, and herbs in one hand. ollie, is what he says his name is, and he gives you a small smile even as he lay pale and bleeding on the rough cot in the newly assigned private sleeping quarters for victors. he’s prettier up close, even when his brown eyes blink at you hazily and his cheeks are colorless from the lack of blood. 

he first opens his mouth to break the silence when you are spreading your magical nector salve on his wounds.

“i’m glad they sent someone as beautiful as you to come patch me up,” he says in a lilting tone, eyes trained on your profile.

you can easily strike him down like you always do with unwanted advances from mortals, but instead, you laugh, a twinkling sound that ollie swears is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. 

“you flatter me,” you reply, a rare smile gracing your face.

although you are not aesculapius, the god of medicine, your hands make quick work in firmly wrapping the soft bandage expertly around the openings on his leg. after all, it would be pretty pathetic if a champion with the blessing of the goddess of victory herself didn’t last a full day after his win.

when you are done, you wave your hand subtly over the top of his wounds, willing the greater parts of his pain away. he visibly relaxes, like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. 

his eyes track you silently as you throw your materials back into your brown medici bag. it triggers the memory of a certain eerily quiet champion you had blessed before- kimi- whose bright blue eyes you can remember skittering across your figure when you had bandaged his wounds. 

when you are done packing up your bag, you tread lightly to the door. before you can pull it open, ollie calls out to you. 

“wait,” he says, voice pleading.

you hesitate, but turn back to him, your tunic swishing. 

ollie looks at you with wide eyes, as if he didn’t believe that he had spoken out loud. 

“can you- can you stay for a bit?” he asks apprehensively. 

there are a million things to tend to, like overseeing minor battles, ensuring triumph in campaigns, and granting the prayers of the mortals that knelt in your temples, but you can’t help but concede to his request. 

you neglect your duties for far too long in the damp room with ollie. it was laughable in a way, to see the great goddess of victory pliant under the wiles of a young mortal.

he talks about his parents, about his younger brother, and his little sister, and about how he dragged away one fateful evening from his family to become a gladiator, unlike the multitude of other bloodthirsty gladiators from rich families that wanted fame and fortune. but, when he comes to the topic of his actions in the arena, he suddenly goes still. 

“i didn’t want to kill it, you know,” he whispers quietly, as if he didn’t want to admit it. 

his bottom lip quivers, and it is now that you are reminded how young he really is. it is a reminder of another victor that you had championed, charles, and his unwillingness to kill, even as a successful gladiator. like charles, big fat tears slip from the corners of his eyes when he thinks back to the poor creature, most likely chained and beaten, being made a spectacle, and dying by the hands of another for entertainment. however, you knew they always toughened up after awhile- they always did. so, you brush a comforting hand through his curls, kiss him gently on the forehead, and it’s only when he falls into a deep sleep do you finally leave the room.

you see him again several days later, this time in the great roman amphitheater again. again, he stands with his flat-planed shield and silver sword in the dusty middle of the arena. a look of fierce intensity flashes across his helmeted features, unlike the last time he was in this position, making him look significantly more willing to slay whatever beast steps in his path. 

however, when the emperor waves his hands, commanding the gates to rumble open, and the crowd thunders in excitement, what steps out is a familiar man with thick black hair that seems to sway perfectly in the breeze, a hint of stubble, and pouty pink lips that you knew all too well. carlos, you remember his name was.  you remember too, the way he had knelt down in your temple all those years before like ollie had. he had made an offering of three silver coins- all that money he had- and begged for you to protect him in the arena. true to your word, you gave him your divine protection until he became the emperor’s champion gladiator, personally favored by the elite and the crowd. 

carlos makes the first move, taking advantage of ollie’s barely healed leg. his weapon of choice, an engraved dagger, hacks a deep line of red as it carves from the tip of ollie’s right shoulder to his hip. at the sight of the excess bright liquid cascading down the younger boy’s body, the crowd erupts in a frenzy. when ollie collapses, unmoving, on the ground, they seem to chant carlos’ name- our champion, our champion, they scream. it seems like ollie is just another easy opponent, another nobody that would ultimately make their way onto the carlos’ lengthy list of the vanquished. carlos turns away from ollie to face the crowd, a smile on his lips and arms open, embracing the crowd. he has not lost once for a year, so what makes it seem like he would lose now?

that’s what makes it all-too-surprising when ollie pushes himself up with god-given strength and hacks down on carlos’ neck as hard as he can, with his sword. it lands with a wet thwack the way the priest’s knife did in the bull back in your temple before.

when ollie is paraded through the town, a victor’s laurel wreath atop his pretty head, the crowds that once shouted carlos’ name now screams ollie’s, crowning him as victor. neverending bottles of wine, cornucopias overfilling with food, and precious jewelery are thrust into his arms from every direction. you know it feels good to be loved by the people. it’s a pity, because you know ultimately, your divine interventions would draw the attention of the three parcae who controlled peoples’ fate. the fate of a gladiator was to die; they always did. it was proven with all the past gladiators you championed-  the brave sebastian, quiet kimi, kind-hearted charles, and now, the resilient carlos. it was all a matter of time before they would take ollie. even worse, the crowd would probably move on just as quickly like they did with carlos. so, for now, you watch as he smiles his dimpled smile and let him bask in the glory of being victorious. 

[missarchive]

Okay, here's a fun plot! Hannibal x reader who has never travelled in a day of her life. Like all she's ever done is road trips and such. So when he wants to make plans to visit Italy again (I can imagine he likes revisiting his roots for reflection and just enjoying the art), it's a really daunting thing for her. Alternatively, he books the flight without telling her, maybe he knows about her lack of experience, maybe he does not, wink wink. And he can get that ego boost of helping a sweet S/O on her first trip.

Bonus points of the reader is scared of flying AHAHAHHAH

Thanks you!!!

I am also deathly scared of flying 😖 poor poor reader

cw; fear of flying, literally nothing else just fluff, hannibal being a gentleman

You loved Hannibal. You really did. But when he slid the sleek black folder across the breakfast table, his words silky and precise, you felt your stomach plummet as though you were already 30,000 feet in the air.

"I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a short reprieve in Florence for us," he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours with the satisfaction of a man who had just executed a perfect plan.

You blinked down at the itinerary, your pulse quickening as the words “First Class – Florence” stared back at you. First class or not, this was a flight. An international flight. Your palms began to sweat.

“Hannibal…” you started, unsure how to voice the jumble of fear and hesitation swirling in your mind. “I—I’ve never flown before. I’ve never even been out of the country.”

His brow quirked, the faintest sign of surprise in his otherwise serene expression. “Is that so?” His voice was laced with intrigue, but there was no mockery, no condescension.

You nodded, looking down at your lap. “I’ve only ever done road trips. The thought of flying… it’s just…” You trailed off, hoping he’d understand without needing further explanation.

He rose from his chair, moving to your side with a grace that only Hannibal could manage. His hand settled lightly on your shoulder, his touch as reassuring as it was firm. “My dear, it seems I shall have the distinct privilege of introducing you to the skies. Fear is natural, but you needn’t face it alone.”

His words were warm, soothing. But as much as you trusted him, the idea of hurtling through the air in a metal tube still made your chest tighten.

When the day arrived, you were a bundle of nerves. Hannibal, ever the epitome of calm, had everything prepared. He handled the check-in process with ease, and before you knew it, you were settled into the plush first-class seat, the hum of the engines already making your pulse race.

