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#second best
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Second Best 3
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Lee Bodecker
Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Your shift comes to an end and you heave a sigh of relief as you leave the hotel. You’re tired and slightly irritated. That guest Thor mentioned wasn’t friendly when you dropped of fresh towels. Not even a thank you.
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Oh well, you’re free now. To do… absolutely nothing. Your agitation grows. Usually you’d call up Greta and waste time together but you’re not doing that anymore.
So what do you do? Go home and sew? Watch some soap operas with your mom? Maybe you could go for a nice walk…
Sure. Your feet are sore from your shift, you wouldn’t make it very far. You huff and roll your eyes. You’ll just hang out in your room or whatever. It’s par for the course in Hammer Ford.
You come to the bottom of Thunder Lane and turn onto one of the longer country roads. Your parents’ house isn’t terribly far, not when the weather is nice. You grip the strap of your slouch bag and yawn. A nap is tempting but with you’re luck, you’ll oversleep and end up awake all night.
The noise of an engine and mulching tires approaches. You don’t look back as you sidle over on the apron. There’s more than enough room for them to pass, you always make sure of that. Yet, you notice how the vehicle slows and the bumper pokes out just along your peripheral. As you walk on, the car keeps a snailish pace with you.
You glance over and withhold a cringe. Just what you need. The sheriff rolls down his window as he taps on the gas. He hooks his elbow through the door as he keeps his other hand on the wheel.
“Hey, darlin’, need a ride?” He drawls.
“No thanks, sheriff,” you turn your head straight and pick up your pace.
“You ain’t live far, I can drop ya off no problem.”
“Like you said, it’s not too far,” you agree, adjusting your grip on your bag.
He snickers as the gravel grits beneath the tracks of his tires, “I see,” he keeps his slow crawl, “you one of those ladies who don’t need no man, huh?”
“I… guess,” you shrug, keeping your eyes ahead of you.
“How’s that? Don’t you live with your daddy?”
You wince. That’s a low blow, even if it is true.
“Sure do,” you answer dully.
“I’m not sayin’ it to embarrass you, I’m just wonderin’,” he coaxes, “don’t mean nothing at all.”
“Thank you, sheriff.”
“You gonna look at me, huh?”
You peek over again. You don’t say a word as you keep walking. He watches you as you watch him. His gaze makes your blood run cold.
“Come on, get in,” he says.
You frown, “I said, I’m fine.”
“You sure are stubborn,” he clucks, “I thought an old man like yours would teach ya some respect.”
You face the horizon again, keeping one foot in front of the other, “I haven’t been disrespectful, sir.”
He huffs and doesn’t respond. You press on as he pulls ahead. You watch him drive off, picking up speed as he rolls away. You exhale and bite your cheek. That was weird.
You watch him stop just down the way and reverse. He veers his back bumper around and swerves back to face you. He must’ve got a call. You don’t think too much of it. He slams on the gas, revving back in your direction.
He gets closer and closer. You expect him to drive past but you realise, he isn’t following the lines. He’s driving right at you!
You stagger and jump to the side. You hurdle yourself off the apron across the ditch and hit the grass on your knees. Your bag swings up over your shoulder and weighs you down. You twist onto your ass and pant at him as he stops just short of the divet in the ground.
He laughs through the open window as he flicks his lights on and his siren whoops, sending your heart to lurch again. You scramble back on your hands and stand up shakily. He backs up again and steers the car straight.
“Better be careful on the backroads,” he idles just across the ditch from you, “lotta careless drivers around here.”
You gape at him. He didn’t just try to kill you. He wouldn’t. He’s the sheriff. And for what? Because you didn’t want to go with him and Greta? Or because you didn’t want a ride?
“See ya round, darlin’,” he taunts and spins the wheel, speeding off in the other direction. His tires kick up rocks and send a cloud of dust into the air behind him.
You reach down to wipe off your pants and try to shake off the adrenaline. You still can’t believe what just happened. It just doesn’t make sense.
You sniff and look around. It’s just you, out in the middle of nowhere. He did all that but he could have done more. You’re lucky he didn’t.
You stay on the far side of the ditch, edging close to the trees as you set back towards home. You’ll cut through the forest, just to be sure. You’d almost rather face a black bear than chance another run-in with the sheriff.
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ellewritesalright · 7 months
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Second Best - Part 3
Nikolai Lantsov x reader
Part 1 - Part 2
A/N: Hello! Look at me with two updates in one month, who'd have thought? Buckle in for this one, it's twice as long as the last part. Once again, I hope it is coherent enough :) and again, I gave the mc reader a last name :)
Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.
Warnings: strict and low-key abusive parents, very slight self-image issues because of said parents, mentions of illness and death, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (bear with me please), not 100% proofread
Word Count: 4670
..........
Being without a fiance was an unfortunate circumstance. All your life you had witnessed young women like you being paraded around in hopes that they would find suitors even richer than their families, but because the Antonovs had made their deal with the king and queen so long ago, you never had to participate in such dreadful activities. In the past month since your disbanded engagement, you had attended three large gatherings and hosted many more as your parents frantically searched for someone worthy enough to marry into the family.
As you wound down for the evening, feet killing you and your head a bit buzzed from all the wine of another party, you slunk over to your vanity. After removing your makeup, you reached into the top drawer, trailing your fingers across its ceiling where you'd tacked a letter. It had arrived in the morning, after breakfast when you were by yourself in the library. But you'd yet to read it, too busy with your parents' antics to hide away and comb through the words. With a brief admiration of the double-eagle seal, you grabbed your letter opener and cut it open. 
