#Orlo x reader

[13atoms]

Arm in Arm (Count Orlo x tall!female!reader)

Thank you for the people who recommended Orlo for this! Getting back into writing fic after so long off was very difficult and very slow, but this is a first step! Reader is taller than Orlo (>5'8" or something?) and wearing a skirt.

Fluff (very light hurt/comfort) | Oneshot | 1.6k

It was a generous Russian morning, which looked to precede a deeply pleasant day. The whole world was languid and cheery, with a gentle breeze swaying through the summer drapes and sunlight illuminating patches of the rugs which ran through Orlo’s living quarters. The fire was built in its grate, but unlit, and the chaise longues had been moved to let you bathe in the warmth of the sun instead.

There was a great feast being held somewhere which wasn’t the Palace, and the whole place had breathed a sigh of relief as a great convoy of nobles and royals set off to attend it. It was, Orlo decreed, a rare day off. And the two of you were to enjoy it together.

You groaned and stretched out, wary where your legs were draped across Orlo’s lap. There’s a burning behind your eyes as you closed your book over your thumb, and extend both of your arms over your head. Hours of reading had left a tension in every part of you, yet it quickly melted away.

 Orlo closed his own book, stretching himself out like a cat with a groan so gratuitous you were sure he’d intended for the sound to make you laugh. He yawned as he set the books aside and hugged your calves to his chest, making you shout out in shock as you were pulled down in your seat.

Laying flat, you looked up at him, felt the gentle stetch through your spine as he kept a hold of your legs. Orlo was smiling lazily, in a way you hadn’t seen him do in months. You flexed your bare feet, felt the muscles of your calves move against his arms, and threw your head back to stare at the ceiling.

It was painted with great skill, depicting a scene you probably ought to distantly recognise from the Bible. You had no inclination to focus on the brushstrokes for that long. Instead, you enjoyed the settling of your back against soft cushions, and the gentle patterns Orlo was tracing on your ankle.

“You’re too long for his sofa,” he mused, finally setting your legs down and letting them hang off the end of the arm.

He was trapped in, slouched under your legs, head lolling against the cushion behind him. Looking down the length of your own body, you only felt contentment. The Count clearly didn’t have anywhere else he’d rather be.

“I’m too tall for the chaise in my apartments too, the furniture-makers ought to be more considerate.”

You had no quarrel with the chaise. Not really. You were enjoying the relaxing, hazy feeling of having your legs above your head.

“I suppose if it just means we have to be closer together.”

“Tragic,” you murmured, looking back at the ceiling.

Orlo snorted a laugh, pulling his glasses from his face and tossing them onto the side table. When you lifted your head to look at him he was rubbing at the indents his glasses left on his nose. You loved seeing him without them, it was something private. Reserved for you. He squirmed with discomfort when you said it, but he was so pretty without them.

“Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly.

You cocked your head, humming a question.

“Height, I mean?”

Entangled together, you had forgotten he was any shorter than you. Now he looked at your legs, side-by-side, as his stretched out in front of him, and you felt a flash of embarrassment.

“I suppose… sometimes I think I’d prefer being shorter. It would be easier.”

Orlo frowned at you for a moment, and then rushed to speak, his words falling over each other.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all!”

His hand was back on your calf. Orlo’s eyes were wide and sincere, flashed with panic where they had been downcast a moment ago.

“I just meant…” he thought for a moment, thumb rubbing across your calf, “I know it’s not… popular to be seen with men shorter than you are.”

You thought for a moment, that uncomfortable sting in your chest completely extinguished by the slight shine of Orlo’s eyes. There’s nothing wrong with you, you wanted to tell him. You saw how Peter looked down at him, how people made jokes. The way being measured for new clothes would put a damper on his whole day. He’s avoided the process entirely for far too long, until he began courting you.

 “Do you think there’s anything I’d want to change about you?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer it? For it to be a little more comfortable when we dance? To have someone… more?”

“All we have are the gifts we are given, Orlo. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

 He struggled to articulate what it was he wanted to say, and you waited, not wishing to put ideas in his head or words in his mouth. His hand found your ankle, and stroked over the delicate bone there. He brought his face to your calf, and mumbled against it as he spoke.

“I just want you to feel protected…”

“I do,” you insisted, quiet and sincere.

For a moment there was silence. You stared back at the ceiling, a maze of richly coloured stories merging into one another. Was that Eve above you, tempted by the serpent? Samson, in the next scene? With long cut locks of hair beside his sleeping face, and the glint of Delilah’s knife against the pillow?

“I’m sorry. You should never have to feel inadequate… I try to slouch. To not make it obvious. I can step further away, if you prefer…”

“I hate when you do that,” he told you plainly, no anger or malice in his voice. “You’ll hurt your back.”

The paused for a while, staring at the carpet.

“You don’t have to change yourself for me either.”

“I know I just feel bad sometimes…”

You thought about him in the moment he thought no one was watching, straining to stand up straighter, rocking on the heels of his shoes, staying seated when Peter walked up behind his desk to speak with him.

“Why would you feel bad?”

“It’s not as though you’re short, Orlo. Lots of women would look fine beside you, I’m just tall. I just know… some men don’t like being the shorter one.”

“I love that you’re taller than me.”

You ignored him. The cut on Adam’s rib was a smear of crimson against delicately painted skin, the paint so fresh it might have been real blood pouring from the ceiling.

“Catherine is tall,” he murmured, “and widely considered one of the most beautiful women in Russia.”

You hummed, and he reached for your hand, pulling it into his lap.

“Probably the second most beautiful,” he teased, and you scoffed at him.

“She’s not that tall. Peter is taller.”

“Peter is far too tall. I often think if he were shorter, he couldn’t get away with as much. He’d be too easy to punch.”

You shushed him, the sound broken by a laugh, and Orlo groaned, hiding his smile against your underskirts.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad about yourself. You have to know, that’s the last thing I want.”

“You don’t.”

He thought for a moment, and tapped his fingers on your skin in the pattern his often drummed into his desk. Finally, he spoke again.

“I love to see how tall you are. I love that I can spot you across a room, that you can do things with such ease. I envy it, sometimes. When I have to rush to keep up with you.”

You groaned as you curled yourself towards him, taking another moment to stretch. That horrid pang in your chest was now absent, replaced with something warm. Your guard was down. The palace was so quiet the outside world might as well not have existed. You indulged your insecurities a little longer, knowing Orlo wouldn’t strike if you showed weakness.

“I always worry that eventually you’ll find someone… easier. Someone shorter.”

“Why would I even be thinking about that, when I’ve got you?”

“A good point.”

It took a great amount of shuffling to lie next to him on the chaise, but it was worth it, to be beside his warm body. He pulled one of your legs over him, offered his bicep as a pillow. His dark, warm eyes staring into yours still gave you butterflies.

“If our heights bother other people, that is their problem. I’ve never known someone who understands me so well,” he murmured, “even if you take up far more of the bed than you ought to.”

“You’ve never complained about me being in your bed. You cling to me –”

“Yes, I understand. I’m teasing you, my love. I want you to take up every bed I ever sleep in.”

“I wish you saw yourself how I see you, Orlo. You’d never feel like you needed to be taller again – you’re the only person I pay attention to in any room.”

“How funny, I feel completely the same.”

You would concede, months later, when the bloodshed had ended and Orlo’s quarters grew far too big for one man, that he had been right to have a longer chaise long made. And when he crushed himself into you after long, arduous nights, his face pressed to your neck, you would both be grateful you could shelter him from the world – even for the shortest moment.

“Do you want to go out today?” he asked, when his arm was going numb from cushioning your head and the sun was high in the sky.

“Perhaps just for some air?”

“That would be nice.”

Your elbows didn’t really fit with one another, formally walking arm-in-arm as many other couples did – though you didn’t feel sorry for it. Instead you took a turn of the gardens hand-in-hand, head held high, all the closer for it.

#count orlo #13atoms #count orlo x reader #orlo x reader #the great fic #fic #orlo #ngl this was harder than i thought and im not very secure in it! so likes comments rbs etc. #very very much appreciated #not really got the fic bug atm but we'll see! i enjoyed doing this again

[fanfickitchenette]

Friend of the Empress, Chapter Three

Orlo x Reader; Chapter Three-Rolling Balls and Finding Allies

Previous Chapter

You wake and consider the night before and what the future will be like in your friend's court once you are gone. Also, your translation skills need some serious work because what even?. You start to see the way of things and decide to stack the deck in Catherine's favor.

Note: if the word is underlined then that means you're hearing the word in Russian (which is not your native language) and you're not sure what it translates to. It just happens to be written in English here.

*no warnings I can think of for this chapter* BUT

TAGS for the story as a whole–eventual smut; talk of death, murder, SA (none in the story, just discussion); canon-typical violence; strangers-friends-lovers; angst; lots of platonic love; slow-burn

Word Count 3.6k

Chapter Three: Rolling Balls and Finding Allies

You wake up to the curtains being opened in your room and a quiet voice calling your name. Dilara is standing at the side of your bed, watching, as you blurrily scrunch open your eyes. The bed is luxurious, and it is tempting to simply roll over and resume your sleep. But you remind yourself that this will be your first day, and Catherine’s, in the emperor’s court. You stretch slightly before sitting up and greeting your maid with a smile. Other than a bob of her head she is silent.

            For a moment the two of you simply regard one another—or, rather, you regard her, and she regards the linen on your bed. “Good morning, Dilara. I trust you slept well?”

            “Good morning and yes, my lady. My sleep was fine. How would you like to start your day? I can have breakfast brought in for you or I could help you dress first. Whatever you’d prefer.” She makes her way to one of the wardrobes and opens the door to it, taking quick, small steps around the length of the bed. You lean slightly back on your hands and watch her. Catherine’s lady’s maid at home, Barbara, would shake you awake if you slept in. You became very accustomed to her sharp gray eyes glaring down at you while she would reprimand you for sleeping past midmorning. And her efficiency extended to Catherine as well—the older woman herding your blonde friend away from the salon where she’d read for hours on end before Lady Joanna could come to reprimand her daughter for willfully flittering her days away. Neither you nor she were ever late to a tutoring session or dinner event under Barbara’s watchful eyes.

            You suppose, pushing the sheets away from your legs to swing your feet to the floor, that Dilara must be new to her post. Barbara was older than you and Catherine both, a woman in her thirties when you were a child. Maybe Dilara was not simply used to being a lady’s maid yet. She seems to be barely twenty by a day, if that even. You decide that you will wait and see if she becomes more comfortable with you before you push her on it. Her silent attitude may just be a Russian custom for lady’s maids that is not familiar to you.

            “I’ll be fine to dress myself, Dilara. You could grab food and bring it to the room. Have you eaten yet?” She startles at this, and you can understand why. She isn’t used to the idea of spending time with you, instead rather waiting as the wallpaper waits for paintings to be hung upon it. Barbara, on slow days or early mornings, would break the fast with you and Catherine. It was something you enjoyed as it left the room feeling relaxed and you were able to go over the plans for the day at some ease. Lady Joanna frowned on it if it happened too often, but you are not Lady Joanna.

Taking a few steps from your bed to look out the window, you can see that there are plenty of servants flocking across the courtyard and grounds, military men standing and chatting by various pillars. The sun looks as if it has just stopped touching the horizon. With such movement at an early hour, you doubt Dilara would have had much time to eat before joining you. You glance back at her, standing on the opposite side of the bed as you, once again she just watches with wide eyes and thinned lips. “Have you eaten, Dilara?”

“Bread and water when I woke.” You nod in response, keeping your gazes fixed. This might be the first time she has not looked away immediately.

“And when did you wake? With the sun or before?” She hesitates to answer, shifting slightly.

“I believe,” Dilara answers, eyes still holding yours, “I woke about an hour or so before dawn. The candles burned down almost two notches by the time we blew them out with the rising sun. I help in the kitchens in the morning and stack items on the lawn for the afternoon court entertainment. Does this please you my lady? Did I not come to wake you soon enough?”

You shake your head in denial, wondering about the entertainment but putting a pin in it for now, “No, this time if perfectly fine. I enjoy sleeping in. I’d like you to bring a selection of food up with cutlery for two, if you would. I will dress in your absence.” You are glad she inadvertently mentioned that you might be spending time outside. You should be able to pick an outfit for sitting on the lawn. Maybe you will pack a book in a small handbag to carry with you as the ‘entertainment’ is unspecified.

Dilara dips you a curtsy but seems unwilling to go, “Are you expecting company, my lady? Should I ready the receiving room before I go?” So, you must be specific. You wonder if no Russian woman eats with her lady’s maid. It’s not as if you are going to the stables to eat with the serving men. Dilara will be your confidant by situation, and you intend to treat her as such.

“No, the second set will be for your use. I’m hoping to discuss the plans for the day and any upcoming events I should know about. I’d much prefer to do that while sharing a meal if we aren’t rushed for time. And could you possibly bring a selection of jams along? I’ve heard good things from my late uncle about some of the choices that Peter the Great had in his court for food and I’ve wondered if this emperor has kept up the same in his kitchen.” Again, she curtsies but says nothing else and swiftly departs. She looks over her shoulder twice, as though anticipating something that you can’t put a name to.

You attempt to shrug off her behavior and move to the wardrobe that Dilara opened. As you riffle through the dresses you brought (you only have enough to fill one wardrobe, not even touching the second) your mind drifts to your friend and the letter-writer in turn. You didn’t request to eat with Catherine as you imagine she and Peter will both need a lie in. Your mother was mostly tight-lipped on the subject, more of a realist who refused to sugarcoat her beliefs when she did speak, but she did tell you that there’s a period of time where recently married couples stay in their rooms more, sleep in later in the mornings and retire earlier at night. You’ve since put together that means vigorous rounds of sex in the beginning of a marriage. You do wonder at why it stops, if it’s as wonderful as some poets and Lady Joanna make it out to be.

You also wonder when you’ll be able to get Catherine alone and ask her about it. Maybe the two of you could have lunch together, privately, and discuss how it was. Was it earth shattering, was it all fumbling and awkward but turned passionate and all-consuming? Either way, you try to ignore that part of you that wonders if it was awful. If Peter’s disinterest in your friend would transfer to coolness in the bedroom.