“I’ve taken the liberty of requesting chamomile tea for you,” Hannibal said, handing you a steaming cup. “It’s quite effective in soothing the nerves.”

You took it with a grateful, albeit shaky, smile. He leaned in closer, his voice low and intimate. “Remember, this is merely the beginning of a journey. Allow yourself to savor the experience. Focus on the discovery, not the apprehension.”

You nodded, clutching the tea like a lifeline. But as the engines roared to life and the plane began to ascend, panic bubbled in your chest. Your hand gripped the armrest until Hannibal’s found it, his fingers curling around yours with steady reassurance.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “You are safe.”

You focused on his voice, his presence anchoring you as the plane leveled out. Slowly, the tightness in your chest eased, and you dared to look out the window. The sight of clouds stretching endlessly across the sky was oddly calming.

“You’re doing beautifully,” Hannibal said, his tone tinged with pride.

The first glimpse of Florence took your breath away. Hannibal guided you through the city with the ease of someone deeply familiar with its every corner. He pointed out hidden frescoes and whispered stories of the Medici family as you wandered through cobblestone streets.

At the Uffizi Gallery, he lingered beside Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, his gaze reverent. “Do you see how her form embodies both vulnerability and power?” he asked, his hand lightly brushing your back. "She's much like you."

You nodded, the awe in your chest mirrored in his. For the first time, you understood why he loved this city.

As the days passed, your fear of flying became a distant memory, replaced by the wonder of experiencing a world so different from your own. Hannibal reveled in your transformation, his pride evident in the small smiles he gave when you tried a new dish or eagerly asked him about a piece of art.

On your final evening, you turned to him as the sun set over the Arno River, painting the city in gold. “Thank you,” you said softly. “For everything. For bringing me here. For being patient with me.”

His gaze softened, and he took your hand in his. “It is I who should thank you, my dear. It is a rare gift to guide someone through their first steps into a larger world. And I am honoured to be the one by your side.”

[thecrayonindisguise]

Chapter 1: The Arrival || Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || next >>

Summary: Caterina Medici and her twin sister Teresa arrive in London from Italy to find suitable husbands. At their first ball, both of the sisters are named the “diamonds of the season,” catching the eye of the entire ton and more...

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: no particular warnings, maybe a little bit of swearing

Authors Note: Hey People! This is the first fanfiction I ever wrote so please be merciful… Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes. The events of this story take place after the first season and before the second season. Enjoy!

Dearest gentle readers,

As the season prepares to unfold in all its splendor, the ton eagerly anticipates the grandest of spectacles, new debutantes, and the elusive bachelors who remain unattached. The ballrooms will be adorned with the finest silks, sparkling jewels, and, naturally, whispers of gossip that travel faster than a fan flutter.

But beware, for not every diamond that sparkles in the light retains its brilliance. There are always those who shine a little too brightly at first glance, only to tarnish under the weight of society’s unforgiving gaze. And what of those who choose to remain in the shadows? Some say the most tantalizing secrets are often found in the quiet corners of the most bustling rooms.

This season promises to be one for the books, as hearts will be stolen, reputations tested, and perhaps even a scandal or two will emerge. Rest assured, I shall be there, quill in hand, to document every misstep, every whispered word, and every flutter of affection that is bound to raise an eyebrow or two.

Remember, dear readers, the ton is not always as it seems. The dance may begin with grace, but how it ends is entirely up to those bold enough to step onto the floor.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown.

─────────

“I hope this city will be as Aunt Langstone wrote us… for now, it seems too much…” Caterina looked outside, moving slightly aside from the tiny tent of the carriage, seeing a city full of carriages, dirt, and other things that she has never seen from her beautiful and green dukedom “Polluted,” she finished, making a displeased face.

She is talking to her mother sitting in front of her and to her twin sister, Teresa, who is beside her, curiously looking from the window too, “It’s like it’s all gray, don’t you notice mama?” said Teresa looking her mother “I may believe that the cause of this is are the industries, is one of the many things that aunt wrote us during our journey to London” the mother said, now looking from the window too; “the industries…what a thing” whispered Caterina rolling her eyes and leaning boringly on the seat.

The Medici carriage pulled up in front of the grand Langstone villa in Mayfair, its wheels crunching over the gravel driveway as the horses slowed to a halt. The stately manor rose proudly before them, its stone façade softened by ivy climbing up the walls, giving it an air of distinguished charm. Inside, soft candlelight flickered from the windows, and the doors were flung open in anticipation of the long-awaited guests.

Inside the carriage, Duchess Marie Medici, formerly Marie Aguillon, sat primly, adjusting the lace cuffs of her traveling dress. Her daughters, Caterina and Teresa, glanced out of the window, while Teresa fidgeted with her gloves in excitement, Caterina, however, remained quiet, her skepticism toward the entire endeavor of this London season cloaked in her usual reserve.

The prospect of finding a husband seemed more like a necessity than a romantic adventure. This was her first true taste of London society, but for their mother, this visit held much deeper significance.

"We're here, ladies," Duchess Marie said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

The footmen rushed to the carriage, assisting the ladies as they stepped down. As they did, the grand doors of the villa swung open and out came Rose-Marie Bechard, now Langstone, her arms wide open in welcome. The years had been kind to her, though a touch of gray streaked her hair. Her face lit up with joy as she caught sight of her cousin.

“Marie!” Rose-Marie’s voice was warm, trembling with excitement. “I can hardly believe it! After all these years!”

Marie barely had time to respond before Rose-Marie enveloped her in a tight embrace. "Oh, Rose-Marie, it’s been far too long," Marie said, her voice wavering. The two women clung to each other as though trying to bridge the years of distance in that one embrace.

When they finally stepped back, both had tears in their eyes. “Look at you,” Rose-Marie said, her hands resting on Marie’s arms, “just as beautiful as ever. And these are your daughters, oh, how I’ve waited to meet them.”

“Teresa, Caterina,” Marie gestured to her daughters, who stepped forward gracefully, each giving a polite curtsy. “This is my cousin, Rose-Marie Langstone, whom I’ve spoken of many times.”

Caterina, always the more reserved of the two, smiled demurely, while Teresa’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Langstone,” Teresa said.

“We have heard so many lovely things about you,” added Caterina, her tone warm and engaging.

Rose-Marie laughed softly, her heart full of affection for the girls. "Please, call me Rose-Marie, and you two are even more beautiful than I imagined. My goodness, you must be the talk of the town already. How exciting.”

Just then, Rose-Marie’s husband, Earl Richard Langstone, appeared in the doorway, flanked by their son, David, and daughters Olympia and Cyntia. Richard was a tall, solid man with kind eyes, while David had the sharp, poised look of a man already prepared to take on the responsibilities of his future title. Olympia, a year older than the Medici twins, looked elegant and self-assured, while Cyntia, debuting this season, was bubbling with anticipation.

“Welcome, Duchess,” Richard said with a bow. “It’s a pleasure to finally host you and your lovely daughters.”

“The pleasure is all ours, my lord,” Marie replied graciously. “Your home is as beautiful as the family you’ve raised.”

“Oh, don’t flatter him too much, Marie,” Rose-Marie teased, looping her arm through her cousin. “Come, let’s get you all settled inside.”

As they entered the grand hallway, decorated with portraits and fine furnishings, the Medici women were warmly introduced to the Langstone children. Cyntia was particularly eager, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she greeted the twins. “I cannot wait to spend time with you both this season,” she said, practically bouncing on her toes. “It will be such fun!”

