#Royal Inspired Home Pieces

[northerninteriors]

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[artists-ally]

what about Harvey when he’s jealous? His wife is attending an event at the firm with him, she’s wearing a nice dress and one of his rivals from another firm is oggling her and she dogdes his advances gracefully, but when they get home he’s bending her on the closest surface and chanting “mine” skxmcmdks

{Put it on Me} Reader x Harvey Specter

oh BOY have I been thinking about this tehe. Also, you are my soul source of Harvey inspiration pls pls pls keep the requests coming. I have such a hard time coming up with ideas on my on so getting to create something specific really helps. Enjoy loves!!! title from this song

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: jealousy, minor dom/sub concepts, unprotected sex, flirty banter, Harvey being a possessive mf.

~~~~~~~

As I stepped around the corner of the hallway, Harvey was leaning against the kitchen island, hands braced on the counter, gaze very much pinned on my silhouette.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing to the gown I had picked out over the weekend. “I thought the green would match well with yours.”

Harvey’s eyes melted over my frame, scanning every inch as he just stood. Watching. “You… Yn, you look breathtaking. What do you say we skip the firm announcement and just stay in?”

I laughed, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. “As much as that sounds like a great idea, we can’t exactly snub off the announcement of a merger.”

“You just have to be the buzzkill don’t you?” Harvey smiled, planting his hands on my hips. “I should have you locked up for how good you look.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury I’ve committed a crime, not if I bat my lashes and give them that flirty smile that sent you crawling to the floor.”

His eyes narrowed, backing me against the island in a firm spin. “Let’s not forget who can make those same lashes flutter shut, either.”

Bastard.

Harvey was dressed well– he always was. Terribly and insufferably great at finding the perfect suit. It was a three piece; the vest and jacket were black, but he wore this green tie that went with my dress. He said that since this would be the first event we attended together as a married couple, he wanted everyone to know.

Endearing, and mildly possessive.

I loved it when he was possessive.

“Okay, Maverick, let’s get to the flightdeck before we run out of fuel,” I patted his chest, grabbing my clutch and slipping in my earrings.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you make Top Gun references?”

“Almost as many times as you’ve told me how much you love when I’m on my knees,” I whispered in his ear before heading to the door.

Harvey landed a firm smack on my ass, sending laughter tumbling out of me before we kissed and headed down to the limo waiting for us.

I looked up and out of the window, taking in the views of the towering skyscrapers. The venu was gorgeous; all sleek marble and intricate architecture. Who knew such a place existed in New York.

When we arrived, Harvey stepped out first, taking my hand and guiding me out. I clutched his bicep as we ascended the stairs, greeting the security guard in front of the glass doors.

“Ahh, Mr. and Mrs. Specter,” the guard greeted. “Welcome. Ms. Pearson and Mr. Litt are waiting for you inside, as well as the other guests.”

Harvey gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. “Thank you, sir.”

He opened the door for us, and the inside was just as meticulously crafted as the outside. It was stunning, truly stunning. They don’t make buildings like this anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

“Yn!” Donna called out, several heads turning in our direction. “Oh my god you look amazing!”

“I couldn’t say anything less about you, Donna. You look so good, that royal blue makes your hair look so awesome,” I smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you too, Jessica. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you, Yn,” she smiled, accepting my hug. “Don’t you clean up nice, Harvey.”

He rolled his eyes, snagging a flute of champagne from a waiter on their way by. “I’ve been known to clean up every now and then.”

Conversation flowed easily between the small cluster I’ve been encompassed with. It is so nice to have such a tight knit group of people to not only call my friends, but my family. When Harvey first brought me around them, it had just been after a huge win against a firm enemy. Daniel Hardman, who I’ve come to know the full story about, had his ass handed to him. Afterwards, Harvey was far too proud to keep his mouth shut about us and insisted I needed to be a part of the celebration.

Donna was the first to meet me, and we shared one look and knew we were gonna be best friends. We made an incredible team. Especially when we teamed up against Harvey together.

Jessica was polite, but not nearly as friendly as Donna or Louis. Mike was nice, and so was Rachel, but they were too love struck, always off in their own little bubble.

Cuties.

Dinner was served just before eight and we dined, exchanging stories left and right. I got to hear about his days at the firm from their perspective, to which I get to tell them from mine. Wildly different, might I add.

The food was rich and decadent; a choice between a filet mignon or a salmon steak. I went with the filet mignon, it looked too good to pass up. Apparently everyone else agreed because our plates all looked identical when they came out.

More champagne and a belly full of great food later, Harvey and I found ourselves at the bar, ordering drinks for ourselves. Sure Harvey enjoyed the company of his co-workers, but even he needed a break from the people he saw every day. And so did I.

“If she comes back, order me an old fashioned for me my love?” Harvey said, kissing the back of my hand. “I just saw one of our investors walk in. I want to make sure he keeps investing.”

“I’ll make sure she puts in an extra cherry for you,” I winked, letting his lips fall onto mine.

“God I love you.”

With a lingering touch, he was off across the room, that classic Harvey Specter saunter to his gait. He looked so confident, so proud of all the work he had accomplished in his career. And he should be. Harvey has built an empire here in New York and has done more than earn his reputation.

It baffled me that underneath that ‘tough as nails’ attitude, was just someone who wanted to be loved and cherished as much as I had. I love Harvey, with every bit of my soul. He was so deserving of someone who truly loved him and not the amount of zeros in his bank account.

When we first met, I hadn’t known who he was, and he liked that very much. He told me he was a lawyer, a good one, but never specified which didn’t bother me really at all. It was complicated for a long while, but eventually I wore him down and he opened up. There weren’t any details of his life he didn’t share once that wall was broken down. When I met Donna for the first time, she thanked me for it. She said that I pulled that child-like behavior out of him and made him fall in love with being a lawyer all over again.

That made my heart swell with pride.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my memory of Harvey, and I met a pair of tempest blue eyes.

“Oh, hello,” I gave a polite smile, turning to face the man.

“Hello to you, too,” he smiled, eyes darting around my face. “I’m Travis.”

“Yn,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“You know,” he rubbed his fingers over his chin, “Most people tend to just wear an outfit, but clearly you are going the extra mile by capturing everyone’s attention by simply sitting here.”

I hit my smile, “Well, that is kind of you to say.”

“And the earrings, they really bring the whole thing together. Did you do your hair yourself?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, rather enthusiastically. “It looks a lot more complicated than it was. It genuinely only took me five or six minutes to do but it looks incredible, right?”

I swiveled in the bar stool, turning the back of my head to him. He blew out a low whistle and gave a light applause, “It looks amazing.”

“Are you here from the merger?” I asked, not recognizing this Tanner fellow.

“Oh, no I am merely here as a… a guest.” His eye had this glint to it when he took a sip of his clear drink. I could smell the vodka from here.

“Me too,” I said, turning my attention to the space around us. “Isn’t this place so cool? I love all the columns and pillars and- oh! Excuse me, can I get an old fashioned? With an extra cherry in it?”

“Of course,” the bartender nodded, walking away to start mixing the drink.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for whiskey kinda girl,” Travis said, resting his elbows on the counter beside me.

“Oh, I’m not it’s for-”

“Tanner.” Harvey’s voice slithered down my spine. He sounded so… so repulsed.

“Harvey,” Travis pushed to his full height. “Nice to see you here-”

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your name is Tanner?” I asked. Why would he lie to me?

“No, no my name is Travis. Tanner is my last name.”

“She doesn’t give a shit about what your last name is. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Woah, calm down Harvey. I’m just talking with this beautiful lady, no need to twist your panties. I was here first, you don’t get to swoop in here and steal my conversation,” Travis frowned, setting the glass down rather harshly on the counter.

“Hey Yn, isn’t that an 8 carat diamond?” Harvey stood directly behind me, sliding his fingers down my left arm, grabbing my wrist and facing it towards Travis.

“Uhh, yeah what’s going-”

“That's right, it is. Funny how I knew that, isn’t it Tanner? Well, that’s because I bought it for her. So how about you get the hell out of here and if I ever catch you trying to flirt with my wife again I will put you six feet in the fucking dirt, do you understand me?”

My eyes damn near fell out of my fucking skull. I knew Travis was being polite, or flirting I guess, but I wasn’t going to let anything come of it, of course.

Travis looked like he was going to be sick. He scurried off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Harvey dropped my hand and reached around me to grab his freshly crafted drink.

“Okay, hotshot, what was that all about?”

“Do you remember that shit-show of a case that we fought a few months ago, the one that got reopened after four years?” I nodded. “Yeah, that was him. And that's the asshole who tried to have me disbarred.”

Holy shit. “Oh, fuck Harvey. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he smiled faintly. “There’s no other reason he’s here tonight other than to piss me off.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I said, standing up and taking his face in my hands. “Would you like to passionately make out in front of all these people just to make Travis Tanner mad?”

“Yes, yes I would like that very much,” Harvey grinned, linking his arm around my wait and pressing me close before sending a shiver down my spine with the force of his lips on mine.

“That guy is an asshole,” I said, needing a moment to catch my breath. Surely that did the trick, Travis was nowhere in sight. “You shouldn’t trust anyone with two first names, it’s weird.”

Harvey bellowed out a laugh, nodding his head over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him slink off without saying proper goodbyes to everyone that was worth an explanation as to where we fled to.

Donna didn’t need to see us leave, because I had a text on my phone with a bunch of eggplant and peace emoji’s with an accompanying message that said ‘GONNA BE SOME GOOD D TONIGHT GIRL’. She must’ve seen the whole interaction between Travis, Harvey and I.

All I sent back was a winky face.

By the time we got off the elevator, Harvey couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I wanted him to, but we hadn’t even made it outside before his tongue was sweeping inside my mouth.

We pressed to the front door while jammed in the key, effortlessly unlocking it like he had done it a thousand times before. We crashed through, and Harvey wasted no time pinning me to the door.

“Mmm Harvey,” I whined into his mouth.

“Yes, pretty girl?” God damn did I love when he calls me that. “What do you need?”

“You, just you,” I looked at him through my lashes, watching that evil smirk wash over his features. Nothing could have stopped his hand clamping around my throat, pulling me off the door and into the kitchen. He hoisted me up onto the island and began to strip.

Harvey tossed his jacket onto the counter behind him, the tie was next. He made it painfully slow, doing nothing to hide his intentions of making it agonizing for me. I rolled my eyes, hands finding the buttons on his vest, flinging it over my shoulder.

“Needy,” he gripped my chin, crushing his mouth with mine. For a few minutes, or hours, we drank each other in. Restless hands and desperate pleas of need. Silk wrapped around my wrists, tight and commanding. I looked down and saw his tie around them, knotted in a figure eight and yanked until it burned.

“Harvey-”

“You’re mine. All. Mine. No one else has the right to do so much as think otherwise.” My core rippled with heat, eyes lulling shut at his words. “Aww, you like hearing that, don’t you? That I get to see you like this? All tied up? Such a pretty girl, Yn. I bet you’re such a mess for me already.”

He grabbed the fabric around my wrists and pulled me off the counter, flipping me over and forcing me to bend over. Harvey fisted up the hem of my skirt, quite literally tearing my thong off my hips.

I went to yell at him, but his finger dragged between my legs, and my spine shivered. “Fuck, Harvey…”

“You are a mess for me,” I could hear the possession in his voice. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet, Yn.”

I heard his fly unzip, the clang of his belt following after. My toes barely touched the ground as my forearms pressed against my ribs. I tried to scramble up a little so my hips fit with the edge of the counter, but Harvey just gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up.

He clicked his tongue, “Oh Yn, such a pretty thing you are. And I am going to have my way with you, and you’re gonna scream my name for the whole city to hear.”

I clenched my thighs together, pressing my forehead against the cool surface, though it quickly warmed with my breathing and panting. I felt the tip of his cock press against me, and his hips slowly met mine.

He pushed me further onto the counter, thankfully letting go of my hair before he pulled out.

Harvey’s hands on my hips were brutal; bruising my skin, commanding, feverish as they roamed my ass and thighs. Clawing marks.

“God Yn…” he sighed out, thrusting all the way back in, pulling my hips all the way flush with his. “Fuck you are so warm. So perfect for my cock.”

“Please,” I begged, wiggling my ass to entice him further.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come one, use your words.”

I shuddered around him, and he laughed at me. A cruel, wicked laugh as he stuffed himself further.

“Harder, I want- need it harder.”

“That’s my girl,” Harvey landed his palm on my ass, undoubtedly turning it bright red as he did it again. With one snap of his hips, and I knew I was gonna be ripped apart.

I didn’t know that much about Travis Tanner, but judging by the way this was going, Harvey really fucking hated the guy. If Harvey had any other enemies, maybe I should let them all flirt with me if it has the chance of turning into this.

My chest rammed across the counter, my thighs and pelvic bone rocking into the side of the island. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but it made it so much better. Harvey’s brutal pace had him panting and groaning, cursing under his breath while he fisted his hand back in my hair.

I craned up, back aching with the force of his unyielding grip. It was hard to breathe, in the most soul fluttering way possible. It was such a euphoric feeling to be under his complete control.

“Yeah, you love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy? Submitting to my every decision?”

“Yes Harvey,” I whimpered. Full on whimpered. “Fuck-”

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl, let it all out for me to hear.”

He threw my head down, hair swinging around my shoulders and falling in my face. I let my head go limp, moans pouring out of my mouth. His hips slammed into mine, brutal and ruthless. Every inch of my body was on fire, veins pumping blood widely through my limbs, making them tingle. My toes curled, knees knocking into the wood paneling over and over and over.

I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, to get him to slow his pace. I writhed and cried out his name. I could hear it echo off the walls, and I knew our neighbors would be taping a complaint to our door by the morning.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum,” he threw his head back, hips stuttering as he held on to my waist. “Fuck, Yn you are so fucking messy for me. Gonna fill you up.”

I squirmed when his finger brushed against my clit, chills spreading all down my arms and back. I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how close I actually was to my release, and it slammed into me without any hint of a warning.

“Yeah, that's it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock,” Harvey’s voice was like a sin. Pure, raw, unfiltered sin.

His fingers circled and circled around, lighting my body and dragging out the waves of pleasure that rolled through me.

Harvey let out a string of curses, and his hips stilled. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down onto him, hips ramming in once-twice-three-four times before he stilled. He bent over me, heaving for a breath against the middle of my back.

I called his name several times, unable to keep still. My hands were going numb from the bindings, and my knees and hips ached.

With a big inhale, Harvey lifted off my body. His hands trailed all the way down my back to my exposed ass, pulling it apart. “Well, would you look at that. So messy, full of me…”

My pussy clenched around him, and I felt his release slide down the inside of my thigh. His finger dragged his back up and speared it into my skin.

“That’s right, pretty girl, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m yours Harvey, all yours,” I plead, wallowing in the feeling of pure bliss. His hands were much more gentle this time around when he lowered me back to the ground.

That mouth of his most certainly wasn’t. Harvey forced his tongue in, practically shoving it down my throat. I choked, and he grinned like the devil.

“Yeah, that’s right, Yn. You’re all mine. All fucking mine.”

I stared up at him in a starry daze. My head was foggy, and my legs were weak. “God do I love it when you get like this.”

Harvey’s hand caressed my cheek, thumb sweeping under my eye to where I’m sure my makeup was smudged.

“And god do I love it when you let me worship you, fucking you exactly like you deserve to be. No one else could ever fuck you as good as I can. Right, pretty girl?”

I grinned, equally as devilish as him, “Right, Harvey.”

~~~~~

Reader's dress

Harvey's suit

[chilling-seavey]

All the Time in the World (gr63)

↳ A/N It took me so long to formulate a solid idea to this ask from my 1.5k celebration - the song instilled a vision in my mind so clearly but the details took over a week to come to me. It felt like a relief to finally get this written out! Thank you to the anon who submitted this request!!

↳ Inspired By: 'We Have All the Time in the World' by Louis Armstrong

↳ Pairings: Wealthy!Dark!George x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 1120

↳ Warnings: Dark themes

The dainty sound of lone silverware clinking against china echoed through the spacious dining room, reaching to the peaks of the two-storey ceiling and each corner of the lavishly decorated walls. At the head of the lengthy hand-carved mahogany table, you kept your gaze downcast to your plate, carefully slicing through your steaming supper to spear a bitesize piece with your fork. The tick of the clock on the ornate mantle blanketed the room in the weight of the passage of time. The fire crackled beneath it. You still felt chilled.

“How is it?”

The buttery voice cutting through the eerily silent room had your eyes raising from your plate to gaze down the table to the man at the other end. George looked almost humorously small at such a distance; the two of you taking up a table that otherwise would be used for royal galas of a good few dozen people, you were sure. Over filled platters of whatever food you could possibly want, handmade by private chefs, stretching the length of the sizable table, you offered him a polite smile.

“Lovely. Thank you.”

“Is the roast cooked to your liking?”

“It’s perfect,” you assured him softly, “No complaints.”

George smiled back at you, a gentle smile that made his eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

He had kind eyes. That’s what you first noticed about him when you met. The kindest, sweetest gaze that almost had you weak in the knees. He was so handsome, so easy to trust.

He lifted his crystal wine glass to his lips and sent you a sultry wink over the rim. You turned your flushed gaze back to your plate, your heart racing.

You shared the expensive feast together at the expansive table by candlelight and the warmth of the fireplace. The diamonds on your designer bracelet glittered on your wrist with your every polite movement as you ate daintily, calmly. Yet another gift he had bought for you, doting on you like you were a princess. You couldn’t say no. He wouldn’t let you say no.

It was his way he showed you that he loved you. That you were safe with him. That you were his.

After dinner, George excused himself to the drawing room. He always disappeared there for a half-hour after dinner; having to collect his thoughts from the day and wind down a moment before the rest of the evening. On his way past you, he left a kiss to your head and gave your shoulder a firm squeeze before leaving you all alone in the vast dining room.

You took your time to fold your napkin and set it on the table, staring out at the barely touched serving platters that would be going to waste the moment you stood. Now with a non-existent appetite, you pushed your chair back and rose from the table. A better time than any to have a nightly walk through the never-ending hallways of the mansion before George would be expecting you to bed.

You walked across the marble floors of the vast mansion as the sun set, your red bottom heels clicking faintly, rhythmically, like a heartbeat. Crystal chandeliers hung above your head, glinting the orange fading sunlight that came in through the floor to ceiling French doors along the exterior wall of the corridor. Your home was that of Versailles; a jewel among the countryside, glittering in wealth and luxury. There was nothing you had to complain about.

George chose you. He brought you into his home. You were set for life.

At the end of the hallway, the space opened up into a music gallery. It seemed you were still managing to find new places to explore in the mansion. You had never heard George play or even speak about music so you figured the gallery was simply there for looks – and to host the impressive cream grand piano in the centre of the rounded room. Ghosting past it, you let your eyes linger on the pristine wood and details of the carvings along each edge and corner, each black and white key polished and untouched. It was almost a shame.

The mansion was dimmed to a hazy illumination as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in ink. You took a few cautious strides across the room to the set of French doors at the far end and you pulled them open to reveal yourself to the impending night. The crisp breeze ruffled through the trees that filled the acreage and blew through the body of your flowing dress in ripples like the ocean.

Stepping out onto the balcony, you breathed in the fresh air and shut your eyes to take in the moment. For a second, it truly felt like it was just you in the world; a chance at serenity.

Just as you lifted your hands towards the stone railing, someone grabbed your hand tightly, startling a yelp from your chest.

“Shh,” George stepped right up behind you, his other hand sliding around your middle to pull you back against his chest, “it’s just me, love.”

His velvety, grinning voice sent shivers down your spine, his fingers tightening around your hand.

“Where do you think you’re going, hm?”

You swallowed thickly, staring out across the perfectly manicured grounds as you answered him stagnantly, “Just getting a breath of fresh air before bed.”

“Mhm?” his lips ghosted across your jaw, reminding you in a firm but gentle tone, “You know I don’t like you going outside without me.”

“Sorry,” you exhaled.

“We need nothing more than our love, darling, you know that.” he pressed a slow kiss to your neck, his thumb gently caressing your waist as he held you firmly to his body, “We can just leave the world far, far behind us, and stay here in our sanctuary…together.”

You looked down at his hand holding yours, wincing slightly at the grip he held on you, your fingers squished together in his hand. He kissed your neck again and breathed you in deeply before resting his face against yours as you stared out at the gardens together under the starry sky.

“I love you, my darling.” he promised into the inky night, his voice sultry and provocative and so incredibly calm.

Down below the balcony, just a few yards out of the way, your eyes lingered on the black vintage Mercedes in which you had been bound and gagged by him only a few short weeks earlier, taken to this place to never be seen again.

You were sure there was no way out. You were going to be here, trapped with him, until the end of time.

“I love you too.”

"With the cares of the world far behind us, We have all the time in the world just for love, Nothing more, nothing less, only love..."

[novlr]

6 More Writing Playlists for Scenes and Vibes!

If you love music, you’ll love these playlists! We’ve added 6 more amazing playlists to our already-growing collection.

From sweeping classical themes to write a royal court, some eerie tunes and soundscapes for writing a creepy carnival, vinyl classics for a vintage record store feel, pumping euro tunes for a European road trip, sea shanties for ocean voyages, and some vintage and modern French melodies for when you need a French bistro vibe, we’ve got you covered.

Writing a Royal Court

The pomp and circumstance of a Royal Court are palpable in this collection. This classical playlist is perfect for writing grand palaces, stately homes, balls, banquets, and court intrigues. Be transported to a world of nobles and chivalry where life is decadent and opulent.

Writing a Creepy Carnival

Creepy carnivals are staples of the horror genre, so we’ve put together this collection to help you write it. Whether your carnival travels the world, putting up stakes and causing mayhem wherever they go, or if you’re writing a static circus where visitors inexplicably go missing, then this is the playlist for you. Terrifying ringmasters, creepy rides, and eerie rituals – whatever your carnival holds, this is the playlist to write it to.

Writing in a Parisian Cafe

Sitting in a window of a cafe in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, watching the world go by, the young writer puts pen to paper. The characters who pass by them every day inspire and come alive. If you can’t people-watch, you can certainly imagine it! A mix of classical, acoustic folk, and French pop tunes, this collection will make you feel like you’re really there. So grab a croissant and a coffee and bring the Paris to you!

Writing a Vintage Record Store

Indie record stores have a vibe and are always full of interesting characters. There’s something special about them, and they’re always full of people who love music. This is a playlist for those who need to write a modern vintage feel. It’s a mix of tunes from the 1960s to the early 2000s – the kind of records vinyl aficionados would love a first pressing of. Get in the creative space to write about some of the weird and wonderful obsessive characters you’d find in an underground record shop in your favourite city.