You start to undress from your nightclothes, letting them pool at your feet as you pull the strings between your breasts that hold it tight. You’ve picked out your dress and shift for the day, a cool slate grey color that you’ll pair with a corset decorated with patterns of climbing ivy. The cut of the dress and bustle is elegant enough but shouldn’t be too garish for an afternoon on the lawn. You walk, barefooted, to the living room where the mirrored desk sits. As you work on managing your hair into the style you want it, which can be a long process depending on the day and need, your thoughts turn to the man who plagued your thoughts into sleep the night before.

You wish you knew more about him, even a name would be helpful. You could have asked Lady Georgina or Lady Elizabeth last night, but something warned you not to. Information is power, you do know that, and if people knew you were asking about him they might be able to turn it against you. You have no idea how, it’s simply a question, but you do not want more attention on yourself while Catherine settles in as empress. You will only have so much time with her, and you will not squander it by allowing petty snakes to inject venom into the situation. Lady Joanna would have you believe she is a lady of her own unique grace, and she is in a way, but you know quite a few nobles who act just as carefully catty as she can. May God forgive you for thinking so of your friend’s mother.

But the letter-writer seemed to be different than the people who stood around him last night. You’re not sure exactly what it was, but there was something you found in his countenance to be more welcoming than most. If somewhat awkward, as well. If he truly is the one who wrote Catherine’s letter then maybe he can be of use and solace to your friend when you are to depart. You hope you are wrong, that it’s just your nerves, but you believe that she will desperately need people to lean on here. Maybe you can ask Dilara about the emperor’s advisors, if she knows anything about them. But how to phrase the question?

Your hair doesn’t need much work to cooperate today, and you are putting the finishing touches on it when Dilara returns. In her hands is a handsomely filled tray, heaping with fruits, breads, and meats. You notice that on the two plates stacked on the side, are little pots of what you hope are jam. She sits the tray on the larger table between your two lounges. You go over and sit. For a moment she watches, not sitting to join you, before you gesture for her to sit across from you. Dilara does so, slowly. She places a plate, a cup, and utensils in front of you. A pause. Then she does the same for herself.  You nod in satisfaction and pour yourself tea.

“So,” you snag some sausage for your plate, Dilara following your lead, “What do we have on the social calendar for this week?” Your maid, carefully adding some golden-orange jam to a biscuit, replies.

“Well, I believe that the emperor has a party planned in two days’ time.”

Dilara informs you of the party, of rolling balls on the lawn that the ladies do most afternoons (you wonder what the objective is, it surely can’t just be rolling them on the lawn), and she tells you what she knows about the company the emperor keeps. You should never have doubted how much she would know. Your father used to have servants listen into his business partner’s conversations when he left the room. He’d say that it wasn’t his fault that so many noblemen saw them as accoutrements and not humans with awareness. That theirs was the folly that brought him leads and investments that he would’ve never had otherwise. You suppose that there’s some moral greyness there but, listening to Dilara speak, you know he’s right.

Lady Elizabeth, whom you met last night, is the emperor’s aunt through the former empress. She has her hands on many people’s pulses, very aware and active in the goings on of the court. Apparently she treats her servants well, (when Dilara tells you this, the word she uses to donate herself and the other workers doesn’t sound like the one you were reading in the translation books. You wonder if it’s a local term for servant and the like. The way Dilara rushes through that point makes you not want to question her on it, so you decide to talk with Catherine about it later.) and is generally well-liked among the people in the palace. She’s also known to be a bit odd—not that Dilara calls the lady odd, but you hear the implication. You’re relieved to learn this about her, that she may be a person that Catherine might be able to go to.

Lord Grigor is a childhood friend of the emperor and remains his closest friend to this day. Apparently, you can expect to see him if you see the emperor and vice versa. Dilara mentions that Lady Georgina is also close to the emperor and you feel relief again. If the emperor counts a woman as a close friend then all may not be lost between him and Catherine. Dilara tells you of Velementov, a heavy drinker but he sends money from his pocket to families of fallen soldiers when he can, and of Archbishop Samsa who climbed the clergy ranks quickly. That he didn’t receive his calling from God until a later age, but that Dilara seems to like him more than some of the other noblemen.

You try not to rush her, and she finally gets to who you’ve been waiting to hear about. “And, of course, there’s Count Orlo. He’s from somewhere in the south, apologies as I’m not sure where exactly,” she takes the final sip of her tea, relaxed back into the lounge as you are, “But he’s been here about a decade. He served the former emperor, Peter the Great. Everyone used to talk about how clever he was, but it doesn’t seem like our current emperor likes him much. I remember, right before the old emperor died, he shouted something fierce at Emperor Peter for hitting the Count during a meeting. But I shouldn’t have mentioned that,” Dilara is immediately on guard, “Please, don’t take that anywhere, my lady. I’m sure Emperor Peter had his reasons for it,  and they didn’t realize I was in the room. It’s not something I should be talking about.”

Beyond the name of some ladies, she doesn’t speak much more about the court after that. It’s disappointing that she won’t speak more on Count Orlo, she’d gone on more about most of the others, but at least now you have a name and a little something about him beyond his writing abilities. Dilara asks if you’d like to go out onto the lawn now. You didn’t realize how long the two of you have talked but the sun, not quite at the highest position in the sky, has certainly risen a bit. You follow her out onto the lawn, after grabbing Tom Jones and a small bag in which to carry it. You appear to be early, and you settle at a table under the canopy to wait and take a moment to examine the grounds. They’re certainly lovely, rows of trees in an orchard across the field in front of you, a forest beyond the carefully cultivated hedges around the palace grounds. The green of everything is vibrant and the Russian summer seems to be a refreshing heat rather than an overwhelming burn.

You’re just considering pulling out your book when the sound of women laughing reaches your ears. The servants around you start pulling balls out of crates and drinks start getting poured before the ladies even arrive. Even though it seems like you won’t be getting a private lunch with Catherine today, you are excited to see your friend at the front of the flock of women as they approach. On her right side, holding her arm and smiling while another noblewoman speaks is Lady Georgina. You nod to yourself, hoping that Catherine has been cared for in your absence. Now it’s your turn to meet the ladies of court.

Catherine sees you and her face lights up from within. You walk out to meet her. The two of you hug, Catherine having extracted herself from Lady Georgina’s hold at your approach. You smile at the other ladies, giving a barely there curtsy—in greeting, not in deference—and a specifically broad grin to Lady Georgina. You hope she can tell how grateful you are for her accompanying Catherine. “Good afternoon, ladies. I apologize for not greeting you all sooner. But now that that error is rectified, I hear we will be rolling balls?”

A woman you don’t know, wearing a rose taupe dress, furred shrug and a wig that is sitting more like a hat than a wig, gives you a broad smile and laugh, “We will have to show you how it’s done, Miss…I’m sorry I did not catch your name?”

You notice Catherine look at her sharply but push aside your friend’s reaction to keep the peace, “Lady Y/n L/n. May I ask for yours and for the name of the person who made you that wonderful dress?” Clearly the right thing to say, the woman’s tan skin flushes and the other watching ladies join in cooing over the woman’s fashion. Lady Svenska takes your arm to show you the balls while Lady Georgina reclaims Catherine’s arm. You note Marial walking over to stand near Dilara and attempt to engage your maid in conversation. You also notices that Marial is the only servant trying to chat. You wonder why, as it must be mind numbing to work and not chat in order to pass the time.

Rolling balls on the line is….rolling balls on the lawn. It’s horribly mind numbing but worse is the murmur Catherine gives you in a passing moment, “They cannot read and do not seem to want to,” before a thin, bird-like woman starts telling a tale of a hat she imagined up. You have been there too long, far too long with Lady Svenska fishing for compliments and then dolling out water downed versions in kind where the two of you sit on a small couch, before Marial says something as the balls are fetched, once again.

“Empress, you seem tired. Might I escort you to your apartments?” Catherine is quick on to take up the offer and you move to join her when Lady Svenska lays her hand on your arm, rising in your stead.

“Marial, you speak out of turn. You must wait for the empress or one of the ladies of court to address you. You cannot just speak.” Lady Svenska glances at you, “You are lucky to receive a serf I already trained. I know not how Marial was assigned to the Empress.” You glance at Dilara, her eyes firmly stuck to the ground as that word pops up again. What follows is a quick exchange between Lady Svenska and Marial. The servant is bitingly funny, and you find yourself biting your lip to keep from huffing out a laugh. It wouldn’t do to upset the court during your second day there.

Catherine and Marial manage to leave nearly an hour before you do. Lady Georgina joining into a conversation with Lady Svenska that you cannot pull yourself from with any kind of tact. Dinner is an impending thing, and you wonder if you will be able to dine with your friend or if fate will keep you apart all day. By the time you tell Dilara you would like to go back to your rooms, your good feelings toward Lady Georgina have all but evaporated. She does not seem as casually cruel as the lady hanging onto your arm but the intelligence in her eyes worries you more. You now doubt that she would truly be someone to stand on Catherine’s side.

You follow as Dilara leads you back to your rooms. Once you sit down inside the receiving room, you have decided what your next course of action must be. As much as you miss your friend, only a day into your stay, there are more important actions to be taken. “Dilara, could you send a message to someone for me? To ask if they would join me for a chat after dinner?”

Your maid, any relaxation around you earlier fully gone, nods and keeps her eyes down as she responds, “Of course, Lady Y/n. I can send a guard or go myself if you would prefer. I would sup in the kitchens if you would not mind.” You need to understand what a serf is but wish to not make her more wary of you. You will not ask her.

“That would be fine. I will write a message to be taken with a guard, you need not do it. After you’ve brought up dinner then you may take your time in the kitchens. After that, please bring some snacks I can offer my guest. Something for us to drink, as well. The night is yours after that.” You walk into your bedroom, parchment and inkwell sitting on the shelves along with your books.

“Very good. Can I ask who your guest will be, my lady? So, I might find a good drink to bring up?” It’s information. Information that can be shared or sold but you doubt anything in these halls would stay secret long. And there’s nothing nefarious or improper about your request.

“I’d like formally meet Count Orlo, if he has the time.”

#catherine the great #the great hulu #the great imagine #the great fanfiction #fanfic #count orlo x reader #orlo x reader #orlo is on the ace spectrum for sure #slow burn #friends to lovers

[princesssmars]

love's philosophy

a catherine the great x reader

during a political trip to russia, you meet the rather peculiar emperor and his no less than extraordinary new bride.

wc: 5.779

contains: fluff bc catherine is a cutie who can do no wrong. me hating on peter. peter cheats (boo). catherine almost cheats (yay). i binged the show months ago so some things might not be accurate im sorry yall.

the only thing you could see outside of the carriage window were woods. cold, thin, and mostly dead.

what you guess would be the typical landscape for an russian spring.

but, occasionally, youd catch the patches of green of the rising grass, the small buds of blooming tree blossoms, and the rare small animal making its way from its winter slumber.

you hoped these signs of new and returning life were signs of what was to happen on this trip.

you and two of your most entrusted advisors had been sent to negotiate some new trade deals with peter, the emperor of russia. he had taken the throne after his fathers passing a few years ago, and youd heard many things about him through the grapevine.

(granted, none of the things you heard were very pleasant. in your opinion, he sounded like a bit of a man-child, unfit for the throne after his father's passing. but you kept these thoughts to you. this would help your country prosper, and create a hopefully helpful alliance.)

"i just want to remind you, princess, that things work very differently here in russia," your best friend and first advisor, anna, whispers from beside you, her big fur coat and scarf nearly obstructing your view of her face. her worried eyes peeked out from the gaps and you'd had to try not to laugh when you saw it. "its nothing like genovia here. the people are crass, rude, vulgar-"

"sounds like this will be a fun trip then." you jest, cutting off your dear friends ramblings and smiling when she glares at you. she always was a bit of a worrywart. but it was endearing.

"normally id critique our dear annas worrying, but this time she is right." a deep voice pipes up from in front of you both. the person in question is your other friend and advisor, thomas. he was the more critical and pessimistic of the two, but he was a softie at heart. "things work differently here, so we should tread wuth caution. i should give you some warnings before we enter the palace."

"alright, what do i need to know?" you sigh, relaxing into your seat. this could take a while.

"as you most likely already know, the new czar peter has taken over after the death of his father, also named peter. stop smiling, yn. the boy is much different than his father, known for his rather...extravagant ways. just try not to piss him off. he should be a bit more mello after marrying his new bride."

your head perks up. "bride? i didn't hear anything about a bride. why haven't i heard that hes been married? shouldn't you have told me this?"

thomas' eyes widen as he tries to argue against it before realizing that yes, he somehow forgot to tell you. he tries to ignore anna's teasing face.

"my apologies for forgetting, princess. yes, he has recently married a girl from france. her name is catherine. from what i've heard shes a rather timid girl, at least to russian standards. there should be no trouble on the front."

his knowing stare on you makes you pout. so yes, you might have slightly flirted with the wife of the ruler of italy. and you might have ended up in the same bed with her. whoops. but to be fair, she told you how dreadfully boring her husband was and how she was looking for something exciting and new in her life, looking at you with those big, wanting eyes...

"yn! stop daydreaming!" annas elbow nudges you, pulling you from your memory. your face feels hot when both of your friends laugh at you.

"oh please, you both know me. ill be on my best behavior. princess's promise."

.

.

.

so you might have fumbled with the promise. just a little.

after a long...loooong ride, you all had finally arrived at the russian winter palace, the grand estate nearly taking your breath away. or maybe that was the biting cold. your admiration was cut short by a gruff voice welcoming you. it came from a tall and stout man, his white wig contrasting against his flushed face and permanent frown.

"welcome to the palace, your royal highness. my name is velementov, peters war general. i've been tasked with escorting you inside safely. if you'll follow me."

he immediately starts towards the entrance, forgetting to check if you were following. as hes walking he nearly trips over some of the gravel on the ground. thomas whips his head over to you and anna when he hears a muffled giggle.

"sorry, that one was me." anna whispers, trying to compose herself.

you and your party follow the general in to the palace, walking through the grand halls and admiring the art within them. including the massive statue of peter the first.