The handwriting was long and there were lovely loops in the 'p's and 'g's; you smiled to yourself as your eyes followed their rounded paths. Nikolai was always perfectly composed, and so were his letters. This was the third one you'd received, and he wrote of more possible suitors for you. There were some more details about his day-to-day in response to a few light-hearted queries you had posed in your last response. When he asked for embellishment on your ideas of mechanical updates at your family's estate you were so eager to start drafting your response that you almost tipped over your ink canister.
He had also requested that you assess the suitors recommended in his previous letter, and you frowned as you rated them. 
Each one was well-bred and richer than the last, but none felt right. There was always something wrong with them, like wandering eyes, or a terrible way of spitting when speaking, or one suitor who had kissed your hand so sloppily you thought a hickey would form. They were all unattractive in their own ways, and you wrote as much in your letter to the king. In your closing, you made sure to thank him again for looking out for you. It was too kind of him. 
At the end of this most recent letter, he said that he enjoyed playing matchmaker. Apparently, it was a brief and welcome reprieve from the hard topics of war and politics. If he wasn't exaggerating this fact, your thanks would likely mean nothing to him, but you thanked him nonetheless.
You grazed a finger across his signature at the bottom of his letter. Yours truly, Nikolai.
If your hand had not reached up to your mouth in a moment of contemplation, you might have missed the smile that etched itself onto your lips, but the shape of it was unmistakable beneath your touch. You banished that smile and went to bed, trying to banish Nikolai from your mind as well, but finding it more than a little difficult. The swooping lettering of Yours truly was printed on the inside of your eyelids.
……….
“How did you enjoy the first act of the ballet, Lord and Lady Antonov?”
Your head twisted around to see Nikolai standing at the doorway to your family’s opera box. Your father politely stood from his seat and bowed to the king while you and your mother bowed your heads. You softly grinned at Nikolai, keeping your excitement measured in front of your parents.
“It was overdone,” your mother replied.
“Quite,” nodded your father.
“I think it is rather lovely so far,” Nikolai said. He looked at you. “And your thoughts, my lady?”
You looked up at your friend. “I think it is overdone, yet charmingly so. I rather enjoyed the dance with the foxes; the dancers all moved remarkably like canines."
Nikolai grinned and nodded. "That has also been my favourite part so far."
"And the sets are just magnificent."
"Aren't they?"
You both smiled at one another for a moment. A moment that was broken by your father clearing his throat. 
"What brings you to our box, your highness?" Your father asked.
Nikolai looked over at him, smiling politely. "I was actually coming to introduce a friend of mine to your family." Nikolai gestured to the door, and you noticed a man about ten years your senior standing there that you hadn't noticed when Nikolai walked in. "This is Lord Alexei Alianovic. Alexei, this is Lord and Lady Antonov and their daughter." 
Lord Alexei bowed to you and your parents. "It is a pleasure to meet you, lord and Lady Antonov." He smiled at you. "And you, my lady. His highness has told me much about you."
"All good things I hope," you said with a gentle expression as you glanced between him and Nikolai. The king had a small smirk on his lips as he looked back at you.
"Quite," Alexei nodded.
"Alianovic? You're Lord Dmitri Alianovic's son?" Your father asked him.
"I am, sir."
Your mother looked pleased, which couldn't bode well for you.
Your mind quickly cycled through everything you knew about the Alianovics, trying to find something wrong. The Alianovics were wardens of a large stretch of southern Ravka. But Lord Dmitri was rather old and would likely die in a short manner of years, leaving his entire estate to his heir, Alexei. The Alianovics were an old and reputable Ravkan family too, with a few blood ties to the royal family from many decades back; Alexei would be Nikolai's very distant cousin, then.
Looking between him and Nikolai again, you could see no resemblance. Not in hair colour, eye colour, face shape, bone structure, or even stature. Lord Alexei was tall and lanky, with chestnut hair and dark brown eyes and a charming mustache. Nikolai was also younger by about ten years. Still, Alexei was decently handsome for a suitor.
While lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice how your parents had seemed to step closer to Alexei like a pair of vultures.
"I should give my condolences for your loss, Lord Alexei," your father suddenly said. You didn't like the calculation in his brow. "What a terrible thing it is to lose the person you love."
Alexei's expression drooped a bit. "Thank you, lord Antonov."
"It is a great tragedy that your daughter will grow up without her mother," Lady Antonov said to him. 
That's rich, coming from you, you thought to yourself as you held back a scoff.
You looked between your parents and Alexei, who was growing paler by the second. Now that they mentioned it, you remembered that the Alianovic heir was a young widower with a little daughter. His wife had died in some horrible horse riding accident.
"Ana is too young to know any different," Alexei said sadly. "Though sometimes it seems like she misses her mother."
You somberly clasped your hands together and offered him a sympathetic look. Unlike your scheming parents, you truly did feel for him. 
"It can't be easy to raise a young child on your own, but I am sure you're giving her the best life you can," you smiled softly.
"I've seen him with little Ana; there is no father more attentive and caring than Alexei," Nikolai said. Alexei bowed his head a bit at the compliments.
"Ah, but what life is it for a young girl to live without a mother?" Lady Antonov spoke up again. You nearly glared at her blatant attempt at setting you on this poor man. "When I think of all the things I have taught my own daughter, I can't imagine a man ever understanding what it's like. My daughter knows how close a bond can grow between mothers and daughters--knows how important that relationship is--don't you, my dear?"