Writing a Journey at Sea

Beware, me hearties, for here be dragons! Whether you’re writing an arctic exploration, an ancient sea voyage, preparations for a naval battle, or a band of intrepid pirates, there’s something in this playlist for you. With a mixture of modern folk tracks, sea shanties, and sea journey-themed instrumental pieces, this collection will conjure images of the salt spray on your face and the wind whipping your hair as you stand on deck, exploring unmapped places.

Writing a European Road Trip

Travel is always an adventure, but there’s something unique about a European road trip where you can fit so many different countries and cities into a small space of time. It’s a whirlwind of sights, tastes, and sounds, so this collection of tracks from all over Europe is sure to get you in the mood. From visiting the sights to sampling the cuisines, and nights out in some of Europe’s most infamous superclubs, this collection is sure to inspire you.

[ms0milk]

𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐌𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

On a diplomatic trip far from home, Prince Bakugou must contend with his hatred for you. A woman who lives to take orders. The last thing the warrior prince needs is a babysitter but it’s a feat, not a coincidence, that you are the only apprentice to the captain of his royal guard. Feasts, balls, and festivities await you and your new friends at Takoba, and in the seaside kingdom you must reconcile with the idea that your prince is not so noble as the queen who raised him. All while something half dead and long forgotten festers on high tide.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏��� [𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔] MDNI prince!bakugou x royal guard!(fem) reader, slow burn to eventual smut. y/n has a personality and it is business formal, she grows. individual chapters will have specific tags-warnings-ratings— in general please expect violence/descriptions of injuries, strong language, two aloof fools, the classic motley bnha crew, seaside shenanigans. bakugou is an absolute piece of work, y/n is professional to a fault and it drives him insane. travel companions ー civil teammates ー genuine enemies ー confused friends ー lovers. plenty of ridiculous tension accompanied by angst and 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄.

❂ ー 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 this story has been my baby over the past few months (was this a direct response to mha ch 362? yes) — so I hope you cherish it as much as I do. I am not immune to roy/riza and many of the dynamics in this au are inspired by their relationship. be prepared to absolutely hurtle this man out of harm's way TAGLIST | AO3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

���𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆. ✦

You terrify him and it breaks his heart.

𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩

In the warm forests of Aldera Castle you and the prince grew up in periphery. A soldier without magic and the boy who never spoke to her. Suddenly, he is your only responsibility.

𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

With the first day of travel under your belt and introductions well collected, your Alderan company finds time to unwind together. Thankfully, nothing bad ever happens around a campfire.

𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

Are all carriages of the east made for prisoners of war? Prince Bakugou despises the close quarters and their snagging silver fixtures, but it is a special kind of fate that would deliver you to the safety of the sea and to the feet of the fire that bars your entrance. And deliver you together at that.

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞

Hats off to dying!

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

What a vivid dream you’ve made, of the prince and his heavy hands wrapped around your body.

𝒔𝒊𝒙. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚

It is at exactly the wrong moment that you realize where all the guards have gone, and just how desperate you must appear for the prince to take such pleasure in destruction.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

Would he treat you this way in the presence of others? Is it only when you're alone like this that hell raises?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

In the immortal words of your prince, this was a dogshit idea for a dinner party. You are haunted by blue flames and scarred ghosts no matter how hard you focus on work, and a punishment for your distraction is in order.

𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

He has no right– your prince is a hypocrite and alone in a haunted seaside garden confrontation is, finally, inevitable.

𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

You will eat the flame mage alive before he lays a finger on your prince, but why gods has Bakugou chosen now to fear for you? To treat you so gently?

𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Thirty-one hours awake and every second spent thinking of you.

𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆. 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

Gods help anyone that might try to hurt you, even if that person is the ocean, or a god– even if that person is you. You finally find your prince's bedchambers after a fight at sea.

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

The end of your fever comes with realizations. What happens when two people unable to speak stand too close for too long?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

You always think you're well enough to train and if Bakugou has to tie you to a hospital bed himself he will, but he doesn't mean to watch you win for so long and he certainly doesn't mean to join you.

𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧

Can devotion come before forgiveness? Can you control it? The last two sober Alderans carry their friends to bed.

𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

You don’t mean to bite him, he startled you. You don’t mean to laugh together or beam about magic that is not yours. You do not mean to kiss him.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

Dance, or die.

𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞

Bakugou considers invincibility, he considers just how much of his strength has been his own as he cradles your body on a bloody dancefloor. There is another ghost at this party, the last of a dragon who refuses to die.

𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

Self control is hairpin trigger and neither you nor your prince, hidden in Takoba's frozen underbelly, understands what it is to want someone. Even in the chaos of the mage's siege, desire sinks its teeth into reason's rabbit.

𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚. 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚

(brief hiatus)

[theeoriginals]

I’d love to see your take on an arranged marriage with klaus (like medieval times or some period like that). maybe he’s marrying her to get something from her/her family but there’s something a little off about the reader (hint: she does what giulia tofana did - google her if you’re not familiar!! her story is so fascinating) and when he pieces it together he’s smitten with her 💗💗

aqua tofana | klaus mikaelson

author's note; this has been in my inbox for over a month because i was so inspired by it that I decided a 14k oneshot was necessary I hope I did it justice

klaus mikaelson x reader (no y/n) use of nickname in place of y/n

warnings; arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, klaus is a little shit but so is reader so it's okay, no Y/N, mentions of domestic abuse but not in regards to reader, mentions of poison, fluff, shy!klaus (he is real to me), these two mfers are in LOVE, mikael (a warning in itself), minor violence and bloodshed but nothing too bad. if I missed anything let me know!! this is heavily inspired by ACOTAR bc I just binged the entire series in less than a week so thank you sarah j. maas for your service

The Mikaelsons were said to be a noble family. One with loyalty and strength. 

They were coming to stay in their small kingdom, in their castle. Three of them. Elijah, Rebekah, and Niklaus. Looking for a safe haven, to avoid growing conflicts in surrounding areas. Looking for someplace to call home for a little while longer– at least, until they could no longer pass as mortals.

Riverend was perfect for them. 

The way the people of Riverend saw it, their problems were their own, and the larger, outlying kingdoms could fight their nonsensical battles without any help from a small, useless kingdom built downstream from them, carved right out of the flowing water that traveled through their town square by the calloused hands of the families that still lived there today.

As far as anyone was concerned, Riverend had no monetary value, no natural resources to capitalize off of, no armies worth rallying, and no animals to trade. The only thing it had was its people, and to most, that meant nothing. It meant they went overlooked, and were never considered in territory battles and similar crises. But to the right person–a dangerous person– such a thing could mean everything. 

That is why she was so wary to accept this supposedly noble family into their walls. She had to be wary, to think of the danger they could bring along with them should they stay. How much danger it could put her kingdom in. 

It’s why she had further qualms about marrying the man the king had been corresponding with all these months. Said qualms, of course, outside of the fact that she had no real desire to marry, let alone to a stranger. All familiarity aside, she had a duty to her people to maintain their livelihoods and not leave them stranded for her own selfish desires. Even if it meant marrying some man. 

With her mother’s voice in her head telling her to keep her chin up and her shoulders back, she was determined to keep her wits about her. She didn’t complain when she was asked to wear one of her nicer gowns to greet the family when they arrived that brisk, cloudy afternoon. She let her ladies dress her in a midnight blue gown that swept along the ground, with sleeves that draped over her hands, leaving no skin visible, spare for her neck and face. 

She was escorted by the king to the throne room, where she stood at his shoulder, resting a hand on the embroidered fabric along the muscle hidden beneath the layers. A silent, supportive daughter. A perfect royal family, to anyone who might linger too long while looking in their direction. 

Two of their sentries escorted their new houseguests into the throne room, and she did nothing but raise a brow at their humble appearance. The girl, Rebekah, was young. She’d seen better days, and she silently wondered where they had traveled from that had them end up before her and her father with dirt scuffs on their cheeks, and scruffy, unkempt facial hair marring their jaws. 

“Welcome, Lords and Lady, to our home,” Her father spoke genially, a content smile on his face as if he was unaware of the judgmental look his daughter was fixing them with. “We’re honored to have you here, honored to build a bridge between our families for years to come.” 

One of the long-haired men spoke, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, making him look like he was some proper gentleman and not a random man who had shown up on her doorstep. 

“The honor is all ours, Your Majesty. The opportunities that your generosity has given my family have not gone unnoticed. We thank you and the Princess for your kindness.” 

The King shifted slightly like he’d forgotten his daughter was there. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she met his gaze, peering down at him over the bridge of her nose. “Yes, my daughter. Nyxia. She’s a woman of few words, I must warn you all. And when she chooses to speak, it’d do you well to listen closely.” 

All of their eyes shifted to her, but the set of icy blue ones had never left. Not to meet the king’s eyes, or look around at his new home for the foreseeable future of their impending marriage. 

“Your Highness,” Blue eyes, suddenly alight with fire. Flame that burns her from the tips of her toes to the base of her scalp that her very hair grows out of. Flame that ravages civilizations, and wipes out bloodlines. She can feel the darkness in him from two simple words. It’d take a fool to not see it. “I look forward to getting to know you before our prospective arrangement takes place.”

He wasn’t lying, she could tell. But his words seemed to hold as much weight as hers did. A hidden meaning tucked behind every spoken syllable. Dangerous. So dangerous. The King was a fool to not see it, but that was neither here nor there. 

Licking her lips, she chose her first words carefully. It was always important to make a lasting first impression, but with this man– with her future husband, she wanted to be honest from the start. She wanted, for once, to reveal her hand before the game started. Just to see what he’d do. Just to see what he had planned. 

But she didn’t. She knew it would just be chaos. And even though such things were in her blood, she couldn’t risk anything this far into everything.

“Lord Niklaus,” She didn’t move a muscle besides the ones it took to make words form on her tongue. “My kingdom rejoices with your arrival. They will be overjoyed with the announcement of our nuptials.” 

And the man, encased in his flames that felt as if they could burn the whole world down should he please, tilted his head and smirked at her. Like he’d heard every thought she’d had in the moments between words. 

Nothing else was said between them, not verbally, at least, and the king interrupted the rising tension that was so obvious between the Princess and the Mikaelson siblings, oblivious to the people he’d surrounded himself with. 

“Lady Rebekah, my daughter can show you to your rooms in the east wing. You’ll have ladies of your own to help you bathe and dress,” He gestures to the blonde, who looks childishly excited at the thought. “The both of you will be in the west wing, my men can take you to your rooms. We can reconvene tonight at dinner, yes?” 

The three siblings bowed at their waist, easily deferring the power back to the King. 

“In the meantime, feel free to explore. Our home is yours, now. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

She stayed in the throne room long after even her father had left, watching the doors the siblings had been escorted through. She lingered at her place beside the throne, nearly behind it, where her mother once stood behind a man who looked like he belonged on a throne more than any woman would. She laid a hand around the back of the embossed silver and thought to herself that it would look better in gold. 

────── 

Klaus watched his wife-to-be dig into the dinner presented before them moments ago, her fork the first one to move, even before her father’s. She didn’t sit at the head of the table, but just to the right of her father, and Klaus had taken the seat across from her. He did not doubt that she could feel his eyes on her, but she was pointedly ignoring it in favor of talking to his sister at her side. 

Rebekah, ever the people pleaser. Even in their centuries on this earth, Rebekah could never resist the desire to cling to the nearest female in their proximity. He hadn’t said anything to her about it, yet. He figured there was no harm in letting her delude herself into thinking that Princess Nyxia wanted anything to do with any of them. 

Elijah wasn’t even pretending to be friendly like he tended to be in this position. He’d been silent for a majority of the day, perhaps tired from their travels, though Klaus doubted it was anything so simple. If Klaus were to look at himself as a King, it would be Elijah as his second, watching everything and everyone, dutifully reporting back to him about usurpers and battles to come. It would be Elijah ripping hearts out, and Klaus taking responsibility for the blood on his brother’s hands. 

There was a reason it was only the three of them. His other siblings just didn’t understand that you did everything for family. 

He supposes that’s why he’s so curious about the two royals before him. They were the only family they had left, and yet there was something unspoken there, something withheld between them that left a tenuous truce. There was such anger behind Nyxia’s eyes, and Klaus had the urge to push and push at it until it finally shattered. Elijah often compared him to a child for this inane urge, and Klaus couldn’t deny it. 

“This food is lovely, Your Majesty,” 

Rebekah looked at Nyxia’s father with a sweet little smile, and Klaus wondered how she managed to maintain such a degree of humanity inside of her after everything.

“Oh, it’s all my sweet Nyx,” He turns his pleasant, kingly smile to his daughter. Looks like he owes her the world. She doesn’t return an ounce of the fondness, but she still smiles, like she knows it’s expected of her. “She has specific tastes, so I prefer her to pick the menu. Our cooks in the kitchen work to make it all come to life and it never disappoints.” 

It works in the way that it makes Rebekah turn adoring eyes onto Nyxia once again, but it doesn’t do as such for the two brothers. There’s something about this place that drew them to it in the first place and they wanted to figure it out, neither of them did very well when it came to venturing into the unknown, so they devised the plan. It’s set in motion, it’s happening as they sit at this table and eat this food, and yet he still feels wrongfooted. He’s missing something, he’s missing the thing that brought him to this small kingdom in the first place. 

He doesn’t like living in the dark. 

Elijah cuts a thin bite of the lamb chop on the plate in front of him. “Do you cook, then, Princess?”

“If I am feeling particularly inspired, yes,” She grabs her silver chalice, swirling the dark red wine in it before she takes a drink. “I prefer vinification.” 

The King’s face lights up like he’d been waiting for another opportunity to brag on his daughter. “Yes, Nyxia made the wine we’re drinking tonight. She tries to make a personal barrel at least once a year, and it’s always the most unique flavor. She goes out and picks fruits from our trees up near the bluffs, where–”

“I’m sure they aren’t interested to know what fruits our land produces, Father.”

“On the contrary,” Her eyes shot to Elijah at his words. “I think it’d be quite ignorant of us to turn down any knowledge of the land we’re to call… home. It seems to be a very special place.” 

She watches him for a moment, eyes narrowing at his unsuspecting tone. “Yes,” She muses quietly, looking away from Elijah to meet Klaus’s gaze like she can tell Elijah’s speaking on his behalf. “Perhaps I’ll show you what makes it so special.”

None of them acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t so much of an offering of camaraderie, but rather a threat. 

────── 

Months go by. Time passes peacefully, but Klaus is growing restless. 

With the announcement of their joining sent out to the few people they intended to invite outside of their kingdom, they had begun preparing the castle for the celebration and the princess found herself preoccupied with menial tasks, like picking out what flower arrangements to line the aisle with and what color banners should hang from the ceilings above them. 

Throughout it, she’d done her best to avoid the Mikaelsons but maintained a close enough distance so they couldn’t claim she was giving them the cold shoulder. She’d grown quite good at falsifying closeness throughout her years. She was designed to have a connection with her people that displayed generosity but not bias. A relatability, but not a weakness. 

She was sure that Rebekah would call them best friends by now, but she also knew the girl could not even tell a person what the princess’s favorite color was if someone ever bothered to ask her. 

She has always been able to exist in a way that makes her entirely extraordinary, but forgettable the moment she’s out of sight. 

She’s been able to use the wedding as an excuse to avoid isolated interactions with Klaus, but she knew he’d catch her without an excuse one of these days. She would’ve preferred to avoid it for a bit longer, but she wasn’t unprepared when it finally happened.

Standing in the aisle of the throne room where the banners of white and gold were hanging above the place they were to stand in front of her people and all of the guests they’d sent invitations out to and declare an undying bond that didn’t exist, she felt a rage bubble inside of her that she was quick to smother into nothing but cinders and ash when she heard the doors creak open behind her and footsteps slow as he stopped beside her. 

“You’re a hard woman to track down, Princess,” 

“You could have sent for me at any time. It is my duty to serve my subjects,” 

She glances at Klaus out of the corner of her eye and sees an amused look grow on his face. “Is that what I am? One of your subjects?” 

“Until we are bound by law, yes, Lord Mikaelson. You are one of my subjects and I your Princess. Soon enough you’ll be Prince, and you will also owe loyalty to my subjects because this place does not exist without them.” 

“You take such pride in this kingdom, in these lands, yet you did not win it in a battle, have not even fought in one, as far as I’m aware. You have no value to other kingdoms, and yet your father brags of orchards and vineyards with bountiful fruits. He tells tales of heroic civilians, always offering a helping hand to those in need. Sparing what they can, to maintain their peace here. It’s an odd thing, considering I’d never seen or heard of Riverend before that time all those months ago when I first met your father.” 

“And yet, here you stand, within the walls of my kingdom, amongst my people. In my home.” 

There’s no humor in her voice. There isn’t any hatred in it, either, and he can tell she’s got that impenetrable mask on again. Even her momentary anger or irritation was different from this nothingness. 

He can hear her father’s words from that very first day, telling them all that her words are important. He remembers thinking it was such an odd thing to point out at that time. It almost rings like a warning, now, and not a twisted compliment for the woman. 

“It’s curious, is all. I wonder if I’ll understand what inspires such devotion once I am Prince, or if it is a feeling only you experience.” 

She turns, finally, to look at him. “You are interested in learning what makes me love my people and my home?” 

He ducks his head in a nod. “Guilty, I suppose.”

“Then I will show you,” She nods once, firmly. Like she’s just decided it then and there because of his earnest words, and he thinks it’s a ridiculous, rash thing, but when he looks into her eyes there is no hesitation or wariness. “Tonight, we will have dinner and I will answer all of your questions. I will show you why I would spill endless blood for this kingdom, and never ask any of my people to do the same for me in return.” 

He raises his brows, letting a sliver of his suspiciousness show in his icy, blue-gray eyes. “You’re offering such honesty to my family after weeks of pretending like we don’t exist? Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your generosity.” 

“Not your family. You. You and I will have dinner alone, and I will tell you everything you want to know,” She corrects him, earning a more genuine look of shock from him. “You are to be my husband. One day you will be my King, and I your Queen. Is honesty not the place to start?” 

Klaus falls silent, watching her, waiting for a slip-up. For any sign of hesitation or scheming behind her endless eyes. Finding nothing, he bites out a wry laugh and nods in agreement, finally tearing his eyes away from her to look around at the decorated throne room. 

The betrotheds stand silent together for a few minutes, and she offers no insight into whatever it is she’s thinking as she stares at the throne front and center in the room. 

“Is my help needed for our wedding?” Klaus says suddenly as if there isn’t a mounting tension building in the room like a shadow of the night. 

“Not unless you are offering,” She says simply. “I’ve told them white and gold, for our colors. My dress is to be fashioned similarly, as are your garments. I’m sure you’ll be summoned for fittings, but our seamstresses have plenty of work to do before then.” 

The man hummed agreeingly. “Then I shall leave you to it. And I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” 

“Before you go, Lord Mikaelson,” 

“I am certain you can call me Niklaus. Just Klaus if you’re feeling particularly agreeable that day, Princess,” 

She raised a brow like one might raise their lips in humor. “Niklaus.” 

He looks at her indulgently. 

“Even after we are married, outside of our duties to this kingdom, I will never ask you for anything,” She says, her words striking something like a warning bell inside him. “But right now, I have a question for you.” 

“Ask me anything, Princess,” 

“Do you know who you are?” 

Klaus’s eyebrows flexed on his forehead. “Pardon?” 

She turns to face him head-on, standing before him like she did that first day they arrived, only this time there was barely a foot of distance between them. He could almost see her pulse move in the long lines of her throat. “I ask you, as your future wife, do you know who you are? Do you feel the shadow that shields your soul? Do you feel the fire that consumes you?” 

She tilts her head at his suspended silence. “You hide from the light that is still inside of you. You hide from someone. But you won’t hide from me. You can’t. It is because of that unfair advantage that I am offering you honesty. Know that I do this for you as an act of trust. Do not underestimate the weight of such a thing, or you will see just what I am willing to do for this place.” 

She side-steps him and walks past him, leaving him in a stunned silence that quickly turns into rage that they both know he can’t take out on anything within the walls of this castle, and the borders of this kingdom. 

She’s established the high ground. And she has made it clear that it is not Klaus standing up there, looking down at her, but rather the other way around. 

She’s offered to even the playing field, though. He’s curious to see just how much honesty she’ll be parting with tonight. He’s curious to see how it will end. 

────── 

The table is set for two. 

It’s different from the dining table they’ve been occupying for the past three weeks. This is a table made for two, and only for two. 

Candlelight casts shadows around the room, and Klaus does a slight double take as he walks towards the table, escorted quietly by one of the sentries from his quarters to this room. He’s loath to admit he was distracted by thinking about all of the possibilities of this dinner to pay attention to the fact that he was being led to the east wing and not the usual central hall where meals were had. 

But it’s too late for him to question it, as the sentry is walking out and a door across the room opens, revealing the princess. 

She’s changed again– always in different gowns throughout the day. This one is similar to the one she was wearing when they first met. A blue so dark it looks black, that holds color like the night sky. Sleeves that drape over her shoulders and cinch down to her wrist, leaving only her hands bare. With the dim lighting of this private dining room, shadows dance around her face, and he thinks to himself that the shadows cling to her. 

She gestures for him to take a seat, already doing so, and she immediately grabs a corked bottle from the side of the table, popping it open and pouring their golden chalices halfway full before she sets it back down. 

Klaus takes the first drink and has to bite back the pleased noise he starts to make, if only out of spite. 

“I’ve been fermenting this wine for three years,” She informs him, seemingly hearing the noise anyway, if the gleam in her eye is anything to go by. “It’s from my private reserves.” 

“Aren’t they all from your private reserves?” 

“No, I give barrels to the tavern in town,” She swirls it around in her cup, quirking a brow at him. 

“Give, or sell?” 

“Aren’t you the one who said I have undying generosity for this kingdom for no good reason?” She takes a small sip of the wine, holding it in her mouth for a moment before she sets it down. “It’s too bitter for my liking.” 

Klaus hums, taking another drink. “Perhaps you’re just your own biggest critic,” 

“Mm, perhaps,” She concedes, fluttering her eyes in a slight roll. It’s as casual as he’s ever seen her, and she’s still sitting stock-straight in her chair, shoulders back and chin high. As royal as ever. “Are you going to start asking your questions?” 

He smirks, tilting his head in a slight nod. “Maybe I was waiting for your permission. I wouldn’t want to be a rude dinner guest, after all. Not after you’ve brought this lovely meal into this secluded space,” 

“It’s mine. I don’t always prefer to eat in the company of others,” She says. “My bedroom is through that door.” 