"oh, this is just a great piece of work," anna awes, craning her neck up to observe the statue in greater detail. "how long did it take to complete?"

"i don't really remember. maybe two years." the general grunts, taking a pause before continuing on his way. the look on thomas' face makes you think hes regretting this decision.

eventually the peculiar general stops at two large doors, leading to what you presume is peters chambers.

"um, shouldn't we do this somewhere more formal? a meeting room or parlor, for example." thomas says, walking a bit faster while speaking to walk directly next to velementov.

"ideally yes, but first i must check if the prince is ready to meet you. he could still be hungover. or fucking. or both."

the three of you are a bit too stunned to react.

when velementov opens the doors, the muffled sounds of grunting, moaning, and a loud thumping on the walls rings through the hallway leading to peters bedroom. velemontov grunts, whispering something to one of the guards before escorting the three of you back into the wider hallways.

"peters busy. until he's ready you may be escorted by a guard around the toyr of the palace. they will lead you to the meeting room when we're ready. goodbye."

velementov briskly (as briskly as a clearly hungover man can go) walks away, not even checking to see if what he said was alright with you. three guards come up to you, their faces and postures remaining stoic.

"ohhhhhkay. alright, this is fine!" anna chirps, clearly trying to hold herself and the two of you together. "we are just. alone in a strangers castle in a strange country. this is ok. i wont freak out."

"good, because there is nothing to freak out about." thomas reassures her, sounding more like hes trying to convince himself. "we expected this, so lets make the most of it, hm? its a beautiful palace, and we can explore it while each looking for some of peters advisors."

"so try to find the people who hopefully have common sense?" you question, eyeing the way the guards eyebrows raise in shock at your not so subtle disrespect.

"exactly." thomas agrees, the three of you agreeing before heading off in seperate directions of the russian castle.

what you see along your short journey is nothing short of shocking yet amusing. multiple couples unsuccessfully hiding in the shadows while having intercourse, drunk soldiers and children running through the halls, with parents and hungover residents looking on in annoyance.

eventually you pass two large open doors which you can see lead to a library. walking in you see its quite expansive, with practically no one inside.

(to be expected, you didn't think most of the people here could read a paragraph let alone complete a book.)

you walk inside and observe, walking through the aisles and touching the spines of the novels. most of it seems to be in russian, of course, but maybe there was an international section...

while thinking, your mind spaces out and is only brought back when the body of another knocks into yours, the books they were carrying falling to the floor.

"oh my gosh, im so sorry. i wasn't looking where i was headed, here let me help you with those," rushes from your mouth, quickly dropping to the floor to help pick up the books for them; A Guide To Russian History and The Insides of Russian Aristocracy.

"no, no, don't apologize. I wasn't looking where i was headed because i was reading this book about...nevermind." the stranger says before joining you on the floor before also trying to pick up their books.

its only after the stranger speaks and you see their pale, slender hand on top of yours that you look up to meet eyes, your e/c meeting piercing blue.

its a woman, and not just any woman but a gorgeous one. she has fair skin, smooth and with nearly no blemishes at all, surprising since most of the other members of the court you've passed at least had a tint to their cheeks whether it be from sickness, alcohol, or both.

she has a striking face, both angular yet soft. it makes her beauty both intimidating yet welcoming. and at this moment you don't know which one you feel.

the both of you still for a moment, observing the other for longer than what was most likely deemed polite. you were speechless until you noticed one of the most striking things about her - her naturally blonde hair. youve seen a few other women here who were blonde but you could tell they were wearing wigs. with no shame of course, it was a regular among members of court life nowadays. but hers had that growth and effortlessness that let you know it was all hers.

"you aren't from here, are you? im guessing western europe, maybe france, germany?" you suddenly ask, finding yourself intrigued with this beautiful stranger you've met in an otherwise empty library. her face lights up at your question, making you glad she didn't find it rude.

"yes, born and raised in germany, how could you tell?" her questions makes you raise your brow, looking from her eyes to her hair. she catches on and laughs, looking down in slight embarrassment. "right, sorry. silly question."

"it wasn't silly, don't worry. i just asked because i was curious why you don't look like the rest of the court members. are you visiting from your home?" you quickly reassure her, not liking the slightly sad look that appeared on her face when she called herself silly. she looked much better with a smile.

her brows slightly scrunch together, looking to the floor before back to you with a sure smile. "yes, im visiting for a while. sent to study the russian culture and all, trying to help with politics."

"another thing we have in common, and thank god for it. i swear i was so nervous about me and my party being the only foreigners here." you exclaim, resting your hands on the mystery woman's shoulders in excitement. "would you mind chatting with me and telling me what you've learned? im sure there's some things i can tell you as well."

her eyes are wide and her face is bright as she stares into your eyes, nodding along to answer your questions. its just when you realize your hands are still on her shoulders and when she reaches hers up to gently grab your elbows, yet again dropping the books in her hands. you both look at the fallen materials for a second before looking back to each other and giggling.

.

.

.

you had spent who knows how many hours talking with the blonde woman, who you'd come to know was named sophie, about subjects ranging from politics to your home countries to even your favorite foods. you found her point of view on things interesting, her positivity coming off a bit naive but refreshing. but beneath it you sense a bit of sadness.

"are you feeling alright?" your questions cuts her off from what she was saying. she was enthusing about how she misses the landscapes form her home, how when she looks out the palace windows she can feel bits of herself start to wither away just like the outside landscape. she says it so calmly that you cant help but ask the question.

in response shes quiet, staring at you like you just asked her is she preferred to eat chicken eggs or duck eggs for breakfast.

"jesus, when's the last time someone asked you that question?" you put a hand on her shoulder, your tone playful in the hope she wouldn't answer. but the look on her face gave you your answer.

"if im being honest...it's been quite a while. if i tell you this, will you promise to keep it secret?" she asks, her voice unsteady with the hesitance of telling a stranger the problems of her current life.

"cross my heart and hope to die." you dramatically cross your hands over your bust, smiling when she manages a laugh at your theatrics.

she sighs, putting her hands in her lap and closing her eyes. "i have a husband, back home. arranged marriage." her eyes peak open to look at you, and you hurry to fix the look on your face from one of disappointment to understanding. "i was so hopeful before the wedding, but then i met and moved in with him and it's nothing how i imagined it would be. he's nothing like i hoped for. and i know i now have a duty to my country and people but i only have one other person to voice my sadness and just...anger to. but it doesn't feel like enough. i feel like i need to do more to fix my life or i'll go insane."

at the end of her rant she lets out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders and slumping back into the wall behind you. she looks at you for your reaction to see you smiling at her. "what could possibly be amusing right now?"

"nothing, nothing. it's not everyday you meet a beautiful monarch on the edge of killing her husband. well, i take that back." she rolls her eyes and gently smacks your arm at your jest.

"i just poured out feelings i've only told my most trusted servant and you're going to joke around with me?"

"i've found that during the most dire times, nothing makes me feel better than saying 'fuck all' and laughing."

she sits in silence, staring at you as she seems to think over your words. it feels like the two of you are drifting closer together, her blue eyes flicking from your eyes to lower to lower-

"yn! yn are you nearby?" the loud voice of anna from outside the library causes both of you to flinch and look to the doors, waiting with held breaths as the sounds of annas heels pass by. the sound of her crying out your name grows quieter, but you both know you have to depart soon.

"i suppose that means i have to go now," you groan, standing up and smoothing out the fabric of your dress as you look sophie. shes just looking at you with those big blue eyes of hers until she collects herself as well, "its time for me to see the emperor, i suppose. will i see you around the palace any time soon?"

"yes, you'll be seeing me around. at least i hope so." her gentle admission makes you smile, and she clasps her hands together in slight nervousness. "i don't have many friends here. its nice to talk to someone who understands."

you smile at each other for a few seconds more until the sound of anna's voice rings out in the halls again. wanting to stop her before she causes a ruckus, you sidestep sophie and leave the library quickly, heading towards your duties and leaving her behind in the library.

.

.

.

“where have you been? i've been looking for you all over this god-forsaken palace!” annas harsh whisper spits at you, the shorter woman grabbing your arm and yanking you towards her as she continues walking down one of the wide halls of the palace.

"im sure they heard you over in india, my dear friend," you tease, letting out a squeak when she pinches your arm, "i was just in the library and having a very interesting conversation with a young woman when-"

"dont even finish that sentence. i dont want to to know what you get up to in the shadows with young women." anna groans and stops walking when you get to a quaint but grandiose set of doors. she pushes them open to reveal a grand bedroom, fit with a small area to converse with others over tea and snacks, a wide desk near the window with your bags containing your papers and documents set beside it, and the back of the room contains a large bed and intricate designs on the bedframe and sheets.

“nice of him to give us a grand room after his grand absence.” you deadpan, nodding thanks to anna and flopping down on the chaise near the fireplace. you kick your feet up and let out a long groan, closing your eyes and resting your arm over your eyes.

“dont talk like that, I heard he has spies inside of the walls,” anna jokes, closing the chamber doors and striding to sit in the armchair next to you. “besides, we’ve been formally invited to dine with the emperor, and his wife tonight, along with some of the other important members of his court. this could be your chance to judge his character, see what he's like to plan how you’ll go about your proposals with him for trading.”

you groan louder, smiling over at anna’s burst of laughter. “i have the feeling he'll be too consumed in drinking himself silly and doing whatever else these russians do."

"well then, lets at least get you dressed to the nines so he'll feel completely embarrassed that he turned down the chance to speak to you earlier." anna gets up and moves to your bags, propping them open and pulling out a gown that's not too gaudy but just lavish enough for a dinner with an emperor.

you smile, already imagining the look on the emperors' face when he realizes what an idiot he was for turning you down.

.

.

.

so, it turns out that peter was a bigger idiot than you thought.

upon entering the dining hall you come to see that the room is still mostly empty, save for a few maids preparing the table for dinner and what looks to be the chef getting into a heated debate with another servant.

walking over, the pair seem to stop speaking instantly when they notice you, bowing over as a sign of respect and not moving until you ask them a question.

“hello, i’m princess y/n. i was told i was to dine with the emperor and company, am i too early?”

“n-no your highness, i believe the emperor is a tad bit busy at the moment. he should be joining you soon.” the servant tells you, stuttering over some of his words as he fixes his position to look at you while speaking.

anna quickly takes her place in front of you, clearly able to tell by the shift in your stance that your mood has quickly soured upon hearing that peter has the gall to do this again. shes right in the middle of explaining when noises from the kitchen cause her and the room to go silent. you're on the verge of asking what it was when it comes about again.

moaning.

very damn loud moaning.

if you weren't so furious you'd be laughing your ass off, and by the way anna’s posture goes rigid you can tell she's holding herself back from doing the same. the chef and servant look so red you wouldn't be surprised if they were the tomatoes that were on the menu. you got the feeling that the embarrassment was from you having to bear witness, and that they'd likely been through this before.

“i think…we are going to find our seats now.” you let out a long exhale from your nose and smooth off your dress, putting on an amused and polite smile.

you roughly grab anna’s arm and pull her to the end of one of the tables, you sit yourself down in a chair in the middle of one of the side tables and she sits in the one to your left.

“look, your highness, we can walk through the gardens, w-we can go for another roundabout this damn gaudy castle, but can we please not stay here and listen to russian lovemaking session? and you've got that scheming look in your eye that you know i hate-”

“we’re staying here.” you cut her off, your tone letting her know your say is final. she fake pouts and sits correctly in her seat, staring at the wall ahead of her as you both try to ignore the familiar sounds of skin meeting and the rampant onslaught of moaning and groaning.

it feels like the longest few minutes of your life. as the seconds tick by a few more people slowly start to enter, all wearing posh clothing and powdered wigs that make it seem like they'd walked right out of a cheaper version of france. but you remain polite, smile, and do the basic introductions when they come up to you. you notice how they all ignore the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy from the kitchen as well.

you have to press your lips in a thin line when thomas rushes into the room and sits in the other chair next to you, hurriedly giving his greetings to the other court members and turning to you. he raises his brow in confusion at your teasing look, then follows your eyesight to the timid orlo who had entered the room and had sat near the head table. thomas’s face flushes when he turns back to you.

“stop it, nothing happened,” he whispers,” we discussed what's going to be addressed at your meeting with peter.”

your brow twitches.

“i think emperor peter has his hands full with other responsibilities.”

thomas’s mouth opens to ask you to elaborate when an “oh god, yes!” booms from the kitchen. anna snorts as his face shows mass embarrassment.

“he did tell us russians were very different, y/n.” anna jokes, butting her head from your side to look directly at thomas. “they’re crass, rude, and what was it, T? oh yes, vulgar.”

you’re on the brink of closing your eyes and banging your head on the table when the site of a familiar mop of bright blonde hair grabs your attention and nearly makes you sit straight up from your seat. you don't even hear the sound of your friends asking what the matter is, all you can hear is the sound of your heart beating erratically. it’d scare you half to death if you weren't so excited.

she makes eye contact with you and you smile, nodding politely. she nods back, looking on edge as she moves farther into the room.

“that's the woman i was talking to earlier,” you say, turning your head towards anna. she nods and smiles, and you decide not to acknowledge how it's the you've got another crush don't you bitch smile.

“she’s pretty.” anna whispers.

“she’s sophie.” you tell her.

“she’s princess catherine.” thomas butts in.

what.

you don't get the chance to question him when a man burst through the doors of the hall, his clothes in disarray and his hair even more so.

peter.

his beady blue eyes connect with yours, the man smiling as he would at an old friend and clapping his hands before raising them above his head.

“ah! your highness! welcome to the palace, i hope you've found your stay comfortable so far.” he greets you too little too late, getting distracted halfway through his sentence as a brunette woman in the same state of dishevelment, the pair smiling at each other as she passes to sit next to another man, his smile strained as she presses a kiss to his cheek.

“it’s certainly been memorable so far, your majesty,” you answer, your eyes following him as he moves next to soph-catherine, whose eyes dart between you and her apparent husband. she sits down, seeming to decide there’s no point in making eye contact as she stares at the china on the table.

