corpsebasil

[corpsebasil]

Hi! May I request Nikolai (cannon or modern) with a female reader with curly hair, please? Thank you so much, have a good day!

Girrrrrrrrrrrrrrl as someone who has a close friend with the most magnificent hair I’ve ever seen I can just imagine him like…. (Please excuse me if this is cringe I have BEACH WAVES as natural hair BUT—)

“You’ve got the most gorgeous hair.” Nikolai mused, reaching out to brush his fingers over the strands.

Not through them, mind you. Over. He knew better.

“I know.” Your smile was a slash of pink, eyes bemused.

His grin matched yours.

“Good.” He said, tilting his head as his index and thumb smoothed over the coconut-scented tips of your curls. “Just making sure.”

[corpsebasil]

Do you still take request for Nikolai?🥺

I broke my arm but I’m back baby. I do indeed.

FOR ALL: I take requests for Scream, Challengers, Nikolai Lantsov

[corpsebasil]

Okay but Nikolai in my Bridgerton Au I’m giving you guys soon is absolutely unhinged.

It’s a marriage of convenience, not love, but one morning after seeing you play outside with your toddler hes…thinking.

He’s thinking.

He comes up behind you in the kitchen where you’re towel drying a few glasses. Doesn’t even speak, just walks up to you and slides his hand onto your stomach. You jump, giving him a startled look, but he’s got the most confused/slightly concerned look on his face possible.

“My Lord?” You mumble, confused as well, and he smirks at the title.

Then he leans in, right next to your ear, his eyes still on his hand as his fingers run tiny patterns over your abdomen.

“What do you think about making another, hmm?” He asks, voice quiet and absolutely sinful, and you…like…almost drop the glass you’re holding into the sink. “Give our boy a sibling?”

“I uh—“ You say brilliantly and he grins, finally meeting your eyes.

When he walks away after giving you a brazen up-down you’re slightly weak in the knees.

Who is this man and what happened to the indifferent Lord you married?

Turns out seeing you as a mother is…interesting for Nikolai to say the least.

[corpsebasil]

i'm not arguing with a man in full-body armor. whatever you say beautiful ♥

[corpsebasil]

“Am I making you feel sick?” - Ethel Cain

Bringing this one back because DID he feel sick for what he did to you?

Did he lay awake at night?

Hii, could you write a nikolai x healer reader where she is nikolai's personal healer ever since kirigan gave her to the royal family. They got veryyyyyyy close almost too close. Because of this, she was also his protecter and if he did anything wrong she would get the repercussions and when he when of to be sturmhond and left her behind she was almost killed. Then he comes back and she doesn't talk to him and tries to avoid him at all cost then he corners her and asks what's wrong.

YEP COMING RIGHT UP

(This may be more sadistic than what you had requested but my imagination went off the rails)

Blood Bender

in which a girl who loved the prince was given the darkest power of them all.

The room that was held in the lowest cell of the Little Palace’s dungeon was freezing, even on the warmest of days in Ravkan.

The girl had been close once, to the prince. Had been in love with him. Had shared his own quarters on his insistence that he could be stabbed in the night and needed his favorite healer with him. But she was property of Kirigan, had been since he’d practically raised her, and the general didn’t take kindly to what belonged to him. And he’d noticed her affections, as much as he’d noticed the prince’s feelings for her.

So when he’d left, the prince, her Nikolai, even though she’d been ordered to keep him there so she could spy on him, she hadn’t protested. She’d wanted him out—wanted him away from Kirigan’s clutches, especially when her dark master had begun brewing up monstrosities in the hidden dungeons under the palace.

She could picture Nikolai’s face, even then, as she laid on the cold, hard ground. The healer had long since given up on her life, but not on his. The Darkling’s strange minions tortured her daily, and every punishment was some new form of Hell. First came the voices. It was fellow Grisha, their tortured screams echoing around her, the sound so close they could’ve been in the next cell. But then it was Nikolai, Nikolai who she heard screaming for help, for her, Nikolai whose bones were being broken, skin marred, and she could do nothing but sob at the bars or cover her ears and wail against the floor.