“I’m sure it will,” Caterina said with a polite smile, while Teresa, always a bit more adventurous, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I think we shall be quite the trio, Cyntia.”

The teasing remark made Cyntia giggle, and even Olympia, who had initially seemed more reserved, cracked a smile. “Yes, indeed,” she said.

Once they were settled into their guest rooms, the Medici women were invited to join the Langstones for a splendid dinner in the grand dining room. The table was laden with the finest dishes, prepared in honor of their arrival. The soft glow of chandeliers bathed the room in a warm, inviting light as everyone took their seats.

Throughout the dinner, the conversation flowed easily between the families. Talk of the upcoming season dominated the discussion, with the Langstone daughters expressing their excitement for the events ahead.

“Cyntia is quite eager for her debut,” Rose-Marie said, smiling fondly at her youngest daughter. “And Olympia will be your guide, I’m sure. She’s already made quite a name for herself.”

Olympia smiled modestly. “I shall do my best, Mother.”

Teresa and Caterina exchanged glances, each thinking of the season ahead, and all the possibilities it held. “I imagine the season will be… quite eventful,” Teresa said, choosing her words carefully. “London society seems very different from what we are used to.”

“Oh, it is,” Olympia assured them, “but you’ll find your footing quickly. The key is to keep your head up and stay true to yourself.”

Caterina raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “And what of the gentlemen, Olympia? Is there any advice you can offer on that matter?”

Olympia hesitated, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade as she met Caterina's piercing gaze. She fiddled with the lace trim of her sleeve before finally speaking, her voice a touch quieter than usual.

“Well,” Olympia began, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening, “the gentlemen here are… a mix. Some are quite charming, but many are far more interested in appearances than in substance. The key is to smile and nod, but never reveal too much of yourself too soon.”

She paused, then added, “But if you’re looking for a match that’s more than just surface, someone who truly sees you, well… that can be harder to find. You might have to look beyond the usual balls and tea parties.”

Caterina narrowed her eyes slightly, intrigued. “And how does one find such a gentleman?”

Olympia’s blush deepened, her fingers still nervously fidgeting with her gown. “I suppose… you look for the ones who aren’t always in the spotlight, who seem more interested in conversation than in dancing. They exist, but they don’t always make themselves known right away. Sometimes, it’s the quiet ones who surprise you.”

Her words lingered in the air, and Caterina nodded thoughtfully, though her skepticism remained. "Interesting… though I’m not sure I believe in surprises anymore," Caterina mused softly.

Olympia, sensing her cousin's reluctance, simply smiled. “Perhaps you’ll find one when you least expect it.”

As the evening drew to a close, the Medici women retired to their rooms, their hearts and minds buzzing with the excitement of the days to come.

─────────

The Medici family carriage rattled through the quiet streets of Mayfair, the early morning sun casting a soft glow on the rows of elegant townhouses. Inside, Caterina and Teresa sat, their faces painted with varying degrees of displeasure. Teresa, who could barely hide her thoughts, sighed dramatically, her voice full of complaint.

“I don’t understand, Mama,” Teresa began, glancing at her mother with wide, incredulous eyes. “Why are we here for more dresses when we already brought thousands from home? Three bags each, at least!”

Caterina, sitting beside her sister, nodded in agreement. “I must side with Tess on this, Mama. It’s the dawn, and I doubt the shop is even open. It looks like London doesn’t rise as early as we do.” Her voice was cool, matching the disinterest she felt for yet another gown-fitting. She had grown accustomed to luxury and yet, despite the endless opulence, it left her unsatisfied.

Lady Medici, regal as ever, led the way, her stride purposeful as she addressed her daughters without looking back. “Ladies, I don’t want to hear any more complaints. We must acquire new dresses not only for your first ball but for all the others in the season.” She turned slightly, lowering her voice as they passed a mother and daughter walking arm-in-arm. “We need to adjust to British designs, even if they are…out of touch.”

Teresa giggled behind her gloved hand, and even Caterina couldn’t suppress a small smirk at their mother’s biting remark. Lady Medici was always sharp in her observations of fashion and propriety. But before either of the twins could speak again, Lady Medici stopped just outside the shop, turning to face them, her expression stern.

“What have I always said about mornings?” she asked.

The twins, familiar with this routine, rolled their eyes and recited in unison, “ La mattinata fa la giornata .” [The morning makes the day] Their voices carried the rhythm of their native Italian. Lady Medici nodded approvingly. “Good,” she said, a small, triumphant smile on her lips as she ushered them inside.

The shop was quiet, too quiet. When they stepped inside, the bell at the door barely made a sound, and the absence of bustling attendants suggested they were indeed the day’s first customers. The mannequins stood draped in gowns of fine silk and satin, the air thick with the scent of fabric and perfume.

“Hello?” Lady Medici called out, her voice echoing slightly in the stillness. A few moments passed before the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard from upstairs, followed by the rustle of skirts. After what felt like an eternity to the impatient twins, a woman appeared, her hair slightly disheveled, her makeup incomplete, but her dress impeccably styled.

“Good morning, ladies,” the woman greeted, her thick French accent unmistakable. She flashed a broad smile, though the surprise in her eyes was evident. “I didn’t expect any clients this early.” Her gaze flickered over the unfamiliar faces. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here for a consultation,” Lady Medici began, her voice authoritative but polite. “Madame…?”

“Delacroix,” the woman introduced herself, inclining her head slightly.

“Madame Delacroix,” Lady Medici repeated, her French flawless. “We’ve traveled a long way—”

“Italie,” Delacroix interrupted with a smile, her eyes glittering as she assessed the elaborate gowns the twins wore. “I can recognize the work of your homeland, such a unique hand”.

Lady Medici’s chest swelled with pride. “Indeed. And these are my daughters, Teresa and Caterina Medici. They are to debut this season, and we require someone familiar with British designs for their gowns.”

“Je suis honorée, madame,” Delacroix said, bowing lightly before gesturing toward Teresa. “Shall we begin with measurements?”

As Teresa stepped forward, eager for her turn, Caterina lingered behind, her gaze wandering across the shop. The textures and fabrics displayed failed to impress her, especially in comparison to the luxurious Italian silks she was accustomed to.

“I don’t see any Italian fabrics,” Caterina noted, her voice laced with mild annoyance as she ran her gloved hand over a particularly underwhelming bolt of cloth. “Why is that?”

Delacroix’s smile faltered slightly, a hint of discomfort appearing in her expression. “Mademoiselle, I am afraid Italian fabrics are very difficile to acquire at the moment. They are highly sought after, and the price has increased dramatically.”

“I see,” Caterina responded, her tone cold, as though the modiste’s explanation wasn’t satisfactory. She turned away, moving deeper into the shop, still lost in her assessment of the uninspiring fabrics. Her curiosity led her to a quieter corner of the store, away from the others.

As she absentmindedly ran her hand over a silk cloth, she removed her glove, needing to feel the texture properly. But just as she was about to return to the front of the shop, she turned abruptly straight into someone. The collision was sudden, sending a mess of clothes and her glove tumbling to the floor.

Caterina gasped, the sudden impact knocking her slightly off balance. When she looked up, her breath caught in her throat. Standing before her, clearly flustered, was a man holding an armful of clothes.

Benedict Bridgerton.