She points to the door she’d come through upon his arrival, and his eyes follow the curve of her arm through the fabric shifting along it. 

“How lucky I am, then, hm?” 

“Oh, most people would not call it luck, Niklaus. In fact, I think I heard your brother say to your sister once that it feels like you’re all just sheep in a wolf’s den.”

Klaus makes a dry noise of acknowledgment, mentally cursing his brother for saying such things within earshot of anyone, let alone his soon-to-be wife. “My brother’s desire to protect this family often leads him to paranoia, I’m afraid.” 

“I never said he was wrong.” 

Klaus’s hands flex in his lap, out of view of the princess. “Oh, is that so? Then maybe I am ready to start asking questions,”

She beckons him on with a wave of her hand. Neither of them has touched their meals. He doesn’t think they’ve broken eye contact, either. Locked in this stalemate, tension rising and rising and rising. 

“I have traveled far and wide in my days on this planet, and I have come across some very strange places, I must say. But never have I come across a place that simply… doesn’t exist,”

If Klaus knew any better, he’d think she looked excited at the words coming out of his mouth.

“That is not a question, my Lord,” 

He smirks at her correction. “What is it? What is it that hides this place from the map? How do you keep travelers passing through, yet no one has ever had so much as a–a tall tale, or some monster story to tell about this place? You fight in no wars but you have sentries stationed throughout this castle, on guard every night and day. You trade no goods, but these lands are bountiful in fruits and vegetables, crops as big as this castle grow in people’s yards. So, tell me, Princess Nyxia, how do you do it?” 

She shifts in her chair, leaning her arm onto the armrest, and for the first time since he met her all those months ago, she smiles. 

She smiles widely, and it’s not something wicked or cold, but instead, it’s amusement, through and through. Every bit of that coldness stays in her eyes, though. Darkness still clinging to her like a child and its mother.

“There are stories about things– creatures so dangerous that you cannot even utter their name, for fear of inviting them into your home, your mind,” She starts, undoubtedly aware of the anticipation thrumming in his veins. He’s had to be so careful about feeding since they came here, compelling people, and never taking too much, because he can’t risk her catching on. He thinks he feels more human than ever within these walls, and it’s such an odd thing. 

“My real name has not been spoken in decades. Most people in this kingdom, in this castle, do not know me as anything other than Nyxia. It is the name that my mother held when people started to refuse to say her name as well, and in honor of her great life, I now bear it as my own.”

Klaus lets out a slow breath, a feeling like adrenaline coursing through him. “What are you, Nyxia?” 

“I am the shadows that follow you along the walls, I am the very stars in the sky. I am the end to every day, and I will be the end to it all when I am finally called back home. I am the thing you see every time you blink your eyes, Klaus Mikaelson. I am darkness.” 

He shuffles, leaning his elbows onto the table to examine her closely, in a way that he hasn’t had the chance to do since their arrival. “You keep this place hidden so that people don’t find you and hunt you.” 

“Why do you think you and your siblings found this place? Why do you think you could see and remember what so many others could not?” She raised a brow, pulling her cloth napkin from her lap and dropping it atop her untouched plate. “I know what you are, Niklaus Mikaelson. The Original Hybrid. The divide in you is shadowed in darkness. I am, and have been a part of your very being from the day you took your first breath and were declared a bastard.” 

He flinches minutely, but she sees it anyway. “Why me? Why lure me and my family here? To kill us? I have no doubt you have every means to kill creatures such as ourselves if your claims of power are to be taken as truth.” 

“I have no intention to kill you, Klaus,” She pushes her chair back from the table, standing up. Silently, she gestures for him to do the same. “I have not yet told you why I do what I do here.” 

“You haven’t even told me what you do here, let alone why,” 

She chuckles freely and he ignores the chill that travels down his spine at the sound. It’s like she’s been waiting on him to break this dam between them, and now that her secret is out, she’s alive. 

She’d told him earlier to realize the weight that is behind her trust, her honesty. He will admit to himself that he had underestimated it, even in the wake of her precautions.

“Your family is not expecting you tonight, right?” 

He raises his brows but shakes his head. “I told them I’d be having dinner with you and that I’d be out for the night. Why do you ask?” 

“We’ll be taking a trip. I have things to do,”

It’s all she says before she leads him into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind them. 

────── 

Draped in cloaks that covered their faces in shadows she had promised him would keep them hidden while they made their way through muddy alleys and thick groves of trees, Klaus couldn’t help but wonder just what he’d gotten himself into. 

He didn’t often admit that he was in over his head– was rarely in such a position at all– but this. This was something he was utterly in the dark about. The irony wasn’t lost on him, either. 

“Where are we going, Princess?” 

“You may call me Nyxia, you know. You did earlier,” 

“I am nothing if not a gentleman, Princess Nyxia,” 

She rolls her eyes, but there’s an unfamiliar degree of humor in the action. He’s still discombobulated at her complete flip of a switch, but he’s trying to familiarize himself with it. He selfishly hopes that she doesn’t slide that cold mask back on when they return to the castle. 

“They’ll be just through here,” Nyxia led them through another tightly packed thicket of trees, and just as Klaus was about to complain, they broke through into a clearing that nearly took his breath away. 

Though they were undoubtedly still surrounded by the forest she’d traipsed them through for the past hour, at least, this ovaloid clearing was shrouded in a different kind of darkness than the night that encased the rest of the area. 

Light up by the stars glimmering just out of reach above their heads, women mingled about, stopping to talk to one another. A few children ran by, laughing as they chased one another barefoot through the trees, disappearing out of sight and earshot as soon as they left the area, only to reappear before him like a bursting bubble. 

Klaus turned slightly to look at Nyxia, watching her pull her cloak down off her head and smile kindly, genuinely, to the people who had stopped and gathered around them. Klaus took the cue and pulled his own hood off, and his presence immediately earned wary looks. 

Glancing at Nyxia, he fought the urge to jump when her hand landed on his arm, her face contorting into an understanding but reassuring look. “No, no, look,” 

She pulled Klaus closer to her, keeping her hand wrapped around his arm as he looked warily at the sea of faces watching him. Feeling entirely caught off guard, he stayed silent, happily letting Nyxia take the reins.

“This is my betrothed,” Her words immediately earn a variety of reactions. From the children, their hesitance turns into immediate adoration. From the older women, teasing laughs are shared between them, and Nyxia bats a hand out to silence them, though it’s not done out of real offense. 

Friends, he realizes. These are her friends. She’s brought him to meet her friends that she has hidden in this patch of woods, further secluding a place that already doesn’t exist outside of its own bubble. 

An unavoidable arrow of fondness shoots down his spine, and he bats it away as quickly as he can. 

“So our lovely princess has finally brought a prince to meet us,” One of the older women grins tauntingly, and Klaus eyes the wrinkles around her mouth that only come from smiling too much, and the strands of gray hair falling out of the braids she’s got piled atop her head. 

“Klaus,” He says, somewhat shocked by the emotion in his voice. “You may call me Klaus.” 

“Klaus, then,” The woman nods, conveying something to Nyxia that is seemingly translated between the two of them, though Klaus couldn’t even begin to guess what went unsaid. 

Nyxia finally removes her hand from his arm to reach into her cloak, pulling three small bottles out and passing them off to the older woman, whose face turns somewhat solemn. 

“I know that one is for Merida,” The woman starts, meeting Nyxia’s gaze from beneath her lashes. “But who are the other two?” 

“Reya and Liesl,” 

The woman curses beneath her breath and apologizes when the children nearby gasp. 

“When am I to bring this to them?”

“Within the week. It has only been getting worse lately,” 

As if she were a soldier being told her life was being offered up on the chopping block, the woman nodded and tucked the vials into the deep pockets of the dress she wore. “I will send word once they are here.” 

“Thank you, Theresé,” She grabs Klaus’s arm gently once more, beginning to steer him towards the path they’d taken, but she stops short, looking over her shoulder with a slight smirk. “You are all invited to the wedding, of course. Next month. I will send someone to escort you to the castle.” 

A bout of excited tittering follows them out, and they walk in silence, heading a bit of the way back towards the castle before she leads them off to the left, walking them across one of the runoff creeks that flow with the river through town.

He remains silent until she leaves his side to push open a gate ahead of them, the metal creaking and groaning beneath her force, but giving way eventually. 

This time, when Klaus steps forward, he instantly knows where he is. “The orchard,” 

“Yes,” Nyxia takes a deep breath in, releasing it quietly. “Come, let’s sit.” 

She leads him to a wooden bench down the main aisle in between the trees full of ripe fruit, all looking ready to be harvested and used. 

“That place,” He starts once they’ve been seated for a moment, Klaus watching Nyxia’s profile as she basks beneath shadows and night of her own making. “What is it?” 

“It has no name,” She informs him, her voice unexpectedly soft.

She’s been so different this entire night, he wonders how long she’s been waiting for someone to just ask her these questions. Every person who’s been close enough to do it has been too scared of what wrath they may face if they did ask her about the oddities of her home, but Klaus did it because he can’t help but push people. 

“It has no name, and no one knows of it besides the ones who live there, and myself. Now, you do, too,” 

“What is the purpose of it? Why is it only women and children?” 

She takes a long moment to think about her words, and he can see the way she struggles to verbalize her thoughts because no one had ever thought to ask her before. “Just because I am darkness does not mean that I can control all that exists in this world. I can’t take away what already exists, no matter how much I wish to. That place is what I call a loophole. I have them hidden all around the world. Because I cannot erase what already exists, I must find a way to work around it. To remove the darkness I wish to see gone without violating the laws of my making.” 

“And what exactly have you been working around?” 

“Humanity,” She says simply. “With every passing decade, they tear themselves apart more and more. My loopholes exist to take people out of that chaos, of the darkness. Sometimes it’s a hungry child or a bastard,” 

Klaus glances away for a moment before forcing his gaze back to hers. 

“Sometimes it is a woman that gets sold to the highest bidder. The woman I spoke to, Theresé, was one of the first women I saved from a nearby village. Her husband was an utter brute and had killed his first wife when she had barely seen sixteen name days. Theresé was strong, but there was only so much she could do before the inevitable. So I stepped in and I proposed a hypothetical situation to her, where all she would have to do is make him dinner and serve him wine, and meet me outside of her home later that night.

“I did not think she would do it, but when the moon was high in the sky, I waited outside of her house and barely breathed until she was standing before me in one piece, with tears in her eyes and bruises on her cheek. So I told her who I was and what I wanted to do, and she said she would help me if I continued to save women who had been in her position. So I have. The girls I mentioned, Reya and Liesl. Young girls, friends since childhood. They were married off to the same man, a prince of some second-rate kingdom a few days north that had already gone through 3 wives. They have just found out they’re both pregnant, and fear raising children in the environment they live in.” 

Realization dawns on him. “You give them poison. The wine you make,” 

She hums in assent and silence falls between them once more, the princess dutifully letting Klaus turn the events of the night over and over in his head, finally slotting pieces together where they’d been misaligned for months. 

“Why?” He breathes out, his tone of disbelief earning her attention once more. “Why did you bring me there when you’ve barely spoken to me all these months? When you have known what I am and who my family is, and you knew I was suspicious from the very start, why have you just now shown me the truth?” 

Sighing, Nyxia looks down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I fear that my honesty is about to get me in trouble for the first time tonight.” 

“Just tell me,” He shakes his head pleadingly. “Please.” 

“Death consumes your very soul, Klaus,” Her voice takes on a distant tone, one he recognizes more than any fondness or humor she’s shown throughout the night. It’s the way she’d spoken to him since he first arrived, down to that very morning in the throne room, overlooking preparations for their wedding. “It is a fire that burns you from the inside out. And because of that fire, there is a shadow on you. And in that shadow, I exist. I see parts of you that you likely would not share with me, and for good reason.” 

Klaus can’t help the way he flinches, shifting away from her on the bench. She looks unsurprised at this particular reaction, but her fingers twitch like she’s going to reach out for him again. 

She doesn’t. 

“I have known you much longer than you have known me, and for that, I apologize. When you first arrived, I was still hesitant to believe what I had felt, and I– I am much different in the daylight. I am at my weakest when the sun is out, and that has never changed. But– other things have.” 

“Your father–”

“He is not my father,” She cuts him off, voice reverting to that cold indifference for a split second. “Once upon a time, he was a man. A king. But he was not a kind man, let alone a kind king. So I took the darkness in his mind, and I collapsed it from within. I made him hollow with it, and now he is but a puppet. A face to put on our currency, so that I may do as I please without so much attention. My people remember the cruel man, and they remember what I did for them. That is why I have their respect. Their loyalty. Trust breeds trust.” 

Klaus’s jaw clenches. “And when you decide you’re ready to become Queen one day, and I become a King, will you also make me into a puppet? Will I be nothing but a conduit of political jargon made to distract people from your loopholes?” 

Nyxia’s eyes burn, but they are dark. Almost black. 

“I did not bring you here to make you a puppet, Niklaus,” 

“Then why did you bring me here? Tell me, Nyxia. Tell me the truth.” 

“I brought you here because I want to protect you,” 

Klaus’s lip curls in a snarl and he stands up, cloak billowing around him. He turns at the feeling of a slight breeze and finds himself looking at the castle from a high distance, and he wonders if he’d been in such shock that he hadn’t noticed their uphill hike, or if this was another one of her tricks. 

Clenching his jaw, he turns to look down at her. “I do not need protecting, Princess. I have done nothing but protect myself and my family for hundreds of years.” 

“I know that, Klaus,” She spits out, looking as angry as he feels. Both of them are stubborn to a fatal degree. “But I want you to let me do it anyway!” 

Klaus lets out a harsh breath through his nose, turning to look away from her as his chest heaves with frustrated breaths. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion practically slaps him in the face as it settles over him and he finds his racing thoughts finally slowing down, seeming to process in his mind after the eventful night. 

“I understand that this has all been unexpected,” She starts, voice carefully neutral in the wake of both of their tempers. “And I will not blame you for being upset. But trust me when I say that I have your best interests in heart, for you and your family.” 

“I’m to trust you after you’ve shown me only a fraction of the truth?” 

Her soft look has shuttered away when he looks at her again. “I told you,” She whispers, voice quiet but certainly not weak with how thick it was around the emotion clenching around her windpipe. “That I was putting all of my trust into you the moment I told you what I am. The danger that I have thrust upon you and myself just by sharing all of this with you is endless. I have bared my soul to you in a single night, Klaus Mikaelson, and then you spit in my face by asking me if I am trustworthy.” 

“Nyxia,” 

She stands from the bench abruptly, pulling the hood of her cloak back up over her head. “We should go. I don’t want to run into the guards at the shift change.” 

“Nyxia, just–”

“We’re leaving,” She cuts him off, not looking back to see if he’s following after her as she stalks off towards the gates she’d opened for him, just for him, moments ago. “Either join me, or find your own way back.” 

Klaus pulls his own hood up and is quick to fall into step a few paces behind her because he isn’t nearly stupid enough to think that their easygoing atmosphere from earlier is still lingering. All because he couldn’t stop the traitorous beating of his heart and the way his skin crawled at the thought of entrusting the safety of his family to anyone else. 

She is going to be family soon enough, though. If she’ll still have him, that is. 

────── 

The tension in the castle is thick for a few days before it’s suddenly dampened with something painful. 

Rain begins to pour and does not stop for three days straight. Most foot traffic that is in and out of the castle for wedding planning is put on pause at the King’s order. Not worth risking the safety and integrity of any person or thing for one wedding. 

Klaus doesn’t see or hear from Nyxia for those three days, and on the fourth day of heavy downpours, of him being stuck in the library with his brother or listening to his sister drone on about a particularly handsome guard, he breaks. He walks the path the sentry had taken him down into the East Wing of the castle and knocks on the thick wooden door, tilting his head just to hear the heart beating faintly on the other side of it. It’s the only reason he even knows she’s alive, and he can’t stop the relief that soothes his nerves. 

It doesn’t manage to get rid of the cloud of guilt that’s been hanging above his head since that night in the orchard, nor does it make him want to turn around and leave. 

“Princess?” His voice is low, but he knows she’ll hear it if she’s listening. “I was just…” 

He trails off, unsure of what excuse to offer up for his impromptu visit. A lie, a half-truth. The whole truth. 

It’s the least he could do in return, offer her honesty. Since he threw hers right back in her face four nights ago. 

“May I come in, please?” 

Silence follows his question, but when he pushes on the door slightly, it creaks open, and he steps through as quickly as possible, not willing to take the chance that it was a fluke. He’s greeted with darkness broken up by dim firelight, and his eyes take a moment to adjust, that concern inside of him chipping away at his pride. 

“Princess?” He asks again, voice low in the dim room. His brows twitch on his forehead, pulling together. “Nyxia?” 

There’s a shift of fabric from the four-poster bed a few feet in front of him, and he can see the orange glow in the room the moment she turns to face him. 

Even in the poor lighting, he can see the sunken shadows of her face and the way the stars in her eyes have gone dull. 

“Nyxia?” He nearly gasps her name as he rushes to her bedside, dropping to his knees beside it as he takes in her sickly features. “What’s happened to you?” 

She lets out a shaky breath that sounds like it hurts. “Sometimes… sometimes I let them take too much,” 

Confusion passes over him momentarily before a realization hits him. “The loopholes… this place… it drains you, doesn’t it?” 

She nods where her head is pressed into the pillow. 

He lifts a trembling hand to her cheek, brushing invisible dirt off of her cheek. He can feel the clammy sweat tainting her skin, the fever roaring in her veins. How odd it must be to be an immortal creature taken down by something comparable to a cold. 

“Why?” He shakes his head, genuine disbelief coating the word as he watches his betrothed wheeze out a few more breaths. “Why do you let them do this? Why do you do this?” 

She smiles and there's a tired pull to it, and she leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “People are so scared of me,” Her voice is impossibly soft, so unfamiliar, and yet he feels that ache in his chest, the desire to hear it more. To hear her more. “They are scared of everything. The least I can do is make my darkness feel safer.” 

He thinks it shatters something in him, to hear her grand reasoning behind everything. To hear that underneath that cold exterior, and the soft one, too, the woman before him just wants people to feel safe in her shadows. She wants them to leave behind lives of unhappiness, to not feel fear when the moon rises in the sky and stars hang over their heads. She doesn’t want them to fear the thought of a monster under their bed but rather feel protected by it. By her. 

She wants to do that for him. For his family. And he’d practically laughed in her face. 

A shame buries itself deep in him, and he finds himself lurching forward slightly, face hovering above hers to keep her attention while she loses her lucidity before his eyes. “What can I do? What can I do to make this better?” 

She reaches a hand up from beneath her blankets and rests it atop his. “Stay. Just stay with me, please,” 

He nods and holds back more words he’s simply not ready to say yet. Reluctantly leaves her side for a moment to bring a chair to her bedside, and once again intertwine their hands together. 

He watches her fall asleep and continues watching her well into the night. It doesn’t feel like a chore, or anything of the sort. He thinks he’d be content to spend a few years of his eternity just sitting here with her. 

────── 

It takes another four days for Nyxia to be able to get out of bed without feeling weak. In those days she regains a bit of that life back into her eyes, and Klaus is there to see every speck of it grow. He sees the shadows get darker again, not as faded and murky as they seemed to be when she was in the worst of it. It makes him happy in a way that he wouldn’t have ever expected it to. 

They spend those four days together in a bubble of their own, with small touches shared between each other. Lingering glances and longing looks are shared from across the dining table while they share meals with his family and the king. 

He doesn’t know if all of it means he’s forgiven for his harsh words in the orchard. He doesn’t let himself hope for anything, because he’s not sure if he deserves it after everything. 

It’s a particular train of thought he hasn’t let come to fruition for his own sanity. Instead, he’s relished in the freshly budding relationship between him and his wife-to-be. The partnership that’s being created. The friendship.

He finds himself in the library that remains hidden behind one, nondescript door that opens up to high ceilings, and endless bookshelves. The first time she’d taken him to see it, he’d spent the entire evening looking through the books, getting lost in the history books she had in her collection. 

As the days go by, he finds himself there more and more, and it seems that Nyxia’s in the same boat. 

Hands skimming against the worn spines of the books, Klaus’s mind travels near and far, and he lets his imagination run wild. It’s a rare occurrence, this vulnerability that he’s found within these walls, beneath Nyxia’s care, so he can’t be faulted for being caught off guard when a book slides out from the shelf on the other side and he snaps his gaze up to meet her amused one. 

There’s no doubt she misses the slight intake of breath he does at her sudden presence, but she gives him the grace of not saying anything about it out loud. Her face is framed between the two shelves and she grins widely, unabashedly, in the shadows of the books. “Hiding in the art history books again, Niklaus?” 

He ducks his head, glancing at the lone book he is holding in his hands, a finger shoved between pages to hold his place while he searches through other titles. Lifting his eyes back up to meet hers once more, he shrugs a shoulder, poorly feigning obliviousness. 

“It’s alright, at least I always know where I can find you,” She quickly dismisses his uncharacteristic shyness, and he’s once again grateful for it, even if he’s not sure if she does it for her own sake or his. “I wanted to ask you a question, actually, about the wedding.” 

He raises a brow, not hiding his surprise. She rarely brings the wedding up to him these days, and with the celebration in just five days, the castle staff was bustling about more than ever. Klaus only ever looked at the gold and white decor lining the throne room in passing, usually hurrying through to track Nyxia down somewhere in the castle, or dodging his brother’s increasingly personal questions about the state of his relationship with the Princess.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about the wedding, despite Nyxia rarely saying anything to him about it. He found himself wondering just how the day would transpire as it drew closer, wondered how all of the fittings he did for his garments a while back would look like in the end, and wondered endlessly about just what Nyxia would be walking down the aisle in. 

“It’s about the guest list,”

Her voice pulls him from the frequent thought and he bites the tip of his tongue in silent reprimand. Clearing his throat quietly, he looked at her. “What of it? I thought invitations were sent out months ago,” 

“They were,” She confirms, nodding once. Her voice takes on a hint of that diplomatic lilt she likes to pull out of thin air with him when she feels she’s approaching a difficult subject. It instantly puts his nerves on edge, but he tries not to get defensive. If there’s anything he’s learned with her, it’s that he’ll do nothing but regret his knee-jerk reaction to bare his teeth and snarl at the first feeling of danger coming his way. He knows just as well that Nyxia would never put him in danger on purpose. 

“I was just wondering if there was anyone you wanted to invite,” She continued, glancing away from him. “I know Rebekah and Elijah will be there, of course, but is there anyone else you want to come?” 