Next was the altar. That stone altar that had chained her up as his minions sliced into her, burned her, broke her, reconstructing and bending her power to its greatest limits. Her voice broke from strain and she couldn’t speak for days after those long, horrific hours on the table, where she begged Saints that did not answer for death.

Then came the experimenting. Kirigan attempted new ways for her to use her power, trying to mold her into a demon of a Grisha. He insisted there were secrets the Grisha hid from the healers, ways to bend and burn and turn people inside out. But she had refused, all up until the day that one of her fellow healers was dragged down there, and Kirigan threatened to strap her to that disgusting altar and torture her until Y/N agreed to submit.

So she did.

And a piece of herself left every time he brought a new criminal to practice on. Every time she bent the very blood in a person’s body, until she watched that blood creep out from every exit point, until the sight of the red leaking from her victims didn’t inspire horror from her but a strange, blank, hollowness.

It had been three years.

Three years since she’d been hauled down here as punishment, and the prince was back. She was instructed to kill him as soon as possible, told that she could leave her cell when she wanted, but Y/N only laid there, soul completely gone, and stared at the walls until her eyelids could not hold themselves up any longer.

Kirigan was beginning to panic. The girl—his prized weapon—was fading away. No amount of torture would persuade her now; he knew she had passed her breaking point, and she’d likely kill herself before allowing his minions to lay hands on her ever again. So he tried a different direction. He bought her gifts, had her transported to lavish, comfortable chambers. He offered her riches beyond imaginable—books he knew she loved, music to be played, invitations to parties and plays and concert halls.

But she just laid in bed, refusing to eat. All she could see when she opened her eyes was blood. And all she could hear whenever people neared her was the rush of it inside their veins. It was its own kind of torture. Especially when Nikolai, Saints bless him, somehow found out where she was staying. And when he came to her rooms, her heart began to beat so fast in her chest she was almost sick.

“What the—for fucks sake, Y/N.” He gasped, lurching towards her side, taking her gaunt face in his hands. She recoiled from his touch, almost gagging when she felt every pulse of his heart, could hear and sense every artery, every single capillary, every vein…

Her magic thrummed beneath her skin. Her magic, her power, had become a monster of its own, tortured alongside her. But where she was broken, it was fixed. Where she was tired, it was starving. So it took everything in her to say the words she spoke, voice hoarse from disuse.

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” She told him, heart breaking at the hurt expression on his face.

“Its been—it’s been three years, Y/N. I’ve written you at least a hundred letters—where have you been? I was so worried for you. No one seemed to be able to find out what happened to you until a week ago when a servant reported you alive.” His hands grasped her face again, ignoring the disgust on her face because it was breaking his own heart, as well. “I thought you loved me. I thought we—”

“We’ll you’re wrong.” She hissed, jolting up, forcing herself away from him. Her face had drained of color and—no. It wasn’t that. It was that she had grown almost ten shades paler. Like she hadn’t been in the sun for years. His stomach lurched. What had they— “I do not love you. I could never love such an arrogant, prissy—”

He held up a hand to stop her foul words, his chest aching as he took in a trembling breath. All this time. Every night he had longed for her, had written to her, had craved her touch and her scent and her lips against his, and she…she…

“You must truly hate me,” he started, voice low. “if you would pretend to love me and then treat me this way.”

She was quiet, and when he looked at her, he saw that she was shaking. Her eyes were tear filled and she turned away, looking out towards the window. Saints, she was thin. And—and there were scars on her small arms. Scars and—and were those burn marks?

Nikolai’s stomach roiled with nausea as he reached for her, hesitating for half a second before touching her hand that was curled into a fist against the bed.

“Please do not touch me.” She whispered, all trace of malice gone from her voice, and so he didn’t.