The disheveled artist and second son of the Bridgerton family stood frozen in place, his arms full of half-dressed garments, his usual charm nowhere to be found. He had promised himself, the night before, for the umpteenth time, that he would return home before dawn, to avoid misunderstandings that could have caused some scandal but neither this time had he succeeded. So he reduced himself to sneaking up from Madame Delacroix’s shop in broad daylight… with customers!

For a moment, neither of them moved. Caterina’s eyes swept over him, taking in his rumpled appearance, while Benedict found himself mesmerized by the woman before him. Her beauty, her poise, she was unlike any lady he had ever seen, and certainly not someone he expected to bump into at this hour.

“Caterina? Where are you, my dear?” a voice called from the front of the shop, breaking the tense silence.

Caterina glanced toward the source of the voice and then back at Benedict. Without a word, she bent down and swiftly snatched her glove from the pile of fallen clothes, her fingers brushing against Benedict’s hand for the briefest of moments. The touch sent a jolt through him, and he froze again, his heart skipping a beat.

“You should go,” she said firmly, her voice quiet but commanding. Her eyes locked with his, a hint of amusement flickering in them as she tilted her head toward the door.

Benedict, still struggling to regain his composure, nodded quickly. He bowed slightly, his face flushing with embarrassment, before hurrying toward the door, his exit as clumsy as their collision had been.

As the door closed behind him, Caterina straightened her gown and returned her attention to the fabrics. She found herself wondering why it had taken him so long to leave, perhaps he was slow, or simply clumsy, but whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. She had more important things to focus on, like the unimpressive selection of materials in front of her.

─────────

2 days later

The excitement buzzed around the room as the Langstone sisters continued their chatter about the upcoming ball. Cynthia, the youngest, was particularly animated, her face glowing with enthusiasm as she spoke. “Believe me, you will surely enjoy the ball tonight. Lady Danbury is known to host the most splendid and fabulous event of the entire season!”

Teresa, already caught up in the atmosphere, could hardly contain her own excitement. “I heard the Queen will be attending. Is that true?” she asked eagerly while one of the maids carefully adjusted her gown.

Cynthia nodded with a wide grin. “It is indeed! But what makes it even more thrilling is that the Queen hasn’t chosen the Diamond of the Season yet!”

The twins exchanged a confused glance, both frowning slightly at this unfamiliar term. Teresa tilted her head. “The diamond? You mean the mineral?”

Olympia, the older and more experienced sister, let out a soft laugh. “Oh no, not a literal diamond! Every season, the Queen selects one favored young lady, granting her the title of ‘Diamond of the Season.’ It’s the highest honor, essentially making her the most eligible lady of the marriage market.”

Caterina, sitting a bit farther away, scoffed under her breath. “Marriage market, what a concept.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as her maid twisted the last curl into place. The idea of being paraded around and chosen like some prized possession made her skin crawl. She had no desire to become the center of attention.

Cynthia continued, oblivious to Caterina’s inner disdain. “From that moment on, every gentleman seeking a wife will be vying for her attention. Imagine being the queen’s chosen!”

Teresa, unable to resist teasing her sister, glanced at Caterina with a mischievous smile. “That sounds exactly like something Kitty would love!” she mocked lightly, knowing all too well how uncomfortable her sister would feel being thrust into the spotlight.

Caterina rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling at the playful jibe. The other girls giggled, their laughter filling the room with warmth as they continued preparing for the evening.

As the Langstone sisters began to recount the scandals of last season, particularly the juiciest gossip, the stories were abruptly cut off by a knock at the door. A maid entered, curtseying before announcing, “Your mothers are ready, my ladies. The carriages await.”

The girls quickly gathered their things, a flurry of excitement filling the air once more. Outside, two elegant carriages awaited them, their lacquered surfaces gleaming in the fading light of the afternoon. The Medici ladies would ride in one, while Lady Langstone and her daughters took the other.

─────────

As they settled into their seats, Teresa leaned toward her mother, bubbling with the gossip she had just heard. “Mama, did you know about the diamond title and the Queen’s blessing?” she asked, her voice filled with awe as she recounted all that Cynthia and Olympia had shared.

Lady Medici smiled, her eyes bright with amusement and something else, pride. “Ah, I had nearly forgotten to mention it. There’s a reason why our arrival has caused such a stir,” she said, tapping her hands lightly on her lap. “Word about us has spread quicker than I expected. The Queen is quite curious to meet you both. Upon our arrival, they will announce us formally.” Her voice was filled with excitement, and she looked at her daughters, her smile widening.

Teresa’s eyes widened with wonder. “The Queen herself wants to greet us? Is that… a good thing, Mama?” she asked, unsure whether to feel excited or nervous.

Lady Medici beamed. “Of course, my darling, it’s a wonderful thing! The Queen doesn’t take notice of just anyone. Our family’s reputation precedes us, and this will ensure your introduction to society is nothing short of spectacular. You must understand, that being acknowledged by the Queen places you in a very advantageous position.”

As Lady Medici spoke, Caterina continued staring out the window, her fingers absently playing with the fur draped over her shoulders. Despite the assurances from her mother, Caterina felt uneasy. The thought of being presented to the Queen, of having all eyes on her, only heightened her anxiety. She longed for the warmth of Italy, for the familiarity of home, far away from the chilly, polished world of the British aristocracy.

─────────

The carriage rocked gently as they rode through the bustling streets of Mayfair. She watched the cobbled streets pass by, her mind filled with uncertainty. What if all this attention, this grand entrance into London’s elite, only led her further away from the security she sought? After all, she was here to find stability, not to make herself the talk of the ton.

Teresa’s voice broke through her thoughts as she whispered excitedly to Caterina, “Imagine, Kitty. The Queen, the diamonds, the gentlemen. All of it is just beginning!”

Caterina sighed, offering her sister a faint smile. “Yes, it’s all beginning,” she echoed, but her tone was far more cautious. For Caterina, this debut season was less about the glittering possibilities of romance and more about survival. She had come to London with a purpose, and she couldn’t allow herself to be swept away by fantasies of courtship or the title of “Diamond of the Season.” Too much was at stake.

Still, as they neared the grand estate where Lady Danbury’s ball would take place, Caterina couldn’t shake the gnawing sense that tonight would be different.

As the Medici family carriage came to a halt, Lady Medici, signaled a footman to announce their arrival. Before stepping down, she paused, gathering her daughters’ hands in her own. Her gaze softened as she looked warmly into their eyes, speaking with the gravitas of a mother whose daughters stood on the precipice of something great.

"I don’t need to tell you what to say or what to do tonight," Lady Medici began, her voice steady, "you already know everything." Her expression brightened, eyes glistening. "I am so happy and proud of you both. Our life is about to start a new chapter tonight." Her voice trembled ever so slightly with emotion before she pulled them into a tender embrace.

With a deep breath and a poised smile, she turned to face the grand doors of the ball.

Indeed, as she had just said, a new chapter was about to begin for Caterina and Teresa Medici, and perhaps for the entire ton.

The grand double doors swung open, and the entrance hall echoed with the ceremonial thump of footmen’s sticks hitting the marble floor, a sound that commanded instant attention.

Conversation dwindled to murmurs, all eyes turning to the entrance as an announcement rang out, authoritative and grand:

"Please welcome the Dowager Duchess of Lucca, Marie Medici, and her daughters, Miss Teresa Medici and Miss Caterina Medici."