She cast you a look; a warning and a warm smile and a quick condescension all rolled into one.
You nodded, holding back the bitter taste that jumped into your throat. You tore your eyes from her to look over at Alexei again.
"I feel for your Ana in what she has lost." You expressed all your empathy as you spoke to him. "The pain of losing a mother is unimaginable… losing someone so important in life, especially as a child, isn't easy for anyone."
Your mother stiffened a touch. Your father did too.
"But you sound like an excellent father to Ana. You should be proud." You softly smiled at him.
Alexei nodded at your words. "Thank you, my lady. You are very kind."
"And you are very patient to have weathered my parents' barrage of questions."
Nikolai almost snorted at your joke. Your parents did not have the same reaction. For a brief second, you saw their anger; then they forced a laugh, playing off your words.
"You'll find our daughter is quite spirited at times, Lord Alexei," Lady Antonov commented. She was still saving face after you'd insulted her and your father.
"I don't mind it," Alexei chuckled quietly. "She has the same humour as my late wife did."
Your parents began engaging Alexei in a real conversation, and Nikolai took the moment to slowly step up beside you.
"Saints, your parent's methods are brutal," he murmured so only you could hear. "Your mother especially."
"Tell me about it." You restrain from rolling your eyes.
Nikolai let his volume grow just slightly as his words became innocuous again. "I'm going to the shore tomorrow."
"As in the shore of the true sea? How long will that take?" You raised a brow.
"My envoy will be gone for a full month. But I promise to write to you." He smiled then grew quiet again. "Can't leave you completely alone with these maniacs, now can I?"
You almost laughed.
Bells outside your opera box signaled that the show was about to continue, so Nikolai and Alexei took their leave. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. At least, until you got into the carriage going home.
"It was good of that impish king to introduce you to Lord Alexei," Lady Antonov began. "He stands to inherit quite a large title from his father, you know."
You nodded then rested your head against the carriage's side wall. "I know, mother."
"Stop slouching," she huffed.
"It is just us three, mother."
"I don't care. You will sit up straight, you stubborn little girl." Her eyes were hard.
You glanced at your father beside you. You were searching for a shred of support from him since sometimes he would not leave you to fight her alone. But tonight he did not offer even a glance in your direction. He just stared boredly at the darkness outside his window.
Your eyes crossed to hers again. Your hand began itching as you sat up straight.
"That's better, daughter of mine." Her hands folded on her lap. "You nearly ruined things tonight."
"Ruined what? Lord Alexei liked me," you said, holding back an eye roll.
"You nearly told him. And the king."
You pursed your lips, scratching at a dotted scar on your knuckle. "I did not."
"You were quite close to it."
"I was not."
"You spoke of loss."
"So?" You sighed heavily. "I was sympathizing with Lord Alexei--and in case you didn't notice, he liked me better for it."
The carriage arrived home and you stepped out before the chauffeur could open the door for you. You hurried inside, heading upstairs to your suite rooms. But Lady Antonov was hot on your tails.
"Stop, dear," she commanded. 
You did not stop. You kept climbing the stairs. But she grabbed your arm before you could get inside your room.
"You're a little ingrate, girl, but fortunately you're still my daughter. And as my daughter, you will shut up and do what I tell you to do and say what I tell you to say."
Her hand tightened on your arm. Her voice was low, but sharp as a hound's bite.
"If I tell you to jump, you'd better be in the air. If I tell you to keep your mouth shut about your beginnings, you'd better sit silently with a pleasant smile on your face and remember how lucky you are to be where you are."
Her other hand went to grip your chin. You could feel her nails dig into your face ever so slightly.
"Do you understand me, daughter?" She hissed.
You nodded, and her grip tightened on your chin.
"I want to hear you say it, girl."
"I understand, mother." You grit out
She kept you locked there for a moment longer, then she let go of you. "Go to bed. You look unkempt."
You said nothing as you went into your room and shut the door behind you. You held it together until you got to your bed, then you fell apart. You clamped a hand over your mouth to staunch the sobs as tears poured over onto your cheeks. 
……….
A month passed by slowly. You were paraded around by your parents, your mother in particular, to every party and gathering among nobles and high-ups in Os Alta. Each outing was more miserable than the last. 
You would dance and drink, and dance and drink, and dance and drink, while your mother plotted conversations and chance encounters with any man she deemed suitable. She had a knack for finding the richest man in the room; no wonder she had married your father all those years ago.
Tonight was one such night like all the rest. Though tonight you promised yourself to abstain from drinking. The hangover after your last outing with your parents had confined you to your bed for half the day, and you needed to keep sharp for tomorrow. Nikolai was returning home from the western shore to a small celebratory dinner at the Grand Palace. He sent an invitation to you with your usual letters, though you could hardly describe them as usual. 
What started with Nikolai's quest to find you a suitor had developed into a weekly correspondence that did not stop even as he traveled the country on kingly duties. In fact, your most recent letters from him only contained a couple of names for you to consider. You had written that he must be giving up hope, and he replied that he was vetting potential husbands based on the critiques you had given so far–of which there were plenty to pull from, he mused.
Lady Antonov extended a glass of bubbly to you but you shook your head. She rolled her eyes and took your hand, wrapping your fingers around the stem of the glass
"Drink and socialize," she ordered.