“well, i hope during your stay you find many more things to remember. boris! bring us our food!” peter shouts, clapping his hands together as he turns toward the kitchen. it's a struggle to keep a courteous smile on your face.

the dinner is odd, to say the least. throughout most of it, peter is boasting about himself and his accomplishments, which honestly don't sound like anything important to you and more like thing your child brother was worrying about the last time you saw him. but he wasn't completely an idiot. just mostly.

the other half of your amusement comes from your new blonde friend. over the course of the dinner she continues to avoid you like the plague, only joining in conversation with you when prompted by peter. you aren't a fool, you know most diplomatic marriages are purely that, but you can help but notice the way she looks at him when he speaks. it's not just fatigue or distaste, its something more. something sharper.

when you and the other nobles have finished eating peter insists on moving the festivities to a parlor room, giving you some semblance of hope for a normal evening. which was quickly thwarted by the dancers and loud music and even more alcohol. its not all bad though, you get to see anna convince thomas to drink some hard liquor, resulting in him spouting from a chair about the history of the wood it was made from.

while laughing you notice from the corner of your eye catherine whisper something to one of the guards near the door before rushing out. looking around you, you see how no one seems to take much notice to the empress’s quick disappearance, so you simply stand up and walk out the door as well.

you underestimate how quickly the empress can walk, only able to catch glimpses of her skirts as she darts around hallway corners. after a few minutes of trailing her you find yourself in the palace gardens, only getting a few seconds to admire the hedges. catherine starts to slow down to catch a breather and you can faintly hear her muttering something to herself before you come up behind her.

“going for a little late night stroll, your majesty?” you question, keeping a cool smile when she turns around and looks at you like a startled doe.

“y/n, i mean, your highness, i didn't take you for a person who admires gardens.”

“and i didn't take you for someone to lie so easily, but i guess today is the day for surprises.”

you both go silent at your rebuttal, only the sounds of crickets in the garden and the faint noise of the still partying emperor in the distance being heard.

“i apologize, your majesty,” you sigh, remembering that you're here to make peace with the Russian and getting catty with them isn't the best idea. “i didn't mean to be rude. I'm just upset that you lied to me about who you were when i made it very clear who i was.”

catherine sighs as well, wringing her hands together as she steps closer yo you. “im sorry as well. for lying to you and avoiding you. its just that…you’re different than the other people around here.”

“i hadn't noticed. was it my complexion or my soberness?” you joke, laughing along with the empress when she giggles.

“more than that, you listened to me.”

the simple sentence felt like a light punch to the gut. it reminds you of the countless times you would sneak away to the village from your palace, conversing with the people in the market so you could have a normal conversation without someone sucking up to you. how you’d even settle for someone telling you off for bumping into their shoulders was appreciated because it was so real. you had to admit you had even found some joy and amusement in peter’s complete disregard for your visitation.

“i understand. truly, i do.” you mimic her previous actions and step closer, the distance between the two of you only about a few feet at this point. you take the chance to take her in more. they fly away hairs that frame her face, the few freckles that dust across her nose, and the softness of her lips…

she starts speaking again, causing you to compose yourself. slightly.

“thank god. it was just that as soon as you started talking to me like a human being i couldn't get enough of it.” she blurts, her lips pursing at the implications of what she said.

“its alright, i felt the same. i still do. I'm up for another chat as we walk if you are.”

she smiles. “i think i’ll take you up on that offer.”

the two of you talk about everything and nothing as you walk, with you teasing her for her rather foolish husband and her laughing along and agreeing. she tells you how often she’s found herself sick of him these past few weeks and that darkness returns to her eyes.

“i mean I've truly met some incompetent leaders but your husband truly takes the cake,” you chuckle as you slightly kick away a pebble. “im surprised no ones tried to overthrow him at this point.”

you keep walking for a few more steps before you notice catherine has stopped behind you, frozen in place. her face is conflicted, her lips in a pout and creases forming between her brows. you gently call her name and are shocked at the sudden intensity behind her eyes. even more so when her head darts to look around in all directions before she rushes to you and pulls you behind a bush and holds you by your shoulders.

“if i tell you something, something that could change you life, do you promise to keep it between us?”

“yes of course,” you answer, and you'd be slightly embarrassed at the speed of your answer if your brain wasn't preoccupied with her closeness.

“if i told you that someone was planning to revolt against peter, what would you say? honestly?”

“that it seems rather overdue at this point.”

her eyes scan your face, looking for something before she lets out a breath. “im planning a coup. against peter.”

you don't reply. you simply look at her, waiting for the crack of a smile or an eye roll or anything she didn't mean what she just said. but it doesn't come.

“you’re quite serious?” you ask.

“deadly. me, my handmaiden, and one of his advisors have been talking about it. we should have one of the generals on our side shortly and i thought with your support as well-”

“my support? catherine as much as i don't think that man should be on the throne, you do realize if this fails i could be targeted and killed?”

“we won't fail,” she states and says it with such assurance you find yourself fully believing her.

“well, how am i supposed to help from all the way in my country? it doesn't seem like peter is much interested in an alliance so me giving you resources isn't exactly on the table.”

“leave that to me. he’s done some horrible things to me in the last few weeks so if i ask for this as a gift i’m sure he’ll accept.” she tells, her grip on your shoulders steady as she gives you a bright smile.

you grin. “you really are something extraordinary, empress catherine.”

“sophie. you can call me sophie.”

her words are no more than a whisper, and its silent yet again. your eyes quickly look from her eyes to her lips to back, and you catch her doing the same. her head starts to lean in, and you slowly start to do the same until her lips graze yours-

“your majesty? catherine where are you?”

its almost violent the way you pull apart from each other, your respective hands quickly smoothing out your clothes to make sure you look presentable. when you finish your eyes look at each other, and she still has that dark look in hers with an added dash of a hunger you know all too well.

“catherine? are you over here-there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.” orlo comes from around the corner, looking exasperated as he rests his hands on his hips. when he notices you however he resumes an appropriate posture. “your highness, im terribly sorry that i didn't see you. catherine, i will talk to you later-”

“its alright, orlo. i told her and she’s agreed to join us.”

“you what?”

.

.

.

the emperor's discussion room is wide and bright, the sun shining in the windows and creating a warm feeling. it could be because your friends are on both sides of you, or because catherine is sitting beside peter with a barely concealed look of excitement on her face.

“princess y/n! i apologize for yesterday. i was very busy, as you could see.” peter clasps his hands together and smiles at you like you understand his excuses.

“all is well, your majesty. i know that certain pleasures can distract us from our responsibilities. i don't mind. is there a reason you called me here?”

his eyes squint. “why yes. there is. i would like to officially form an alliance with genovia immediately. my wife here was telling me about your encounters yesterday and how you seem like a more than perfect ally.”

you and catherine share a look.

“where do i sign?”

its a rather quick process to sign a piece of paper that changes history, and when its over things feel different. permanent. peter gives you a handshake before departing, just leaving catherine. she warily opens her arms for a hug, and you envelop her in your arms.

“welcome to the winning side of history,” she whispers in your ear, and you can help the excitement that rushes through you.

#the great #the great show #the great hulu #catherine the great x reader #catherine x reader #peter iii of russia #orlo #miriam #the great x reader

[lya-dustin]

So here's a piece of that Osferth x reader I'm planning inspired by that gif about the oysters and that scene in the great where Catherine tries to seduce Orlo

The Oysters

Working title may change later

Gif by @myfandomprompts

You were going to hell for this.

But you have to do this or risk getting married off to some man old enough to be your grandfather.

Besides, Osferth was the king’s natural son and gentle and kind as one would expect of a godly man.

Osferth was handsome, and he was roughly your age and well-read and of good moral standing.

All the other young men you’d scared off this year paled in comparison to him.

And sure he was a monk, but some monks can marry and God did order Adam and Eve to be fruitful, so really this was just fulfilling God’s will.

Yes, God’s will. You were only doing God’s will.

This you tell yourself as you drink wine you pilfered from your father’s stores to wash down the oyster you just ate.

Nasty things, they hadn’t been so bad when you had them when visiting the coast, but your maid said they stimulated carnal desire and would aid you in your mission.

The two of you had also overhead him commenting on it when having a very awkward feast with your family.

Why couldn’t it be something else, like pastries, or fruits or anything that wasn’t seafood?

Would he even come?

Did you get the right room?

#osferth x reader #osferth #osferth x fem!reader #osferth x you #the last kingdom fanfic #ewan mitchell

[praxeus-13]

Could You Help Me Fix It?

(Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Timelord!Reader

Word Count: 2800

Summary: You wake up after The Master went through your mind, and finally get a proper reunion with your spouse.

Warnings: A little bit of swearing? Possibly?

Tag list: @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @geocookie21

A/N: Fun fact! I wrote most of this while at an airport/on a plane :) Also, this is the last part of the main series, but I might do some more one shots from this AU in the future!

(Orlo gif because I love him)

You came to slowly, first becoming aware of voices surrounding you, as well as a hand gripping yours. Then you started to wake up a bit more, your brain remembering recent events as though it was putting a puzzle together, until you remembered.

You remembered.

Immediately, your eyes shot awake, giving you the view of the medbay ceiling. Unfortunately, that was not the exact view you had been hoping for. However you didn’t have to look far to find what you were looking for.

To your right, Koschei laid sleeping. He was sat in a chair, though his body was half draped over your side, his hands clasped around yours. You were smiling, and though you desperately wanted to talk with him, you let him rest for a few more moments and simply enjoyed the view. Finally, you used your free hand to stroke through his hair (it was new, to you at least, and oh so soft) while the one he’d trapped started to gently caress his skin. He stirred, his face scrunching up in a way you found adorable. Then his eyes opened, and you could tell as his mind was adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. You could tell the exact moment he remembered why he was where he was, as his eyes shot to your face and he bolted up.

“Y/N?” His voice held such a delicate vulnerability to them, an emotion of his that only you were privilege to witness.

“Koschei.” You replied with similar vulnerability, though you were more relaxed than him.

He didn’t waste another moment, climbing towards you quickly yet cautiously, clearly struggling to hold himself back from smothering you. On the other hand, all you wanted currently was to hold him in your arms, and be held in his in return. When he was close enough you collapsed into him, circling your arms around his torso and holding on as tight as possible, immediately he did the same. Your faces were buried in each other’s necks and neither of you were planning on letting go anytime soon.

Faintly -somewhere in the back of your mind - you noted several pairs of footsteps and voices nearby, though you didn’t pay them any notice. You must have started crying at some point, as your face and your lover’s neck were wet. Reluctantly, you pulled back in order to wipe your face dry, though Koschei beat you to it. His hands were rougher than the rest of his skin, callouses on his fingertips most likely from TARDIS maintenance. You loved them though, they felt right to you, all of him was perfect. Two centuries without him had left you yearning for him, for his touch, and now that you had it- had him- you would never let go again.

You were still crying, the tears wouldn’t stop coming, but you were grinning wider than you had in a very long time. He was the same, tears rolling down his face as he looked at you with a beautiful mix of awe and love. Hesitantly, still worried that this was all a dream and you would wake up back in that hell, you reached forward to stroke some tears from his face. Luckily he didn’t disappear, instead melting into your palm as he looked at you with such love.

He was different to how he had looked when you last saw him, obviously having regenerated as you had, though he was still so obviously Koschei. You’d missed him so much that your mind was a mess, not just because of Rassilon’s meddling, but having him right in front of you after waiting for so long made it difficult for your mind to decide what to do. However, it seemed your husband was not having the same problem, as he leaned in and caught your lips with his.

The kiss was messy and wet, but it was perfect. You’d kissed him a thousand times before of course, but this was your first kiss in this body, with him in his new body. It felt so surreal, so comforting, like the two of you were made for each other. He was what you’d needed all these years, and now you had him.

You couldn’t tell how long the kiss lasted, you couldn’t tell how long the two of you had been wrapped around each other, it may have made you a lousy excuse for a Time Lord right now, but all you cared about was Koschei. Once your respiratory bypasses started to kick in, the two of you separated only enough to catch your breath. Then your husband used two of his fingers to guide your chin up so you were looking him in the eyes.

“I love you.” He’d told you that a thousand times before, but you never got tired of hearing those words from him.

“I love you too, and I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, I never stopped searching, I never gave up hope I swear.”

“I could barely remember you, but I knew that you would find me one day.”

He kissed you again, short and sweet this time, though no less passionate. Then Koschei shifted so that he was leaning back against the wall the bed was pressed against, while you were sitting in his lap, both of you continuing your tight grips on each other.

You felt safe and content, though that feeling was momentarily broken by an unsubtle cough from elsewhere in the room. Both slightly startled, you and Koschei looked over to where The Doctor was stood with her latest humans, Dan and Yaz if you remembered correctly.

“Hi Theta.” You greeted your old friend.

The two of you had gotten off to a rough start, back in the Academy Theta had been jealous of you, had seen you as a threat to his and Koschei’s friendship and had tried once to separate the two of you. However, Koschei had been rather adamant that the two of you get along, and you had slowly befriended Theta.

Over the years that friendship had weakened but never died. You were by your husband’s side throughout everything, of course, but you were never above helping or thanking Theta when you saw fit. He - or she now, you supposed - had always returned the favour.

“Good to see you again, Y/N.” She nodded her head at you.

Koschei’s grip tightened around you, and you relaxed further into him, reassuring him that you had no intention of going anywhere away from him.

“Hungry?” The Doctor half-yelled, giving you the impression that this was a rather socially-awkward regeneration of her’s (more so than usual).

“I could eat.” You nodded at her, though your eyes were focused on Koschei’s hands as they held your own.

“Great!” Theta clapped her hands together, “I’ll just go make something for you then!”

You may have been surviving on scraps of whatever you could fine for the last two centuries, but you knew you would never be able to stomach Theta’s cooking. However, Yaz must have seen the panic in your face.

“Don’t worry, she’s banned from cooking, Dan and I’ll make something for you.”

And then, you and your husband were alone again.

“How are you, my love?” He asked.

“Tired, hungry, but very happy.”

He hummed at your answer and pressed his face into the nape of your neck.