The trio entered with grace, their figures bathed in the soft glow of the ballroom’s chandeliers. They moved almost in slow motion, their elaborate gowns shimmering under the light as they made their way toward the Queen. All eyes were fixed on them, but that did not stop the whispers from starting, subtle yet sharp.

"Duchess of where?"

"Lucca? Italy, I heard."

"They came all the way from Italy for what, exactly?"

"Look at the number of jewels they’re wearing."

"Surely those must be worth more than the Queen’s crown jewels!"

"And what is that on their shoulders—fur?"

"Fur? How audacious…"

As the chatter filled the room, the three women reached the Queen and dropped into a deep, practiced bow. When they rose, they spoke in unison, their voices blending as they greeted the monarch.

"Your Majesty."

The Queen’s eyes gleamed with genuine curiosity, a rare reaction in the face of so many debutantes. "Duchess," she began, her tone intrigued, "what an unexpected honor to have you here in my court. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Lady Medici smiled graciously, standing tall and regal. "Your Majesty, I have come from Italy with the intent of finding suitable husbands for my daughters."

The Queen’s eyebrow arched with interest. "Husbands? And were there no suitable bachelors in Italy?"

"Indeed there were," Lady Medici replied with a flattering smile, "but word of your lavish season has reached even our shores. We’ve always admired it and desired to experience this remarkable opportunity."

The Queen seemed to weigh her response before stepping down from her throne, her regal demeanor softening slightly as she studied the Medici sisters more closely. "Well," she declared with a hint of approval, "in that regard, I am thrilled to welcome your daughters into this season. They are exquisitely pretty, Duchess."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Lady Medici beamed, her hand resting on Caterina and Teresa’s shoulders. "They are my greatest joy, my twin daughters."

The Queen’s eyes widened with new fascination. "Twins, you say?" she repeated, her curiosity deepening. "That certainly enhances their… rarity."

Caterina’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint unease prickling at her instincts. She could sense that the Queen’s compliment carried layers of expectation.

Raising her voice to command the attention of the room, the Queen addressed the ton. "It is now my honor," she said, her tone carrying a note of grandeur, "to present to you this season’s Diamond, or should I say Diamonds. Miss Teresa Medici and Miss Caterina Medici!"

A wave of applause erupted through the ballroom, the rare occurrence of two Diamonds causing a stir of excitement. The clapping from the Langstone family, who had been eagerly awaiting this moment, was the loudest of all, brimming with pride.

But amid the sea of applause, Caterina’s mind spun, the weight of the Queen’s pronouncement settling over her. Her smile stiffened as a single thought echoed in her mind: Oh, fuck.

─────────

As the applause filled the room, Benedict Bridgerton's mind was elsewhere.

The name that had just been announced “Caterina Medici, daughter of a duchess from Italy” rang in his ears. That was the identity of the mysterious woman he had seen two days earlier when he had sneaked out of the Modiste.

The same woman who had unknowingly captured his attention and thoughts…

His heart raced as he stared at her from across the ballroom. The elegant figure in the sparkling gown, her hair gleaming under the chandeliers, was none other than the stranger he’d spent days thinking about. But now she wasn’t just a fleeting encounter. She was real, she had a name, and she was standing in front of him in all her beauty.

"Your mouth is leaking, brother," Colin teased, breaking Benedict from his reverie. His younger brother stood beside him, arms crossed, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Wha-what?" Benedict stammered, finally tearing his gaze away from Caterina to glance at Colin, who was now laughing openly.

"I said, your mouth is leaking," Colin repeated, his voice full of amusement. "You’ve been staring at her for quite some time."

Benedict blinked, attempting to regain his composure. "I-I saw her at the Modiste," he said, a little too quickly, as though that explained everything.

"The Modiste?" Colin raised an eyebrow, clearly exasperated. "Again, brother? You’re really becoming predictable."

"Nothing relevant happened," Benedict muttered, but his eyes drifted back to Caterina, who was now engaged in conversation with the Queen. She seemed even more captivating tonight than he remembered, her beauty enhanced by the graceful way she held herself.

"God, she’s even more beautiful tonight," Benedict whispered to himself, unable to suppress the longing in his voice.

Colin’s smirk widened. "Are you already falling for her, brother?" he asked, leaning closer, his tone laced with teasing.

"I don’t know, Colin," Benedict replied, still mesmerized. "But she is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I need to talk to her."

Colin chuckled, shaking his head. "Be careful, brother. You sound like a lovesick fool."

At that moment, the applause grew louder as the Queen made her pronouncement, officially introducing the Medici sisters as the Diamonds of the season. The room hummed with excitement, and Colin moved even closer to Benedict.

"You’re going to have a lot of contenders to deal with, brother," He whispered in his ear, his eyes gleaming with amusement, and then clapped Benedict on the shoulder. "Good luck, Ben. You’ll need it."

─────────

“oh that was unexpected…” sighed Lady Medici regarding the diamond announcement.

“what is this thing?” asked annoyed Caterina not even listening to her mother but just looking at her dance card hanging from her wrist.

After the announcement some valets just gave them and the ball continued to go… this was just a short moment before the assail of the ladies by the men of the ton.

“They call it ‘dance card’, is where the gentlemen write their names to reserve you a dance with you or something similar, Cynthia told me, she showed me hers this morning from a previous ball” explained Teresa next to the sister who made a disgusted sound “what an absurdity,” she said before taking it off and throw it in the fireplace next to them.

“Caterina!” recalled her mother “What did you just do! I hope that you were not seen” Lady Medici continued saying, looking around but she just interrupted herself because she saw a multitude of bachelors moving towards them, she widened her eyes scared.

“I throw it in the fire Mother, I am perfectly capable of remembering every man’s name who will dance with me tonight and I don’t need to be reserved, as an object of -” Caterina clarified more than annoyed but she didn’t have the time to finished because her sister took her hand and squeezing fiercely, that acts made her look up to the crowd that was approaching them “oh mamma mia” Caterina whispered before she and her sister were surrounded by all those men, asking them eagerly a dance.

─────────

The ball had reached its crescendo, the music was lively, the laughter contagious, and the whispers were flying faster than the swirling couples on the dance floor. But for Caterina Medici, the night was proving to be a delicate balancing act. Ever since the Queen had declared her and her sister, the diamonds of the season, she had barely had a moment to breathe. Gentleman after gentleman had approached her, each vying for her hand in the next dance, each seemingly more pompous or desperate than the last.

Caterina was no stranger to attention, but this… this was overwhelming. A cascade of flattery, offers of refreshments, compliments on her gown, all of it seemingly designed to entrap her in endless conversations. It didn’t help that Teresa, ever the calm and composed one, handled the pressure with that grace, making Caterina feel just a bit more like an imposter.

So, in a moment of impulsive decision, she had decided to slip away for a breath of air, weaving through the bustling crowd in search of solitude.

So she tried to find a retreat, away from all those pompous people, and a drink…especially a drink. what a species the British, she thought while trying to avoid everyone while walking very close to the wall.

Finally, she spotted a small, tucked-away area near the refreshment tables. It was nearly hidden from view, a small respite from the chaos of the ballroom. Her eyes were drawn to a petite woman in an eye-catching bright yellow dress with striking red hair standing by the food. Caterina let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and whispered to herself, "A time of peace."

She reached for a small, almond-shaped treat that looked like an amaretto, one of her favorite Italian delicacies. But the moment she bit into it, her face contorted in disgust. It was far too sweet and lacked the rich, familiar taste of home. With a grimace, she quickly took it out of her mouth and discreetly tossed it behind her, trying to recover her composure.