Tears of his own were beginning to fill as he watched her, watched her thin shoulders shake as she shoved down her emotions. When he finally spoke, barely able to push back that knot in his throat, he told her about the Sun Summoner. About the Darkling’s betrayal and the war on the horizon. About the sea whip and the adventures he’d been on. About how he loved her, and had missed her, and how he’d doing anything for her to just…smile at him again.

But she was quiet, and after a full minute had passed, he wiped the wetness from his face and stood, headed towards the door.

“Do not come to me again.” Her voice was so quiet he hardly heard it and he turned, pained and stunned. “I—I don’t think I can…” her throat cleared. “The things he—I don’t know if I can stop myself if you..” she couldn’t finish her sentence, couldn’t finish the thought, and his mind raced as he tried to understand what exactly she was saying to him.

“Kirigan?” He asked, brows furrowed, and she stilled. “Kirigan? Tell me, Y/N, and I’ll fix this. You’ll come home with me, tonight, and we’ll—”

“This cannot be fixed.” She said, so slowly it sounded as if there was a period in between each word. “I have been…I cannot see you.”

“Just look at me.” He insisted, frustration and pain and fear rising when she didn’t. “Please. Just look at me and acknowledge that I love you, that I’ll fight for you, and we can fix this.”

He watched her shoulders droop as she turned, fixing him with a look full of hope and sadness. He almost dropped to his knees but managed to stand, holding his shoulders back the way a prince would.

“I’m taking you with me.” He told her, voice firm. “You’re not staying in this—this place. I swear to take care of you, for the rest of my life, if need be.” When he didn’t respond, he added, “I love you. Please believe me.”

So the girl swallowed, blinking at her prince, and moved, standing on shaking, too skinny legs. And she followed him wordlessly out, neither of them touching, as they left for his carriage towards the grand palace.

***

The war had been bloody and horrific. The other Grisha—the ones working for Kirigan, had power like nothing the others had ever seen. But it was the figure in a black dress, flimsy and ridiculously thin, that strode across the quiet feel towards Kirigan’s army. That was the figure that struck everyone dumb, staring at her determined face and gaunt body.

Nikolai and his friends froze, watching her emerge from the fort, expression so blank it was like looking at a ghost. She stared back at the enemy Grisha that looked at her, confusion in their eyes at her weaponless state.

“You,” the brunette in the front, the one that threw ice at her prince, started, voice trembling a fraction. “You’re um—you’re General Kirigan’s prize, right? The one he uh,” she looked at the others; shame had coated some of their faces, and she wondered how much they truly knew of her torture. Nikolai had gone deathly pale at the sight of her. “we won’t hurt you. Just—just come over here, and we’ll shield you, okay? You’ll be safe, Y/N.”

All fighting had ceased, watching the exchange with interest and tension, and the fire bearing Grisha beside the brunette spoke up.

“Come on, Y/N. You’re safe with us.”

And as Nikolai watched her, heart climbing in his throat, a small, sinister smile began to pull at the healer’s mouth.

“I’d like you to tell Kirigan something for me, if you don’t mind.” She whispered, her low voice quiet enough that everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing, in order to hear her. “Tell him I love him for what he did to me.” She said, and her hands moved.

The Grisha didn’t have a chance.

They dropped the ground, almost as one, all of them; they clutched their throats and gasped, unable to use their power if they tried. But Y/N simply tilted her head to the side, watching with a hungry, hateful stare.

When blood seeped from their eyes, their noses, their mouths, Nikolai turned and vomited onto the ground, the sight something of a nightmare made reality. The Grisha were dead within seconds, every single one of them, and Y/N sank onto the ground, her eyes finding Tolya’s. He was closest, his sword in hand, and the only one not shaking with fear.

“Kill me, please.” She whispered, still feeling utterly numb at what she’d just done.

“If you touch her,” Nikolai panted, shoving himself to his feet. “I will kill you where you stand.”

