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frost-queen · 8 months

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Till it bites you back // part 3 (Male!Reader x Eloise Bridgerton)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @elllie-does-the-posts, @alex--awesome--22, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @imagines-by-her, @vviolynn, @melsunshine, @evilcr0ne, @czarinera, @god-titan, @thethreeeyed-raven, @svrootles, @milo890, @anonymous-cat-21, @luvinyouwasred123, @cluelessteam

Summary: Deeply invested in finding out who Lady Whistledown is partner Eloise and you up. With each second spend together the emotions of love swell up till it makes both parties hunker for a love undescribable [Part 1] [ part 2]

Standing at the sideline of the danceroom, you were observing those on the sideline. You gaze resting a few moments on a lady in soft blue. Her expression saddened as she stared at the dancers. The long yearning on her face as a stake to the heart. Reaching in your pocket, you took out a little brown leather notebook held close with a cord. The pencil followed as you started scribbling observations down. Some movement caught your eye whilst writing, making you look briefly up.

In the blink of an eye you saw a lady make her way over to you. Her dazzling dress kept approaching as it distracted you in blinks. Before she could open her mouth and speak she got greeted by Claude. The right hand of the prince. He held his gloved hand gently up to her by his waist with a shake of his head. The lady stared dumbfound back at him seeing you scribble further behind him.

Without looking back at you, spoke Claude. – “Occupied.” – with the warmest most faked polite smile. The lady left with disappointment. Claude returned to his place near you, but not too close. You observed another lady in a soft pink dress, pearls around her neck. After watching for some moments, you wrote some things down again. Shutting the notebook you approached Claude. Claude stepped side-ways aside to maintain his distance from you as formal as it should be.

“I feel as if I am getting close Claude.” – you exclaimed tugging the notebook in your inside pocket once more. – “My observations are becoming more accurate.” – you continued as Claude turned briefly towards you. – “Your royal highness if I may.” – he started with a bow. With a wave of your hand you ordered for him to do so, occupied with looking around. Claude cleared his throat gently. – “I…don’t get me wrong, but should you not focus on finding a fiancé? A wife?” – he changed wording knowing it was your mother’s dearest wish and here you were at the side-line having ordered Claude to keep every woman at bay.

Dismissing them as you are otherwise engaged. You quirked an eyebrow up, turning to him. – “I do not require to dance to find a possible suitor.” – you told him. Claude bowed his head letting you know he stepped down. Apologizing for overstepping his position. – “Au contraire, Claude I am practically engaged.” – you continued making the poor man gulp in surprise. – “Your Royal Highness, when?” – he asked as you went to completely ignore him.

Caught by a beauty in the midst of the crowd. – “Miss Eloise!” – you called out raising your hand up for her to notice you. Eloise, the fresh breath of air caught had noticed you, smiling widely. Claude looked baffled and puzzled at the lady as you made your way through the crowd towards her.

A few curious heads turned seeing the prince hasten himself through the crowd to reach the Bridgerton girl. Eloise met up with you halfway. – “Your Royal Highness.” – she started wanting to bow as you took her by the wrist, pulling her away from the midst of the crowd. Eloise let you drag her away, seeing a puzzled Benedict glance her way before he was out of sight. By the walls behind a line-up of chattering girls came you to a stop with her. – “Your royal Highness.” – Eloise repeated taking her bow before you now.

It made you chuckle out of breath from surpassing every soul in the ballroom. – “Miss Eloise for our quest of the identity of Lady Whistle.” – you told her grabbing for your notebook. You pulled it out as Eloise’s eyes widened. – “I believe I have become close.” – you continued resting your hand on the cover. – “You… you used a notebook?” – Eloise asked both confused and curious. – “Oui.” – you said proudly only upon seeing her puzzled, you weren’t sure if it was a positive matter.

“Should I have not?” – you asked her, embracing the notebook with your hands, pulling it close to your chest. Your sudden saddened reaction startled Eloise. – “No!” – she blurted out making you look even sadder at her. – “No… I meant…no… I didn’t mean it like that.” – she explained in a haste. – “I am lost…” – you said sighing deep. – “English… I will never understand.” – you mumbled to yourself. At this point it felt as if the world was caving in on you. Nothing made sense. Her reaction to you carrying a notebook felt like a foreign language.