Suddenly, the woman in the bright yellow dress spoke, causing Caterina to jump. “Oh! Lady Medici, what a pleasure! I didn’t see you here.”

Startled, Caterina gasped and turned quickly, trying to mask her embarrassment. “Oh, please, don’t,” she said with a gracious smile, gesturing for the woman not to bow. “There is no need for such formalities, Miss…?”

“Featherington, my lady. Penelope Featherington,” the young woman answered shyly, her cheeks tinged pink.

Caterina’s smile widened. “Penelope, what a beautiful name! A pleasure indeed.”

Penelope blushed deeper, looking down at her hands as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “Oh, thank you, though I’ve never been particularly fond of it,” she admitted softly.

Caterina frowned slightly, genuinely puzzled. “Why not? Penelope is a wonderful name, the same as Odysseus' wife and Queen of Ithaca. You should be proud of it.”

Penelope looked up, her blush deepening at the unexpected compliment. The weight of her insecurities felt lighter under Caterina's warm encouragement. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond, so Caterina, sensing the young lady’s shyness, shifted the conversation.

“May I ask you something, Miss Featherington?” Caterina began, her tone was casual but curious.

“Of course,” Penelope replied, eager to continue the conversation.

“The courtship here,” Caterina said, gesturing vaguely to the ballroom filled with dancing couples, “is it truly like this?”

Penelope looked confused for a moment. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Caterina sighed softly and elaborated. “I mean, is the entire season going to be filled with endless dancing and conversations with gentlemen until I finally find one ‘suitable’? Is that how it works?”

Penelope couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, not necessarily. You don’t have to dance with everyone if you’ve already found ‘the one.’”

Caterina snorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “The one. Yes, of course,” she said, almost irritated by the idea.

Penelope, sensing Caterina's disillusionment, hesitated before asking, “Have you met anyone pleasing so far?”

Caterina chuckled dryly. “Next question?”

Penelope let out a small, nervous laugh, but before she could say anything else, Caterina continued, “No, I’m afraid not. The gentlemen I’ve danced with tonight have been mind-numbingly dull.”

Penelope’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I can believe that. Some of them can be quite uninteresting. But I imagine in Italy the men must be quite different, or am I wrong?”

Caterina laughed genuinely this time. “Regrettably, no. Men are the same no matter where you go. The only difference is how the courtship is handled.”

Penelope tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Really? How so?”

“In Italy, it’s usually the parents who arrange the matches, often years before you even meet the person,” Caterina explained. “It’s all for political or financial interests, of course. Rarely does one find their partner at a ball like this.”

“And did you have such a pairing, Lady Medici?” Penelope asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

Caterina chuckled again, shifting her gaze to the dance floor. “Not exactly. All my cousins were already betrothed. That’s part of the reason my sister and I came here.” She paused for a moment, noticing the shock on Penelope's face. “I’m joking, Miss Featherington,” she reassured her with a smile. “we came here because wanted to change air, if we want to put it this way. almost forced I might add.”

Penelope, intrigued by this candid new diamond, was about to ask more when Caterina suddenly turned toward a footman carrying a tray of champagne. “Excuse me!” she called out, waving her hand dramatically. “ Grazie a Dio! ” [thank God]

The footman approached, and before Penelope could register what was happening, Caterina began downing glass after glass of champagne in rapid succession. Penelope and the footman exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief.

“You are my salvation,” Caterina said to the footman after finishing the last glass, waving him off dismissively.

“My lady,” Penelope said, half-chuckling as she regained her composure. “Are you sure that much champagne won’t make you ill?”

Caterina waved her off with a laugh. “Don’t be troubled. I am Italian. I’ve been drinking since the age of five.”

Despite her shock, Penelope couldn't help but laugh, charmed by Caterina’s nonchalance. The two continued their conversation easily, with Caterina asking Penelope about English customs, the intricacies of the season, and the latest gossip. Penelope, flattered by the attention and delighted to have someone to speak with so openly, felt a kinship forming. Caterina, in turn, found herself genuinely enjoying Penelope’s company.

Their laughter filled the small corner of the room until Penelope suddenly spotted someone rushing toward them, her dear friend Eloise Bridgerton.

“Oh, Pen, there you are!” Eloise exclaimed, nearly breathless as she reached them, clearly oblivious to Caterina’s presence at first. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why don’t we sneak away before our mamas—”

Eloise froze mid-sentence when she finally noticed the regal woman standing beside Penelope, a glass of champagne in hand. She laughed awkwardly, smoothing her dress. “Oh.”

“Miss Medici,” whispered Penelope softly, nudging Eloise.

Eloise’s eyes widened in realization. “Miss Medici,” she stammered, offering a polite but slightly awkward bow.

Caterina chuckled, amused by Eloise’s discomfort. “Miss Bridgerton, the pleasure is mine,” she said, returning the bow. She then turned to Eloise with a knowing smile. “I must say, I completely agree with your idea to leave this ball early. It’s becoming quite unbearable.”

Eloise laughed awkwardly again, still slightly taken aback by Caterina’s frankness.

“But,” Caterina added, glancing toward the dance floor, “I believe I should go find my sister… or perhaps rescue her, considering what Miss Featherington just told me about the gentleman she’s dancing with.”

With a gracious smile, Caterina nodded to both women. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Featherington. Miss Bridgerton.” Then, with a graceful turn, she made her way back toward the crowd, leaving Eloise and Penelope standing in stunned silence.

─────────

But she hadn’t gotten very far.

As she tried to make her way to the far side of the ballroom, a voice interrupted her rescue.

"Running away already, Miss Medici?" The voice was low, teasing, and unmistakably British.

Caterina turned, her heart skipping a beat as she found herself face-to-face with the very man she had spotted at the Modiste’s a few days prior, the man she had wondered about since then.

Benedict Bridgerton.

For a moment, Caterina was speechless. He was striking, standing tall with a confident, yet mischievous look in his eyes that only seemed to grow sharper when he saw her surprise. His dark hair, his sharp jawline, it was all exactly as she remembered. And now here he was, teasing her as if they were already acquainted.

"You," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Are you always this persistent or am I simply a special case? Mr.?” “Benedict Bridgerton,” he said bowing in front of her, still with his mischievous grin, and then he chuckled, clearly amused by her quick wit. "I would argue that I’m only persistent when I see a lady in need of rescue. And judging by how many gentlemen were chasing after you, I think it's safe to say you were in need of one."

Caterina tilted her head slightly, studying him with a raised brow. "Ah, so you’re rescuing me now? How noble of you."

"I do try," he said with a wink. "Though truth be told, I’m also saving myself from my mother’s scorn if I don’t dance at least once tonight. And who better to dance with than the diamond of the season?"

Caterina couldn’t help but laugh, a real one, unrestrained and bright, and it drew a few glances from the nearby guests. "So it’s your mother who forced you into this? I see I’m just an escape for you as well then."

Benedict feigned shock, placing a hand over his chest. "You wound me, Miss Medici. I assure you, no force was involved. Just a very strong suggestion."

The banter between them was easy, and Caterina was intrigued. He wasn’t like the other gentlemen who had approached her tonight, there was no overly polite stiffness, no rehearsed lines about her beauty or her grace. Instead, there was humor, lightness, and a glint of something in his eyes that made her feel as if he was speaking to her, not her title or her reputation.