"I have the king's dinner tomorrow, mother," you told her.
She suppressed a frown, lowering her voice in case she said anything treason-worthy. "I don't care about that lousy boy and his dinner. General Halinsky was good enough to invite us this evening and I won't have you sulking in the corner. Now, go make nice with all the soldiers. And look for a myriad of medals on their chests, dear. Don't settle for one or two."
With her instructions in your head, you walked about the room, slipping in and out of conversations with ease. The older men all wore many honourable medals pinned to their jackets, and the younger ones wore few. Conversation flowed better with the young men, while the older men spoke of things that had no bearing in your life. They laughed about old missions across the fold and complained about the decline of the nation. You tried to boost this perception, saying how you believed in the king's abilities, but they were quick to dismiss you.
"King Nikolai is too involved in the first army," the evening's host, General Halinsky, griped. "The old king used to leave the commanding to real commanders, but our boy king thinks he can boss us all around just because his daddy got him a few medals and promotions during his time as a soldier."
You took the opportunity to defend him. "His highness earned those promotions on the battlefield. He--"
"He made major by 17. I made major by 23. The boy obviously had help from his father."
"What an unfortunate and incorrect assumption on your part, General," you said with a bright smile, the kind of smile that these men expected to see from a young woman like you. "His highness got the promotion at 17 because he was obviously better at the job than you ever were."
You walked off after that, absorbing yourself in a discussion between two younger soldiers of the benefits of first and second army mingling. You sipped on your drink and politely smiled back at Halinsky anytime you felt his eyes driving into the side of your head. You upset the host, and your mother was guaranteed to be livid, but you couldn't care less. If defending Ravka's king made people upset, then maybe they deserved to be upset.
One of the young soldiers you were speaking to was laughing at your mediocre jokes with the fervour of a dog playing fetch. Only two medals were pinned to him, and you pitied his efforts in this losing battle. He seemed nice enough, but nice isn't a quality your mother would forgive two medals for. Rich would do better, but he lacked the obnoxious refinement to be truly wealthy. 
Your father permitted you to go home early after you sweetly lied and said you had a terrible headache. You didn't see your mother's face as you left, but you were sure she'd be furious. It was her thought that you were more salable when you were there to be paraded around. Without you present, any talks of you would be diminished.
Still, you were in no mood to stay.
By the time you were in your carriage travelling home, you felt exhausted. With a sour taste in your mouth, you thought about how this was yet another outing that proved unsuccessful. Not a single one of the men you'd met merited any sort of consideration.
While you normally would have written to Nikolai or read one of his letters after a night like this, you didn't have anything to write which couldn't be said to him at his dinner. You would speak with him then, and all would be right.
……….
Dinner was four courses of quick conversation and good-natured travel stories, and you enjoyed every second of it. You were sat with one-third of the Grisha triumvirate to your left and a West Ravkan captain Nikolai brought back with him on your right. You were one of the only guests not part of the first or second army, and you could count on one hand the number of guests middle-aged or older. It was a young and well-versed group Nikolai pulled together.
As the king and one of his long-time first army friends recalled an embarrassing moment in their training to the eager ears of a heartrender and several first army soldiers, you turned to David, asking him about his recent work. He had your complete attention as he described a sort-of rocket launcher that was meant to couple with an inferni’s abilities.
The captain on your other side joined your conversation at this point, and he maintained a puzzled look in his eyes as he tried to figure out the schematics of David’s new contraption. You had to admit, the captain was easy on the eyes, with a decent jawline and an endearing batch of freckles on his face. You suspected that Nikolai didn't have a singular focus of politics when bringing him to Os Alta. Based on your limited conversation over dinner, the captain met all of your criteria thus far; he was handsome, conversational, and he had a sweet disposition that hadn't been spoiled by the hardship he'd endured in war.
Though you still had to wonder what kind of financial situation he was in; your mother considered anyone with less than two villas a pauper, so she had high standards when it came to the wealth of a suitor. You doubted that whatever amount of wealth the captain had would suffice.
Some of the Grisha returned to the Little Palace after dinner, but most of the guests stuck around. Those who remained were directed to the drawing room after dinner, and you followed after the group, slowing your steps as you travelled through the gallery. Your eyes wandered the portraits and landscapes, closely following every brushstroke. 
You halted completely when you looked up at a picture of the royal family. In this depiction, Nikolai was about the same age as he was when you first met him. A frown encroached on your lips as you stared at the oil painting. To think you might have married him. You might have walked past this painting for the rest of your life, but you let your resentment at your parents bubble over and you sided against them in the argument of your engagement. Now it didn't look like you would find anyone to marry. 
"You'd better hurry or the brandy will be gone," Nikolai said as he sidled up beside you, a good-natured smile on his lips.
"Then it's good I'm not known to drink brandy."
He grinned. “So you’ve chosen to admire the gallery, then?”
“Correct,” you said as you pointed at a painting of a harbour. “I don’t understand how artists do it. How they can commit the real world to canvas like that.”
“You’re quite the artist yourself,” he said with a small smirk. You gave him a confused look and he chuckled again. “That drawing that you sent with your second last letter? Of the stuffed bear you had as a child?”
You rolled your eyes. “I only drew that because you expressly commanded a sketch of him after I briefly mentioned him in a letter."
“Well, I wished to know what this beloved bear looked like,” he playfully defended. “You can’t blame me for that. Besides, it was a lovely drawing.”