Her gaze snapped to the prince’s as he approached, then dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her. He breathed in her scent, ignoring the whispers around them, not when her pale hand moved hesitantly up to touch his back.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, piecing together her behavior—her appearance—what the Grisha had said—and then her power. Her dark power that was unnatural, that was nothing he’d ever seen before. “I won’t leave you again. I’m sorry.”

He pressed a kiss against her brow and she sighed, leaning into him. The power in her had been satisfied by the multitude of quick deaths, and his blood didn’t roar in her ears the way it sometimes did when he’d brought her to the palace, had brought her to his rooms, had fed her soup and clothed her and jabbered away even if she didn’t respond.

And on the days she refused to get out of bed, her expression haunted, he stayed beside her, refusing to leave the woman he loved. Not when he knew, somehow, that she’d been tortured ever since he had left. And though she still refused to tell him what had happened…well, they had time for that later.

“I do—” she swallowed, trying to bring the words out of her. “I do—love…you.” She said, her throat practically searing against the phrase, as the power inside her growled its disapproval. But Nikolai only kissed her forehead again, utterly unafraid of her.

She pulled back to look at him, touching his face with a tiredness that was bone deep, and forced her eyes not to linger on the gash on his head. If she did, she might feel the urge to see just how much it could bleed.

“I’m…” she swallowed again. She’d hardly spoken a word in months; it felt strange to communicate in more than nods or shakes of her head. “I’m going to…kill..”

He saw the look in her eyes and helped her up, his friends backing away from the girl as if she had the Black Plague. But her eyes simply swept over the clearing, meeting every gaze she saw, and spoke. For the first time in three years, she felt a sense of strength.

“Kirigan is mine.” She said, glaring around at them once more, before striding off into the distance, stepping over the bodies of her fallen Grisha on the way out of the fortress.

***

Kirigan had died begging.

She was laughing as she tugged his blood from his body, his eyes pleading with her. She had even mocked him, mocked him, miming choking on something as he gurgled and gagged on his own life’s blood. And when he was dead, good and truly dead, a strange weight whooshed out of her and she collapsed, panting.

Nikolai was at her side in seconds, Alina having had cleared the Fold, and when his hand touched her shoulder she felt, for the first time in a long time, no thrum of heartbeat. No hint of blood. She turned to look at him, eyes wide; Kirigan’s death had somehow reversed the damage. She raised her hands, healing the gash on his head, and sobbed in relief when his skin stitched together instead of tearing apart.

“Darling,” he sighed, gathering her into him, holding her close. “darling you’re safe. You’re free, now.”

“My—” she choked as she gasped for air, hardly able to breathe past the ache of relief in her chest. “Nikolai, I need you. I need you beside me.”

“I am yours.” He said simply, holding her close, and wondered, for the first time in a while, if a future with the woman he loved was truly possible.

And later, after months of healing, after hesitant attempts at stitching wounds, of curing illnesses, of gaining her color and gorgeous figure back, she finally told him of the horrors she had endured. When he had wept for her, she’d promised she loved him, and had endured it for him. For they would do anything for each other—anything.

And damn them if Kirigan would ever interfere again.

don’t ask where or why I came up with this but it’s gnarly to me to imagine someone with that kind of power xx

[corpsebasil]

You being a terrible assassin and friend of Prince Nikolai part two LMAO

- one time he showed up in your rooms and saw a body wrapped up in a rug in the corner. You were rambling about some squirrel you’d seen battling another squirrel earlier when he says “ARE WE GOING TO ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM???”

- you just looked at him and said “oh sorry did you want a cookie? Freshly made”

- “THE BODY Y/N THE BODY—”

- “calm down”

Or another time when you told some thugs that were manhandling you that your friend would beat their asses if they didn’t let you go.

Nikolai ended up getting his shit rocked.