"And what makes you think I’ll accept your offer?" Caterina teased, though the smile playing on her lips betrayed her amusement.

"Because," Benedict said, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly, "you’re curious about me. Just as I am about you."

Her heart skipped a beat again. He wasn’t wrong. There was something about him that made her curious. The way he carried himself with ease, the way he spoke to her as though they were equals. And of course, she couldn’t ignore that he had seen her at the Modiste—a moment she had hoped no one would notice. But clearly, he had.

"Very well, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, offering her hand with a smirk. "You’ve earned yourself a dance. Let’s see if you can keep up."

He grinned, taking her hand in his, and led her to the center of the ballroom. The orchestra began a new piece, a waltz, delicate and sweeping, and as they took their positions, Benedict leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

"I must admit," he said, "when I saw you at the Modiste’s, I wasn’t expecting to meet you like this."

Caterina raised an eyebrow, amused. "And what were you expecting? A quieter introduction, perhaps? Less of an audience?"

"Maybe," he said with a grin. "Or perhaps a little less running away on your part."

She laughed again, unable to resist the humor in his voice. "Well, you caught me. But now you’re stuck with me for the rest of the dance. I hope you don’t regret your decision."

"Never," he said, and they began to move, effortlessly gliding across the floor in perfect time to the music.

For a few moments, they danced in silence, but it wasn’t the awkward kind of quiet that often accompanied first dances. It was…comfortable as if the rhythm of the waltz spoke for them. Caterina could feel the strength in Benedict’s hold, the way he confidently guided her through each step, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You dance well, Mr. Bridgerton," Caterina remarked, her tone playful but genuine.

"I should hope so," he replied. "Though I must admit, I’m finding it difficult to focus."

"Oh? And why is that?"

Benedict met her gaze, his expression softening. "Because you, Miss Medici, are quite… distracting."

Caterina felt a warmth rise in her cheeks, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "Is that so? I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an excuse."

"Both," Benedict said, his voice low, making her heart skip once more. "But in all seriousness, I’m glad I found you tonight."

"You say that now," Caterina replied, her tone light, though she couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement his words stirred within her. "Let’s see if you still feel that way by the end of the season."

He laughed softly. "I have a feeling I will."

They continued to move together, their steps in sync, but the connection between them went beyond the dance. For Caterina, it was strange how easy it felt to talk to him, to joke with him. She was always on her guard with the men of the ton, always aware of what they might want from her, always careful not to let her walls down. But with Benedict, there was something different.

As the music drew to a close, Benedict twirled her one final time before they came to a stop, their hands still clasped. The applause from the crowd barely registered in Caterina’s mind as she looked up at him, slightly breathless.

"Thank you for the dance," she said softly, her eyes locking with his.

"The pleasure was all mine," Benedict replied, his voice just as quiet, but his gaze held something deeper, something that made Caterina wonder what might happen next.

For the first time that night, she wasn’t thinking about escaping the attention of the gentlemen or the pressures of the season. For the first time, she was simply enjoying the moment. And though she didn’t yet know what it meant, she couldn’t deny that Benedict Bridgerton had made quite the impression on her.

As they parted, Benedict offered her a slight bow, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Until next time, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, and then he watched her walk away.

─────────

As the waltz came to an end, Caterina felt a sense of relief, but also a certain thrill she hadn’t expected. Dancing with Benedict Bridgerton had been more enjoyable than she anticipated. His humor and ease had made her forget if only for a moment, the heavy weight of being named a diamond of the season. As they bowed and parted ways, her eyes naturally drifted toward her sister Teresa, who was currently locked in conversation with yet another hopeful gentleman. And then she remembered her previous mission so a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Let me save her," she muttered to herself, weaving through the crowd toward Teresa.

When she reached her sister, Caterina gently placed a hand on her arm. "Forgive me, but I must steal my sister away for just a moment," she said with an apologetic smile to the gentleman, who quickly bowed and backed away, sensing the dismissal.

"Thank you," Teresa whispered, her voice tinged with gratitude. "I thought he’d never stop talking."

Caterina grinned. "If you want, I can rescue you again later. But for now, I think we’ve earned a break."

They barely had time to exchange more than a glance before their mother, Lady Medici, appeared beside them, her usual regal air intact. But she wasn’t alone. Standing proudly next to her was a woman the twins had only heard about through whispers and fleeting mentions, Lady Danbury.

"Ladies," Lady Medici said, her tone both formal and excited, "I would like to introduce you to Lady Danbury. She was curious to meet the season’s diamonds. After all, she’s the one who hosted this splendid ball."

Both Caterina and Teresa quickly straightened their posture, casting each other a brief glance before bowing deeply in unison. "Lady Danbury," they greeted her together, their voices respectful, though their eyes flickered with curiosity.

Lady Danbury, dressed in her signature bold attire, eyed the twins with an intensity that immediately made Caterina feel as though she were being sized up, measured, and calculated all at once. The older woman’s expression was inscrutable, but there was a certain sharpness in her gaze that Caterina felt that Lady Danbury was not someone to be taken lightly.

"What a marvelous ball you’ve hosted, my lady," Caterina said, breaking the silence and speaking in her most formal tone, trying to suppress the nerves bubbling in her chest.

"Yes, Lady Danbury," Teresa chimed in. "I can barely stop myself from dancing. The company you've invited is exceptional."

Lady Danbury chuckled, a dry but amused sound, and took a step closer to the twins. Her sharp eyes moved between them, assessing their every detail, their gowns, their posture, their expressions. Caterina and Teresa exchanged a quick glance, both feeling the weight of the woman’s scrutiny.

"So," Lady Danbury began, her voice low but clear, "here are the unknown ladies who have so suddenly become the diamonds of the season… I assure you, from tonight onward, you will have the entire ton buzzing around you like bees to honey. Be very aware of what you say and do from now on."

Caterina’s heart quickened at the words, though her face remained poised. The implications of being diamonds were not lost on her, but hearing it from Lady Danbury only reinforced the pressure. She resisted the urge to glance at Teresa, knowing her sister was likely feeling the same unease.

Lady Medici chuckled softly, though Caterina detected a hint of awkwardness in her mother’s laughter. "My daughters are well aware of the responsibilities they have just been given, Lady Danbury," Lady Medici said, her voice a touch firmer than usual.

Lady Danbury’s sharp gaze flickered toward Lady Medici, her lips curling into a smirk. "I have no doubt they are. But awareness is only the first step, Duchess. Execution, now that… that will be the true test."

Caterina resisted the urge to swallow nervously as Lady Danbury’s words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. It was as though she was already being judged, long before she had the chance to prove herself.

Suddenly, Lady Danbury’s tone shifted, and she looked back at the twins with a casual, almost dismissive air. "You are both invited for tea tomorrow afternoon at my house. I would like to speak with you about a few things, check up on others."

Caterina and Teresa’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden invitation. It was not common for Lady Danbury to extend such personal offers, especially not to newcomers like them. A flicker of uncertainty passed between the twins, but Lady Medici was quick to respond, her voice filled with practiced politeness.

"Of course, Lady Danbury," Lady Medici said smoothly. "It would be our utmost pleasure to join you."

Lady Danbury hummed in response, her sharp gaze sweeping over the twins once more before she stepped back. "I’ll see you both tomorrow then. Be prompt."

With that, Lady Danbury turned on her heel and began to make her way through the ballroom, her cane clicking against the polished floor. The Medici women watched her leave, all three of them exhaling in unison once she was out of earshot.