He’s quick to respond, barely even thinking about it. “I’ve become familiar enough with your subjects that they’re plenty for me, I think. Especially the women coming from the loophole. I’m looking forward to seeing them,” 

Her face softens with an endless fondness he’s not quite sure what to do with. Any time she offers it up to him, he does his best to just hold it gently in between them, like it was a cloud threatening to seep through his fingers and dissipate into nothingness. 

“I am as well,” She smiles briefly before her face falls back into a placating look. “But you’re sure you don’t have any friends you might not have thought of? Or any more family? I’m sure you’ve… outlived… most of your ancestors, but perhaps there’s a distant cousin that was never turned? Or your… your parents, perhaps?” 

Klaus instantly realizes the true nature of her question, and once again has to fight off the urge to snap at her and make her go away. It’s an easier path to take than explaining just why his parents won’t be in attendance at their wedding or part of their futures at all, and why he wouldn’t want them to in the first place, but he finds himself wanting to try. It’s the least he could do for her.

“No, my– my parents are no longer– an option,” He says carefully, brows furrowing as he revisits centuries-old aches and stabs of pain laced with a childish hurt. “I wouldn’t want them here even if they were.” 

Her face twists with concern before she disappears from the side of the shelf, and Klaus’s eyes widen momentarily before he hears the click of her shoes growing closer. She rounds the corner of the bookshelf swiftly, coming to stand before him with a practiced look of understanding on her face meant to convey her state of heeding. 

“You know by now that I’m a bastard,” She nods. “Even though my father was already unhappy with how I came about, it worsened when he learned my father was the leader of the werewolf pack in our village. I wasn’t just a bastard, but a monster, then, too. I faced abuse from my father my entire life, and my mother always let it happen, or encouraged it, if only to save herself from facing his wrath for her own mistakes.” 

Silently, she reaches out and grabs the book from his hand, setting it flat on the shelf in favor of grabbing his hands in hers. 

“When my youngest brother Henrik was killed by the pack my true father was a part of, my mother was overcome with the grief of losing a child and that’s when she turned us. When she made the spell to make us into these undying creatures who survive off of blood. She and Mikael killed us all and we were forced to transition when we woke.” 

Squeezing his hands, Nyxia shakes her head. “You don’t have to go on, Klaus.” 

He shakes his head, waving off her apology. “It’s alright. I want you to know the truth,” Her already soft face opens more and she takes another minute step towards him, closing the distance between them a bit more. “With everything heightened after my transition, I was so overcome with my anger that I lost control and I– I killed her. I killed my mother.”

“Nik,” 

“I regretted it as soon as I did it. And I buried her body where no one would find it, and I told my family that she was killed by our father. Because in my head, she was. She let him abuse me, she let him turn even a fraction of that hatred onto Rebekah and Elijah, and the rest of them, and I– I truly hated her for it. What good of a mother was she if she could just watch that happen to her children?” 

He clenches his jaw and tilts his head slightly, biting down the bitterness that still swims in his veins all these years later. “Mikael knew what I did, though. I don’t know how, but he always knew. And I– I don’t know what’s happened to him, I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, like us or something else, but I– I do not want him here. I wouldn’t want him here, no matter the situation. I never want someone like Mikael to find this place, because a single touch from him would destroy it all.” 

Nyxia shakes her head immediately, eyes wide and full of something that transcends simple fondness. “He wouldn’t, Niklaus. I wouldn’t let him ruin it. This is my home– this is our home. I won’t let him ruin it for you.” 

Klaus wished he could believe her. And he knows she knows that. And he knows they both know it’s truly got nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the fact that his father has ruined his life at every turn since the day he was born. It’s just what he does. He could so easily take this beautiful thing Klaus has been given and tarnish it with a single touch. 

“I had to inherit these shadows, you know?” She says suddenly, taking him off guard. “I wasn’t born with them, not really. I was born with power, I was made of this power. But in order to have them at the capacity at which they exist now, I had to wait for my mother to die. She was my best friend. But I think that made it all the worse when I had to watch her wither away through each century, until one day, she became nothing more than the night sky we came from. Afterward, I was so overcome with grief that I didn’t even acknowledge the shadows. I wanted no part of it, not without her,” 

She huffs out a small, wry laugh and shakes her head. “But they are very stubborn. They persisted, and one day, they brought me into the shadows and showed me the light that exists within them. And after that day, I started doing things differently. It’s been a long time since then, but I still remember all of those feelings like it was yesterday. And I know that because you have been given the gift and the curse of eternity just as I have, that you understand it like no one else does. So you must believe me when I say this, husband, but it will not be like this forever. And I am making you a promise now that your– that Mikael will not ever make his mark in my kingdom. You and I will live in peace for the rest of our days, with our people and no one can take that from us. Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Niklaus?” 

He nods, clenching his teeth together as he swallows around the concrete lump in his throat. “Of course. Of course I do,” 

“Good,” She nods once. “You can trust me. I swear it on my life.” 

He nods again and she offers him a small smile, like she’s wary to shift the graveness that had settled over them into something else. He jostles their conjoined hands, and her eyebrows tick together, silently coaxing his words out. 

“How did you do it?” He asks quietly. “How did you find the light when you were surrounded by the darkness?” 

Her eyes suddenly burned with ferocity, an ancient thing that had roots buried deep inside of her. A small fraction of her power. “I carved it out of the shadows with my bare hands and I did not stop until my fingers bled. Until my nails were cracked and my body screamed for me to stop. And I would do it again if it meant I kept you and your family safe. Understand that, Klaus. If nothing else, understand that I’ll bleed for you.” 

Klaus isn’t sure what to do in the face of her devotion. He feels as if it should be the other way around– him worshiping her, instead of this blood-promise she’s made to him. He isn’t sure what to do or say, but he is sure of one thing; he loves her. And he would bleed for her just as well. 

────── 

The morning of their wedding, a low hum of activity overtakes the calm of the castle and does not falter, well into the early hours of afternoon. Klaus was summoned from his rooms just minutes after the sun was up and brought to the seamstresses that he’d seen increasingly over the months and put into the intricate suit made specifically for him. 

His trousers were plain, simple, and tucked carefully into shoes that almost felt like armor. His surcoat was donned with intricate, weaving lines of gold that gleamed in the sunlight, woven into the fabric like they were the very veins in his body. Like it was a showcase of the life that flowed through him, scorching like the sun for all eternity. When he was draped with a mantle of white fur and more golden details along the draped fabric, he looked in the lone mirror before him and felt, for the first time, that he was truly a king. And just after that thought, he couldn’t help but wonder what his queen looked like. 

When he is escorted to the throne room, he can hear the dozens of heartbeats waiting on the other side of the doors before him and he only has a moment to breathe before the doors are swung open and the guests are standing, turning to face him. 

His blue eyes immediately shoot to the front of the room, where the king awaits his presence at the end of the aisle, where his brother and sister stand on either side of the large arbor, looking at him with an odd pride gleaming in their eyes. 

Bracing himself, he lifts his chin slightly and walks forward, his hands clasped in front of him as he meets the eyes of strangers, all watching him like they’re waiting for him to show his true colors. When he nears the end of the aisle, he looks over to his left and sees Theresé standing there, with a row of familiar faces lined up beside her, and he can’t stop the small twitch of his lips when she meets his gaze head-on with a smile that radiates pure excitement. 

He tears his gaze away from the women and children of the loophole and meets the king’s eyes, exchanging a nod with the man as he takes his place at the center of the room. He turns his head towards the doors he’d come through moments ago, and finds himself holding his breath as he waits for them to open once more, and reveal his bride. 

He prepares himself for the sight of her, but when the doors swing open, guards standing on either side of her, he thinks himself a fool for ever thinking he’d be prepared for the sight of her dressed in a white gown that trails behind her in a sea of golden embroidery that gleams just as his does. Like the life that burns in him also burns in her, despite the way her shadows carve out the angles of her face, the bridge of her nose. 

He knew her dress would compliment him, of course, but he hadn’t anticipated just how much it would take his breath away, to see himself standing before a kingdom, waiting for her slow, graceful steps to come to a stop as she neared him. 

Her own fur-lined mantle was just as carefully draped over her, and it went down the length of her train, the fabric moving along with her as if it were just water rippling along rocks. Slow, elegant, natural. Like she was born to be this. 

For the first time, her arms are bare before him, and the skin below her jaw is as well. Her unexpected bareness exposes things he hadn’t known were hiding beneath her long sleeves and high collars. The shadows that run in her blood wrap around her arms, weaving like vines up across her chest and down into unknown territory, still hidden from his sight and touch. He swallows roughly at the sight of the image she creates before him, her head tilted back ever so slightly just to maintain his gaze as she steps up before him, her hands immediately reaching to lay in his proffered palms. 

He can’t find his voice in time to tell her that she looks beautiful. To make vows to her before they’ve even started. 

The king clears his throat quietly, raising his hand in a silent gesture that has the guests taking their seats once more. 

“People of Riverend, we gather here to witness the joining of two souls. To celebrate a love that withstands life, death, and everything in between. A love forged in shadows and cradled by the moon, that blossoms beneath the sun. It is my honor to stand before you all and mark the start of our future here in these cherished lands beneath their incoming rule.” 

The king shifts, turning slightly to look at Klaus directly. “Lord Mikaelson, repeat after me: I offer my soul to you in exchange for yours, and vow to love and cherish you long after we return to the stars,” 

Klaus swallows and wets his lips, meeting Nyxia’s gleaming eyes. “I offer my soul to you in exchange for yours,” His voice trembles slightly, and her fingers press into his wrist, squeezing reassuringly. “And vow to love and cherish you long after we return to the stars.” 

Nyxia mirrors his swallow, seemingly biting back her own emotion. “I offer my soul to you in exchange for yours,” Her pulse stutters beneath his fingertips, and his blood burns with it. “And vow to love and cherish you long after we return to the stars.” 

“As witnessed by your people, do you both promise to serve them to the best of your abilities? To bleed with them, or for them, shall it one day be necessary? To feed and clothe them, and wash the dirt off of their feet, should they ever ask you to?” 

They both nod once. “We do,” 

The King mirrors their nod and continues. “May this marriage be protected by the powers that be. May it never bend or break, or waver in even the strongest of storms. May you both know one another’s love like no other. May the darkness protect you as it has protected others since the dawn of time,” 

The king takes in a short breath and shifts, holding his hands up for his palms to face the sunlight gleaming in through the stained glass windows. “By the power entrusted unto me, I bless this marriage for the years to come. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Mikaelson, you may kiss–” 

“Stop this nonsense!” 

Gasps echo throughout the throne room and Klaus’s blood freezes as his head snaps over, his gaze locking onto his father’s immediately. 

The man at the end of the aisle takes a step forward, a mean smirk on his face. “Is it not utter blasphemy to make a king out of a bastard?” 

Klaus breathes out a breath that shudders in his lungs painfully, and he looks past Nyxia to find Rebekah standing frozen in her place, tears bubbling in her eyes at the sight of Mikael. He doesn’t need to look at Elijah to know that the man is likely boiling with barely stifled rage. 

Mikael takes another step forward and Klaus flinches back instinctively, despite the distance that stretches between them. 

The man laughs at the sight, and Klaus finally looks at Nyxia, only to find her glaring at his father like her very gaze could burn him into ash. 

“You have no business being here, Mikael,” Elijah’s voice bites out the words from behind him and he hears his brother take a step down, quick to be a buffer between him and Klaus. “Leave now, and you will not face any consequences.” 

Mikael laughs again. “And from whom would these consequences be dealt? You? Or perhaps Rebekah?” The girl flinches, tears skittering down her flushed cheeks at his ridicule. “Certainly not Klaus. He’s not capable of it.” 

“It will be me,” Nyxia’s voice rings out, firm and cold in a way that Klaus hasn’t heard it before, not even in their worst moments. “You will not speak of my husband in that manner. I’ll have your head for treason if you’re not careful.” 

“You’d take my head for him?” Mikael’s brows raise like he’s actually surprised at the prospect. “I hate to break it to you, girl, but he is nothing. He comes from no high standing, he has no riches and nothing to give you in exchange for all that you give him. Whatever he has told you in those regards is a filthy lie. That’s all he is– a liar.” 

Hot tears burn at the back of Klaus’s eyes and he struggles to find his voice again. 

Nyxia drops his hands and Klaus fronts at the loss of her touch, only to reach for her as she turns and steps towards Mikael, unwavering beneath his hateful glare. “Don’t,” He gets out, pulling her back by her arm. “Do not go near him.” 

She wrenches her arm from his hold, looking at him apologetically before she hardens her gaze once more and faces his father. “You come to my kingdom and interrupt my wedding to spew nonsense. You have the looks of a crazed man, Mikael. I should have my sentries imprison you until I find it worth my time to sentence you.” 

He grins like her words are a challenge. “I’d like to see you try, Princess,” He spits her title out and before anyone can blink, he holds the tip of a dagger beneath her chin. 

Gasps of fear ring out through the room and Klaus stumbles forward, stopped only by Elijah holding him just out of their father’s reach. “Do not touch her!” He growls out the words, black veins crawling beneath his eyes, earning a mocking chuckle from the man. 

“Don’t tell me you actually love her, Niklaus,” 

Klaus says nothing, which is answer enough, and it earns another round of derisive laughter from the man. 

“What a ridiculous thing, love,” He tsks his tongue, shaking his head as if scolding his bastard son. “Nothing but a weakness to someone like you who is already softened by his childish emotions. It’s nice to know that you’re still such a disappointment, Niklaus.” 

Klaus lunges for the man but is once again stopped by his brother. 

“Klaus,” It’s Nyxia who says his name, which calms the racing of his heart in his ears, and he looks at her desperately. “Do you trust me?” 

His brows furrow deeply, lines twisting onto his pale skin. “What?” 

She gives him another look that conveys an apology he doesn’t need, and he feels his stomach swoop with fear. 

“Nyx,” He breathes out, eyes wide as he starts to shake his head. 

She rolls her eyes away from him like it pains her to do so, and looks to his father, uncaring of the tip of the dagger digging into her chin. “I told you I would bleed for you, Klaus. And I shall.” 

She takes one long step forward and latches her hand around the handle of the dagger and digs her nails into Mikael’s skin, earning a grunt of annoyance from the man. In the blink of an eye, a cloud of black consumes them, and the last thing Nyxia hears is Klaus’s yell for her to stop. 

Her hold on Mikael falters and they fall away from each other, thrown into shadows and thrown apart in the same breath. 

It’s been centuries since she’s been here. Encased in nothingness, something that cannot even be considered night because it is so dark it does nothing but swallow the life that enters it. 

She hears Mikael’s breathing through the darkness and hears him struggle to find footing as she does the same. 

“You,” She speaks out, voice echoing into the void. Swarming around them like a crow’s call. “You have tarnished his soul. You are the darkness that exists inside of him, and I am going to rip every inch of life out of you even if it kills me.” 

“Such meaningful threats,” The man speaks back, voice tinged in that smugness that sets her nerves alight with rage. “To think that you have fallen in love with a man like Niklaus. You could have such potential if you weren’t clinging to frivolous emotions.” 

“You underestimate me, Mikael. You mock me, even now, when you are surrounded by something that does not exist without me and my power. It is your arrogance that will kill you, and I will offer your heart on a platter to my husband as a wedding gift.” 

She lunges for the sound of him in the void, grunting as they blindly swing for each other, slamming fists and swinging daggers over and over with no sign of stopping. 

She doesn’t know how long she was in this place the last time. Doesn’t know how long they’ve been here now. It could be mere seconds, it could be years. Nothing exists in this place, especially not time. 

Blood from a cut that is already healed trails down her cheek, she can feel the wetness as she brushes her fingers along her skin. She can hear Mikael’s ragged breaths, her endless onslaught of pain catching up to him. 

“He’s an abomination,” Mikael spits out. “Not just in name, but as a creature. It is not enough that he has no soul as this undead thing, but he has that mutt inside of him, waiting to be unleashed. He doesn’t deserve to live.” 

“You don’t get to decide that,” She bites back, lips curling in a snarl. “But I do. And he will live with me until the Earth takes its last breath. And you will never take anything from him again, so long as I am at his side. You will never hurt your children again. I am taking back the darkness that is inside of you. I am taking the very air from your lungs,”

She tackles him blindly, knees pinning him down as she presses her hands roughly down onto his chest, her fingertips itching with heat as she does exactly that. “You will know pain like you’ve never known before where you are going. And with everything in me, I swear that I will not let there be a day that goes by that you do not suffer.” 

The shadows that warm her skin crawl as she takes his life little by little, and she can feel his breaths begin to shallow with every word she speaks. 

“Let your last thought on this Earth be the knowledge that I love your son, Mikael. And not even you can take that from him.” 

A scream tears from her throat as she lifts her hands off of his chest and slams them back down, his body disappearing beneath her as if it had never existed. A burst of energy explodes from her and she nearly falls onto her face, catching herself on her hands and knees as it blows around her like a gust of wind. 

She grits her teeth, trying to catch her breath as the void grows smaller around her, trying to swallow her whole as it had Mikael. But she had let it have Mikael. She would not let it have her. Not when she had something to go back to. Someone. 

“No,” She bites out, jaw clenched tight enough that her bones creak. “You will let me go back.” 

She digs her nails into the nothingness beneath her hands, skin scraping off at the fight it puts back. She lifts her hands from the void and brings them back down, clawing at it like a rabid animal. 

“Let me out,” She says. Demands. “Let me out!” 

Her voice echoes on a yell and she feels a scream build deep in her chest as she clenches her hands into fists and brings them down onto the ground, and she can feel it begin to crack beneath her force. 

The ache in her hands grows with each hit but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, not even as the first cracks of light bleed through. 

With just that sliver of light, she can see the broken skin of her hands and it’s such a guttural reminder of her past that she raises her hands once more and brings them down onto the shattering void with a strength she did not know she possessed. 

All at once she is thrown out of the darkness and she flinches at the burst of brightness that encases her so suddenly. The sound of startled gasps and fearful noises makes her stumble and she tries and subsequently fails to get to her feet, her bloodied hands smearing along the pristine white aisle she had walked down. 

Arms encase her and she turns her head to meet Klaus’s gaze as he pulls her into his chest, eyes wide in fear at the sight of her blood, no doubt mixed with some of Mikael’s that likely splattered onto her at some point in their tussle. 

“Where did you go? What did you do?” He breathes out, eyes brimming with tears. “Where is Mikael?” 

She lets out a shuddering noise as she clings to him, staining his surcoat with blood. “I took it back,” She grits her teeth, fire burning in her eyes for a split second before her exhaustion wipes it out. “I took my darkness back from him, and I turned him into nothing.” 

Klaus makes a noise of grief that she knows is not for his father, but for the thought of her doing something he knows weakens her. 

“I’m alright,” She assures him, finally looking past him at her kingdom that watches on warily. “I’m alright, I promise.” 

Klaus holds onto her tighter like he’s scared she’ll disappear again, and she lets him as exhaustion weighs her down. 

She smiles suddenly, breathless and hopeful. “We aren’t finished here,” Her eyes shift to the king, who hurries towards them, kneeling slightly. “We were interrupted.” 

Klaus mirrors her smile, much more reserved even as his fear dissolves. “We were, weren’t we?”

“Finish it,” She looks up at the king from her place in Klaus’s lap in the aisle. “Please, finish it.” 

The king barely takes a moment before he lets his voice carry like he had before, unwavering as if nothing had happened at all. “Without further ado, Lord Mikaelson, you may kiss your bride.” 

Klaus barely lets him finish speaking before he kisses her, stealing the breath from her lungs as she gasps into it. Starlight burns in her and she raises her hand to gently cup his cheek, pulling him into her for one hard press of their lips before she pulls away, letting her hand fall from his cheek to rest against his heart. 

She turns her face into his neck and whispers into his skin, her breath making goosebumps grow in its wake. “My name,” She says. “I want you to have it.” 

He echoes it back to her softly, like he’s cradling it in his hands, and she looks up at him with stars in her eyes. 

The king speaks from above them, an excitement laced in his voice as he lifts his hands above his hand. “It is my honor to introduce to you for the first time, the Prince and Princess of Riverend!” 

Cheers burst around them, and Klaus dips his head down to hide his smile in her hair, and she clings to him just a bit tighter, her eyes fluttering. 

“Let us celebrate!” The king exclaims, another round of cheers echoing after his words. 

She pulls back slightly to look at Klaus, smiling. “I love you, Klaus,” 

He lets out a breath like she’s knocked it out of him. “I love you,” He hesitates before saying her name like he’s worried she’ll take it back from him. “I'll love you until the end of time. Never doubt that." 

"I won't." 