Oopsies

[corpsebasil]

Um you as an absolutely terrible assassin with Prince Nikolai??? You were supposed to kill him but ended up friends?? You two are like Key and Peele I stg

(This is based on a real conversation I’ve had dont ask)(my friends speak Russian) (I’m being trained for spy work anyways)

You: he won’t die from this height *me looking at the four stories that are easily survivable from certain positions*

*the fellow assassins in general that have Nikolai half-hoisted over a balcony*: What?

You: I mean from this height he’s just going to break stuff but not die. You should go higher

Nikolai: YOURE NOT HELyPING—

[corpsebasil]

If I wrote for Art Donaldson would you guys read…

[corpsebasil]

Pirates of Ravka Blurb

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” You ask, rolling a coin, the last Aztec coin, between your fingers. The color seems to mock you—shiny and pure, but it’s the cause of your dilemma.

“Says the one who’s cursed.” Nikolai Lantsov mutters, resting in an armchair in your private quarters.

The boat rocks ceaselessly; with a storm above you and your crew manning the deck, you’re free to relax inside, dry, with the prince you’ve taken prisoner.

You smirk and toss the coin to him. He catches it easily, raising a brow.

“You trust me with this?”

“What would you do with it?”

“I could hide it. Trade it for a bottle of wine at the next port.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He stands in a fluid motion and approaches where you’re laying on your daybed, the window covered with a curtain above you. In a flash he whips it open, casting light down on your content limbs. Instantly the flesh vanishes, leaving Pearl-white bones in its wake. You glower as he gives you a sarcastic smile, reaching out to hold your wrist to the light.

“I could make you like this forever, Captain.” He purrs, running a thumb over smooth, hard bone. You glare harder and snatch your wrist away, tucking it into the shadows where flesh becomes tangible and you can pretend to be normal.

“Fuck you, Lantsov.”

“Likewise.”

[corpsebasil]

Patrick Gibson and Mike Faist 😔

blonde men are ruining my life

[corpsebasil]

Ughhhh MY CONCEPT NO ONE STEAL THIS BEFORE I CAN DO IT BUT—

“You’d better start believing in ghost stories, Mr. Lantsov,” you drawl, extending a hand made only of bone, stripped of any illusion of flesh, towards him. He stumbles backwards, eyeing the entire crew of undead pirates that surround him. “You’re in one.”

When you uncork the bottle of wine in your free hand and take a swig, the purple liquid rushing over exposed ribcage and limbs, sloshing onto the deck, the prince in question lets out a strangled cry of horror.

When he runs, disappearing somewhere below-deck, you laugh.

[corpsebasil]

“It’s humming over a ceiling fan”

My Grisha terrible past au: No it’s you after losing everyone, all your little sisters, laying on the battlefield, bleeding out, as the last thing you see before nothing at all is Nikolai’s agonized face.

[corpsebasil]

Oh good god imagine Modern Prince! nikolai LMAOO

Bro did this to his wife in public

[corpsebasil]

Yeah this is for a request that I accidentally deleted: Nikolai being your first kiss/ teaching you how

PFFFFFT HEAR ME OUT—

“Hey, you’re doing great.” He breathes against your mouth, tipping your head back a bit farther against the pillows.

It started as a simple request for him to teach you how to kiss—he’s your best friend, who better to ask—and he quickly obliged. While at first it was awkward (you didn’t really know what to do with yourself, reaching out hesitantly to touch his face or neck and barely opening your mouth) its turned into him practically laying on top of you, his chest pressing yours against the bed.

You wiggle slightly, unreasonably breathless. Every kiss has sent a tingling sensation towards your stomach, some so intense you gasp into his mouth. The first slide of his tongue had caused a visceral reaction, your nails digging into his bare shoulders.

Wait…when did he lose his shirt?

“Easy,” he murmurs, working his mouth gently against yours as you moan against his touch and shift your hips underneath him. “unless you want me to teach you everything, sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to stop.”

me next

[corpsebasil]

Vasily’s Wife… Part Two?