“That’s good, just rest now, I’ll wake you when food comes.”

And so you did, falling to sleep was surprisingly easy when you were safe in your lover’s arms.

——

“- gonna have to tell them at some point.”

“I will, didn’t you hear me? Just not right now.”

As you slowly came to once again, you could hear the all-too-familiar bickering of Koschei and Theta.

“Mmfph, shhh, I’m still trying to sleep.” You grumbled at them, keeping your eyes shut in hopes you could hold onto sleep.

Your plan was quickly foiled by your husband, who decided to start peppering your face with kisses, causing you to open your eyes so you could see as you tried to push him away. Of course, you didn’t want to actually push him away, you wanted to hold him close and never let go.

“Morning, my love.” He greeted you once he decided he’d kissed you enough.

“Morning. What were you two bickering about this time?” You queried, eyeing The Doctor, who was currently pretending to examine medical equipment in hopes to make herself disappear - obviously still uncomfortable with blatant displays of affection.

“Nothing you need worry yourself about, my darling.”

The look he gave you was contrary to the statement, and you knew that he’d tell you what it was about later - when the two of you had some privacy.

The Doctor coughed, gaining you attention “Hungry? Yaz is cooking breakfast right now so I can go and get you some if you’d like.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” You told her, and she nodded in reply, swiftly exiting the room with one more meaningful glance at Koschei.

Your husband completely ignored her, instead opting to climb into the bed behind you so that your back was held against his chest. You hummed in appreciation, tilting your head back into his neck.

“Going to tell me what she was on about now?” You asked in a playful tone.

“Mmm, The Doctor wanted me to update you on what I’ve been up to while we were separated - mostly the more recent events.”

You didn’t reply verbally, instead sending him a mix of curiosity and reassurance telepathically.

Koschei sighed, then held you even closer, before he spoke. “I destroyed the cities of Gallifrey, all of the Time Lords and most of the regular Gallifreyans - I may have gotten a Shobogan or two, but they weren’t my target. “

“I sort of presumed you would one day, what with your history of destroying planets.” You half-joked.

Honestly the loss of your home didn’t hit you hard, you’d never been close with your family and they’d disowned you centuries ago for choosing to stay loyal to your husband. You were more surprised that the planet was still standing, that he’d only targeted the Gallifreyan settlements.

“I suppose the question to ask is, why?”

“When I regenerated into this body I took a trip to Gallifrey to look for you again, it’d become habit whenever I regenerated. I decided to have a look through the Matrix, I spent days there, endlessly searching through all the files. I didn’t find any trace of you, but I did find something else.

The Time Lords lied to us, about our very creation. I’ll share the memories with you when you’re feeling better, but the short story is - they stole regeneration from a child. Experimented and forced a child to regenerate over and over until they finally understood, until they replicated it themselves.”

As he was talking you noticed how upset and angry he was, and subtly sent him a wave of calm and understanding in your minds.

“That child was Theta. The Time Lords took her memories an unknown amount of times and forced her to regenerate over and over… I had to destroy Gallifrey, the Time Lords had caused too much harm, the drums, your memories, the wars. Our very existence is built on the suffering of a child. Gallifrey had to die.”

You shifted in his arms so you were able to face him properly, so he knew you were truthful when you said “I understand.”

He pulled you in for a proper hug, and you felt his relief and love wave through your mind. Admittedly, you weren’t too upset with the loss of your home planet. It hadn’t felt like home for many, many centuries - not helped by the whole of Time Lord society outcasting you.

I’m with you through everything.

——

Much to your dismay you were forced to stay in the medbay for two more days before you were released, as both The Doctor and Koschei had insisted on ensuring your mind was okay. In the end it wasn’t too bad, as you spent most of the time cuddling Koschei, but you still felt the need to complain a little as it would have been nicer to cuddle with Koschei on your own TARDIS. Once you were finally let out of the medbay you were eager to leave, it’d been great to see Theta again, and her friends were nice as well, but all you’d wanted to do since you got your memories back was curl up in the library of your TARDIS and catch up with your husband.

Yaz and Dan had been very kind throughout your stay, even if it was obvious that they were a bit wary. Yaz especially seemed to steer clear of your husband, and you’d added it to your list of questions about what he’s been doing during your separation. Still, both of them were stood in the console room with you as you were preparing to say your goodbyes.

“Thank you for everything Doctor, truly, and thanks to your TARDIS for actually finding me.” You gave one of the pillars a little pat, getting a whirring noise and a brightening of lights in response.

The Doctor smiled at you almost bashfully, rocking back and forth slightly on her feet. “Anytime, I’m glad you’re safe and well.”

Koschei hummed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He wouldn’t thank her, not in front of the humans, but The Doctor knew he was grateful. You’d probably convince him to send her a gift at some point in the future.

“Yasmin, Dan, it was nice to meet you both.” You nodded at them.

“You too.” Yaz replied with a smile, while Dan simply nodded his head back.

Your husband started pulling you away from them and towards the doors, clearly deciding that it was time to leave, causing you to laugh a little.

“Alright, we’ll probably see you around, thanks again for everything.”

Koschei opened the doors and dragged you out while you waved goodbye, still laughing at his antics - stars you’d missed him.

“You’re too polite sometimes my love.” He told you in between kisses once The Doctor’s TARDIS doors were closed.

“Well one of us has to be.” You snarked, before kissing him back enthusiastically.

A few minutes later the two of you stumbled into your TARDIS, still love-drunk on each other’s kisses. When you finally moved your gaze away from your lover you grinned wider. The TARDIS interior wasn’t exactly the same, you hadn’t expected it to be, but it was still very similar to how it had been two centuries prior (at least for you). It was a little messier, papers and books strewn out all over the floor, but you’d grown accustomed to how messy Koschei could be when he had a project going on. Looking closer at the papers and books you realised that the project on the floor had been his attempt at finding you. Maps of different sectors of the universe were dotted around the place, many of them having various markings and writing on.

A tear ran down your face and jolted you from your observation, you hadn’t even noticed you’d teared up. Koschei was already wiping the tear from your face, though another fell soon after. In your mind you projected your emotions to him, your upset, your love, to make sure he knew just how much you appreciated and loved him.

——

Hours later the two of you were curled up in the library - which hadn’t changed in the slightest - curled together in front of the fire. Koschei had helped you bathe and fully clean off the filth from your previous residence earlier, giving you a haircut afterwards. Then you’d gone through your shared wardrobe in order to find something more comfortable to wear, in the end settling on some casual smart trousers and a button-up shirt. You’d found one of your old coats as well, it was similar in style to The Doctor’s current one, though it was a dark purple with golden constellation patterns on the back, and it seemed that your TARDIS had altered it to your current height.

Now the two of you were simply enjoying each other’s company, something you’d both craved for centuries. As you held each other Koschei started to hum. It was an old tune, your tune, the first one you’d danced to on your wedding night. Your eyes started to close as you felt safe and completely content for the first time in recent memory. You didn’t feel worry as you started to drift into sleep, knowing that Koschei would keep you safe whilst you slept, and he’d still be there when you woke up.

“Goodnight my love, sleep well.” He whispered to you, placing a kiss upon your forehead.

You smiled, snuggled closer to him, and finally let yourself rest.

#dhawan!master x you #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #the master x reader #the master #doctor who reader insert

[hauntingcryptids]

Characters I Write For

BBC Ghosts

None for the moment because I don’t feel inspired, but I am working on past requests.

Doctor Who

All NuWho Regenerations of The Doctor

Canon Regenerations

Special Regenerations (Ex. Ganger!Doctor)

Alternate Universe Regenerations (Ex. Dhawan!Doctor)

All NuWho Regenerations of The Master

Canon Regenerations

Special Regenerations (Ex. Doctor!Master)

Alternate Universe Regenerations (Ex. Whittaker!Master)

The Doctor x The Reader x The Master (any NuWho regenerations)

All NuWho Companions

Good Omens

None for the moment because I don’t feel inspired, but I am working on past requests.

Our Flag Means Death

None for the moment because I don’t feel inspired, but I am working on past requests.

Stranger Things

Argyle

Robin Buckley

Jonathan Byers

Chrissy Cunningham

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Nancy Wheeler

Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson

Miscellaneous Other Characters From Various Medias

Jareth The Goblin King from Labyrinth (Because this man is the blueprint!)

Loki from Marvel

Sylvie from Marvel

Peter Maximoff from X-Men

Joseph Quinn Characters That Aren’t Listed Above

Prince Paul from Catherine The Great (I still need to watch it, but you can send me some ideas)

Arthur Havisham from Dickensian (I still need to watch it, but you can send me some ideas)

Enjolras from Les Misérables (I still need to watch it, but you can send me some ideas)

Tom Grant from Make Up

Ralph from Timewasters

Sacha Dhawan Characters That Aren’t Listed Above

Doctor Valentine from Allelujah!

Doctor Sharma from Dracula

Count Orlo from The Great

Manmeet from Outsourced

No requests for the moment just because I don’t feel inspired right now, but I am working on past requests.

If there is a character that you are curious if I write for that isn’t on this list, please message me or send me an ask!

I am also going to list my Requesting Rules here. Please read those before requesting!

#ghost's posts #characters I write for #doctor who #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor #the master x reader #the master #stranger things #stranger things x reader #argyle x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #robin buckley x reader #jonathan byers x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #jareth x reader #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth x reader #loki #loki x reader #sylvie #sylvie x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #peter maximoff x reader #tom grant x reader #tom make up x reader

[chocolatepot]

I'm sad that The Great doesn't have a ton of Catherine/Marial fics (though not terribly surprised), but I LOVE that we're all in love with Orlo. I'm not reading any "x you" or "x reader" fics but I deeply appreciate that we all have the right priorities.

#niche sacha dawan opinion: neville should have gotten with rosa in edwin drood #the great

[repressionrepresentation]

surprisingly yet valid to have most of the fics in the great ao3 tag to be orlo x reader

#DNDJWKDK #the great

[noforkingclue]

Hi may I requested a Count Orlo x reader where she is a vampire type like the ones in Interview with a vampire. Where reader family comes to court to visit her, calling Louis father lestate uncle Claudia sister with them being protected of reader. Everyone think they are weird but Orlo finds out the truth. Please and thank you u don't have to, message me if u want something clear up

Sorry but I don’t write for count orlo

[13atoms]

Something About The Weather (Orlo x Reader)

A/N: my flat AND office are freezing, so I’m writing something warm wrapped in 3 layers and gloves. Also! I finally just accepting paying Microsoft to get my beloved Word back – writing now costs me £7 a month, but i am happy lol

Fluff, tiniest bit of melancholy, established relationship, gn!reader, set late in s2. Gn!Reader. Country/city/area names are modern because google is free, but I am lazy. [1.3k words]

❄

The weather had turned as quickly as Catherine’s favour for Orlo. Chill swept through the palace, emptying the corridors and making people bundle up for the quickest darts across the courtyard. Inside candles and fireplaces roared, stoked by serfs who were as freezing as the noblefolk. Each evening both you and Orlo bustled into the apartment, one after the other, drawn to the flickering fireplace, jostling for space in front of it and warming your hands and faces until you could hardly stand the dry heat.

It was a version of the same conversation, every night, but you didn’t mind.

“It’s too bloody cold in this place,” Orlo would grumble, and you’d shudder as you agreed.

“We should winter somewhere warmer.”

“Good idea, my love.”

You’d both sit for a moment, contemplating, letting your eyes ache from the brightness of the fire, knees aching from kneeling in front of the hearth.

“Catherine would never let you go.”

Then, one night, Orlo had scoffed at that.

“What?” you’d insisted.

“I think she’d quite like to see the back of me to be honest. I imagine she would happily ship me off to Florence herself.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you reached for his hand, stroking your fingers over the familiar writing callous on his ring finger, sapping the cold from his knuckles into your own palms.

You reached for him again as you drank for your evening tea, the apartment warming around you as the drapes were closed and the fire fed more fuel. He offered you a weak, gentle smile at the gesture, pressing the warmth of his empty teacup to his cheek.

“Did the two of you fight again?” you asked quietly, and Orlo grimaced.

“She is fighting with everyone. Peter has driven her to distraction.”

The silence words hung in the air, a comment you’d heard from Orlo a hundred times. That he ought to have killed the deposed Emperor. For Russia, he was right. But you were glad it hadn’t. it would have changed something, killed the fight inside himself.

“You’re doing your best, that’s all she can ask. All we can ask.”

You liked the Empress. She was kind. Clever. A good friend to you, when you had found few others to share a keen mind. Still, you knew with kindness came blindness, with cleverness came stubbornness. Orlo perhaps liked those traits less in a leader than a partner.

“Let’s go to bed,” he had muttered, exhaustion evident in his

You’d read books in bed, refusing to leave the warmth of down covers, curtains drawn tightly around the four poster frame to create a tiny world, deep maroon fabric stopping the cold Russian winter from sapping your body heat.

The drapes muted the light, too, the candle you shared warmed by the deep colour, making the words on your page jump as the flame flickered, both you and Orlo tilting your books towards one another to read without the obstruction of shadows.

Each of you read of foreign lands, places with year-round greenery and not a mention of snow, where food was abundant late into the winter and the doctors had never seen a case of frostbite.

You wondered if those people read about Siberia, or Moscow, thought of the people wrapped in their furs, eating pickled and salted food, the beautiful, terrifying darkness of the skies which seemed to linger all year long.

  “Where are you reading about?” you murmured, knowing Orlo would be struggling to read in the light as much as you were.

His eyesight seemed worse these days, after too many hours hunched over his desk translating and writing.

“France,” he began, turning the pages back so you could skim a particularly vivid description.

“It sounds beautiful.”

“Yes, rolling green hills, fantastic baked goods – it seems. They mention them a lot,” he murmured, turning the pages again to show you yet another passage, watching as you read.

“Sounds warm,” you commented dryly, making Orlo huff out a shallow laugh, caressing the page he had returned to in thought at the words.

“Perhaps if we read enough about warm places, it will help.”

His book was new, but he had read yours before. You knew he had been taken with Italy, spoken at length about it until he finally finished the tome, and you could begin it. He often recalled passages like this, waiting for you to read a page before peering over your shoulder and asking what you thought of it.