“That sketch was abysmal; I’m no artist,” you sighed.
“I thought it was a perfectly charming drawing of… remind me of the bear’s name again?”
You huffed softly. “Viktor.”
“Yes. Viktor.”
"I called him Vik."
“And who gave you Vik?”
“A friend,” you answered truthfully, despite how much you knew you should lie.
“A friend,” echoed Nikolai. “Was he a brown bear?”
“No, he was grey.”
“Grey? That is rather unusual,” he grinned. “And, let me guess, you were so attached to Vik that you took him all the way with you to Ketterdam and back as a little travel companion."
Your heart raced. You shouldn’t be telling him more about this. You sighed and scratched the back of your hand. The tiny dotted scar on your knuckle itched like nothing else as your thumb soothed over it.
"Actually, no. We parted ways many years ago when I was five. Firepox spread through our household and I fell ill with it. Once it ran its course and I recovered my parents insisted that all my toys should be burned for risk of future infection."
He frowned softly. "That's too bad."
"It is," you admitted quietly.
A moment of quiet settled in the tall gallery as you both stood there. It was a sad memory you’d just divulged, and a memory that your parents would rake you across the coals for if they knew you’d told him. Still, a part of you was glad to tell him that. You rarely thought about the artifacts of your childhood, let alone voiced their ghostly memories.
Nikolai turned to face the painting nearest to you both. His eyes softened on the portrait of his family. 
"That was the last portrait ever painted of my family all together like that. We sat for it only a couple of months before I left for school."
"That was around the same time we first met.”
“We met as infants, I believe,” he said, looking at you again.
You straightened out a bit. “Right. I suppose we did." 
"Our second meeting, then. Do you remember it?" He gave a charming smile.
You rolled your eyes at the memory. "How could I forget? Lady Antonov made me wear a frilly monstrosity of a dress. It was ghastly."
"I will concede that you looked a bit like a puff pastry," he chuckled. His eyes scanned over the deep purple gown you wore now. "You seem to have developed a better sense of style since then; your gown this evening is quite lovely."
"Thank you," you said softly. Your hands clasped together again as you scratched at the apex of your first knuckle. "If I remember correctly, you barely spoke to me when we met all those years ago."
"I was fourteen, I probably didn't have much to say anyway," he shrugged.
"I don't believe that for a second."
Nikolai stared at you for a moment. It was hard to say if it was his kingly presence or the softness of his hazel eyes that had your chest constricting a bit.
"You want the truth?" He quietly asked, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
"Yes,” you nodded.
"I was afraid to make a fool of myself in front of you. I figured that the less I said, the less I could mess up."
He sounded like a boy as he spoke. His voice was vulnerable and young at that moment, a stark contrast to his broad, regal frame. Outwardly, he presented as a proud and strong figure, but on the inside, there was a youth and inexperience to his words.
"I was always afraid of messing up too. My parents were so insistent about our engagement. To them, I had to be perfect to keep our engagement intact," you quietly confessed. "If I knew we wouldn't end up married I would have stopped trying to be perfect for them a long time ago."
He pursed his lips as his eyes flitted to your hands for a second. You forced your itching fingers to be still, clamping them over your irritated skin.
"I'm sorry for any discomfort you might have endured from your parents since I broke it off. It can't be easy for you."
"I'm used to it." You gave a wry smile. Then you attempted a joke, “Finding a new fiancee is considerably harder than I thought, though.”
“So I've heard,” he chuckled slightly.
“Maybe my expectations are too high, but every suitor is too much of one thing, not enough of another. It’s an impossible task.”
“I take it that you weren’t charmed by Captain Balandin, then?”
You sighed. “He’s better than most. Kinder, younger, and more handsome than the men my mother pushes me towards, but I don’t know if he’s eligible.”
“He is single if you’re concerned,” Nikolai said as he furrowed his brows.
You shifted on your feet a bit as your face warmed. “This is going to sound incredibly greedy, but is he two villas kind of rich?”
“Two villas? Saints, no. The man is a soldier. He has a modest house in Os Kervo and a less modest apartment here in Os Alta. Otherwise, he travels around with the army.”
“Then my parents would never approve.” You let out an exhale. “Things are looking bleaker, Nikolai.”
“Don’t despair. You’re young, beautiful, clever, and you have an incredible fortune to your name,” he said half jokingly. “I am sure that there are plenty of suitors who meet your lengthy list of requirements.” 
“Really? Where?” you groaned softly. You smiled slightly at him, glancing at the other end of the gallery. “I think I'll take that brandy now."
He offered you his arm and escorted you back to the other guests.
..........
A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)
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@xceafh @rhaenyrakryze @thecrowsgambit @nghtwngs @hauntedenthusiasttragedy @stuffyownswrld @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @angie-likes-to-read @take-me-to-ny @historianthesecond @lunamadhatter99 @lareinaa007 @folklorde24 @a-candle-maker @elicheel @charmingpatronus
Nikolai Taglist:
@sweet0pia-uwu @notoakay @naushtheaspiringauthor @liter4ti @marchingicenotes7 @eyeofthestorm
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snoozebin · 4 months
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when the gold rays
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fell on your skin ; and my hair got caught in
the wind
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beautifuldarkmind · 1 year
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I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m second best. That I’m not enough. Like I’m an inconvenience. A waste of space 
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krizste · 8 months
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sunofsol · 6 months
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Maybe the light of the Moon isn’t enough
Maybe to truly see, The Sun is what you need
The Moon may control the tides
But the Sun brings life.