Warnings:, none for this one

I’m in love with him your honor

“Prince Zorin’s twentieth nameday should be the grandest celebration the kingdom has seen thus far.” Maester Ronnell is saying, gesturing with a lot of enthusiasm for someone in his seventies. “Sun Cast has been celebrating all week; we cannot let such slums outshine the palace.”

“I doubt Sun Cast is outshining the palace in any way other than a distinct lack of clothing.” You drawl, running a pointed nail across the smooth wood in front of you. From your left, legs crossed and smirking, Prince Nikolai lets out a small laugh. You ignore it. “But I agree. The palace will hold a feast at the end of the week. Afterwards, food should be sent to the surrounding cities of Ravka. Let the common people know Prince Zorin cares for them as well.”

“Yes, yes…” the Maester nods, stroking his beard. “Prince Zorin will like that. It’s good for the uh…normal folk to…realize who cares..” he trails off, seeming distracted, and the prince beside you sits up straighter.

“It was your idea,” Nikolai objects, looking to you. “let the ‘normal folk’ know their Queen chose to share the celebration with them.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” You snap, turning your gorgon gaze onto him, and the prince weakens visibly. His brow furrows, mouth turning downwards at the corners, eyes seeming to plead for…for what? This has been normal for the past year and a half or so. Ever since he.. “The Crown will act in Prince Zorin’s interests as he is heir. As far as I’m concerned, any decision made in this council is in Zorin’s name. Correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ser Dominik, recently appointed Captain of the Royal Guard, speaks after a tense pause, all eyes on you and the prince. “While we know of your influence, we appreciate the way you..allow others to be seen as well.”

You, Nikolai, and Dominik all seem to be locked in a three-way of eye-contact; you, trying to figure out if Dominik is just yapping instead of helping, Nikolai wanting to be supported and feeling slightly betrayed by his best friend’s interjection, and Dominik, looking pained as he forces a nervous smile.

You break the pause.

“Thank you, Ser Dominik.” You say, nodding once, and quickly change the subject. “Now. We need to discuss the recent skirmishes at the Eastern border. If I hear about one more soldier pissing themselves over some vagrants I think I’ll lose my head.” The room relaxes into easy chuckles, the men around you more comfortable when you take charge of these meetings.

Ignoring Nikolai’s wounded stare, you glance to a dark-haired man with a large broadsword sitting attentively across the table. “Master Ralgar? Your report?”

—

Your feet carry you swiftly to your rooms that evening, a trio of dutiful ladies accompanying you. They whisper between themselves as you walk, your ears pricked for information as you watch the tapestries, the windows, and greet guards and attendants with an easy smile.

“She’s with child,” one girl is saying, keeping her voice low as if you can’t hear her. “I mean…she looks it anyways.”

“She is not with child.” Your closest handmaiden, Thalia, says. “She’s a liar and a bitch and—”

“Ladies.” You start calmly, glancing over your shoulder. They all stiffen, faces turned into masks of complete innocence. You almost laugh. “Just because someone looks pregnant doesn’t mean they are.”

“She’s lying about it!” Thalia bursts, then blushes profusely. “I mean, it’s that red-haired woman. The one Vasily sent away. I think she’s trying to get compensation or something.”

You smirk.

“Compensation?”

“I don’t know I think she just feels slighted.”

“As she should be. My husband is a man whose interests change like the tides.”

“But—” Thalia stops, glancing at the two other red-faced girls. “I mean, aren’t you upset?” Oh, Thalia. Saints bless the girl. If anyone cares about you, it’s her.

“Why would I be?” You ask, turning your head to continue your walk. “It’s one less bitch in court. As you said.”

The giggles that follow bring a small smile to your lips.

“Your Majesty!” The four of you pause, your head turning a fraction as a boy runs up behind. He’s out of breath by the time he stops, hands on his hips. He holds up a hand almost comically, as if you all weren’t already waiting, before he speaks. “It’s—Prince Zorin. He’s here early. He requests your presence in the Throne Room.”