“We could go,” he mused. “There’s nothing stopping us.”

He was dreaming again, and privately you winced as he did. He was a realist, you knew his imagination only hurt him, as much as you liked to imagine fresh cakes and warm beaches, the tiny boats you’d read about, floating up and down canals in Venice, the relics dotted around the south European countryside. It could not be. Not in this lifetime.

“Your job,”  you began, stroking his arm in a sympathetic comfort as your words brought him back down to earth, “the palace wouldn’t run without you. We don’t have the means, the carriage alone would be months of travel –”

“We have the means,” he scoffed, and you tried not to wince at the hurt in his tone, “and the palace would be fine.”

“We would be under a new regime by the time we returned!” you chided, trying to sound light-hearted even as the fragility of Catherine’s claim to the throne seemed porcelain-breakable around you.

“What is the point of all this? If we can never leave! If you want to leave, we will.”

“I’m happy here!”

“You’re cold here,” he murmured, and you let your head fall towards his, propped up against one another – books long forgotten in your laps.

You put your hand on his wrist, finally both warmed by the cocoon of textiles and body-heat you shared.

“I am warm now,” you promised, feeling his hum through your bones as clearly as you heard it in your ears.

 “One day,” he murmured, “we’ll go. We are not prisoners here. When everything is more stable, we’ll go.”

You used one hand to brace his jaw, keeping him in place as you shifted to kiss his temple.

“I know we will.”

He returned the gesture, gentle and sincere, nightshirt dragging against the pillows as he shifted to kiss you, first on the forehead and then on the lips.

You rescued both books from where they had fallen into the sheets, transferring them to your beside table and waiting for Orlo to remove his glasses before you extinguished the candle.

“I can’t wait,” he told you, the words a confession into the darkness. You smiled, shuffling beneath the covers and closer to him until he could feel the expression against his next.

“I can’t either. But first you need to stop fighting with Catherine.”

He knew you were teasing, the gentlest nudge to your shoulder the only consequence you faced as he curled in closer to you.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

It was a rare thing for the palace to be in complete silence so early in the evening, the cold driving people to their rooms and the deep winter darkness tempting them into bed earlier. It was something both of you enjoyed, hearing one another breathe undisturbed as you enjoyed the warmth of being pressed against one another, surrounded by soft fabrics and soft skin.

Orlo moved only to press his lips to your temple again, one hand curling around your back to press you against his torso. You wriggled to get comfortable, fearful of moving too much in case the cold air found space to keep between you.

His words were hardly more than a mumble as he spoke, lips less than an inch from your face.

“Do you think it’s too cold to undress?”

Your laughter broke the silence of the cold winter’s night.

#orlo x reader #count orlo x reader #the great hulu #the great fanfiction #count orlo #count orlo x f!reader #13atoms #fic #i am a metric fan but the second to last sentence is so much better imperial #less sensuality in the metric system yk #whimseas always comes through with the best gifs for the great

[fanfickitchenette]

Friend of the Empress, Chapter One

Orlo x Reader; Chapter One-Of Expectations and Faults

Y/N finds herself sent along as her childhood friend Catherine goes off to Russia to get married. The stay is on a to be determined basis, at the will of her parents and her own impending marriage. Everything in Russia is not as Catherine expected. Y/N wasn't expecting much in general. But, still, it wasn't this.

*no warnings I can think of for this chapter* BUT

TAGS for the story as a whole--possible eventual smut; talk of death, murder, SA (none in the story, just discussion); canon-typical violence; strangers-friends-lovers; angst; lots of platonic love

Word Count 1.7K

Chapter One: Expectations

            “My Russian is barely passable, Catherine. I don’t know what you expect of me.”, you smile at your friend with trepidation. The carriage bumps merrily along the ground, seemingly in touch with Catherine’s infectious joy. She pauses in re-reading you a letter that her emperor wrote her months ago. You can vividly recall blonde hair and bright blue eyes as she shook you awake to show you his correspondence when he initially sent the letter. The letter would be kept on her person when the two of you would traverse the grounds of her parent’s estate and then placed on the table next to her bed when she’d go to sleep.

            You hate to interrupt her excitement but the conversation you had with her mother before leaving sits uneasily in the back of you mind. Princess Consort, Lady Joanna Elisabeth terrifies you and makes you nauseous on the best of days. It’s been almost three weeks since the two of you started the journey from Germany. At the beginning, it was almost simple to brush off Lady Joanna’s warnings, Catherine radiated excitement and warmed the air with her hopes and ideas and the musings of her Peter. She quizzed you in Russian and asked the same back. When the sun was brightest, she would read aloud from her books of philosophy. You would sometimes read to her from the few novels you had been able to pack. But the passage of time has caught up with you. You’re set to reach the palace of Emperor Peter within the next few hours.

            The morning that Catherine’s departure was set, the dawn seeing you wait for your friend at the bottom of the staircase, you hadn’t known you’d be accompanying her all the way to Russia. With a rustle, only perceptible with years of training to listen for it, you straightened your back as Lady Joanna appeared at you elbow. “How marvelous to see you up so early, y/n. I do know how you love to wake up at a leisurely pace.”

            Your smile was, mostly, sincere as you dipped into a curtsy in greeting, “I didn’t want to be the reason for making us late on departure, my lady. I do know it’s an unfortunate habit. If I can say, you look amazing this morning. The green suits your complexion.” Her lips curled up with satisfaction, a hand smoothing the fabric of her rather enormous bustle.

            “You may, as I do look wonderful. You look presentable, which is a small relief. You’ve chosen a decent dress, especially as I know you won’t have packed much.”

            “I didn’t think I would need much, my lady. I didn’t want to overburden anyone when Catherine is bringing many of her things. It will only be five days before I will switch to a different carriage line. Simple things only.” Lady Joanna had looked at you then, raising her eyebrow with the mock surprise you’d seen her bestow on all of her children as long as you’d known them. Donna received it when she was informed of the sale of her beloved horse when she was fourteen and ‘too old to be messing about in the fields with no marriage arranged.’; Frederick got it when he was told he wouldn’t be summering with his friend, as the boy had died two weeks before and ‘did no one tell you? How good a friend could you have been, then?’

            A letter materialized from behind the woman’s back, “Did I not tell you that your parents wrote to me? Maybe a month or so ago. So many things happening, you must forgive me,” you nodded silently, worry curled and kept trapped under your tongue, “No need to fret. You know they’ve been working to get you married for a while now. Apparently they have a few good choices, but they’d like you out of reach for a bit. No one filling your mind with inappropriate thoughts of a love match. You’ll be accompanying Catherine. All the way to Russia. You’ll be sent for once your parents make their decision.” She had given you their letter and asked if you’d like a moment to pack anything else before leaving. It had been almost kind of her to give you the heads up; traveling with only a suitcase and bag to a foreign nation wouldn’t be feasible if you didn’t know how long you’d be informally exiled. Until about a week into the trip, Catherine had been under the impression you knew that you’d be going with her since the beginning.

            At the moment, the two of you bumping along the road, Catherine refolds her letter and tucks it into one of the books sprawled onto the seat next to her. “All I expect from you, y/n, is that you keep me company. That you stay by my side as Peter and I bring Russia into prosperity. When you leave me, I will be bereft. I will be inconsolable. I will be in mourning,” her hands find yours as she leans forward, you meet her in the middle and rest your foreheads together, “I will expect you to lead a great life. Wherever you may be. So that, when we write, when we visit, we will both be accomplished of wonderful things and of wonderful love. I expect only that and nothing less.” She always makes things sound so easy. You wonder how she thinks like that. How she believes in herself and those around her with such confidence.

            “Well,” you lean back in your seat, not surprised when she moves to the seat next to you and repositions her head onto your shoulder, “If that’s all, I should be able to manage.”

            The palace is huge. The grounds are glorious. You are completely gob-smacked at the sight as Catherine presses her face to the window, lost in her own awe. You tug her into sitting straight as the carriage makes a turn to be parallel to the palace and slows to a stop. A man in uniform opens the door after a moment, offering a hand first for Catherine and then you, both of you leaving the carriage with your journey finally complete. It’s traditional, at least at home, to initially be allowed to freshen up after long journeys. You, at least, are expecting an hour to change into a grander dress and wash up a bit before Catherine meets her Peter. Instead, both of you are instructed to follow two soldiers. To meet with the emperor and his advisors immediately. Catherine brushes her hair with her fingers and pulls out the twig of tree needles, that she plucked on the last part of your trip, from the top of her dress. You don’t feel anywhere near as composed. Your traveling dress, the same style as hers, feels too light and too pink and entirely not enough in everything that would matter in a royal court. If the ladies are anything like Lady Joanna, they will eat Catherine alive. And what they’ll do to you doesn’t even require thinking about.

            The halls seem surprisingly empty as you both walk through, slightly allaying the fear that Catherine would be immediately beset by gossip. You can tell Catherine is focused only on her destination, on meeting this great love, but you can’t help feeling as if the life of the palace is simply waiting behind closed doors as you pass. Levying judgement through thick walls covered in a large amount of mounted animal heads and various antlers. One of the only nice things that Lady Joanna ever said about you was that it might be valuable to doubt yourself if only to not be surprised when everything goes wrong. She said you always adapted wonderfully because of it. Your own mother normally called you observant and level-headed and left it at that.

            A grand set of doors are opened to an empty room, housing a single throne. Catherine isn’t kept waiting long. You only feel relief for your friend at that. She might have exploded if left alone, waiting, with her future so close by. The man who enters and strides forward, separating himself from the few others he is with, is handsome and you might be jealous if it weren’t your friend, your lovely Catherine, who is marrying him. He’s tall, with clear skin and pretty eyes. You note, almost absentmindedly, that you could almost be jealous of his eyelashes because they do make his eyes very nice to look at. He pauses in front of your friend. The girl you’ve known since you were both children. Who demanded that you learn to read more than your letters and simple sentences. The girl who you watched grow into the wonderous women, full of optimism and grand ideas that make you light-headed. You can barely imagine how she’s feeling, what she’s thinking.

            He circles your friend once. You want to be bitter, thinking how at odds that makes him seem from his letter, but your father’s voice rings in your head. It reminds you that Peter is still a man. Even the best of men have their faults when it comes to…physical urges and interests. You would allow him that if—“You look taller in your portrait,” he turns and starts to walk away, your eyes attempt to bug out of your skull, “Send her back. Get me a tall one.” It’s silent for one, ringing moment. Your eyes fix firmly on your friend, noting how she hides her shock better than you can but just barely. The moment ends and he laughs, the other men following his lead, and turns back. “Rich. Rich. See what I did there? I’m kidding. Kidding.”            

Your friend says she finds it amusing even as you feel her joy lessening from a few feet away. She gives him the branch of spruce and you see and hear as the Peter in front of her is fully detached from the letter she’s been pouring over. He promptly leaves to go horse-riding, though something about it feels off to you, before you and Catherine follow after the archbishop who came into the room with the emperor. She still seems to have her hope and determination even as your own wanes. The man who seemingly wrote the letter, a shorter fellow with brown skin, a black coif of healthy-looking hair, and glasses, watches the three of you leave with something very much like guilt in his eyes.

#catherine the great #the great hulu #count orlo #sacha dhawan #count orlo x reader #slow burn #friends to lovers #orlo is on the ace spectrum for sure #fanfic #the great fanfiction #the great imagine

[likesomekindofcheese]

Could you perhaps do an Orlo fic? The reader and him are courting but keeping it a secret from everyone else in the court, only for Catherine and/or Marial to find out when they walk in on Orlo cuddling and reading with the reader? Maybe Orlo is keeping their courtship a secret incase the coup goes badly? Just a load of fluff really. I love your other fics!! ☺️

Oh my gosh, I am so sorry this took a while! Feel free to shoot a dm! Stress and writer's block with requests hit me! And anon, let me know that I got your request! Since no gender was specified in the request, I will make the reader gender neutral and open to any interpretation!

“I would like to thank you…for the gift!” You said sweetly.

What was in your hand was a copy of a favorite book of yours. An edition with the most beautiful illustrations. Something so special, only one person could have given it to you.

“I bet it was costly!” You sighed with a twinge of guilt, in spite of yourself.

“For you! Nothing! I just want you to be happy!” Orlo said.

His hands felt soft as they held yours. He reached down and kissed it with such tenderness your heart would burst.

“Have you been keeping safe, darling?” He asked.

“Yes, thankfully. No one assumes me as a threat…at least not yet. And you? You’re closer to Catherine and more important…is…is that a scratch on your finger?” You cried, noticing a small mark on his hand.

“A paper cut! Nothing more! But…yes, I am keeping careful.”

You reached up that part of his finger with the cut to kiss it.

“You just did what no physician could. Your kisses could relieve any pain of mine, my darling. There’s magic in your lips.”

You smiled.

“Have you ever read this?” You asked.

“I…I have not, I confessed.”

“We should- together!”

You gathered by the fire. You took turns reading to give your voices rest. But your beloved Orlo smiled, listening intensely. As time wore on, you were both more cuddly.

You began sitting, then sitting ont he floor like children gathered around a fire. Perhaps, with the roaring fireplace to protect from the Russian chill, you were. But it was nice to be childish.

He finally let his head rest on your lap. One hand of yours was intertwined in his dark hair and the other holding the book. At one point you leaned over to kiss him.

Once you leaned down, your lips puckered for the kiss.

A familiar, prim voice arrived from the door.

"Orlo, I need your help on..."

Both heads shot up, seeing none other than the golden head of the empress of Russia herself.

"Oh! Your....your highness!" you gasped. Both of you sat up and gave a stiff, quick, but polite bow, acknowledging her as the more powerful person in the room.

She paused. She looked at both of you and smiled mischievously. Her pale face had a touch of pink on her cheeks and she bared her teeth in her joy.

"Why...were you..."

"Empress, we were just-" Orlo cut in, stepping forward.

"Don't think I'm naive enough to think kissing is a part of any political meeting...even for here..." she replied firmly, folding her arms.

Your face and body felt very warm. Too warm in fact. You were your eyes and clasped your hands together in embarrassment.