[untildawnss]

tailspin - joshua washington (until dawn)

in which josh always felt like the odd one out in his family and group of friends.

yes, i like to hurt my own feelings, why do you ask?

definitely inspired by myself and a few songs: gasoline by halsey, work in progress by the dangerous summer, 100 bad days by ajr, yes i'm a mess by ajr, breakdown by you me at six, i wanna get better by the bleachers, overwhelmed by royal & the serpent, panic room by au/ra, young by girli, crawling by linkin park

cw: depression, suicidal ideation, angst, attempted suicide

wc: 2.8k

josh looked down at the half-empty cup that he was balancing between his knee and the thumb and index finger of his right hand, tilting it down and back up right before the drink spilled over. his left thumb touched the tip of his index finger, then his middle finger, ringfinger and pinkie and back again while he inhaled for four seconds, held that breath for four seconds, exhaled for four seconds and then paused for another four seconds. he was uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. "hey, josh!" it took him a second to realise that someone was talking to him. "josh, we're up." the cup in his hand slipped slightly. "what?" josh looked up and there was chris, doing lunges and kicks and punching the air. "beerpong, bro! what's wrong with you?" everything. "nothing, just got really into planning my strategy." he drained the cup, forced his face into the well-practiced, toothy grin that he sported in every picture and whooped. "let's fucking go, bro! these suckers won't know what hit 'em."

the noise of the party was gone. josh could have called a cab or ordered an uber but he craved the fresh air and quiet that the walk home guaranteed. no driver trying to make conversation, no fastest route. he wasn't sure if he wanted to go home. sometimes it didn't feel like home. he felt out of place. his sisters had each other, their parents were barely involved anymore. and then there was him. josh. the oldest, the problem, the one that just didn't fit in. and he was going where his feet were taking him now. he'd had a lot to drink. he didn't feel like he made sense the way he was, just a bit off, like he was not entirely one single, whole person. just pieces of someone that were held together by the people around him. but there was no one around now and josh felt like he was crumbling, falling apart atom by atom. the darkness was suffocating and liberating at the same time and he stood still for a second or two. his hands were shaking and he didn't know why. now that he was alone he wished he wasn't. but he couldn't stand being around his friends either. because maybe they hated him as much as he hated himself.

josh's room was pitch black. even hannah and beth were already asleep when he finally snuck into the house. the buzz from the party had more than worn off at this point and his ears were ringing. it felt like someone was sitting on his chest, he definitely couldn't breathe right and his heart was beating faster. naturally, he'd made his way to the cabinet where his parents kept the booze to sneak another two or six big gulps of vodka or whiskey or whatever his hands could find in the dark corner of the room. just to calm down, to sleep. and here he was, throat burning and that ache in his chest still pulsing, pumping, stabbing. he could barely breathe. josh's eyes were stinging. he was tired now, away from everyone and everything. almost like a sensory deprivation chamber, if it wasn't for the creases in the sheets and the wrinkles in his shirts he felt against his back and thighs and calves. he hated it, being this aware of his own body. the old clock on the wall was ticking. he was trying to breathe in time with the ticking hand, four seconds, four seconds. but his lips were quavering and his eyes were stinging and he felt like he was choking. and then he was crying.

he'd fallen asleep at one point because someone was opening his curtains and the bright morning light stung in his still puffy eyes. someone sat down on the side of his bed. his body shifted with the dip in his mattress and his stomach lurched. another person plopped down on the other side of the bed. he heaved this time. "leave me alone," josh groaned. "mom and dad said to wake you up or we're not taking you to the beach." hannah and beth sounded excited. "don't wanna go to the beach. i'm not feeling well." josh pulled his blanket over his head. he felt his mattress shifting again, the twins' weight on his left and right vanishing. they left the door open. he heard someone else walk in and close the door. his mattress shifted again. a hand pulled the blanket off his face and gently stroked the side of his face. mom. he felt like crying again. "joshua, you're not feeling well?" she always used his given name when he wasn't well. "we can stay home." no, i'll ruin everything. "no, you can go. i'll call you if i need anything." she kissed his forehead. "are you sure?" no. he nodded. "okay." she closed the door when she walked out and he heard them, having fun, without him, as a family. they don't need me.

josh felt paralysed. some invisible, intangible force was trapping him in this bed, his bed. it had been a few hours since his family had left for the weekend trip to the beach. he had barely moved since then. the afternoon sun was reflecting off of the clock on his wall. it was still friday. he still had until sunday until his parents and sisters would get back. and he didn't belong. not really, anyway. hannah and beth were a few years younger and anything he'd never managed to achieve, they had. he was just the one that fell off the wagon years ago and had messed up the picture perfect family. there was a kind of disconnect, his body seemed to move without his input sometimes. he barely remembered getting in the shower or having breakfast, or maybe it was lunch at this point. josh could barely decide if he wanted to be alone or not before he had sent a text to the group chat with his friends asking them if they had any plans for tonight. it was too late now but he was barely convinced they liked him when he was at his best anyway, so what difference did it really make now?

they'd all agreed to come over to his place since his parents were out. they had invited more people, too. i should be fine. but he wasn't. there were so many people everywhere and he wished they would just leave. he should be fine, but he was not. he was anxious. he could barely move around his house without walking in on conversations or kisses or more. it was getting hard to breathe again. josh felt like someone was crushing his chest. but he was standing upright, just tipsy and dying to get out of this house, his house where everyone else wanted to stay and have fun. but something was happening to him and his breathing was getting shallower and he was stumbling, tumbling, falling up the stairs looking for a door that would keep him safe from whatever was going on down there. and then josh was in a bedroom, a guestroom that was barely ever used and he was clawing at his chest, at the heart that was beating the wrong way and making him gasp for air and everything was painful and he hit the floor, still clutching his chest. and josh wished he had never asked anyone for anything, not even their time. everyone was here and he was here and breaking down and the door was closed but it was barely anything between him fighting for his life and everyone else having fun. they don't need me. no one needs me. they didn't, they really didn't. he was living in the house with the fun stuff that rich people had. but if he just disappeared they'd still have hannah and beth. because everyone loved them. and he was just there.

josh had been in this room for a while. might've been minutes, might've been days. he didn't remember. maybe he was somewhere else. didn't matter, really. he was like a ship adrift, waves of consciousness crashing into him, bouncing him, left and right, port and starboard. faces flashed before his eyes, maybe friendly. and he was here, his back against a hard surface and two faces he knew in front of him. "sam, is he okay?" chris sounded panicked. there was something pressing against his neck. "he has a pulse. he's fine, he's alive, he's fine, chris." chris and sam. they were here. "what's up, guys?" he could barely hear himself. maybe he was slurring his words. he did drink a lot. "josh, you good?" chris was leaning in closer. josh gave him a thumbs up and tried grinning like he always did. "i'm good, cochise." he tried to aim the finger guns at chris. maybe he aimed them at sam. he wasn't sure. and before he knew it he was upright and there was sam on one side and chris on the other and he tried to walk where they were taking him but he was too drunk and so slow.

josh was in his bed again. there was still music downstairs. and he was tired but he wasn't. he wanted to scream, to tell everyone to shut up. but his body wouldn't move the way he wanted it to. he let his hands sweep around him to find his phone. there it was, neatly placed on his bedstand next to a glass of, probably, water. he was too far from coherent to understand the words on the screen the way he normally did. he had to bring the screen as close as possible and squint and finally his eye focused on the words. he tapped on chris' name. it took him a while, seeing as he was one handed and one eyed but josh finally managed to send a message to chris. who's still here? where are you? the words felt like heavy lifting, or maybe it was just the oncoming hangover that made him feel this way. we're getting everyone to go home. yeah, that was probably best. josh could barely type and send his response before he passed out again.

when josh woke up it was saturday. maybe midday or the afternoon. whatever. but there were no more people in his house and there was trash everywhere and a note from chris on the inside of the front door. we tried our best. and josh smiled because chris and sam could've left everything for him to clean up but they didn't. maybe they didn't hate him. he didn't dare debate this now that he was alone and had to clean the house. he preferred to believe that maybe they did like him. and so he turned on the music and turned it up to the point his parents would intervene because it would give him tinnitus.

josh started collecting all the disposable cups and pizza boxes he could find around the house and on the patio. chris and sam had probably done a lot already because there had been so many people last night, he still filled almost an antire bag. he craved a cigarette. no one knew he had started smoking. maybe chris, but he wouldn't say anything. i should be fine. he wasn't. he wasn't fine at all. josh spent the rest of the day trying to clean the house, just trying to make sure his parents wouldn't realise he'd had a party.

but when the night came he was restless again. and he couldn't resist. blades seemed so vulgar. he'd put his father's gun to his head before, once or twice, just to know how it felt. and now it was 4 in the morning and he just wanted to not exist. and the pills were right there. but josh wasn't sure. did he want to go out that way? he didn't actually know. but the music was playing and he there were the pieces of everyone he loved the most flashing before his eyes. there was beth. you can't wake up. there was hannah. this is not a dream. mom. you're part of a machine. dad. you are not a human being. chris. with your face all made up, living on a screen. sam. low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline. josh. i think there's a flaw in my code. and he didn't know if this was real anymore. he knew he didn't fit in. i'm not scared. at least he tried not to be. but he was.

and josh tried, he really tried. but his pills were right there and he was just a disturbance in the perfect life his friends and family were living, right? they won't miss me. the thought was bouncing and bumping and jumping around and around in his head. he wanted to get better but he didn't know how, how, how. nothing helped and even drinking helped for a few hours at most. and they don't want me anyway. he was sure they didn't. they had hannah and beth and they got trophies and awards and everything he didn't. and sam liked hannah better anyway. and chris, chris would find a new friend. someone cooler than him.

he had deliberated, thought about this. there was really nothing else to do, nothing he could do, was there? but it was barely an hour until his family was supposed to be back. and he was panicking because he didn't want to see him like this but there was no other way. josh cried again. but because he had waited too long. and he was sitting on his bed, a glass of water and almost a month's supply of pills on his bedstand. oh death. and he begged for gods he didn't believe in to take him. and so he stuffed the pills in his mouth and it took him three, four, five, six gulps to swallow them all. and josh sat there and he was fine and he didn't want to be. he wanted to die and he took his pills, all at one,. and he was fine and he hated it. and then his vision blurred and his head started to hurt and then he could barely breathe and he got up and he was stumbling towards the door and he couldn't breathe and he opened his door but he was short of breath and he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. and then he was aspirating and he heard someone call his name and pressure on his chest and he wasn't sure if it was heaven or hell but there were the faces of the people he loved. his parents. hannah. beth. and he wanted to live. he didn't want to die anymore. and he needed them to know. and he was fighting, trying to dig himself up because it felt like he was buried alive and he clawed and punched and gasped and breathed until he was surrounded by machines and white and a hospital room and was choking on a tube. and his parents and sisters were there and all of them looked like they were crying. a nurse pulled the breathing tube out of his throat and informed the room that he was breathing on his own again. and josh started crying. and hannah and beth were on him, clawing at him as if he was the only thing that mattered and their parents were crying and telling him that they were sorry. and josh was crying, returning the hug. "i didn't mean to. i didn't want to." and he was sobbing and grabbing at every part of his sisters he could reach. "i didn't want to die. i don- i don't want to die." hannah and beth had removed themselves from josh's figure in the hospital bed, already informing their friends that josh was alive. melinda washington had sat down on the side of his bed, her husband behind her, a hand on his shoulder, his face a carefully curated mask. "mommy, i didn't want to die. mommy, please, i didn't want to die." josh was crying, begging, pleading. melinda washington knew they'd technically made a decision but seeing her son like this was different. but her husband wouldn't budge. melinda beckoned her daughters closer to prepare them but wondered if there was really a preparation for not seeing your brother, your son for at least a few months. bob was more than prepared to have joshua committed. she really wasn't but knew that there was nothing she could to do help him. so she went along with his decisions. just a few weeks, maybe months until they could see josh again.

[gmanwhore]

The inhabitants of Sunshine Terrace/Apartment Block 5598: Personal notes by The dOOrman! You know. The doorman. Of Sunshine Terrace.

Roman Stilinsky: Pleasant. Like no real stuff for him. We rarely ever talk. I mean, like. We talk enough for me to know him I guess? He hates the taste of black tea and he likes jazz. That’s all I really know. 

Lois Stilinsky: She’s a bit of a gossip, and is probably the best at makeup in the whole apartment! She’s not a huge fan of having to keep her looks the same all the time. She loves the smell of grapefruit and her favorite perfume smells like it. 

Robertsky Peachman: He doesn’t talk much! He’s not stupid like some people think, he’s just like that. He’s a hard worker and I can respect that. He can’t stand loud noises.

Albertsky Peachman: He can be just a bit rude, but it’s ok. It’s not often. He just wants to get home. I just don’t think he likes people all that much. He always shuts the door to the front lobby behind him even if it closes on its own. 

Angus Ciprianni: I don’t have mush to say anything but he is so fake. He also throws a lot of parties to literally everyone’s annoyance. Especially me! His shoelaces are fake, he can’t tie them and he hates birds. 

Selenne and Elenois Sverchtz: They are the faces of the “sameness is beauty” movement, a new trend encouraging people to stick to particular outfits and looks and not change them. As twins they were deemed the perfect candidates for this. They are a bit uncanny as they do in fact. Just act like the same person just reflected in a mirror. They also have cats. Two. They are twins. They are pleasant to be around, but tend to leave other people out of their inside jokes. One of their jokes is laughing at palimdromes. 

Arnold Schmicht: He used to be a horror writer before. Ten years ago. He is not trying horror writer anymore, he tends towards more domestic pieces generally inspired by our neighbours. I’ve read a few of his books, both old and recent. I find his new pieces also have a certain sense of dread built into them, like he wants so desperately to explore those darer topics again. You also wouldn’t clock him as a horror writer! He loves jokes, and is a very bright, talkative man. He’s also just great to hang out with. He loves being asked about his latest project, and he likes eating lemons like oranges. 

Gloria Schmict: She isn’t as done with everything as she looks! She’s just usually really tired after a long day of helping people at the bank. She has quite the dry sense of humour, but that doesn’t mean she’s not fun to talk to! She’s one of the most observant of my neighbours, which also makes her slightly paranoid. I definitely get it, though. We have a sort of solidarity I think. She’s afraid of spiders, but she likes snakes. Her favorite colour is yellow. 

Izaack Gauss: Despite his general air, he’s actually really easy to talk to. While I’m not close with him at all I get why people like him. He swears by using Gerome’s Hair Gel, it’s the only brand he uses. He also can’t stand the taste of mint unless it’s mixed in with something. 

Margarette Bubbles: Her favorite things to sew are dresses, and she actually specialises in bridesmaid’s dresses though she does do general repairs for people. She always has her bag of sewing materials on hand, and has a great eye for colour. She actually can’t really see out of her lazy eye, though she has horrible depth perception because of it. She’s a gossip QUEEN and knows quite a bit. Her house is really comfortable, and she has a lot of hand-sewn dog stuffed animals there since she loves dogs but can’t have them. She has a bias for St. Brenards. She makes the BEST turnovers I have ever eaten and she refuses to tell me her secret to them. Her favorite colours are burnt orange and royal purple, and she loves the smell of pine. 

Nacha Mikaelys: She almost always has something sticking out her hair, things just get tangled there! She says she’s been meaning to cut her hair for a while but she’s worried about getting mistaken for a doppleganger so she’s waiting until we have to get new ids. She’s really loud, but in a good way! She wears jewlery usually, she says she has a little bag for her earrings and bracelets for when she’s cooking. She owns a chef hat for home but doesn’t wear one at work. She collects her daughter’s broken slinkies and keeps them in her purse and she has a locket she refuses to tall me what’s in. She loves banana bread and her favorite animals are pigeons. She also has lovespoons hanging up in her apartment!

Anastacha Mikaelys: She doesn’t really like people, she gets overwhelmed easily in social situations so she avoids them. She likes slinkies, and the smell of normal household soap. She actually has a huge slinky collection, but she only lets you see them or play with them if she trusts you. She wants a hamster, and Nacha told me not to tell her but Nacha is saving up to suprise her. 

Mia Stone: She doesn’t believe fully in the dopplegangers and can be quite rude when coming through! She almost always “forgets” to tell me when she leaves so I can’t add her to my list. She is curt and to the point when she talks, and tends to overexplain things. Then again she works with small kids so I can let that slide. She knows how to tango. 

Dr. W.  Afton: He also thinks having a doorman is stupid, but he’s a bit ruder. He doesn’t really say hello to me and tends to turn his whole body to the door when I say he’s cleared to go. I think he doesn’t like the wait. His favorite colour is olive green. 

Francis Mosses: He isn’t all that interesting. He doesn’t hate his job, but he doesn’t like it. He jokes about just sleeping in his car a lot, and sometimes he just. Randomly breaks into scared ranting about our situation. He tends to stay alone, and when I went over to his house once it was. Kinda depressing, it didn’t feel like he actually lived there at all. He likes ribbons and collects them off the street, and he says his favorite colour is scarlet. 

Steven Rudboys: He’s much less serious than he comes off. He speaks quietly and mumbles a lot, but he gets loud when he’s excited. He has a passion for the history of planes, but not really of flying. He only really became a pilot because he struggles with doing matinence on the planes. He likes puns, and when he realizes he has an in he lights up a bit. He likes cats and birds, and he’s really good at making a duck call. 

Mclooy Rudboys: He called me “sweetheart” once and I tried blowing him up with my mind. He makes jokes about his son possibly not being his??? He’s divorced at least three times and told me “he’s lost count” and apparently he fought in World War 2 and retired from being a pilot after that. He likes eagles and only smokes cigars. 

Alf Cappuccin: He’s sort of hard of hearing and tends to not like. Understand what I’m saying so I have to use cards so he gets what I’m saying. He’s a few years younger than McClooy. He likes his porridge with brown sugar and raspberries and he likes the smell of brown paper bags. 

Rafttellyn Cappuccin: Rafttellyn tends to be quite nervous and timid, she doesn’t really talk much. She has the highest voice by far. She dyes her hair, it’s actually grey but she gets a bit nervous about it. She loves apples and always has them in a wooden bowl on her table. Her perfume smells like old roses.

[bitumz]

Title: A withered Rose still has its thorns

Pairing: Cooper Howard / Lucy MacLean

Word count: 4k+

Rated: T [angst, depictions of past violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and loss, happy ending]