“Requests my—” you straighten, forcing a placid, icy little smile onto your beautiful face. The boy shrinks back. “Of course. Lead the way.” You gesture towards the hall and the boy spins on his heel, guiding you and your handmaidens towards the room in question.

-

Zorin is lounging dramatically on the throne when you enter. His eyes, coal black, zero in on you as you approach. Your bow to him is almost amusingly low, the courtiers lingering on the sidelines beginning to whisper the second your eyes meet the Prince’s.

“My Queen.” He drawls, giving you a twisted smile. Saints, sometimes you wonder if there’s actually a real person underneath that mask of hate. “I have come from Sun Cast to await this weekends festivities. I hope it’s not a bother that I’m early?”

“Your presence is always desired, my prince.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t do that.” He laughs, leaning forward to peer closer at you. When you tense, straightening up, he clicks his fingers and points at you. “There, there—you see?” He looks towards no one in particular. “She hates me. I told—”

“Is there something I can help you with, my prince?” You interrupt, clasping your hands together placidly in front of you.

Zorin pauses.

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes. I’d like someone to attend the parties in Sun Cast for the next few days. Someone…representing the royal crown.” His oily little smile is back and you try to repress a shudder. “Surely the Queen would enjoy a holiday.”

“My business is here, Your Highness. I’m sure—”

“—that you’ll come back next week nice and tan and relaxed? I agree.”

“But—"

“My uncle will accompany you.”

At that, you laugh, high and strangled, your eyebrows raised high.

“Nikolai? You cant send—” There’s an uncomfortable clearing of a throat and you glance to your left, watching as Nikolai approaches a few feet farther from where he’d been hidden inside the crowd of onlookers. Your mouth dries as you take in the tired look on his face, his eyes a deep, vast blue as he watches you. “Nikolai, I—”

“It’s just a few days, Your Majesty.” Nikolai says softly, forcing a quick smile. “Surely that’s alright?”

Caught in a bind, you glance from Prince Zorin’s smirk to Nikolai’s wounded smile. You sigh and nod, resisting the urge to run a hand through your hair.

“Alright.” You say, throwing your hands up. “Alright. Fine.”

-

“It’s not so bad.” Nikolai says, glancing around the large bedroom in Prince Zorin’s home in Sun Cast. “Hardly a palace but the view…” you were ignoring him as best you could as you unpacked the bags for ladies put together but now you glance over, watching his slender hands pull back a large, sheer curtain.

The sunlight is orange across the floors that always seem to hold a bit of sand, a light dusting that crackles under your bare feet as you approach the window by his side. He’s right—the view is…wow.

As far as the eye can see are red and orange brick homes, bright banners and tapestries, ribbons of shimmering purple and blue weaving between rooftops. Tan people of all ages and shapes linger in the streets below, laughter and gossip filling the warm breeze. Nikolai, beside your, gently pressing his fingertips against your lower back before he points to something in the distance, steering your gaze there.

“See that?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, almost sensual. You meet his gaze for a brief second before following his finger again, towards the ocean beyond. “No, there.”

“I don’t see—”

“Look, white sails.” He urges, his hand now tapping your chin a fraction. You see it, then—a large ship. Multiple large ships. “People from the Southern cities—”

“This is a Southern city—"

“More South. Shh, wait—” he chuckles, placing a finger over your lips to shush you when you try to interrupt again. “Let me speak, woman.”

You move your head away but can’t help but feel amused by his boyish grin, his hand on your back slowly flattening until his warm palm is resting against the base of your spine.

“I’m listening.” You sigh, raising a brow. The dimples in his cheeks show when he smiles a fraction more, pulling you closer to point out the ships again.

You listen to him talk for a little while, explaining different sigils and names while you nod, somehow not feeling the urge to move away. In fact, when his hand begins to rub up and down your spine slowly, voice still low and soft, you relax, feeling the tension begin to leave your muscles.