"Empress...we...we wanted to keep quiet. With the coup going on...we didn't know what would happen. We didn't want to make anything more complicated than it already is. Or, God forbid, one of us get caught in the crossfire," you explained humbly.

The fire continued to crack peacefully, despite the tension in the room.

"Orlo is one of my most trusted allies and advisors, I assure you I will do all in my power to protect him. And are you planning on attacking me anytime soon, Y/N?" Catherine asked.

You looked up at her and shook your head. "Oh no! Never in a hundred years empress!" you insisted.

"Then...I will keep my lips sealed until you are ready to be public about each other," she said.

"We plan to be more public once the coup is over..." Orlo explained.

Both of you released an exhale with a grin. You even stepped forward to grip each other's arms.

"If you don't mind me, I need Orlo's advice on something for just a minute, Y/N..." Catherine then said.

You shrugged, "no problem at all, empress!"

"And then after, you lovebirds can fly back to your nest. After all, he is doing me a great deed. And a great deed deserves a great rest..."

General Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury @0x0spunky-monkey0x0

#carrie writes #the great #the great fanfic #anon request #the great imagine #the great fanfiction #orlo #orlo x reader #cuont orlo x reader

[flybi91]

@wonders-of-the-multiverse  @hertzing based on what ever possessed me to think of this also i’m gonna do more but it’s not really going to be a story story just a bunch of little scenes like this

You just moved to a very small quaint little town with only about 30 people living there. 

There was a shop that sold plants and home goods, a cute clothing store with an attached shoe shop, and a coffee shop. You had to take the train once a week into the city to get food and any other major supplies which didn’t annoy you as much as you thought it would. It was only a 10 minute ride and there weren’t any stops, you couldn’t get a car because you’d be driving through the woods, but it was a cute little train that you could tell was installed specifically to get people through this forest.

 Then there was a beautiful museum, well the museum was kinda more like a zoo, there’s a large aquarium and a bug section, they even have a little butterfly house, then there's the section with fossils and different gems and minerals. It was owned and ran by one man, an incredibly sweet and shy man named Olo with the most unusual fashion choice. He looked like he was part of an aristocracy and you would have bet all your money on him being related to royalty somehow.  

You’ve had a crush on him from the second you saw him, you could feel your heart skip a beat. You were too shy to do anything and he was even shyer and seemed to be perpetually on edge, there were times where you thought the poor man would have a heart attack.

You always dressed up a little when you wanted to see him, you honestly didn’t even realize until your friend asked. You put significantly more time into your outfit than normal, spending time doing your makeup, agonizing over what dress you’d wear and what accessories would go with it. It was a special day, you found a crystal while gardening and it was the last one Orlo needed to complete the gem and mineral exhibit.

Before you went to the museum you took your picnic basket and went around back to your fruit trees, it was the first time they were producing fruit and you wanted to give him a gift. You were always happy to see him but every time you found something or thought about him your heart sunk with the realization that one day you’d get the last piece that the museum needed and you wouldn’t have an excuse to visit as much as you did. You’d already gotten all the species of bugs on the island, now all the stones and gems, and the fish weren’t far behind. 

You entered the building and your heart fluttered at the mere sight of him. You were always amazed by his clothes made from fabrics like silk and velvet, intricate stitching and embroidery, even his buttons had intricacies, little detailed flowers carved into them.

His eyes glimmered at the sight of you and your heart sank a little, it must be so lonely sitting in this big building all alone with almost no visitors.

“I have a surprise for you that i think you’ll like.”

You pulled out a little cloth bundle from your basket and watched him as he opened it. 

“Oh my this is-”

You shook your head and smiled, you loved seeing him so happy. 

 You put the basket on the bench and propped it open

“I have another surprise i thought you’d like, the trees are growing their first fruits”

“Oh thank you, you didn’t have to the specimen was enough. In fact if you wait here i’ll put the fruit somewhere so you can have your basket back, then i can tell you about the stone if you wish”

You gently grabbed his arm and felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the nervous man. Always rushing around trying to do things for others no matter how big or small.

“It’s fine you can give it back when your done with the fruit”

He kept his head down, eyes focusing on his hands. 

“I-i don’t mean to be rude so please excuse me, i do appreciate the gift but i was wondering if you’d be ok with me sharing some with the butterflies. I just don’t want you to think i-”

“It’s fine Orlo, you know I love the butterflies and I know they’ll like the fruit.”

It was such a sweet sentiment you thought you’d cry. You know how terrified of bugs he is but he still TRULY takes care of them.

#orlo x reader #sacha dhawan

[colderthancoldest]

The only Count Orlo fic I want to read is someone- I don't even care who- kidnapping Orlo and dragging him all the way to France where his revolutionary ideas are appreciated.

I want people treating Orlo right, and showering him with genuine compliments until he tears up, giving him all the books he could possibly want, wrapping him in comfy blankets, bringing him warm tea- and that's it. Just characters loving and respecting Orlo. Not a single insult is thrown his way.

Orlo goes on nice walks through the park and gets to debate philosophy with the greats and maybe writes a book of his own and that's it.

I want Orlo to be loved and respected for the brilliant person he is that's it the end.

#you know I'm right #he deserves the world #no other characters and literally 0 plot #just Orlo having a wonderful day and being cared for #count orlo #orlo #the great #orlo x reader

[moon-in-daylight]

Stay the night / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: It’s the evening before Catherine’s birthday, and knowing what her plans for the special day are, you have to decide whether if you warn Orlo or not.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: So remember over a month ago when I said I wanted to write Orlo fluff? Well, I wasn’t able to write it until recently. I didn’t edit this and I’m posting it at 2 am so forgive any typos that you may find. I’m just really impatient once I finish writing something and I really can’t wait to share it 😂 Also, thanks to the anon that sent this because it practically gave me the whole idea for this fic. Sorry for the delay 😅

Orlo’s mellow voice echoed through the empty room as he read aloud for the both of you. Written words came out of his tongue naturally, as if he was the one choosing what to say instead of just reading the thoughts of another person. He had that gift of making the most boring writings sound like poetry when he read them for you. You were sure that even the dullest treaties he had to redact for Peter would sound delightfully sweet, if he was the one reading them.

The loving tone he used when he knew you were listening, the dedication he put into every sentence, reciting every word with a passion you had rarely seen in any other man at court… As you leant your head on his shoulder, you wished you could enjoy the soothing sound of his voice just like you used to do every night. But, much to your disgrace, this wasn’t just any other night.

Maybe it was for Orlo. As far as you could tell, he was oblivious to all the chaos going through your mind. And you wished you could be as well as you tried to focus on the way he took and released the air around you as he spoke.

He didn’t have the slightest clue, but tomorrow would be a decisive day for the two of you. Not only for the two of you. The whole of Russia could be marked forever by the events that were to come. Tomorrow was Catherine’s birthday, and as one of her most loyal confidantes, you had been chosen to carry the burden of knowing what her plans for the day were.

You had thought that she was joking at first when she told you that she was pregnant, and you even laughed when she let you know that all she wanted as a birthday gift was her husband’s head on a silver plate. But you froze when you realized she was being as serious as ever since she had arrived that godforsaken excuse of a court. She was determined to take the step, to finally kill Peter and take his place the next morning. Seeing the passionate way she spoke of the events that were to come, you knew nothing could have make her change her mind.

It wasn’t that you weren’t glad that Peter was about to get what he deserved. You hated him with every fiber of your being and you couldn’t wait for the moment that he paid for everything he had done to your country, that was why you had chosen to take part in her coup and drag Orlo into it as well. But as the moment of taking the final step approached, you couldn’t help but torture yourself with all the horrible outcomes your plans could bring.

If the coup failed, a quick public execution would be the most desirable destiny for you. Your body trembled when you thought about the physical tortures and punishments you would be subjected to if Peter identified you as one of the plotters. But that worry you felt for your well being didn’t even compare to what you felt when you thought of what losing Orlo would be like.

Orlo had been your friend for years, and now that your relationship was finally developing into something more, you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. For years you had been meeting in the library at the most remote times of the day, sharing his company and a decent book in the dim light of candles being all you needed to clear your mind of the idiots you had to deal with at court. He had been the most important person to you ever since you had arrived that awful place, the only person that had showed to you some real, uninterested kindness.

You hadn’t been able to avoid developing deeper feelings for him almost immediately, but thinking that he wasn’t interested in you, you had kept them a secret for years, hoping that way you wouldn’t lose your closest friend. You had felt utterly stupid when, after coming back from his unfortunate trip to the front, he had decided to tell you what he truly felt for you in an act of alcohol-induced bravery.

Only a few weeks had gone by since you had gotten together, and honestly not much had changed in your relationship. You still did the same things you had always done. You talked for hours on end, share any and every interesting book or quote you read with each other, go for a walk through the palace gardens… The only difference was that you no longer had to hold yourself back when you felt like grabbing his hand or giving him a little peck on the lips.

It felt as if you had been wasting your time all those years, and you weren’t ready for what you both had to be over. Catherine’s birthday could mean the end of everything you actually enjoyed about that place, because even if you succeeded in getting Peter out of the throne, there was still a high risk that either you or Orlo had to sacrifice your lives for the cause.

You hadn’t mind dying back when you had first joined the coup. Back then, you didn’t have anything to hold on to and you wouldn’t have mind to give your life for a greater good. Now that you had Orlo by your side, you were scared of losing the one good thing that you had.

For the first time since you could remember, you were terrified.

His voice seemed to be drifting away from you as you felt a sharp pain inside your chest. It wasn’t fair. You would never forgive yourself if something did happen to Orlo the next day. You would always remember that you had been to one to drag him into that situation.

“Orlo…” You called his name in a low tone, immediately gaining his attention as he looked away from the book and right back at you.

You wanted to apologize to him. To tell him just how terrified you were and ask him to run away with you far away from that palace, move to another country if needed. You had more than a bad premonition about the following day, and your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled not to share those anxious thoughts with him.

This could be the last night that you got to spend by his side. He seemed so blissful there, reading to you. So calmed and unaware of the horrible thoughts that clouded your head… You couldn’t tell him, you couldn’t make him carry that burden too. Orlo deserved every second of happiness he could get, and you wouldn’t have been able to be the one bringing him bad news. He’d know about Catherine’s plans when he strictly had to, not a second earlier.

“Am I boring you?” He innocently asked as he put the book on his lap, trying to disguise his true fear of being boring with a kind smile and an amusing intonation in that question. He had slowly learned to become comfortable around you, vulnerable. But sometimes you could still see glimpses of old shy, nervous Orlo when his insecurities hunted him.

“Of course not.” The reassurance you gave him seemed to bring him back to that previous state of peace he had been enjoying during that whole evening. “I could never get bored of you.”

He didn’t need to give you an actual answer for you to notice his disbelief of your words. A simple, practically unnoticeable blush of his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately avoided looking directly at you were enough for you to notice the incredulity he still demonstrated at the thought of someone being able to love him.

“I hope you know I mean it.” You added, reaching his cheek with one of your hands and caressing it softly as you removed the book that still laid on his lap so you were the one resting above him instead.

Grabbing his chin carefully, you guided his stare so that it would meet yours, his chocolate brown eyes reflecting some of the dim light of the room. He had removed his characteristic glasses recently, and you weren’t quite accustomed to see him so… Naked yet. The absence of them allowed you to look into his eyes with no barrier in between, and though you had to admit you kind of missed that accessory of him, there was no comparison to what getting lost in his uncovered eyes felt like. You could get lost on them for hours.

Observing the way he stared back at you in deep affection and devotion, you even forgot about everything else going on for a second. For just that one moment, you could pretend everything was okay.

“Remember when we met?” Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw as you recalled the first time you had seen him.

“I got scared when I heard the door because no one else but me used to spend time here.” He evoked his memories of that first day too. “You were surprised when you saw me too. You were crying and you had run in here hoping you could be alone.”

“The Ladies here can be really mean.” You smiled at him as you remembered how you were affected by the comments of other people when you first arrived the palace. It had been long since you last cared about those things. Truth was you had stopped caring about the Ladies’ opinions once you had started to prefer Orlo’s nicer ones instead.

“I tried to comfort you.” Orlo kept relating the events of that day as he let his hands rest on either side of your waist, embracing you softly. “I didn’t know what to do, I felt so bad that you were suffering so pointlessly… I read some Descartes to you, because it always helps me to see things with perspective…”

“Conquer yourself rather than the world.” You recited one of the quotes Orlo had read to you, the one that had been printed in your mind since that day.

“I’m sure I bored you more than I helped you relax.”

“That’s not true.” You intervened again, refusing to let him indulge in his own negative perception of himself. “You helped me a lot. You didn’t have to, but you stayed with me until I felt better. No one else would have done that.”

When he looked away from you in embarrassment, you decided to draw his attention back at you by kissing him on the lips. He should have been accustomed by now, but he still froze for a few seconds every time you kissed him unexpectedly. Far from being bothered by it, you felt touched whenever you got that reaction from him, and you delighted yourself when you finally felt him moving his lips against yours one the initial shock was over.

It was those little things that had made you fall so deep for Orlo. Those were the things you were most afraid of losing. Thinking about the fact that it could be the last time you kissed him, you deepened the kiss as your fingers started to play with the few locks of hair that fell messily around his head.

“I love you, Orlo.” You whispered softly, quickly hiding your head in his chest. “Please, don’t ever forget that.”

It was inevitable that the tears started forming in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back anymore when Orlo surrounded your body with his arms. Bringing you even closer to him as he repeatedly kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too.” He muttered, the feeling of guilt while seeing you cry overcoming every shyness he could still have left. “I… I’m sorry if it sounded as if I don’t. You’re the most important thing to me and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you. I’m really sorry… Please, don’t cry…”

“It’s not your fault.” You quickly assured him, once again refusing to let him self-flagellate. “It’s okay.”

“What is wrong?” Orlo asked, trying to clean the tears that already felt down your cheeks as you silently calmed yourself. If you died tomorrow, you didn’t want that you crying was the last memory he kept of you.

“Nothing is, I promise.”