A/N: this was written for the incredible @valeriarts for this beautiful fanart they made me, and was heavily inspired by this insane Beauty and the Beast Ghoulcy Fanart they entered into the Ghoulcy Atomic Blast Event! As such, this responding work is absolutely riddled with BatB references, but is lovingly set in the Fallout canon world because I am an absolute goon for the old music and wasteland setting. A tale as old as time... Ao3 link

~~~~~

One year has passed since Lucy pulled the trigger on her own decayed mother, withered away and rotted from the inside out by the inevitable cruelty of the wasteland. A necessary evil she still tries to console herself with on such a gruesome anniversary, though these days the grizzly voice chiding her in her mind doesn’t sound like her own anymore. And Lucy thinks she's starting to realize exactly how decay feels.

One year of failed leads. Shattered expectations. The growing pains of being remade into a woman more familiar than she should be, even well beyond the reflection of a mirror. 

The old shopping center she and Cooper find themselves in that evening is almost painfully similar to the Super Duper Mart, old clothing and clocks, and half burnt candles and varying arrays of other decorative knick-knacks scattered about like hastily flung debris across the rotting floors. But unlike the mart, high walls divided large sections of the space, reminding her even harsher of the vault rooms back home, centered just so by a long, splaying hallway that seemed to go on for miles into the shadowed corridor. An old mall Cooper had called it, but to Lucy that meant nothing. 

She'd done what she could to keep her distance from him that day, him never being one to appreciate her foul moods, and instead of calling out the blood curdling hypocrisy of that whole idea (and the inevitable fight that would follow), she bit her tongue and did her best to sulk alone, in only the company of a few blessedly silent clothing displays and dusty bedroom furniture. 

One of the former caught Lucy’s attention more than the others, a headless mannequin donned in a flowing silk gown, royal blue cut through the middle with a bright yellow sash that drew in the curves of the waist and cascaded floor length at the rear with the rest of the flowing hemline to trail like a river of molten gold across the moldy tile. 

Her mother had always disliked her in dresses. And Lucy can't help but remember the hazy bits and pieces of her fifth birthday. Of her father presenting her with a beautifully boxed up gift. Her mother's disbelieving scowl over at the man as Lucy held the soft floral material up against her chest and beamed at her own reflection in the vault bathroom mirror. They way her father twirled her around the room in it for many a birthday after that, with only Norm, a few aging Cooper Howard movie posters, and blinding fluorescents overhead as audience, pride already flashing even brighter in her father’s eyes as every year she grew more and more into the perfect daughter she was expected to be. And though Lucy had been too young to consider yet just where that gift could have come from, those memories now scathed in the shadows, somewhere deep beneath her bones like a bustling city of thousands of people being blown to nothing more than ruin and ash. 

And at this point, after fighting through all the many foul factions of the wasteland for just over a year and searching for a sense of fairness and freedom for so long before, she was so so far beyond sick of monsters masquerading as man. 

It was why slipping from the confines of her vaultsuit and stepping into the rolling blue and gold layers of silk felt something like lying. Like putting on that ill-fitting wedding dress again and continuing to do as she was told. Adding her name to the list and filling the role set upon her from the very moment she came out screaming like a wild beast into her mother's arms and a carefully crafted existence. 

She tugged her own suit up the slender plastic hips of the mannequin in trade. Zipped it securely closed with the final brush of her hands tenderly across the shoulders.

The worn leather slacked too big around the petite figure, and Lucy felt her own muscles clench the slightest bit in her newly exposed chest and upper arms. Her time away from the vault had made her only stronger. She could feel it in the easing of their long days trudging through the sand and restless nights with Cooper beneath the stars. In his harsh lessons and even harsher truths. But looking back at her mother’s last little hand-me-down gift as it sat wrong on the headless figure before her made her feel a bit like a child again; lost and alone in a world that was still so very much too big.

So she did just as she would when she was little. Turned the oldies station on low on her Pip Boy. Sat cross legged upon the cold dingy floor. Sought out her mother’s advice.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do here.” Lucy said, eyes falling to her mismatched fingers in her lap. She curled them loose into the soft pile of golden fabric. “I wasn’t so sure I was going to make it through mourning you the first time around…” she admitted soft, swallowing at the pain rising heavy in her throat. “But this… now… knowing everything I do… I- I understand why you left. And I’m sorry I couldn’t help sooner… I’m so sorry…” And Lucy had long run out of water to waste on tears so she only clenched her fists tighter over her thighs. Waited quietly for a reassurance that would never come again, receiving only silence in answer apart from the lilting voice of Skeeter Davis softly reminding her from her wrist that the end of the world had already long since passed. 

Lucy could only blame her time above for being able to sense him well before she heard Cooper’s spurs clanging softly up the hall. And had it been even just a few months ago, she would have moved. Rose from the ground and stuck on a fake sunshine smile to avoid his prodding. Stood tall and still in the shadows like a predator in wait. But if he was going to continue to track her down every time she sought out solace, he was going to get what he got. Real and raw and just so very tired. 

“There ain’t shit for supplies,” his rumbling voice started before rounding the corner, “but I did find somethin’ interestin’ you may wanna have a look at wh…” Cooper stilled like the dead in the shattered frame of the once glass door. Rendered entirely silent, though she could feel the burn of his eyes across her newly bared arms, the curves of her shoulders, her dark hair falling loose and wild down her back. “What the fuck are you doin’?” He finally managed, sounding much farther away than he actually stood.

“Oh you know, just talking to my mom.” Lucy spoke flat to the mannequin, unmoving. “You’re interrupting.” She added in dismissal after a long dead-silent moment, but she only heard his boots close in closer behind her. 

So she held her breath and waited for the snide response to drawl from his lips. Something like ‘radaway’s losin’ its touch huh?’ she imagined first, or ‘Rose musta not took all the crazy with her when she left that fuckin’ vault...’

But as the pair of taunts grew hotter in her temples, nothing of the sort actually came from him... Which was odd enough in itself to make her finally look back over her shoulder. 

What she found was a world weary man who looked as lost as she felt. The darkness of the decaying building clinging to the protective cloak of his duster like a long drawn curse that was pained to let go. He carried the weight of his own deep in the lines of his scalded face, wearing his own many anniversaries of suffering in scattered jagged scars, jaw tense as if he fought not to set free a rising snarl at the sight before him, browline drawn beneath the shadow of his hat like she’d spoken a foreign language he couldn’t quite grasp. 

He eyed her hallowed vaultsuit as if personally affronted… Looked back down right at her, dark eyes sparking with something near that impenetrable mask of anger he so easily slipped on as they trailed slow down across the gathered yellow silk she fidgeted with at her waist, to the elegant tendrils of blue haloing in a wide puddle around her on the floor, shielding nearly as much of her body as the suit had, but still leaving her feeling so incredibly exposed to his studiously searching eyes. 

“What is it?” Lucy asked after a moment, unable to take the scrutiny any longer, heart rate rising as she shifted where she sat.

And Cooper blinked as if hearing her for the first. “What’s with the getup?”

Lucy forced the breath from her nose, long and heavy. Tugged a bit of the fabric up in a false curtsy. “Oh this old thing?” She tried to tease but fell flat. “I've never had a dress of my own, you know? Always something borrowed… and Mom used to say blue was my color.” Lucy smoothed the silk back down over her hips, missing the way the claim struck Cooper’s expression like the hail Mary of a well aimed brick. “My eyes, I guess.” She shrugged away.

“No.” Cooper disagreed low after a long beat. “It ain't your eyes.” Then he took the two last steps to stand near her side. Reached down a hand. “C’mon I wanna show you somethin’.” And for a moment Lucy sat unmoving, glancing away from Cooper’s gloved offering up to the plastic shell of her mother one last time. “She ain't goin’ anywhere.” Cooper promised soft after a while of watching her struggle, in a way Lucy now knew that only he had every right to vow. And it's what finally drew her hand out slowly into his. 

“Alright,” she breathed. And she rose.

—

The shop Cooper led her into was stacked floor to ceiling with disheveled shelves of books. Old wooden tables and chairs lined the front walls. Rows of cabinets had once cut lines through the center, now tipped and scattered by previous scavengers who must not have appreciated the incredibility of the rare bounty before her. But Lucy, however, was already mentally sorting through the contents of her pack and deciding what could be left behind to make more space.

It was the candlelight that eventually distracted her from the task. Lit aglow and sparsely set across the floor and on a few of the sturdier looking bookshelves all around the room, burning just bright enough to clear the murky darkness from the space…and it was the consideration of such a thing that emptied her chest, had Lucy steepling her hands over her mouth and gaping wide eyed all around her at the beautiful sight, the sheer number of books alone putting the vault’s ample collection to shame. But it was the man stood behind her in the darkened doorway that stopped her eyes. Silhouette framed in the soft glow of fire, features hidden almost entirely from view, but like the constant pull of the moon on the tide she could feel the weight of every ounce of his attention on only her. 

“Cooper,” Lucy called low, letting her hands fall slow to her sides. “This is incredible. I've never seen so many books in my life.”

And he ambled forward at his name like a bloodbug drawn to the life pumping quick through her veins, sharp features softened by the warm glow.

“Really?” He drawled in that way that preambled the rudeness she'd so long been awaiting. Downplaying the situation every time it got too close to - something. And he was never one to disappoint. “I thought all that Vault Tec propaganda down there would at least rival a two bit bookshop.” 

Lucy raised her eyes and turned away. Took another look about the room. Made her way to the closest shelf of books and let her fingertips brush lovingly across the dusted spines. Stacked a few aside that she had every intention of not leaving without. 

“It wasn't just propaganda,” Lucy informed, his jab unable to reach her properly through the soft flickering of flame. “Vault distributed media was delegated and traded by the overseers.” She sought him out again with the turn of her neck. “And as you know, ours was particularly fond of fairytales and cowboys. Villeneuve and Wister. That sort of thing. Not to mention the movies…” her smile was mean, a brazen curve of her lips.

And Cooper said nothing in riposte, instead simply closing the space between them with slow, lazy steps. Rested a hand against the shelf on either side of her head as she turned to face him, closing in and casting his shadow across her in a way that once would have made her feel small. 

Lucy only raised her chin, held his eyes above with the fire flickering hot in her own.

“Is that really what you wanna be doin’ today?” He asked her, a near growl as it rolled so close from his chest. “Defendin’ your daddy?” 

And the reminder twisted in her ribs like a spike, aimed and true; memories of laughter and life and being twirled around in loving arms slowly, agonizingly morphing into something more fowl in her gut like her father's guiltless eyes as he'd finally confessed aloud his many many sins down the barrel of a gun… Her mother's meatless corpse sagging gaunt in a chair nearby…

“Dance with me.” Lucy blinked, only truly registering the words as they settled skewed into her own ears. The violins dipped and drew out the start of Billie Holiday's, Crazy He Calls Me from her Pip Boy between them like a taunt and there was no better title for the way Cooper’s sharp eyes searched her face.

“Do what now?” 

“Dance with me.” Lucy repeated, just as unshaken. “You're right.” She nodded in truce. “I'd rather make new memories today than dwell on the old ones and my options are you or the mannequin.”

Cooper gauged her expression from mere inches above. Looked as if he awaited the splintering of her sanity beneath his glare. For the flinching call of her bluff as he raised his chin and thinned his eyes in a move she’d watched him use on countless others to sweeten a deal or seal a sentence. But Lucy only popped open the latch of her Pip Boy. Sat it nearby on the shelf. Held her hands out to him palms up in the dwindling space between them…

And Cooper took a step back and away. Squared his shoulders as if she had thrown a fist instead of anything near the beginnings of a dance. 

“Mannequin would suit better.” He said in faint protest, stilling only a moment longer to meet her unyielding eyes before sighing, shrugging his duster from his shoulders and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. Pulling his gloves off and dropping them unceremoniously into the splintering seat. 

And Lucy felt an altogether new sort of apprehension as he neared this time, sturdy arms straining against the worn fabric of his rarely seen sun-bleached undershirt. His bandolier of hastily crafted bullets glistened like sharp teeth across the visible rise and fall of his chest. He held a single bared hand out to her in offering, allowing her to take either that last fateful step forward or a silent final out…

And the thrill of it all was the best distraction she could ever ask for.

The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose in warning as she took this newest challenge in stride, just as she had the many before. “I don’t doubt it.” Lucy returned, resting a ruined-fingered hand over the solid curve of his shoulder. Cooper slipped her left into his and she couldn’t help but stare at that way her own something borrowed still looked pale and small against the rest of Cooper’s hand, wrapping warm and rough around her own. His other burned like a brand against her waist just as Billie sang of her own willingness to walk through fire and with it they were moving.

Cooper was a startlingly natural lead, sure in step and direction, guiding her along in soft curves of motion as if on instinct alone, whereas she stepped between his boots in thought absorbed angles, and it was a pre-war skill Lucy would not have imagined he cared to retain until that very moment. He’d always spoken so little of that time of his life, apart from Janey. And even if they weren’t spending an evening attempting to forget, she at very least knew better than to outright ask why. 

The thought brought her foot down hard on his for what she guessed was the second or third time judging by his growl.

“That supposed to be a two step?” Cooper rumbled over her instead. “‘Cause you’re movin’ like a goddamn sheet of plywood down there.”

And Lucy laughed a breathy thing at the very real exasperation in his tone.

“I’m distracted is all.” She forced herself to meet his eyes, so close and scalding in the candlelight. Reminding her even more of the last time she’d seen him display such a talent. The same way her father had taught her so many years ago… and she just couldn't help herself. “I remember this from the scene right after you killed Joey… Where you went back to town and danced with the widow in -”

“Deadhorse ya,” Cooper scathed in answer, spinning her silent in an almost violent twirl out to arms reach before snapping her back, her spine pressing flush against the buttons lining down his vest so that the “don’t start,” was hissed directly into her ear. It effectively scattered her thoughts and sent gooseflesh rising down the exposed skin of her arms for a much different reason than she knew was intended. But then he stilled them. Kept a forearm wrapped firm across the front of her waist. “Kick them boots off so you don’t take my fuckin’ toes too.” He nodded down over her shoulder, the brim of his hat brushing against her scattered hair. 

And she continued to follow his lead, shaking off one and then the other. Turned around again with minimal restraint as he took notice of her intention to face him once more. Lucy filled her lungs with the faint scent of old leather and smoke as his coarse fingers dragged slow patterns across the soft silk gathered at her hips. This time she brought both hands up to his shoulders. Felt his own slide home in a near perfect fit into the soft curves beneath her ribs. 

Then they were moving again, easier, a more natural sway that brought him the slightest bit closer. Allowed her to truly see his features painted warm beneath his hat in the firelight. Those most others would deem ugly, the proof heard often enough in wretched slurs and slithered curses from near every small bit of civilization they passed. But here in the safety of their solitude, the candles flickered deep against the rugged hollows of his face and brought somehow more life to his hazel eyes. And though they had always been so incredible to her, those eyes, something about the way the glow sparked in them now, subdued and scorching back at her in equal measure, was almost another distraction worthy of misstep. 

And she’d been doing so well until her eyes dropped to the side. Focused on the scattered splotches across his shoulders that proved his threadbare shirt had once been blue…

The music built and curled around them unimpeded by the realization, trumpets joining in with the strings to round out the repeated claims of being insane for all a number of reasons and Lucy couldn’t help but look down at her own feet again, strained and self deprecating as she focused on not stepping down onto his with the way her heart sped and cheeks flushed. His hands flexed at her waist.

“Relax.” Cooper bid low, undoubtedly sensing her struggle in her missteps and the growing tension of her muscles. “I ain’t in the mood for sparrin’ today and my drawin’ hand’s otherwise occupied, so you’re only fightin’ ya self.” 

The upward curve of his bowed lips and drawl of his words spoke only truths, something almost sad touching his eyes, and Lucy found trusting in him still came all too easy. She watched as the rise of his browline painted a told ya so look across his face while she focused only on her own breaths and the warmth of his tender hold about her waist, her movements growing more and more fluid between those very same hands that she’d seen reap death and destruction with ease for just over a year now in search of her father and the answers they were owed. Coming up just short on near every lead and tumbling almost as violently into each other's arms in one way or another so often now that it seemed only necessary for survival. 

“Perceptive.” She said finally. 

But this was something else… It was just so…

It was simply different, Lucy decided, rising up onto her bare toes to press her lips against Cooper’s just because she wanted to. Taking unapologetically in a way that he had been forcefully tearing into her from the beginning. And she softly parted her lips over his unmoving ones. Waited for the beast to surface and rear its fangs or draw its claws. To push her away with a shove or back her forcefully against the nearest surface in a deliciously dizzying coin toss of chance. Because, yes the beast was in there somewhere she knew well enough, but it was Cooper who had pulled her up from the floor of her vigil. Cooper who’d lit the candles that warmed the air around them; of a bookshop of all places. Cooper who still distracted her from her woes now in dance… 

And it was Cooper who kissed her back. Took her face into the sanctity of his hands to tilt and deepen it, his lips a hot brand across her own as he held her steady and tasted her slow in languid shallow swipes of his tongue along her lower lip. He parted from her just long enough for Lucy to draw a greedy breath from the shared air between them. Then he kissed her again, another sweet short press of his mouth over hers before he whispered “I gotcha somethin’ else,” near voiceless into the corner of her moony grin. 

Then he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his own expression sobering like he stood on the precipice of some great divide, and Lucy dared him to jump with the slight tilt of her head in question. 

Then he pulled out a drooping flower from the pocket of his slacks. A sun-bleached plastic rose that must have once been red before the end of the world and the crushing hands of time; petals welting and half melted... And her heart did a funny painful pair of skips in her chest at the sight of it held out to her in his own repeatedly scarred and sewn together hand. 

“What? It ain't enchanted or some shit.” Cooper said harsh, shifting an inch on his own two feet. A first misstep since they started this new dance. “I just know what it's like to not have a grave to mourn is all.” He tried again. “Don’t read too much into it.”

And what a feint it was to reach for in a room set aglow, filled to the brim with warmth and music; bound leather and parchment... 

Lucy’s smile was all straight white teeth.

“Of course not,” she succumbed, taking the rose from him carefully and tucking the stem safely away into the sash of her dress so that her hands were free to reach back out for what she really wanted. “I never really liked reading anyway,” she soothed, wrapping her wrists loose about the back of his neck and looking past him at a few new titles that would be soon added to her pile. “Though my bag has been feeling awful light lately.”

And Cooper chuckled soft, a deep rumble from his throat. 

“Fuck the books,” he said, breath ghosting warm against the sensitive skin at the side of her neck. Then his hands slid heavy through the silk pooled low at her back, drew her in close against his chest. “Pack the dress.” 

And for a long long while they danced together and forgot. 

[ellieslaces]

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

2023 ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

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[elixirfromthestars]

My Dearest

Pairing: Duke!Bucky Barnes x Lady!Reader (Regency Era AU — Bridgerton Inspired ) 

Summary: On the night of Lady Maximoff’s ball you find yourself in the gardens, troubled by your emotions. As if by fate, the rain pours down reuniting you with the one who is the very object of your troubles.

Word Count: 3k

Warning(s): heartbreak / angst / longing / implications of cheating / rejection / creative liberties for this era (yes I did do research, but bear with me if there are any inaccuracies in this piece of fiction 🤍) / a surprise cameo / female reader

a/n: This little piece has been in the works since I got into the Bridgerton series. Binge-watching the spinoff Queen Charlotte this weekend gave me the motivation to finish this piece. Thank you for reading! 🤍 Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ❤️

for ambiance 🌧️

Your fingertips poked at the surface of the water in the fountain. Unstemmed red carnations danced along the water to the rhythm of the ripples. The faint music of the ballroom was ever so slightly drowned out by the stream pouring from the fountain at the center of the garden. You were sitting on the edge of it, hoping to ease your nerves with some fresh air. You wished you had brought a coin with you to throw in the fountain and wish your worries away. 

Wishes, however, were for children and the fairytales they believed in. You were no longer a child nor were you in a fairytale—much to your dismay. Your father made sure you knew of this, reminding you of your duties at every possibility. As the only child of the one and only Earl L/n, you were expected to marry into a higher status. Your mother, on the other hand, wished for you to marry for love and nothing more. 

You thought you had found both—you almost had both. 

Unfortunately, the one you truly desired broke your heart before he even fully had it. You pushed the thought of him away, for he was the very reason your emotions were an entangled mess. 

You looked down at your ball gown, its baby blue color muted by the lack of lighting in the approach of nightfall. You tugged at the ends of it lightly, wanting nothing more than to be at home wearing your nightgown instead. One of your favorite romance novels in hand, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. You always dreamed of having your own happily ever after, and for a while, you thought you had. A love story any poet would be over the moon to muse over. 

You were sadly mistaken.

A few droplets of rain plopped themselves onto your arm. You scanned the sky above you, the once royal blue evening turning a smoky grey. A clear sign it would soon start to rain. It was only a slight drizzle, making you realize a few of those fallen droplets weren’t from the clouds above, but from your very own eyes. 

You couldn’t let the prince see you like this.

You rose from your spot and searched the garden for a place to compose yourself. In the near distance stood a greenhouse decorated with overgrown ivy, obstructing the view of the inside. A perfect place to hide away from your troubles and the rain.  

You lifted the ends of your ball gown, making sure to not muddy or tear any part of it, as you made your way to the greenhouse. You stepped inside, immediately enamored with the various flora surrounding you. You knew Lady Maximoff treasured her garden, but never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up the breathtaking view before you.

You strolled along the path, taking it all in. The rain started to come down in a pour, ridding any outside noise from coming through. Thus making it harder to hear the footsteps that were approaching you.

“ Y/n? My dearest, what are you doing here?” You froze in your spot, recognizing the voice of the one who broke your heart. You turned to see James Buchanan Barnes the Duke of Brooklyn standing a few feet away from you, drenched from head to toe. It seems he too was caught in the rain. 

“ Your grace, my apologies. I did not know you were here. Please excuse me,” you attempted to remove yourself from the situation, but he wouldn’t let you. Stopping you by your hands, holding them delicately. 

A frown overtook his features,“ Why do you address me so formally? Have we not grown past this?”

You swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell on this topic of conversation for long,“ We did, but like anything that grows, there comes a time when it withers. We have withered.” 

You yanked yourself from his grasp, his mouth parting in disbelief, “ Y/n, what are you saying? Is this because of the prince? Have you indeed traded your love for me for the status he can bring you?” He threw the accusation in your face with such disdain you felt as though he had struck you. 

A rage bubbled within you. 

“ How dare you? Do you truly think so little of me? I would have given up the world for you. You, however, would never have done the same,” you turned to walk away again and he swiftly maneuvered his way in front of you, blocking your path. You felt tears prickle at your eyes, but you forced yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“ I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. It is only that you have been so cold toward me lately, and I do not understand why. At tonight’s ball, all I wanted was to have you in my arms once more and instead, I had to stand there like a fool watching you dance with the prince. I left for the gardens when the incessant rumors of a marriage between you two were all anyone could talk about,” his eyes searched yours for an answer, resentfulness lacing his every word. 

You looked down, not being able to meet his eyes, “ I do not have to justify myself to you. And those rumors. . .are not rumors. I believe the prince should propose any day now.” By the end of your sentence, you feigned what little confidence you had left and fixed your posture, ready to face James with a steady gaze. However, as soon as you met his eyes you found yourself taking a step back. 

James looked at you like he had taken a bullet to the heart.

“ And what of us? My dearest, I do not understand what I have done wrong. Tell me, so that I may fix it. I cannot bear to lose you,” his hand reached for yours to pull you in closer. You side stepped his advances, his hand recoiling at your relentless rejection. 

You took in a deep breath, a sigh escaping your lips,“ You already have. The moment you decided to entertain other women while claiming your heart was mine. I am the fool for believing your grace was honest about courting me.” Irritation crept its way back into your heart at the memory. 

This caught his attention as he stared at you with a puzzled expression,“ Is that what this is about? Y/n, you must know that was merely for diplomacies—for business. ”