One day you’ll regret picking the Moon
For the Forest would not exist
If it weren’t for the Sun.
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abrighterspark · 9 months
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we should know by now
that this will never work
the two of us, and her,
resident in your mind
but i am done
with feeling second best
so take this kiss
and my wish...
good luck with all the rest
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minmisky · 7 months
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Here is Gengar second winner of the poll as promised.
Background provided by IbisPaint. I only draw Gengar and other effects.
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nik-1399 · 7 months
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To All The Emily’s
To all the girls who have never been in a real relationship and watch all of their friends find love.
To the girls who have so much love to give but have never found the right one.
To the girls who keep their guard up because they’re scared of getting hurt.
The girls who are scared of giving too much to someone who can’t give the same back.
To the girls who live through books,songs,shows,and movies to experience the romance and love that they’ve never received but want.
The girls that when they’re falling asleep they’re hearts physically ache when they start thinking about it too much.
The girls who have been waiting patiently for so long and have ever only been alone.
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Second Best 5
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Lee Bodecker
Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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The sheriff drives down the dusty backroad behind the Percy farm. You lean against the door, trying to keep as much space between you and him as you can. You're only thankful he hadn't made you ride in the back like a real criminal.
You know he's up to something. He's trying to teach you a lesson, but why? He could go bother Greta or any of the other girls down at The Horn. You give yourself a look in the side mirror and huff through your nose.
"Whatcha bein' so puffy about?" He reaches over and slaps your thigh, kneading it roughly.
You pull your leg away from him, crossing it over the other as you clutch the seatbelt, "is that illegal too?"
He chuckles and lets off the gas, slowly rolling through the gravel.
"You're sure mouthy, huh?"
"It's just a question--"
"You actin' so innocent but you can't control that tongue of yours," he tuts.
You sniff, "aren't we going to the station?"
"You're many things, darlin', but you're not dumb, are ya?" He asks as he brushes his fingertips down your arm. "I don't mind dropping charges... you just gotta loosen up."
You stiffen and clamp your lips tight. You knew he was a creep but does he have to be so obtuse? There's lots of girls dying to ride with the sheriff. You're just not one of them.
"Why don't you call Greta--"
"This ain't about her," he grabs your arm, trying to pull you towards him as the wheel veers.
"Sheriff," you cry out and he slams on the brakes.
"See the trouble you're causin'," he chides, "you're gonna get us both hurt."
"I'm not doing anything. I didn't do anything," you bluster, heat radiating across your cheeks, "please, just... why are you doing this?"
"I don't know why you're actin' coy," he sneers as he shifts into park and unclicks his seat belt, "I just want a taste. I saw the way you were eyein' me up. You don't gotta worry about that ditz, Greta, it's me and you, girl."
"Ew, stop--" You bat at his hand as he grips your arm tighter.
"Ew?!" He echoes, "now, you ain't gotta be nasty."
"I'm not... I just... don't know why you're doing this," you try to wriggle free, "sheriff, I really am not into you--"
"Ah, you don't know what you missin' out on, is the problem. She told me you never been with a man,"
"I did it, okay? I stole the gummy bears. Just take me to the station," you plead as he yanks on your arm, "I'll confess--"
"I don't care about the damn candy bears," he snarls and pushes you back against the seat, "just a little fun, huh?"
Before you can react, he bends over and dives head-first into your lap. You cry out as you grab at his head, trying to push him off as your other hand claws at the door. You catch the handle and the door swings out but you're trapped by the seat belt.
"Christ!" You holler as you bring your elbow down on the back of his head.
He grunts and you feel around, jamming your thumb down on the button, releasing the belt.You fall sideways out of the car and throw your hands up to catch yourself. You drag yourself onto the ground, kicking behind you in a panic as you feel Bodecker reaching for you. You don't have time to think about the siren wailing in your head; what the hell is wrong with him?
You roll onto your stomach and get your knees under you. You scrabble across the dirt as you fight to get your feet set. Before you can stand, you're bowled over. You cry out as the heavy metal cracks off the back of your head.
You fall into the ditch next to the road, tumbling down as the flashlight bounces beside you. You look up as the panting sheriff stands above you at the crest of the earth. You reach to hold your skull as he puffs out his stomach.
"That's assault on an officer, girly," he growls, "lot worse than a slap on the wrist for that."
He steps forward and stops as gravel crunches. You blink dizzily and babble. Tires cruise forward and stop on the other side of the road. You can't see anything as you struggle to push yourself up.
"Everything okay, Sheriff?" A voice calls out.
"All good," Bodecker turns, resting his hand on his gun. You freeze. "Just stretching my legs."
"Alright, well then, have a good one," the man calls out. You think it might be Cole from down the way but you can't know for sure.
The sheriff waits until the driver leaves before he turns back. You gulp and jump up, spinning to climb out the other side of the ditch. He hops across as you haul yourself up. He kicks you back down and you yelp as his foot knocks the air out of you.
"Now, we ain't gonna be doin' all that," he tramps down the incline and grabs you by the hair. "I see how you like it. Rough."
You groan and grab his wrist, whining as he tears on your roots, "please--"
"Oh, don't you worry, you'll be begging real good," he turns you over to your stomach and straddles you, dropping your head as you writhe. He bends your arms back and cuffs them tight, the metal pinching your skin. "Ya know, you can just ask ya friend, I can be nice..." he grits, "just too bad you can't.”