You knew you hadn’t sounded confident enough for him to believe you, but you weren’t able to tell him what was really going on. All you wanted was to enjoy that night with him and stretch it as long as you could in fears it was actually going to be your last. Cuddled against his chest, you wished for him not to ask anymore questions, fearing that you wouldn’t be able to keep the secret from him much longer.

His hands kept moving up and down your back as you tried to calmed yourself down.

“Is there anything I can do?” Orlo worriedly asked, still trying to help despite not knowing what the situation was. You had always admired that of him, his predisposition to help even when he didn’t know how.

Focusing on the calming rhythm of his breathing, you tried to find the right words to express what you needed without ruining this evening for him.

“Would you stay the night with me?”

“Of course. Anything you need.” He agreed, wrapping you tighter with his arms.

Accommodating yourself inside his embrace, you wished for a way to be able to stop time in that precise moment.

#Count Orlo x reader #Orlo x reader #Hulu's The Great #Sacha Dhawan #Hulu's The Great fanfiction #Count Orlo x you #Orlo x you #The Great #The Great fanfiction

[fortuitous-juxtapositions]

Art of Deception Part 6 (Orlo x Reader)

Summary: An Orlo x Reader slow burn. You and your uncle have    just arrived in Peter III’s court from the Colonies. You uncle has    warned you of the debauchery of the court and devises a plan to keep you     safe, but the Emperor has other ideas. You find yourself thrown to  the   wolves and you must keep your secret while while fighting the  growing   feelings you have for the one person in court you who you  would tell the  secrets of the universe to if he would only ask.

Note: Anything in Italics indicates the characters are speaking English as opposed to Russian

Also available to read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566277/chapters/63156886

The first thing you became aware of was the debilitating pain in your head that worsened each time your heart beat. You groaned, trying to regulate you breathing in effort to slow your heart rate. You had nearly lowered the speed and intensity of your pulse when you felt a sharp sting at the crook of you left arm. You fought to crack your weary eyes open, blinking a few times against the light. When your eyes finally adjusted you were greeted with the face of a man you had never met before.

His wide, startled eyes met yours for a moment before you retched you arm out of his grasp and pushed yourself against the headboard. You reached under your pillow where you had hid a knife your uncle had gifted you. You raised it at the man, pushing yourself further into the headboard as a means to steady yourself.

“Who the fuck are you?” you growled and brandished the weapon at the strange man.

“Serf!” he cried out and raised his hands. “Serf!”

Vera came rushing into the room and stopped dead still as she took in the sight before her.

“I am not a serf.” Her hands came to her hips as she glared at the man.

“Right, apologies” his hands were still in the air “can you assist? She is in hysterics.”

“Oh, I wonder why,” Vera snarked. “Poor girl just woke up to a strange man hovering over like a right creep.”

“Can you just settle her down?” he glared at the woman of a small pair of spectacles that sat perched on his nose. “I was in the middle of a phlebotomy treatment”

You quickly glanced down, noticing the for the first time the pool of blood that had started to collect on your sheets. You looked to your arm, where you had felt the sharp sting earlier to see a slowly weeping wound.

“(Y/N), love” Vera stepped forward, pushing the man out of the way. “Please, do not stab the doctor, he is the only one we have.”

She held the front of her skirts up and stepped up into the bed. You lowered the knife and she grabbed it from your hand with a wide grin.

“Oh, Lord help the man who decides to share your bed,” she winked at you and slid the knife back to it’s hiding place “one wrong move and he’ll go from stallion to gelding with a flick of your wrist.”

She helped you to the edge of the bed, a dizzying wave overtook you and the pain in your head increased.

“We must finish the treatment, then make her a drink of cocaine and juniper berries.” The man began to take a step towards you and your hand shot back towards the hidden blade. He froze and held his hands up once again.

“I think that is her subtle way of telling you to ‘fuck off,’ Chekov” you could hear the laugh in Vera’s voice.

The man sniffed and strode quickly over to a case that sat on your vanity. He grumbled to himself as he packed up several glass vials and jars before shutting the case with a resounding snap.

“Well, if she gets worse and decides to take the advice of a well-respected physician” Vera rolled her eyes and mouthed the words as he spoke them. The man glared hard at her and stomped out of the room. Vera held a finger up as a sign for you to wait until a loud bang was heard, the man having exited the apartments with a slam of the doors.

You looked down at your arm and huffed, grabbing the skirt of the ruined white underclothes that you were wearing and pressing firmly to the still seeping wound on your arm.

“Archaic” you muttered as you tried to staunch the flow of blood.

Vera sat next to you and looked you over in concern.

“Are you alright, love?” she asked as she took over the task of applying pressure from you. Your free hand came up to your forehead and rubbed at the temples.

“I don’t know… what happened?”

“Do you remember anything of last night?” her brows were furrowed.

“I remember leaving here, arriving at the dining hall and being immediately scooped up by Elizabeth,” Vera groaned, “She fed me wines and spirits. She tried to force food onto me, but I don’t think I ate much of it. Then Peter” you blanched as the memory of the Emperor forcing you to speak and dance like some trained dog surfaced. You shivered “and that was all I remember.”

The cut on your arm had stopped bleeding and Vera dropped the skirt back to your lap before sighing and running her hands through your hair.

“From what I heard, he forced you to dance with him and then began to spin you around in circles until you nearly tripped over your own feet. That is when the Empress gained his and Elizabeth’s attention, believed to be a deliberate action on her part, and you very wisely made your escape,” she started to braid the hair out of your face. “You were found a short distance from the dining hall and brought back here.”

“Found?” your head jerked over to face her; your eyes wide. “What do you mean found? Who found me?”

Vera bit her lip, “General Velementov and Count Orlo,” you groaned and flung yourself back onto the bed, not caring that you were laying across blood stained sheets. Vera’s eyes followed your movement. “The wear practically carrying you when they arrived here. I had them take you directly to this room-”

“Please, no more,” you moaned in self-pity. “If I hear any more, I fear I may throw myself out the window and be reunited with the gown you tossed out yesterday.”

“You’re being dramatic” very tsked.

“I think I am allowed to be a little dramatic” argued back. “I have just gone and made a fool of myself in front of two of the more powerful people in Orlo’s court.”

“Peter’s” Vera corrected you with a smirk. “Peter’s court.”

“… that’s what I said,” you sat up and blinked owlishly at her.

“No, you said Or-”

“Never mind,” you waved away the conversation as her smirk grew. “I have made myself vulnerable in front of two very powerful people! Whose to say they will not use this against me in the future?” you rested your head on her shoulder.

“Well, then there is nothing else for it,” she rested her head on your own. “You will have to seduce them, invite them into your bed and stab them with that miniature sword you have hidden there.”

You snorted and felt Vera grin against your head.

“And then what? Become and enemy of the state? Disguise myself as a man and runaway from the palace? Catch a boat back to… actually, this might just work.” A loud bark of laughter burst from Vera’s lips and you couldn’t help but chuckle along.

“Well, now that that’s settled, let’s get you some food and then a nice warm bath.”

Vera helped you stand from the bed, steadying you as you stumbled slightly, and escorted you out of the room.

“For what it’s worth,” she led you to your seat at the table were a mass of different breakfast foods were set out. “I do not think Velementov or Orlo will use last night against you.” She piled a plate with eggs, fruit and a breakfast bread. “They both seemed rather distraught at your condition. I practically had to shove the Count out of the door.”

______

You sat in the window seat, having been fed, cleaned, and dressed, the memories of last night had started to fade. The book you had been reading sat on your lap, while your face was turned to the open window, the breeze ruffling your hair as you closed your eyes and soaked in the sun.

A throat cleared.

“Lady (Y/N),” your slowly opened your eyes as Vera spoke your name. Turning, your eyes fell upon the familiar dark-haired man that stood beside her. You felt your heart speed up “Count Orlo is here to see you.”

You nodded a greeting to the man, fighting to keep your face steady and not show the emotions that were toiling beneath the surface.

“I uh-” Orlo stuttered before taking a deep, calming breath. “I wanted to check and see how you are feeling today?”

He took a few uncertain steps towards you. You slid to the side and gestured to the spot beside you on in the window seat. He smiled nervously and took a seat. You smiled at him before dropping your head to your lap in embarrassment.

That’s when you noticed it.

The book you had been reading…

It was written in Russian.

Your hands shot to cover the title of the book, hiding it from Orlo’s sight. You glanced up and sighed in relief, his gaze was firmly on the floor and you were certain he had not seen the title of the book.

… Almost.

You shot a look over to Vera who stood to the side, near your bedroom door. She looked at you confused before you glanced down at the book before looking back to her. Her eyes widened and she realized the point you were trying to make.

“I’m sorry,” Orlo started and looked back up to you. You met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, hoping he would not take notice of the stupid little red book. “I-I should have h-helped you sooner.” He turned his back to you with a sigh of frustration.

You shot a look over to Vera who nodded to you. Making sure the Count was still turned away from you. You took the chance and threw the book to Vera, noticing too late that Vera was right within his line of sight now. You held your breath; certain you would be caught.

Orlo groaned and turned back towards you as the book flew over his head. Vera caught the book with wide eyes and quickly hid it behind her back.

“I’m such an idiot,” Orlo finally look back up to your face and you quickly molded your face into a mask of confusion. “I should have done something to help you, I’m such a dick.”

He placed his hand over his forehead, blocking your view of his eyes.

“I always balls these things up.” He brought his other hand to his head and held firm. Your mind drifted back to that first night he had escorted you back to your rooms, how he had held your small hands within his larger ones and attempted to warm them. A smile slowly started to creep its way across your face at the memory.

“I was just, so shook up after you-” he turned to you and your smile fell back to the quizzical expression before he could see it. “You hugged me.”

It was spoken in a near whisper. It was as if he were awed at the gesture, amazed that anyone would want to hug him.

“You hugged me,” he reached for your hand and you felt yourself drifting in the sea of deep, silky chocolate that matched the shades you saw in his eyes. “You hugged me.”

His eyes dropped to your hand that he held softly cradled in his own. He rubbed his thumb across the top of your fingers, and you felt what was almost an itch, a need for him to hold your hand tighter, to feel more of his skin against your own.

“You hugged me and I stood there like a fucking moron,” he dropped your hand and brought it to his head, smacking himself with the heel. “I’m such an idiot, I am not well versed with… this.”

He was again speaking his private thoughts aloud and your breathing sped up, knowing you should not be listing to what he was saying, that you should stop him from saying anything further.

You quickly grabbed the hand, stopping him from hitting himself in the head again. He remained deathly still as you pulled his hand down, brining it to his knee and holding it tight to keep him from his self-flagellation. You could hear his breathing as it started to speed up, but the rest of him remained staring at the floor. You patiently waited until you felt his hand tighten around your own as his eyes slowly met yours. The concern you had for him dropped and you felt a warm smile crossing you face. His face, screwed up in self-hatred, lightened and a smile slowly curved his cheeks upward, his eyes glistening with and unsaid emotion you couldn’t quite place. It gave you a glint of the man you had seen yesterday. The confident man that strode next to the Empress like he had always belonged there.

A lead weight dropped in your stomach as your remembered. He was the Empress’s lover.

You quickly pulled your hand from his and stood up, taking a quick step back from the man. How could you be so stupid? You could not afford to have such a powerful enemy as his lover was sure to be. You already had the Emperor and his aunt tearing at your heels, you didn’t want the whole match set!

“I’m-I’m so sorry!” Orlo quickly stood up at the same time you turned to face him. You nearly collided with him, but you both reached out to each other to steady yourselves. You gulped as you felt his warm breath blow across your face, a searing heat started where his hands had gripped your arms and spread up to your neck and cheeks. You were eye level with his chin and you couldn’t help yourself from tilting your head up. His already dark eyes seemed to darken further as they met yours. You could feel your breath start to speed up, a pressure in your chest formed and you knew, if you would just raise yourself slightly on your tip toes and press your lips to his that the pressure would explode into a glorious heat that would consume you both.

“Ahem,” Vera cleared her throat from her post by your door and you were immediately brought back to reality. You hastily stepped out of the Counts grasp, putting space between your bodies.

What were you thinking?

You weren’t thinking.

At least not with your head.

The precipice between you and the Count felt so much bigger than the two steps it would have taken him to meet you once more. You mentally begged for him to take those steps, willing him to show you that what you felt was felt by him as well.

“I… I should go,” the Count skidded around you like you diseased and dashed through the doors, not even bothering to close them completely in his rush to get away from you.

Vera quickly ran over and closed the doors firmly before turning towards you and leaning throwing her weight against the doors.

“Fuck!” You slapped your forehead and threw yourself into one of the highbacked chairs. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck!”

“Agreed.”

______

You and Vera sat drinking spirits and discussing what had transpired between you and the Count.

“Whew!” a fairly tipsy Vera exclaimed. “That was so… woah!” She took another shot. “I mean, I felt it. I really felt that, in here” she gestured sloppily to her abdomen. You groaned and raised you glass, frowning when you noticed it was empty.

“I mean… what the fuck?” You grabbed the bottle whiskey and poured another glass, nearly overfilling it in the process. “What the fuck was that?”

“Hot.” Vera refilled her vodka. “That was hot.”

“But,” you groaned and took a drink. “But, he is off limits.”

“Says who?” Vera nearly yelled. “A man who is off limits does not look at a woman the way the Count was looking at you!”

“He is!” You threw back the rest of your whiskey. “He’s fucking the Empress!” Vera gasped.

“He is?” she refilled your glass. “Well fuck.”

“Indeed!” You sighed and slunk down in your chair. “You are an idiot (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). You had to go and fall for the one person who you cannot have!”

“Love is a fucking cunt.” Vera growled as she leaned forward.

“I will simply have to keep a respectable distance from him and hope to whatever deity that is out there that the war ends soon so we can go home.” You felt tears welling up at the thought.

“Huzzah!” Vera tossed back her drink.

“Huzzah,” your voice did not match the intensity of the word, it was somber as you felt something within you crack.

You shook yourself from your misery and threw back the rest of your whiskey.

The sound of shattering glass faded into the night.

------

Taglist: @startrekkingaroundasgard​ @aryn-the-bearheart​

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