You bit the inside of your lip to refrain from insulting the man in front of you. “ Then that is what I was then, merely a means to a business transaction between you and my father. Did you think I would not find out? My father would have never invested in that mine of yours if it were not for him believing we were courting. It was no coincidence that as soon as the papers were signed you were seen with Lady Natasha alone in your home,” you paused for a moment, realizing you had raised your voice at James, causing you to take a deep breath before continuing, “ You should be grateful my father is not holding you to any responsibilities since he is now focused on assuring I become royalty.” 

James’ fists were clenched at his sides,“ How could you doubt my honor? How could you ever doubt that my heart is anyone's but yours? My business with Lady Natasha is nothing but a misunderstanding. I swear on my honor.” 

You scoffed, “ Your honor means nothing to me. Your reputation of being the most prolific Rake in town precedes you. I should have believed everyone when they warned me.” His lips formed a tight line, an impatience overtaking him, “ You should know by now my darling, I do not care what others whisper in the shadows. You are all I care about, and if that is what you truly think of me then—you wound me.” 

You shook your head, ready to retaliate once more with your words when he swiftly made his way to you and held you by your shoulders. “ I love you. I am certain what fuels this frustration and hatred toward me is the love you feel for me,” his voice was gentle, his features softening. His eyes held you in your place, as your body longed to be closer to him. A mere touch and a part of you was already screaming at you to forgive him. 

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at each other’s eyes not saying a word. You had no strength to pull away from his grasp, “ Your heart will move on. It will find love in another,” your response was reduced to a whisper by the end. You weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself with your words. 

He shook his head, “ My dearest, the heart here has no say. I cannot say I love you with all my heart for it will one day stop beating. I love you with my entire soul, for my love for you will live on with it for all eternity. I am forever bound to you.” James’ declaration tugged at your heartstrings. 

“James. . .” his name dropped from your lips in a pleading whisper. Whether that was for him to stop or keep going—you weren’t sure anymore. You were left speechless. Any protests or rebuttals that were initially in your mind were gone with one declaration. He pulled you in closer—if that were possible—and embraced you, planting a passionate kiss on your lips. You returned it with as much intensity.  

You melted into each other, the reciprocated love burning into you. This one kiss ignited within you all of the feelings you were trying so desperately to extinguish. James tasted of wine and smelled of sandalwood, a combination you found strangely addicting. 

One of James’ hands slipped down your back, your own gravitating to the nape of his neck. He pressed his body against yours, a small gasp escaped your lips allowing him to deepen the kiss. The continuous kisses he bestowed upon you grew needier by the minute. If his words weren’t getting through to you, he wanted to make sure his lips did. 

His mouth moved down to your neck, continuing to show his devotion to you. Your body betrayed you as it leaned to the side giving him easier access. You held in a breath at the sensation. It was evident no one could make you feel the way James does.

This was the opposite of what you had been striving for these last few weeks. Your father made it clear to you how important it was for the family for you to rise to the status of a princess. The prince had been kind and charming, but he was no match for James. You knew there was no argument to be had with your father since now that a prince was interested in you, there was no way in hell he was going to accept a Duke as his son in law. You didn't care and figured that in time he would forgive you once he realized how in love James and you were. You hoped he would see what your mother saw and accept this path to your happiness. 

That was before the incident.

  A month ago you took a carriage ride to James’ home accompanied by your Lady’s maid Kate. The purpose of this escapade was to confide in James over your father’s intentions. Unbeknownst to you, his true intentions would be brought to light instead. 

Your carriage was merely a block away when you spotted them. They were laughing as James’ footmen escorted both him and Lady Natasha inside. There was no one else in sight and no one else entering the home with them. This meant they were in there alone and unchaperoned. Only impatient lovers would resort to such means knowing a scandal could break out if they were caught.

You clutched at your chest, overwhelmed with the way it ached. You felt as though James had come up to you and ripped it out of your chest, exposing it to everyone to gawk and laugh at. To laugh at how stupid Lady Y/n had become in thinking the biggest Rake in town had truly, madly, and deeply fallen in love with her. 

Kate took you in her arms and ordered the coachmen to take the long way back home. You sat there, crying into her shoulder throughout the entire journey. You vowed that day to never fall for James’ charms ever again.  

The memories of that day hit you full force and knocked the air out of you. Your body caught up to your brain and with as much strength as you could muster you pushed James off of you. He looked shaken by your reaction, staggering back almost tripping over a cluster of purple hyacinths. 

With your anger at his betrayal still fueling you, you lifted your chin in the air and spoke your final words to him,“ You cannot water what has already withered and believe it will come back to life.” 

You didn’t bother to look at him this time, knowing too well the expression on his face was one that would make your resolve crumble in an instant. You quickly turned and ran out of the greenhouse and back into the garden. The rain was still coming down in a pour, soaking you from head to toe. Tears were streaming down your face and the ends of your ball gown were now covered in mud. In spite of that, you continued to run to the furthest part of the garden closest to the carriages and farthest from Lady Maximoff’s manor.

You were yearning to be home—to be in your mother’s arms and bask in her comfort. To have Kate prepare you the warmest cup of tea and sugary scones to indulge in. Anything to remove the taste of wine and the smell of sandalwood that was now deeply imbedded into your senses. This in hopes to forget the events of tonight ever happened. 

“ Miss Y/n, you are soaked to the brim, we must get you home. I shall fetch the Marchioness at once,” your coachman draped a blanket from the servant’s quarters over your shoulders and helped you into your carriage. You hugged it tightly against you as the coachman walked away to get your aunt, the Marchioness of Syracuse. You had completteley forgotten she was the one who accompanied you tonight. How were you going to explain your current state to her? 

“ Miss Y/n?”

That voice—you know that voice.  It belonged to the person you least wanted to see at this moment. A lady should never let a prince see her like this. 

“ Your Highness, I beg of you not to look in the carriage. I was caught in the rain and I am not proper,” the door of the carriage was wide open, the prince’s emerald green attire coming into view. You angled your body so that he could only see the bottom half of your ball gown, hiding your face from him. 

“ Your wish is my command, my lady,” he stood by the entry of the carriage facing froward, his side profile visible to you. Your shoulders relaxed, relieved he didn’t have to see you at your worst. His personal attendant was beside him, holding an umbrella above him to ensure his royal highness was not touched by the rain. 

“ I must thank you for bestowing upon me the pleasure of dancing with you tonight. I regret we did not get to spend more time together. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress,” he complimented you, bringing a smile to your face. “ You flatter me, your Highness—thank you. I will make sure to not get caught in the rain next time, so that our dances may continue.” You made light of your situation, bringing out a soft chuckle from him. 

“ No matter if there is rain. I would gladly charge right into the storm of it if it meant I could have you by my side,” he stated, a warmth overtaking your cheeks. Any flirtations coming from another man other than James were foreign to you and flustered you easily. James’ flirtations were inviting and expected, while others were far from it. They felt wrong to hear and to accept. In doing so, it was as if you were being disloyal to James. 

You would have to keep reminding yourself there is nothing more to be disloyal to. 

“ You’re too kind, your Highness. I am not sure it is worth catching an illness over this weather for a dance,” you responded, trying to keep your voice gentle and light. You didn’t want any negative emotions to take charge just yet. They could do so once you were in the privacy of your bedchambers. 

“ For me it is. You are worth it, Miss Y/n,” the prince had never confessed his love to you, but with this sentence, it was clear his feelings toward you were much stronger than you had previously believed. Many proposals were given on attraction alone—to have a proposal based on love was the rarest of blessings. 

You stilled in your seat, his words making your heart skip a beat. From the bottom of your heart it was clear to you, you were not in love with this man. Nonetheless, you thought, maybe in the future you would. Maybe if you tried hard enough your heart could move on even if your soul refused to. 

“ Oh! Prince Loki, your highness, what a pleasure to see you here with my niece. . .” your aunt arrived just in time, saving you from having to respond. Your mind wandered off, your aunt’s voice and the prince’s getting lost in the background as they spoke to one another. 

You draped the blanket over your head to cover the stream of tears that refused to stop flowing. If you pretended to be asleep than you could avoid all of your aunt’s pestering questions on where you had snuck off to while the prince was waiting for you. 

No, you did not love Prince Loki.

Yes, you were in love with James Barnes the Duke of Brooklyn.

However, for the sake of a love lost along with fulfilling your duty, you would have to learn how to love another. 

Rake:  A rake is a 19th-century term for a womanizer or a man who flaunts their exploits with women and avoids any real romantic attachments.

[perfectlypanda]

When visiting the many islands that comprise the Fire Nation, it was not uncommon for their royal majesties Fire Lord Zuko and Master Katara to don the traditional dress of the host island.

Almost as soon as I had finished working on the art piece I did with Zuko and Katara in Thai inspired outfits, I knew I wanted to do something similar but with outfits inspired by the Philippines (or outfit, sorry Zuko I find women's fashion more interesting than men's).

Before jumping into the commentary, I'll stress that this design is fantasy inspired by the Philippines. Although I did research, it is not an accurate representation of Filipino national costume, nor is it meant to be.

This was more challenging in some ways than the Thai piece, because even though the Thai piece required a ton of detail work, I was creating a design much closer to its real world inspiration. In this case there wasn't a specific "look" I was trying to recreate, instead I wanted to create a design inspired by the traditional fashion of the Philippines. However, 1). pre-colonial fashions were very different from the Spanish inspired styles that arose during colonialization and that have since evolved into modern traditional Filipino attire, and 2). the Philippines is home to many different indigenous groups, each of whom have their own traditional costumes.

Originally, I wanted to exclusively look to the pre-colonial period for inspiration, but when I looked only at pre-colonial designs, I found I missed the iconic silhouettes seen in modern Filipino dresses. So I widened my research scope to see how I could combine pre-colonial with elements of modern fashion.

For pre-colonial styles, the best historical resource is the Boxer Codex. Karakoa Productions was also a helpful resource to see how pre-colonial looks were being interpreted from historical illustrations and descriptions into real world garments. I looked at modern designers from the Philippines to see how they were playing with the design of terno (which often feature the iconic butterfly sleeves I wanted to include). One design I was really inspired by was a look worn by Filipina actress Kathryn Bernardo.

Both written and illustrated accounts of the pre-colonial era in the Philippines emphasize the prevalence of golden jewelry, so Katara has a gold necklace, bracelets, hair beads, and belt. Katara's belt is inspired by two main sources. The first is an extant kandit (royal belt) woven from gold wires in the Museo ng Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas's pre-colonial gold collection. The dangles on it are loosely inspired by the beaded belts made by the T'Boli people.

With Katara's skirt, I tried to blend the longer style of skirts seen in the Boxer Codex, with a striped pattern inspired by the numerous woven designs I found in traditional indigenous attire. The specific photo I used as inspiration was labeled as being from Kalinga, but I found similar weavings from other groups as well.

The flowers in Katara's hair are flowers found in the Philippines - sampaguita, waling-waling orchids, plumeria, hibiscious, and santan. She also wears her dual moon-flame tiara.

♥ Please do not repost. If you like it and want to show people, share a link to this page instead. Thank you!

[virozero]

[Magnus / Psyker!Reader]

Entangled Entropy - Ch. 0

AN: I haven't written a fic in many moons, so I am hella rusty. Please be patient with me! Also there needs to be more Magnus content on this site and I have a moral obligation to make it. This is also just like an introduction chapter so I didn't quite wanna lable it as chapter 1 or what ever .3. please hit me with feedback I need it lol. also I blame @moodymisty @ms--lobotomy and @kit-williams for inspiring me to write fic again XD Reader will have GN/Masc pronouns even though I will depict them as Transmasc. Word count: 542 Tags: @heuldoch7b Warnings: Mentions of shitty childhood, Slowburn, uh no beta we die like Death Korps of Krieg Credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

Your home world, Æeran, while not as beautiful as the tales of ancient holy terra, was still a gem. With two colonized moons with established trade routes, Æeran was far from struggling. Colorful floral and exotic fauna gave life to the world, you could list all of them from memory.

With blue violet skies to amber beaches, your home world was starting to feel too small for you. While you did visit the moons on occasion, you felt like you have seen and studied everything Æeran had to offer.

You have lived with your royal advisor uncle since you were 17, learning all the ways of high-class society and their politics. Much of it was boring but your uncle wishes for you to take his place as the royal advisor to the throne someday.

You did not care much for the King but were respectful towards him for your uncle’s sake. It was not that he was incapable of much, it was that he would not do anything that outrightly helped the citizens.

Record keeping and recalling notes was your current job due to your gifts. You had a rough upbringing due to being different. Weird things tend to happen around you.Unsure of what to do, your parents did not treat you right but rather as a monster.

Until your uncle adopted you in your late teens. He taught you everything you need to know about how to be a vassal for the lord of the planet. Your unique gifts have aided you with your studies and research as it helped you keep notes and long form records on a metaphysical plain.

That’s right, you were a psyker, but no one on the planet knew exactly what a psyker was or the dangers they could bring. So, they just said you were gifted by the gods since most of your powers were used in a utilitarian way. Occasionally you would try to use them for something different like levitating small objects or forming little animals. You were not that good yet, but it helped keep the boredom at bay.

All that was about to change though as your uncle was called away to business on one of the moons, leaving you alone to temporally take his place. To say you weren’t panicking would be a lie. You told your uncle how you weren’t ready for this as he was leaving for the shuttle. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and told you he believed in you and that you had made him proud.

With a final farewell, you return to your residence to prepare for the following days to come.  As you were organizing tomes from a pile near your bed, a sharp crack and rumble shook the sky, causing you to drop the heavy book on your foot. Cursing, you ran to a window to see what happened. The city still is in one piece, no signs of collapsed buildings. Everything seems ok until you look up at the sky.

A titanic spaceship hid the sun and was looking to dock. You squint your eyes to stare at it, cursing under your breath knowing damn well you had to deal with this as your uncle was off planet.

[onceuponastory]

last stroke of midnight - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When a stroke of luck and a little bit of magic allows her to attend Prince James' royal ball, Y/N soon realises that they’ve met before. Pairing: Prince!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of Y/N’s stepfamily belittling and degrading her, her parents dying, and her doubting herself. Classic Cinderella story stuff. Also, a little bit of angst bc it’s me. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: My final entry for @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse Connect Four event! My final square was Fairytale, and I realised I haven’t written a Cinderella inspired story before, so here we are! This can also tie into the Royalty square I had, but I’ve used that already.

Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Slowly, Y/N makes her way down the hallway, the sound of her heels against the tiles reverberating around the room. Various elaborate portraits and other pieces of artwork stare down at her. Unsurprisingly, the royal palace is ornately decorated, ready for the hundreds of guests attending tonight. Y/N has never seen somewhere so beautifully decorated in all her life. When she reaches the end of the hallway, two heavy oak doors stand before her, the muffled sound of music and laughter from the ball seeping through. That’s how her life seems to be nowadays. On the outside, looking in. It’s still a wonder that she was invited to this ball in the first place. But Prince James ordered every maiden in the kingdom to be present, and who was she to deny a Prince’s wish?

Of course, if her stepfamily had it their way, she’d still be at home, finishing her chores. Honestly, she thought her dream of attending the ball was as ruined as the dress they tore up to force her to stay home. It was only then that Y/N learnt she had a fairy godmother of her own, who gave her a gorgeous new dress, a pumpkin carriage and a pair of glass slippers, making her look like a true princess. And now, Y/N is standing in the royal palace, surrounded by various noblemen and women, and royalty from all over the world.

And she’s never felt so out of place. She’s still waiting to wake up, for this happy dream to be over in the blink of an eye. Even now, she can hear her stepfamily screaming in her ears, forcing her to do all the household chores, as they have done every day since her father died. Treating her like a servant, rather than a human being. For so long, Y/N thought that was what the rest of her life was destined to be. Living as Cinderella, their idea of a nickname for her, rather than Y/N. Since her stepsisters took over her bedroom, Y/N has nowhere else to sleep at night other than on the cold tiles by the dying light of the fire. And each day, she wakes up covered in soot, which inspired the name.

Their voices and laughter still echo in her mind, even now. Belittling her and labelling her a mere servant with no potential. Especially for even thinking that she could attend a royal ball, Prince’s invitation or not. But here she is, at the royal ball. Wearing a gorgeous ball gown that shimmers like the stars whenever she walks, and a pair of glass slippers that somehow perfectly fit her feet.

Finally, she has a chance to do something else, to be someone else, even if it's just for a night… and she’s terrified to take it. What if they see right through her? Realise that she doesn’t belong here, that she never did? Warily, Y/N holds her hand out, her fingers tracing along the ornate, carved detailing on the door. But she’s made it this far. Surely that must mean something.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Y/N gasps. “I apologise, I wasn’t-” Apologising for everything is simply second nature to her now. At least, it is when you live with people like her stepmother and stepsisters.

“Ma’am.” The guard bows to her, gesturing for her to enter the ballroom. She steps back for a moment, taking a breath for courage as her heart pounds through her chest. Yet, her feet start moving without a second thought, leading her into the ballroom. She glides through the room, past everyone’s watchful eyes. Y/N can hear them whispering, wondering who she is, and she has to tune them out before she becomes too panicked and flees.

Until suddenly, the crowd parts like the sea, and Prince James steps forward, right towards her. The second she looks into his silvery blue eyes, she recognises him right away. “Hello again.” He chuckles. “I’m thrilled to see you made it.”

Of course, Y/N could never know that she was the entire reason he suggested inviting everyone in the kingdom to this ball. Since he first saw her, Prince James couldn't get her out of his mind and yearned to see her again. And the ball his parents insisted he throw to find a suitable wife seemed like the perfect opportunity to find her again. The sparkles on her dress twinkle in the light, and he can’t stop smiling the more he looks at her. She looks beautiful.

And yet, Prince James could never know that the main reason Y/N is attending this ball is for the hopes of seeing him again. Although, she had no idea he was the Prince in question.

The two first met when Y/N was at the market with her stepsisters, being bossed around once again. Thankfully, they soon stopped bothering her and went to visit the local dressmaker, granting Y/N some precious alone time. Once they left, she took some time to walk around the stalls and take in everything on offer. Just taking some time to do nothing. As the sun warmed her skin and the cool breeze blew through her hair, Y/N finally felt at peace again. She wasn’t Cinderella, at the constant beck and call of her stepfamily. For a few blissful moments, she was Y/N again.

Soon, she found a stall selling fresh fruits and vegetables, and her stomach began to rumble. That morning, like most others, she was preoccupied completing the other chores and making sure her stepfamily were fed. And that meant she hadn’t thought about feeding herself. All the food on offer looked so enticing, and she just couldn’t resist. She rifled around in her pockets to find the few coins that she had managed to hide away, hoping it would be enough for something to eat. As she did so, a voice cut in.

“No, please. Allow me.” She had turned to see a face with a pair of gorgeous silvery blue eyes smiling back at her. Before she could protest, he paid for some apples and handed them to her.

“T-Thank you, sir.” She smiled, gazing over at him. It had been so long since someone treated her with kindness that Y/N swore she could’ve broken down into tears right then.

“Please, don’t worry about it. I couldn’t leave a lady like yourself in distress.” Y/N giggled at that, her cheeks burning slightly. As they started walking together, Y/N glanced over at the kind stranger, her gaze tracing over every inch of his face. As she did, a feeling of warmth settled in her stomach. Of course, a large part of that was because of his kind gesture, but Y/N found herself attracted to him from that very moment. With the way his eyes sparkled whenever he laughed, and the way he smiled at her… falling in love with him was very easy to do.

They spoke for a while, as close as friends, despite only meeting a few minutes ago. “Forgive me if this sounds rude, sir, but I haven’t seen you at the market before.” The man laughed, adjusting the hood of his cloak.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

“Well, I thought it would be a pleasant change from my normal life. Getting out in the fresh air, meeting new people.” He explained. “And….” He looked over at her, smiling softly. “I’m glad I came.” Her cheeks burned, and her heart felt like it was doing backflips in her chest.

“I’m glad you did too.” She smiled. But before they could talk for much longer, the voices of her stepsisters filled the air, calling her and pulling her out of her brief moment of happiness. Sighing, her body slumped in disappointment. The handsome stranger raised a brow, concerned by her sudden change in emotion.

“Is everything alright?” He had asked, instinctively placing a reassuring hand on her forearm. For a moment, she considered telling him the truth about her life. But as her stepsisters got even louder, she realised she couldn’t possibly drag him into this, or let him hear the things they say about her. It’s bad enough that she gets to hear it day in, day out.

“I’m sorry. I better go.” She sighed. When she saw the man’s face fall, she regretted her choice even more. But she didn’t have a choice. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again, sir. Thank you again for the apples.”

And here he is once more, standing in front of her in all his royal finery, looking like a completely different person. He’s still just as handsome as he was that day, his eyes still sparkling. And of course, she’s sure that she looks a lot more different than she did that day, too.

“You’re a Prince?” She gasps. “The Prince?” Embarrassment flows through her veins, and her heartbeat rises. How could she have been so stupid, so naïve to not realise that she was speaking to the Crown Prince? The bitter venom of her stepmother’s words flows through her veins once more.

“You foolish child! To think the Prince would even want you, a servant girl, at his ball-”

“It’s quite alright. Please, do not worry.” He reassures her, placing a soft hand on her forearm and pulling her out of her spiralling thoughts. Just like he did that day at the market. As he does so, Y/N feels herself beginning to calm down once more. And a familiar warm feeling settles in her stomach. “I’m sorry. I should have been honest.”

Even after the complete bombshell that's just been dumped on her, she is glad to be reunited with him, too. She and Prince James stare into each other's eyes for a little while longer, each feeling their hearts beat faster and faster. For a moment, the crowds fade away, leaving just the two of them together. Despite all her anxieties from earlier that night, Y/N feels so at ease around the Prince. For the first time in a long while, she even finds herself smiling. It isn’t until the music starts playing again that they remember where they are. And the crowd is still watching them. Clearing his throat, he stands up straighter. “May I have this dance?” And once more, Y/N’s feet move forward without even thinking about it.

“Of course.” Nodding, she slips her hand into his, whilst he rests his on the small of her back. As his fingers brush along her spine, she gasps. Being in his arms feels so right, so comfortable. Every time his touch brushes against her, it feels like a spark of electricity throughout her entire body. She’s never felt so alive.

Despite how long it’s been since Y/N danced, being with Prince James makes her feel so at ease that she easily matches his steps. As they dance together, moving gracefully throughout the room, Prince James twirls her under his arms, spinning her around the room. Y/N honestly feels like she’s floating. For a moment, she forgets all her worries, and it’s as if she and the Prince are the only people in the room once more. In fact, it feels like they’re the only people in the universe right now. The fact that her stepmother and stepsisters are here, and are no doubt watching her with the Prince doesn’t even cross her mind. She could stay here for the rest of her life, in his arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After spending most of the night dancing together, Prince James soon invites Y/N out into the palace gardens for some peace, and to relax after dancing for so long. The cool night air hits her skin, and Y/N takes a breath. All thoughts of the time limit on her night, and her fairy godmother’s warnings seem to have slipped her mind.

“I must say, you are a wonderful dancer.” Y/N chuckles.

“Thank you very much, Prince James. Although, I did have wonderful company.” Prince James grins, blushing furiously.

“Please allow me to introduce myself. Properly, this time. My full, official name is Prince James Buchanan Barnes. Personally, I think it’s too fancy of a name, so my close friends and family call me Bucky.” Immediately, she drops into a curtsey. “Please, don’t feel the need to do that. It’s alright.” He chuckles. She’s still amazed by his refusal to treat her like she’s any different to him, or a different class, like she’s been used to people doing most of her life. In fact, he looks at her like she’s the most important person in the world. And it’s making her even more smitten.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t realise you were a Prince when we first met, Your Highness.”