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ellewritesalright · 8 months
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Second Best - Part 2
Nikolai Lantsov x reader
Part 1 - Part 3
A/N: Started at school again so updates will probably be even more infrequent now. Once again, I hope this part is coherent enough :) also, I gave the mc reader a last name :)
Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.
Warnings: strict and mean parents, very slight self-image issues because of said parents, mentions of illness and death, me not knowing how to write sciencey things, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (bear with me please)
Word Count: 1840
..........
The day after the king visited, a letter addressed to you arrived at the Antonov house in Os Alta. You never got letters.
You grew up in the isolated countryside, surrounded by acres and acres of land and a household of servants who were under strict orders not to speak with you. When you were five, the only friend you had died during a small outbreak of pox, which was around the same time your parents started to restrict who came near your estate. Because of this, no one back in the countryside would be writing to you. Perhaps an old school friend sent you a rare letter, though they wouldn’t have the address for the city house, only the country estate.
There was no reason for a letter to arrive addressed to you. So when the butler handed you the letter at the breakfast table, your mother gasped and plucked it out of your hand before you could even open it.
Her eyes narrowed on the wax seal. "It's the double eagles."
"What does the puppy prince want now?" Your father looked over his morning paper, vaguely interested in the contents of the letter as he sipped at his morning tea.
"He's the king, father," you quietly chided. He just waved you off.
Your mother cracked open the seal and started reading. You wanted to grab it back from her--seeing as it was your letter--but you merely stood from your seat and hurried to her side of the table so you could read over her shoulder. 
"He was serious about helping her find a new fiance," your mother said as she read. 
You glanced at the first few lines, confirming her information. Then she gasped and set down the letter. You craned over her shoulder to understand what had scandalized her.
I wish to discuss what exactly you are looking for and to get to know you better before I help you find a match. As such, I would like you to have tea and luncheon with me in the Grand Palace on Saturday at noon. But only you--I do not wish to hear your parents’ talking.
"He's invited her to the palace. Alone." 
Your father set down his cup. His eyes flitted up to you.
Your mother tsked, looking at him. "She can't go. She'll ruin us if she goes. She'll let it slip, I just know she will."
"I won't tell him." You swore, eyes pleading with your father. "You know I won't."
"Look at her, she'll crumble and tell him everything," your mother said, her face tensing up as she glared at you.
He paused in consideration, crossing his arms. You stepped closer to him.
"Father," you said calmly. "It's my reputation on the line as much as it is the family's. I won't tell him or anyone else for that matter."
He scrutinized your eyes a moment longer, then he returned his attention to his newspaper. "You can go. But be back by two o'clock. No later."
Your mother sat up in her seat, seeming like she wanted to say something, but a glance from your father made her think twice. You grabbed your letter and envelope from in front of her and waltzed back to your place at the table. You quickly hugged your father's shoulders on the way to your seat.
……….
The last time you were at the Grand Palace, you were twelve and terrified. Your spine was as stiff as granite as Lord and Lady Antonov guided you into the throne room. You'd been lectured from this way to that as you got ready that day all those years back. 
"Keep your hands folded, and your mouth shut," your mother said as she fussed over your hair that morning. "Don't give yourself away by speaking commonly, girl. Be a proper lady."
You could still remember how her hands threateningly tightened in your hair as she started to braid it.
"The saints will pity you if you are not believed, daughter, but they will pity you more for what I will do to you if the royal family sees through you."
That was many years ago. But despite how the time had ticked, despite how you had grown and gone across the sea and back since then, you still felt like a nervous kid as you stood in the Grand Palace.
You stared at a painting in the palace's main drawing room. It was just a study of a vase packed with flowers, yet your eyes eagerly traced the purple petals and green leaves. You tried to imagine painting such a thing, although you’d never had an iota of artistic ability. You were only desperate to distract yourself from your impending meeting.
Suddenly the doors to the drawing room opened and Nikolai stepped inside.
"My apologies for being late. I was in the Fabrikator lab and there was a small crisis to be dealt with." He gave a suave smile. "Fire's out now, though."
"You started a fire?" You raised a brow.
His nose scrunched as he chuckled, "Well, not intentionally. Please, sit."
You smiled and sat down on one of the couches. Nikolai sat across from you, pouring two cups of tea.
"Sugar? Milk?" He asked as his hands hovered over the tea tray.
"Three sugars and a splash of milk, please," you replied.
"You like your tea sweet, then?" He glanced at you, making your eyes flit down to your lap.
"I didn't have many sweets growing up. Tea was always the one place I could get away with adding as much sugar as I wanted. And now my taste for tea is permanently skewed sweeter than everyone else I know."
"Nonsense," he smirked as he handed you your teacup and saucer, "everyone else's tastes are just too bitter and boring. Personally, I go for one sugar and as much milk as will fit before overflowing. But truth be told, I much prefer coffee to tea." 
"Me too," you smiled a bit. A thought came to you, and you spoke, "There was this coffee shop at the university of Ketterdam that served the best coffee. It was sweet and light all while keeping a rich flavor; I still don’t know how they accomplished that."
Nikolai sighed contently as if imagining the taste of what you've described. "Yes, Kerch coffee is leagues ahead of what we make here in Ravka, isn't it?"
"Must be the high demand of all their bankers and businesspeople," you remarked, making Nikolai chuckle softly.
"Must be."