Caterina let out a soft, nervous laugh. "Well, that was… intense."

Teresa nodded, her brow furrowed. "I can’t tell if we made a good impression or not."

Lady Medici smiled, though her expression was thoughtful. "Lady Danbury is not easily impressed, but the fact that she invited you for tea is a good sign. It means she’s interested. And when Lady Danbury is interested, the rest of the ton will follow."

Caterina sighed, feeling the weight of the evening settling on her shoulders. "Well, I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow what she really thinks."

Lady Medici gave her daughters a reassuring smile, though even she couldn’t mask her concern. "Indeed. But for tonight, remember to hold your heads high. You’ve been named the diamonds of the season. That is no small feat, and you deserve every bit of the attention you’re receiving."

Teresa gave a small smile, but Caterina couldn’t help the flicker of doubt that crept into her mind. She wasn’t sure if she wanted all of this attention, the expectations, the pressure, the constant eyes watching her every move. But for now, there was nothing to do but smile, nod, and play the part.

As the music began to swell once more and the night continued around them, Caterina cast a glance across the room. The faces of the ton blurred together, each one filled with curiosity and expectation. Her gaze drifted toward the spot where Benedict Bridgerton had been, but he was gone now, swallowed up by the crowd.

Tomorrow, tea with Lady Danbury. Tonight, the eyes of London’s elite. And in between all of it, the weight of her future hung precariously in the balance.

Caterina straightened her shoulders, giving her mother and sister a final nod of reassurance.

─────────

Lady Danbury, always keen to understand the nuances of courtly decisions, seized the opportunity to inquire further. Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as she turned to the Queen with a curious glint in her eye. “Your Majesty, if I may ask, what prompted you to choose these particular young ladies as diamonds of the season?”

The Queen, who was observing the Medici sisters with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, glanced at Lady Danbury with a twinkle in her eye. “Ah, Lady Danbury, you have a keen interest in my choices,” she remarked, her tone both teasing and indulgent.

The Queen’s gaze returned to Caterina and Teresa, who were now laughing lightly with a pair of gentlemen. The sight seemed to please the Queen immensely.

“Because, Lady Danbury,” the Queen began, her voice rich with a sense of revelry, “I am rather bored of choosing always from the same pool of candidates, our own soil if you will. The season tends to become predictable, doesn’t it? And I daresay it’s time for a bit of variety.”

Lady Danbury raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Are you saying that their foreign origin played a part in your decision?”

The Queen’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Indeed. Two splendid diamonds from overseas. When do I get a chance like that again?” She gestured toward the sisters, who were now the center of attention.

“Their presence introduces a fresh breath of air to our otherwise familiar circle. And who knows? They might even stir things up a bit, adding some excitement to our usual proceedings.”

Lady Danbury nodded thoughtfully, understanding the Queen’s perspective. “I see. You’ve always had a penchant for making the season memorable.”

“Precisely,” the Queen agreed, her gaze following Caterina and Teresa as they moved gracefully through the crowd. “The ton will speak of these two for weeks to come, if not longer. It’s not just about their beauty, though they are certainly striking. It’s about the intrigue and the newness they bring.”

Lady Danbury chuckled softly, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, Your Majesty, I must say you have certainly succeeded in capturing the season’s attention. I’m curious to see how they will handle the scrutiny.”

The Queen’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she turned her attention back to Lady Danbury. “And I am curious to see if they can live up to the reputation I’ve bestowed upon them. After all, the real test lies in how they navigate the intricacies of our society.”

As the two women continued their conversation, the Queen’s gaze lingered on the Medici sisters, her mind already contemplating the potential twists and turns their presence might bring to the season. Meanwhile, Lady Danbury, with her sharp observational skills, made a mental note of the new arrivals, eager to see how they would fare under the watchful eyes of London’s elite.

The evening was still young, and the ballroom was filled with a palpable sense of anticipation. The Queen’s decision to elevate the Medici sisters to diamonds of the season had certainly set the stage for a season unlike any other.

[kiame-sama]

I have a kinda wholesome request if you’re feeling up to it? How would your oc boys react after having a bad day seeing a cup of freshly brewed coffee plus cookies sitting at his desk? It also has a note that says “Hang in there! :)” from their lovely wife who was peacefully snoozing on the couch! I hope that would cheer up the oc boys!

Walter Woods;

- Walter has no idea what he did in his life to deserve you, but bless you and all you do for him. He can't put into words how much he adores you.

- Walter is a surgeon- one of the top surgeons in the country- and that means he literally holds lives in his hands. This puts some serious stress on the poor man and it isn't like the idea of having lives at stake puts him at any ease. Once he is out of one surgery, he is likely being called to the next. Some surgeries are routine and less than an hour, some take 12 hours or more to complete.

- Any ounce of kindness you give him means the world to him and he is so happy you think of him.

Evan Rothchester;

- Well, ain't you just the sweetest thing in the world? Evan finds it extremely endearing to find you thought of him and he will be joining you on the couch to cuddle and unwind.

- Evan lives with the constant threat of death always in the back of his mind and he can get fairly stressed with everything he has to deal with. The kindness you show him soothes him and truly gives him a genuine joy. He has always wanted a sweet lover to come back to at the end of the day and spend his evenings cuddling affectionately to unwind.

- Evan will be napping with you on the couch and he will be holding you tightly. If you wake up, he will hush you and tell you to go back to sleep while he holds you secure in his grasp.

Carlos Vargas;

- Carlos is ECSTATIC to see you were thinking of him. He will be taking pictures of you while you are asleep and he will coo over your sleeping form before he even touches the treats you give him.

- Odds are you are not alone on the couch and the ever loving house Serval- Mimis- will be lounging with you. Carlos thinks this is precious and will completely melt.

- He won't wake you, but he will sit and enjoy the coffee and cookies you prepared for him as he waits for you to wake up from your nap. The dogs will most likely wake you before he does, or the lions doing their afternoon roaring near sunset. He will greet you and kiss you affectionately when you do wake, thanking you for the kind gesture.

Jackson Locklear;

- He is going to cry happy tears. The kind of support and affection you give him will be enough to make him weep from joy at having you with him and caring so much about him. Truly, Jackson appreciates the gesture more than you will likely ever know.

- Jackson already holds you in very high regard because of you saving him from his loneliness and longing for a place in the world, he will only see the gesture as even more reason to obsess over you. He adores your kindness and he will savor every cookie and every sip of coffee he takes. If you ask, he will say he can taste the love you put into it in every morsel.

Orion Medici;

- Aww, Darling, how sweet of you! Orion is thrilled you took the time to think of him and prepare sweets for him, he finds it quite endearing.

- Orion was likely working on a new novel or editing chapters when his head started to hurt and his eyes began to strain. Stepping away when he is in full swing while writing is difficult for him, but if he knows you are ready and waiting for him to return he will likely be able to pull himself away faster. He thinks it is precious that you showed such thoughtful behavior towards him and took the time to do something nice for him.

Hahne Yamare;

- Wait... These are... For him?

- Hahne is used to being the one to do the nice things, not having nice things done for him. He will genuinely become a flustered mess when he sees the cute note and the prepared snack you placed for him. He thought it wasn't possible for him to adore you any more than he already did, yet here you were.

- Hahne appreciates the ever-living hell out of your sweet behavior and is thrilled that you think of him. He will try to repay the kindness however he can, even if it is something simple that helps you out.