“Please, call me Bucky.” He smiles. Y/N chuckles, and her cheeks burn even more. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth when we first met. The truth is, I enjoy going out into the kingdom and meeting the people. It’s surprising how easy it is to be undetected when you wear a cloak.” He laughs. Oh, she knows that very well. “And besides, I’m sure you understand. Wanting to get away from it all.” His words confuse her for a moment… until the penny drops.

He thinks she’s the same as him. A royal, disguising herself in order to escape her life. Of course, she looks the part right now, but it’s all fake, just pretend for the night. Her head swirls, her smile dropping. Is that why he wanted to speak to her alone? Because he thought she was something different, something special? If he knew the truth, who she really was, he’d never want to see her again. Embarrassment rushes through her, chilling her veins as her stomach churns.

“Is something the matter? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. I’m alright.” She lies. Her mind screams at her to tell him the truth, that compared to him, she’s a nobody, just a simple servant girl. He’s been so compassionate towards her already tonight, surely he’d understand. But she can’t bring herself to tell him. This night has been so wonderful already, and she can’t ruin it now. She just wants one good night with the man she’s falling in love with. At least after tonight, she’ll never see him again. He won’t know anything else about her.

And that hurts deep in her soul, more than anything in the world. The universe seems to be set on constantly taking away every ounce of happiness in her life. First it took her parents, and then her freedom. And now, it’s taking Prince Bucky. But like she said, this is how it has to be. She couldn’t bear him seeing the truth, or seeing him letting her go.

“These gardens really are beautiful.” She says, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything to do with her.

“Well, that’s my mother’s pride and joy.” He chuckles.

“My mother loved flowers too.” She nods, thinking back to the flowers that used to adorn their garden, vibrant hues of pinks and purples. The bees and butterflies that filled the air, flying past as Y/N played with her parents. Life was so much simpler back then, so happy. She’d give anything to return to that time, when she had no worries or stepfamily. Although, being with Bucky is making her feel just as happy as she did back then.

“Well, she must have been a wonderful woman then.” 

“She was. She really was.” 

“And you’re right, they are beautiful. In fact… there’s a lot of beautiful things here tonight.” He smiles, and Y/N’s cheeks burn even deeper this time.

“Thank you.” She murmurs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This has truly been such a wonderful night. And I never want it to end.”

“Then stay with me. Just a little longer” Bucky smiles, stepping closer. Y/N gasps, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I wish I could, but I can’t.” When he sees the tears shining in her eyes, Bucky’s brow furrows, noticing how panicked the woman is becoming. He sighs, not meaning to come across as so forceful, or to scare her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. Not at all. You’ve been nothing but wonderfully kind to me all night.” She sighs. “It’s just… a lot to explain, Your Highness.” When he hears her call him by his official title again, it registers a feeling deep within in his gut. At the market, when her face fell as soon as she heard people calling for her, he wondered what was wrong. And now, seeing her so distressed, things are starting to make sense. Whoever this woman is, she seems to be hiding from someone. Or something.

“If anything is wrong, I can help you with whatever it is you need.” Y/N chuckles, sniffling slightly.

“I wish you could.” She’s worried enough about the possibility of her stepmother finding out she went to the ball in the first place, let alone her knowing she spent the whole night with the Prince. But if she did, Y/N would take full blame for it. It would break her heart if Bucky was hurt by her actions. Y/N steps closer to him, gently taking his hands. “But the fact you even offered means more to me than you could ever know.” Bucky looks into her eyes once more, gently cupping her cheek. Even though he only met this woman recently, he already feels like he knows her better than anyone else in the entire kingdom, even his closest advisors. He’s falling more and more in love with her with every waking moment. And he wants to make sure she’s alright. He has to.

Suddenly, a sound pierces through the air. The sound of clock chimes. Immediately, Y/N’s blood runs cold.

“What time is it?”

“It’s midnight.” Everything hits her all at once, like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over her, chilling every part of her. Her fairy godmother’s warnings ring out in her mind once more.

“At the last stroke of midnight, everything will be as it once was.”

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Thank you for a lovely evening!” She gasps, breaking free from Bucky’s grasp and rushing back towards the palace, to her carriage before the chimes finish. As she runs through the gardens, dodging people left and right, she can hear Bucky calling after her, trying to get her to stop. And every fibre of her being wants to turn back and tell him the truth. She knows he could protect her if she needed, that he would in a heartbeat.

But she can’t take that risk.

When she reaches the steps leading up towards the palace, Y/N runs down them, adrenaline rushing through her veins. In her haste, she can feel her shoes slipping off, but she has no time to stop them. When the first slipper falls off, Y/N doesn’t go back for it, too worried about Bucky seeing the truth to care about a shoe of all things. She slips the other one off, clasping it in her hands as she finishes her descent of the stairs and climbs back into her carriage.

As it sets off, whisking her back to her ordinary life, Y/N glances out of the window. Bucky stands on the stairs, watching her go. And Y/N feels her stomach twisting, and regret fills her veins.

“I’m sorry Bucky.” She whispers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The carriage only makes it a few miles away from the palace before collapsing completely, turned back into a pumpkin. And so, Y/N begins the long walk home, still clutching her remaining glass slipper. The waltz she and Bucky danced to replays in her head, and she hums along to the tune, moving through the steps in her head.

“It was wonderful.” She sighs to herself. “Better than I could’ve ever dreamt it.”

When she’s only a few yards away from home, the sound of hooves approaches, and Y/N ducks out of the way behind a wall. Peeking out, she glimpses them as they pass. Almost immediately, she notices the royal crest on the saddle. The feeling of hope builds in her gut once more, and she smiles. Bucky’s looking for her. He wants to find her again.

But just as soon as the hope rises, her anxieties sink in once more.

He’s not looking for her, some poor orphaned servant girl with no dowry to her name. He’s looking for the girl he thought she was. The princess, the wonderful dance partner. The girl who doesn’t exist. Sighing sadly, Y/N glances down at her remaining glass slipper, still glinting in the moonlight. A permanent reminder of the wonderful night she had…and what she lost.

But like she said, it’s better this way.

Isn’t it?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Your Highness.” The Captain of the Royal Guard pants, rushing into the room. “We looked everywhere, but there’s no sign of the mystery maiden. It appears she’s disappeared out of sight.”

Bucky sighs, nodding. “Thank you for trying, Captain.” He murmurs. He can still see the look on her face as she ran, the fear that something would happen if she didn’t leave immediately. It still makes his heart sink, even now. Nervously, he begins to tap his foot. Something is wrong with this woman, something in her life must be causing her great pain. He wants to find her again and to help her more than anything. The slipper sits atop his desk, sparkling in the candlelight. He picks it up once more, his fingers tracing around the heel. “A shoe made of glass.” He chuckles. “What a wonderfully strange woman.”

“Your Highness?” The Captain asks.

“Tomorrow morning, we commence a kingdom wide search for the maiden who fits this glass slipper.” He states. “No stone will be left unturned. Do you understand?” The Captain nods. “Good. Ready your men for the morning.” As the man departs, Bucky holds the slipper close to his chest, as if he was holding her that closely. “I will make this right.” He whispers. “I promise.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[viperbunnies]

OC's Masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

-> Some Ocs that you’ll see in this blog from time to time!

(Chibis above used bases from here Credit goes to Takiimikiku for the poses)

MAIN UNIVERSE TWST OCS: - Arranged from Ramshackle to the respective dorm’s book appearance 📽️ Yuudai “Yuu” ??? 📷 (They/them) - “Ramshackle’s Prefect” - Based on the ingame yuu! - The magicless prefect of NRC, an amnesiac with little to no recollection of their former world. Serving as Grim’s Guardian, they’re trying to find a way back home. - Twisted/Inspiration: Mickey mouse-ish - Ship: Sebek 🔮Oswald “OZ” Damarys 🐇 (They/he) - “Voice of the self  /  Echo of the self” - A sophomore belonging to Ramshackle, They assist the Prefect in their day to day endeavors serving as a guide. They have both amazing and terrible luck, always finding themselves in situations they don’t want to deal with, yet still escaping in one piece. How far will their luck take them? - Twisted/Inspirations: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, The rabbit in the moon, (kinda? The china girl in Oz) - Ship: Jamil, (...Silver) -> More about them here! (WIP) 🦅Quincy Royale🦅(He/Him) - “Royal Flush / Fallen king of Eagles” - A Junior from Heartslabyul— polite and pristine, yet with an intense presence. He was a candidate for Housewarden, however he failed the duel. There are still some students who would’ve preferred that he became the housewarden, however he has resigned from all responsibilities. Choosing to enjoy his time alone. Nowadays, his kind words no longer sound so genuine. - Twisted/Inspirations: The forgotten 5th card: Eagle, also slightly the White Queen from the live action ig - Ship: None -> More about them here (WIP)

🐯 Kaden Tigerlily🐯 (He/him) - “Solitary Fiend / Forest’s Warden” - A freshman from Savannaclaw, a joyful beastman who always has a bounce to his step. He looks up to his house warden, calling him brother (Since they’re both cats–) For the longest time he was rumored to be the missing child of a Royal Couple, (until it was proven true). Suddenly becoming the heir to the throne, he has been trying to reach out to the only other prince he knows. - Twisted/Inspirations: Tigger, Sophia the first - Ship: Leona (Familial/Platonic) - Note: His relationship with Leona is strictly platonic! -> More about them here! (WIP) 🔱 Hadrian “Heidi” Regalis🔱(He/him) - “Tide-culler  / Youngest Favorite Prince” - The youngest prince from the deeper ends of the ocean, after his brother took the throne he decided that he wants to see what else life has in store for him. Mischievous and far from a prince, he likes to cause chaos in the places he appears in. - Twisted/Inspirations: Ariel (Kindaa? But also not really…) - Ship: None -> More about them here! (WIP) 🐠Kana Sirinan🐠(They/She) - “Desert Tougher / Oasis Seeker” - A Sophomore from Scarabia, a mermaid from the tropical sea, talented in music and stringed instruments. They act as a mediator between the dysfunctional duo. They have a slight sass to them, and can come off as intense— yet despite that they’re a gentle soul who have a simple dream in life. To live it to the fullest. - Twisted/Inspirations: None tbh I saw a cool fish and wanted a pretty mermaid. I guess I got some of her personality traits from Nani. - Ship: Dmitri -> More about them here! (WIP) 🍇Dmitri Nikolaev🍇(He/him) - “Swindler of beauty / The Price of Beauty” - Deceptively perfect, and hopelessly devoted to his housewarden— whom he idolizes to an unhealthy degree. Despite the fact that he’s been revered for his beauty, he refuses to look at any mirror, claiming that what lies there is an ugly monster. - Twisted/Inspirations: Grimm’s brothers Snow white: The comb and the bodice. - Ship: Kana -> More about them here! (WIP)

🍡Clyde Myosotis🍡 (They/he) - “Astute Legacy / Escapee of the underworld” - A freshman from Ignihyde— a mermaid who has lost the ability to swim due to a fishing accident. Ever since then they’ve stayed on the surface with their guardians. A talented inventor with a sharp tongue. He works hard for his craft, and takes socializing as the last of his interest.  - Twisted/Inspirations: The River Lethe - Ship: Idia (Platonic– They have a mentor/mentee kinda relationship) - Note: His relationship with Idia is strictly platonic! -> More about them here! (WIP) 🌪️ Mori Cadavere 🌪️(He/Him) - “Wandering guardian / Vagrant Of Faes” - A strange student that appears in the school every now and then. He’s always watching and observing people from above. No one knows what kind of person he is— only hanging around Dmitri (who people refuse to approach) - Twisted/Inspirations: The vultures that keep appearing disney movies hshsh - Ship: None -> More about them here! (WIP)

FANKIDS TWST OC: 🦂Emir Viper 🦂 - wip

💎Haniya Viper 💎 - wip

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 1: "La détermination qui coule dans mes veines"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: Going to London was an easy decision though a difficult change, but nothing was going to stop you from getting what you wanted, and what you wanted was to go to Art School. For now, you only had to arrive and attend whatever event your godmother told you to. The only good thing that came from all of it, was that you reunited with a dear old friend of the family.

Word count: 2.9K

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You knew you would leave for London for a while. You had made the decision, you had sent the letter, you had packed the suitcases, but you were yet to announce your departure.

The possibility of being stopped by your cousin was higher than the mountains, and in order to avoid it, you would only let him know about your trip to London the day before you left. However, his plans did not leave you the chance to.

Running away was not easy because everything you have keeps you attached to that piece of land that belongs to you, that is your father's legacy and your responsibility to keep alive.

Not a change was easy for any human, and you wouldn't be the exception.

So you looked at yourself in the mirror, hesitation long gone after minutes of silence.

You didn't know how to do it, you just hoped for the best of fates as the scissors cut short your dampened hair. No hairdresser would give you the cut you wished for, the one you needed, so you had to do it yourself.

After a quick glance at the packed suitcases and the room that will remain vacant for a pair of months at least, you put on the black cloak and ran away.

The determination ran through your veins just like you were running through the hallways of the Château de Germolles, it has been doing so since the moment your father passed because there was nothing left for you at home if you did not have a man by your side saying the opposite. Certainly, your cousin replaced your father as the lord of the house, but he has never given you any sort of security in your own home. Two years have passed, and you would wait no more.

"Lady Y/N," le Seigneur Cartier, your father's right hand, interrupted your path. "Are you entirely sure about this?"

"Lord Carrington is expecting me, Seigneur Cartier," you answered. "And I have never been more sure about anything in my life."

He nodded, helping you get inside the carriage. "I will send you letters weekly."

"I will be expecting them," He closed the carriage door, and you peeked through its window. "I trust you to honor my father's wishes while I am gone."

Cartier nodded and made a gesture for the carriage to start, and you looked at the Château for the last time in God knows how long.

"One day until we arrive in Calais, one hour to Dover and seven hours to London," Antoinette, your maid, commented with a tired sigh. "Lady Y/N, are you sure about this journey?"

"I am sure, and I would appreciate it very much if all of you just stopped asking me that," you stated, annoyance slipping through your voice. "I am to be received by Lord Carrington, my godfather, and I will live in London for however long it takes."

"They are not in the Social Season, or so I have heard." You pursed your lips.

"I am not looking to marry as of now, my wish is to fall in love, Antoinette, because whoever is to be my husband must love me dearly before I display my everything to him. There shall be love, trust… He must be a man capable of ruling, not some mere lord. I will not hurry, and a specific time of the year will not stop me from finding a reliable husband. And I am not here to find a husband either way."

"I apologize, Lady Y/N."

The following hours were ruled by silence, there was little to no sentence said even during the hours of rest before continuing the lengthened voyage. No thing other than instructions were told during the two days and a half that it took to arrive in Lord Carrington's mansion.

It was bigger than you remembered, but again, the last time you were there was about ten years ago.

You were welcomed inside, not without looking around and admiring the art your godfather was a fanatic of.

"Oh, Lady Y/N! You have grown so much! You are a ravishing young lady, dear," Lady Carrington exclaimed, taking your hands in hers with a smile. Her loud nature was always remarkable, annoying to most but adored to you. "Hugh, darling! Lady Y/N just arrived!"

Lord Carrington appeared in the room with a smile that matched his wife's, an exuberant chuckle as he saw you. "Dear Heavens, you look just like your Mama!"

You laughed tiredly. "I am grateful to you, Lord and Lady Carrington, for welcoming me into your home. I had been setting my heart on spending some time here in London."

"So were we," he noted with a nod.

"Hmm, you must be dead tired, my dear. Let me show you your room for your stay." Lady Carrington motioned you to follow her.

"I am indeed, thank you," You smiled, to then announce your departure. " Excusez-moi."

You followed her through the infinite hallways and endless words, hearing her talk about the ball they were invited to just last week and the one they will host in five days.

"Did you bring ball gowns with you, my dear?" she asked you. "You must attend the ball as our guest of honor."

"I could not fit much in these suitcases, Lady Carrington," you replied. "However, I figured you could take me to the modiste soon. I will pay whatever the price is for some Paris here in London."

She smiled. "The modiste, Madame Delacroix, is French, my dear! I shall take you there tomorrow first thing in the morning."

"It is a plan, then, Lady Carrington."

"Perfect, dear," She nodded. "Rest, I will have someone wake you up for dinner. Tomorrow, in the afternoon, you will accompany me to Lady Danbury's for tea. She is a lovely woman, you will get along pretty well, I am certain!"

"I'd be honored."

"There is a lot of catching up to do, my Lady," she commented. "I had not seen you in a year."

"Not many remarkable events in my life, but I sure will have thought of one by the time we speak," you complied. "Uh, I was wondering when, and if, I could join Lord Carrington to the Royal Academy of Art."

"Well, that you must converse with him." She smiled and left your room.

You quickly changed your clothes to your nightgown, and fell asleep in less than a minute.

"Bonjour !"

You smiled politely at the woman who greeted you and Lady Carrington. " Bonjour, ça va ?"

"Very well, merci." she replied. "I am afraid we have not been introduced yet. Madame Delacroix, enchantée."

"Lady Y/N Voclain," you nodded slightly. "Êtes-vous française ? Lady Carrington m'a dit."

"Oh, speak in English, dear," Lady Carrington commanded. "Some of us don't speak French."

"Of course, I apologize," you chuckled slightly. "Lady Y/N Voclain, enchanted as well… Lady Carrington told me you were French, Madame, that is what I was asking."

Madame Delacroix just smiled. "Oui, indeed. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"My dearest Lady Y/N of Burgundy, always so modest… She is the daughter of the late Duke of Burgundy," Lady Carrington informed, and you nodded uncomfortably. You did not want people to know about your title during your stay in London, but perhaps it was inevitable. "Her dresses must reflect her greatness."

You approached the table where many colorful fabrics were displayed. "I will have one red that matches the rubies my Grandfather sent from their mines in the Americas, as well as some in different shades of green for the emeralds. Oh, for the ball I will have a white one with gold here and there… I would adore embroidered flowers but not too many, crystals, sequins, your finest silks," you explained everything you wanted in your dresses. "I trust you entirely, Madame. I want them unique, no one else will have the same dress, not even a similar one. I am willing to pay the price. Eight dresses for now, and the urgency is the dress for the ball. Do not disappoint me."

"Bien sûr," she replied with a nod. You raised your eyebrow at the odd pronunciation, but ignored her. "The length of your hair will be a challenge, Lady Y/N."

"Yes. Why did you cut it, dear?"

"Uh… I-" The bell saved you as its sound announced the arrival of a woman and her three daughters, calling for Madame Delacroix.

"I will be right back." she promised, and left you and Lady Carrington alone.

"Lord Carrington agreed to take you to the Academy tomorrow."

You smiled widely, making her curve her lips. "Oh, that is wonderful news, Lady Carrington! I am beyond grateful!"

"He wants your portrait painted, Lady Y/N, so it seems that you will spend many hours there."

"I am eager to!" you exclaimed.

She gave you a look you couldn't quite decipher, but if there was something you recognized in it, it was a threat. "Careful with the artists, Lady Y/N… We would not want you involved with any of them."

"Oh," You frowned. "I- I will not-"

"I know, dear… A lady like you has nothing to do with men like them, you deserve a man of title, with a surname that speaks for himself."

"Can't there be both?" you wondered out loud and she chuckled dryly.

"Those men spend their nights in clubs and brothels, and will certainly not stop doing so after marrying. Poor Lady Goldwyn, married to an artist who had a bastard child before having hers… Never at home, I got lucky with Hugh, but God forbid you stumble upon a similar fate."

You gave her an amused glance. "I know I can make a suitable pick."

"He must be rich, dear, how else will you afford living the life you always have had?" she commented. "A true gentleman, one that respects you and loves you dearly. If he has brothers or sisters it will be ideal, that way you will know he is a man of his family… Oh, Her Majesty, the Queen has a nephew, a prince, she brought to London last season, maybe he is still an eligible bachelor."

"A prince?" you questioned, surprised.

"The Prince of Prussia, my dear. I suppose that is a man worthy of a duke's daughter."

A laugh left your lips. "Do you truly believe that he would be interested in courting me, Lady Carrington?"

"Oh, he most certainly would!"

"Seeing is believing, then." You chuckled.

While you and Lady Carrington were talking, Madame Delacroix's clients struck up a conversation.

"I have never seen that lady before, who is her?" Lady Featherington questioned, seconded by her two daughters.

"Lady Y/N of Burgundy, daughter of the Duke of Burgundy," she replied. "She is French, a relative of the Carringtons."

"Oh, you two should befriend her! The Carrington ball is next week and we have not received our invitation yet."

"You are right, Mama," Prudence agreed. "I will go now."

Both sisters approached you and Lady Carrington, gaining a look full of disdain from the latter.

They introduced themselves, and their mother soon joined.

"We would be delighted to have you this afternoon for tea, Lady Y/N."

"I am afraid there is no empty spot in my schedule for now, but I will make sure to let you know once I am available." you replied after noticing Lady Carrington's discomfort.

"Well then." Lady Featherington nodded, and so did you. Then, she looked at Lady Carrington with a slight smile and disappeared.

"That woman is insufferable!" your godmother yelled.

Then you couldn't contain your laughter.

"Lady Carrington!"

"Oh, Lady Danbury!"

You both stood up as she entered the room, and you greeted her with a smile.

"This is Lady Y/N of Burgundy, she is my guest and Lord Carrington's," Lady Carrington introduced you. "She will stay until she finds a husband!"

You widened your eyes at her explicit purpose. "I- I am not- well, I am, but-"

She laughed. "Oh, dear. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. This woman has not stopped talking about receiving you."

"Enchanted to meet you, Lady Danbury," you finally said, chuckling slightly.

While it is true that you must marry and that your requirements are vast, on this particular visit to London, you are not looking to find a husband. You, however, were planning on doing a thing you clearly should not. An alibi was needed, and that way you could kill two birds with one stone.

"Take a seat, let's wait for the other guests," she commanded and you and Lady Carrington complied. Not many seconds later, three women joined you. "Well, this is Lady Mary and her daughters, Miss Kate Sharma and Miss Edwina Sharma… These are Lady Carrington, as you know, and her guest Lady Y/N of Burgundy."

You smiled. "Enchanted to meet you all."

"Us as well." Miss Kate Sharma answered for her mother and sister.

They took a seat, and soon another woman arrived.

"Lady Bridgerton!" Lady Danbury welcomed her.

"Lady Bridgerton?" You stood up at her mention and excitement painted your features.

Lady Bridgerton raised her eyebrow in confusion. "Yes…?"

"Oh, my bad!" you excused yourself before a happy grin. "Of course you don't remember me, the last time you saw me I was nine years old! Y/N, daughter of the Duke Sébastien of Burgundy."

"Oh, Heavens, look at yourself!" she exclaimed when she realized. "Dear, you have become a wondrous young lady!"

"Do you know each other?" Lady Danbury asked.

"Her late father, the Duke, was great friends with my husband," she replied with a tender smile. "I met her when she was a baby and saw her last about eleven years ago."

You laughed. "Oh, it has been so long, Lady Bridgerton! How are your children?"

"They are all great, Daphne married the Duke of Hastings just last season."

"How thrilling! Congratulations, Lady Bridgerton."

"Thank you, my dear."

"So you know the Bridgertons?" Lady Carrington questioned.

"Only Lady Bridgerton," You smiled. "I have not met her children yet, will you be attending the Carrington Ball next week?"

"Of course we will, especially knowing you will be there."

"I cannot wait, Lady Bridgerton."

"You are always invited to our home, dear. That invitation is still current."

"Many years ago, Lord Bridgerton said to me that I was invited to their home whenever I pleased, but I have yet to make honor of the offering." you explained to the rest of the ladies.

Lady Carrington smiled before interrupting. "So, Lady Y/N traveled from France to be here."

"Was it a long way?" Edwina wondered.

You nodded, taking the cup of tea that was offered. "Yes, it took almost three days to arrive here in London."

"And why did you decide to come?" Lady Danbury asked.

"To find a husband, of course." Lady Carrington announced, and you accidentally spilled your tea all over your dress.

"Dear!"

"Mon Dieu !, I- my apologies, it's-"

Miss Sharma and Miss Edwina were trying hard not to burst out laughing, but it was almost impossible when they noticed Lady Carrington giving you a handful of napkins and scolding you for being so clumsy. Then, as the other women in the room chuckled, they did too and so did you.

When everything was in order, you looked at everyone. "I apologize."

"Do not," Lady Danbury stopped you. "Are you not looking for a husband, then?"

"Uh, yes," you lied, an embarrassed look in your eyes.

"Miss Edwina came from India to find a husband here, dear, do not be ashamed!" Lady Carrington noted. "I was telling her about the Queen's nephew that came the previous season."

"He was a charming young man." Lady Bridgerton mentioned.

"And there are still one or three Bridgertons available to wed." Lady Danbury added, making Lady Bridgerton laugh slightly and the three Sharmas look at each other uncomfortably.

"There is also the new Lord Featherington, he has mines in the Americas, just like your Mama's family."

You nodded. "I shall ask Grandfather about the Featherington mines in my next letter, then… You would not believe the amount of men in Europe swindling the rich, saying they have the most prosperous mines in the Americas while that is the furthest thing from the truth," you mentioned. "My cousin, Lord Voclain, almost made a tremendous investment until I took a look at the jewelry the man gifted him for me. Glass painted green, as if he could cheat my eye."

"And Lord Featherington is engaged to his cousin Prudence." Lady Bridgerton reminded.

Cousins?, dear God.

"Well, he was courting Miss Cowper when that happened, so forgive me for being skeptical."

"It is disgusting nevertheless." you said.

"It is."

"I will be ready to list the eligible bachelors in London at the upcoming ball just for you, Lady Y/N."

You chuckled. "I am not in a hurry to wed, Lady Danbury. I wish to fall in love instead of marrying as if it is my duty."

"Is it not your duty to marry?"

"Technically, it is, yes," you replied to Miss Edwina as her older sister gave her a look. "But my father raised me to know my worth and not marry a man I do not love… He married my mother against his family's wishes, all because they loved each other dearly. That is what he wanted for me."

"He was an amazing man." Lady Bridgerton smiled.

"He was indeed." you agreed, an afflicted grin replacing your smile.