“I won’t bother you here.” He says suddenly, making your eyes dart back to his. The blue is somber again, that new, slightly pained twinge to them that’s existed since that night in your study. “I promise. I know I’ve—I mean, I know you—“

“Nik?” You interrupt softly, reaching out to touch his face. Your grip his jaw in your hand and nod once, not allowing him to turn away. “I know. What happened we…I mean, it cannot happen again.”

“Of course.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes.”

But your grip tightens a fraction and he gazes down at you, eyes darkening with a hint of lust as he subtly licks his bottom lip to wet it. Your eyes track the movement and you follow it, your own mouth going a bit slack.

“Good.” You finally blurt, stepping back before he can close the gap. “Glad that’s settled.”

“Of course.” He coughs lightly, almost tripping when he turns quickly towards the door. He pauses at the last second. “Meet me at sunset, by the way.”

“What for?”

His grin is slightly feline.

“You haven’t seen the best parts of Sun Cast.”

Wheww

[corpsebasil]

Arranged Marriage Prince Nikolai…erm

“Why must you be so cruel, you beautiful thing?” He murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear as he stares down at you. You’ve said something you shouldn’t have said—something abrasive and mean and selfish—and now the both of you have tears in your eyes as you watch one another. “All I want is for you to love me.”

“I don’t love you.” You say, but your voice breaks. The half-truth hangs in the air between you as he gives you a faint smile.

Leaning forward he rests his lips against your brow, his arms banding around you when you sniffle and squeeze onto him, hating your defiance towards this marriage. Hating how chess pieces played by the two of your fathers have made you loathe him. Hating how Nikolai—sweet Nikolai—will never truly have your heart.

“I know.” He sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your temple before he’s resting his cheek against your hair, cradling your head in his hand. “I know. But stay with me tonight. Please.”

So you do. Night after night, not touching, hardly speaking, you do.

And Nikolai breaks harder with every emotionless glance you send his way.

Oops

Pookie Mike Faist as Nikolai lol this is obviously Art inspired

[corpsebasil]

Thinking about Modern! prince Nikolai that’s your roommate !!!

My pookie

- you met in university and decided to move in together afterwards. He’s your best friend, remember? No harm done. You don’t care how royal he is—for his birthday you bought him a Burger King crown to wear. he wore it all night at the club, making you laugh as he swore to be your most honorable sovereign.

- you pretty much wear only his t-shirts to bed anymore. he almost dropped his cup of coffee when you left your room one morning in nothing but your underwear and his old athletic’s t-shirt, the material barely hanging over your ass as you sleepily mumbled a ‘good morning’ and moved past him to the coffee machine.

- now he stares at your ass and legs all the time. I don’t make the rules, and you pretend you don’t notice.

- he loves cooking with you even if he makes a giant mess. You’ve got him stirring the pot while he sings severely off-key to whatever song you’re playing, making you laugh so hard it’s difficult to continue chopping.

- on your birthday he makes you a cake himself. It’s terrible—he clearly read the instructions wrong but one look at those puppy eyes and you’re lying, saying it’s the best cake you’ve ever had.

- often you’ll fall asleep cuddled up together on the couch, binge watching shows until your eyes close and you find yourself snuggling into his arms.

- he can’t tell you he loves you. Surely he can’t. Right?

- but when you start dating a new boy he takes to moping around the apartment, finding excuses to get out of movie nights or activities you usually do together.

- it breaks your heart so one day, hugging him around the waist from behind, you beg him to tell you what’s wrong. He’s quiet for a while before he tells you something along the lines of, “it’s worse to want something you can have but never tried to than to want something you can’t have” whatever that means

- you spin him around and—oh lord, not the sad eyes— and you tell him you aren’t seeing that guy anymore. you tell him that if what hes saying is what you think he’s saying, then you’ve liked him for a while.

- he’s too busy smiling to kiss you properly, the both of you laughing when he moves in too fast and knocks your noses together. But soon he’s got it and is lifting you onto the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his waist while he kisses you like there’s absolutely no tomorrow

My BABY