The conversation lulled for a moment, and you noticed a bit of ash on Nikolai's otherwise pristine jacket cuff.
"So… that fire that you didn't start intentionally?" You inquired with a light tone.
He scrunched his nose again. "Yes?"
"Were you looking at some Fabrikator invention in their lab when you accidentally made it catch fire?"
"No, actually," he chuckled. "The Fabrikators were helping me work on an idea I had for a thermal converter, something that could be implemented throughout Ravkan homes to help heat houses in the winter.”
“That’s an admirable invention.” You furrowed your brow and paused for a moment. “Would it work independently of a fireplace?”
“No, it would work in tandem,” He explained. “There would be pipes connected to the fireplace that would then run along the house either on the walls or beneath the floorboards.”
“Tungsten pipes?”
“Yes. Tungsten or–”
“Nickel.”
He blinked at you. “Exactly. How did you know that?”
“I studied advanced physics at the University; we had engineering classes where we had to design and build different inventions. I designed a motorized plough but the machinations kept burning through the metals so I needed to find the best metals. In my research I found that Nickel and tungsten have high melting points. Ergo, nickel and tungsten can withstand the heat of your pipes.”
He watched you for a moment, smiling. You watched back. 
Men are frightened by smart women. Your mother’s words echoed in your mind.
But Nikolai wasn’t frightened. He wasn’t put off by your intellect. He sat there smiling at you for a second longer, then he set down his teacup and leaned forward in his seat.
“Two things,” he said with a bright glint in his eye. “One: did that machinated plough of yours work?”
You nodded. “Quite well, actually. I've tried to get my father to implement it on our estate and in our region’s farms, but he’s reluctant. He thinks it’s a fool’s tool.”
“Well Lord Antonov must be wrong. I can’t imagine anything you make would be worthy of such low-esteem. If you still have the designs, I would love to share them with the Fabrikators.”
You smiled. “I have the designs.”
“Excellent.”
Again, he watched you for a second, a light expression on his face.
“What was the second thing?” you asked.
“Oh, yes,” he grinned. “Two: would you like to come see the Fabrikator workshop?”
"Absolutely." You grinned back.
…��….
The workshop was its own slice of heaven. All the machinery and pending inventions called to you as Nikolai and the Fabrikators gave you a tour. You could have stayed in the workshop for hours on end, but it was nearing two o'clock, and your parents would be livid if you weren't home by then.
Nikolai walked you back through the Grand Palace to where your carriage would be waiting for you.
"We never discussed my offer of assistance, did we?" He spoke as the pair of you walked through the main entry hall.
"I suppose we got a bit distracted," you smiled guiltily.
"Shame on us," he said with a lopsided grin. You reached the front doors and two servants opened them. Nikolai stopped in the doorway and turned to you. "So, you will accept my offer?"
"To help me find a fiance?" You asked softly.
"Yes."
You glanced over at the waiting carriage. Then your eyes found his again. "Yes. I'm sure you will find a better match than my mother will. She's already written to every eligible suitor that I am back on the market."
He let out a soft laugh. "Saints, that woman works fast." 
"Tell me about it," you grumbled.
He stepped towards your carriage and held his arm out for you. You took his arm and his help into your carriage. 
"Thank you," you smiled gently at him from the open window. "For everything."
He shrugged. "Of course."
"Truly, I am grateful that you are doing this. Saints know what sort of person my mother would force a match with. I have faith that you will offer me options with real merit."
He gave a small laugh. "High praise."
"I'm just being honest." 
"I know," he nodded as he looked up at you.
His eyes were so intent on yours. A hazel colour was so perfectly spun in his irises, and his stare felt warmer than any you'd ever seen before.
"I'll send you a list soon enough," he smiled at you. His eyes lingered for another moment, then he backed away from the carriage. "Goodbye for now, my lady."
Your chauffeur rode off, and you watched the Grand Palace slowly shrink away.
..........
A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)
Masterlist
Part 3
Taglist:
@xceafh @rhaenyrakryze @thecrowsgambit @nghtwngs @hauntedenthusiasttragedy @stuffyownswrld @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @angie-likes-to-read @take-me-to-ny @historianthesecond
Nikolai Taglist:
@sweet0pia-uwu @notoakay @naushtheaspiringauthor @liter4ti @marchingicenotes7 @eyeofthestorm
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howifeltabouthim · 10 months
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She had never been first in anything. Ever.
Siri Hustvedt, from The Blazing World
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virgovirgo · 8 months
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deadwritersunite · 1 month
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"Always an angel, never a god."
I wonder how long it takes the people who are always second best in everything to realise that they will always, only be the second best. Do they accept it? Do they realise that maybe this is their fate - their destiny? To be good but never great? To be amazing but never exceptional? To be high up but never at the top? Do they feel a heavy weight lifted off their shoulders when they don't get second best for the first time, but instead third. To know that at least they aren't stuck in the middle anymore, in between 'getting there' and 'reached there'. Because, what is in between that? 'almost reaching there, but not enough to completely get there'? Is that it? I wonder if the people who get second best realise that they shouldn't associate their entire life with that number. Two. Second. Dos.
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ghostsfruit · 2 months
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Lyrics hit so hard you just gag.
Like literally start hacking up a hair ball like a cat with how hard some lyrics hit.
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Like this is me anytime I hear Promise by Laufey.
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that feeling when you find out that it all meant nothing to them when it meant the world to you… that pit in your stomach, does it ever go away?
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