Eloise grabbed you by your elbows, smiling sweetly to make you meet up with her gaze. – “I think it is rather sweet.” – she said lifting your spirit a bit up. – “You… you do?” – asking her to be sure. – “Oui.” – Eloise responded with a little bounce of her feet. Her sweet reaction made you almost want to kiss her. Just by the way of her cuteness and her attempt to speak French. Your language by birth. It moved you to see her put some effort in it. To have the patience and explain herself better when you do not follow.

“What are your findings.” – she said with a little flinch feeling herself get flustered from staring in your gaze. Clearing your throat you opened your notebook. – “Well…” – you began as Eloise came standing close to you. – “I have observed a number of ladies standing on the side.” – you continued feeling a presence close to you. You only had to turn your head slightly to the side to see her face peek over your shoulder into your notebook.

Her eyes darted from your notes to you, staring closely up to each other. – “You… you have a beautiful handwriting.” – she whispered catching herself stare slightly down to your lips. – “As are you…” – you whispered back caught in a stare. Aware of what you just said, you quickly changed your words. – “As is yours.” – you corrected with a nervous clearance of your throat.

Eloise set herself down on her heels laughing. – “My handwriting is terrible. Poorly readable if I say so myself.” – she joked as it made you laugh as well. – “I do not believe a single one of it.” – you chuckled out. Hearing your heart thump loud against your chest, you moved the notebook up to hide the flush in your cheeks. – “You see I…” – you began needing to steady your voice. – “I have taken notes off numerous ladies, yet only seven of them I believe might be Whistledown.” – you informed her. – “May I see that list?” – she asked, you nodded and gave it to her.

Eloise started reading the names out loud that you had listed underneath as possible gossip writers. – “Lady Margaret Price, Miss Agatha Fletcher, Miss Eden Grace. Lady Phryne Fenton, Miss Penelope Featherington.” – Eloise suddenly stopped. – “You… you know her?” – you asked her. – “Yes, she is my dearest friend. How come you think of her?” – she questioned making you pull your shoulders up. – “I never see her dance and she always roams the walls, sliding across the proportions of the room.

I meant no harm with including your friend. I did not know I was merely making a conclusion of finding out the identity.” – you explained with desperation as you hoped it wouldn’t mean losing her. Eloise shook her head. – “It is alright. It is true she rarely dances…” – Eloise said the intensity of her voice wandering off. You plucked your notebook out of her hands. – “I shall exclude her from the list.” – you said out loud already taking out your pencil. – “No!” – Eloise called out putting you to a stop. – “You shouldn’t do that. We must be thorough as partners.”

Her choice of words made you grin foolishly. – “Now we must find a way to be certain.” – she thought as you had a sudden idea. – “Miss Eloise.” – you said tapping her shoulder for attention. – “If you could… we could watch Lady Price. I know for a fact where she will be tomorrow midday. If…if you are not otherwise engaged… I thought perhaps we could…” – saying it out loud it seemed rather foolish now. Eloise’s eyes widened in a cute surprise.

“You want to stalk Lady Price with me?” – she said lowly hoping she had heard you correctly. You could only smile sheepishly at her for the dumbest idea you had yet presented her with. Of course she was going to decline. A midday alone with you, unchaperoned. She was no fool. Perhaps you were. You still needed to get rid of Claude then if this would set foot. It was a foolish idea, thinking you could spend more time with her alone. It was just when you were around her, you couldn’t think rationally.

Certainly when those lovely doe eyes stared right back at you. How her enthusiasm and close manners made your heart beat as ever loudly. – “Why not.” – Eloise spoke making you stare in shock at her. – “What a good idea your Royal Highness.” – she expressed. Smiling proudly you were so glorified by the feeling of her approvement. You leaned a bit closer to her to whisper. – “Meet me tomorrow at noon at the market.”

It was almost an agony to get rid of Claude. He insisted upon following your every move. You had tried lying to him that you require solitude in the garden. Solitude he would be happy to give you within reach of his sight. Getting slightly annoyed you almost had to shout at him to be gone. Finally you were able to get rid of him as your mother required a moment with him. You saw the chance, winked at Liana to keep your little escape a secret and left.

Disguised as a regular man, you waited by the market for Miss Eloise. Suddenly smiling you saw her approach. Her hair down in such elegance it made you swallow hard. The blue cloak over her shoulders giving her a graceful disguise. – “Your Ro…” – she started wanting to bow as you quickly grabbed her by the shoulders, pressing her against your chest for a hug. – “It is Y/n here Eloise. Common Y/n.” – you whispered in her ear with a nervous chuckle.

Eloise’s eyes stood wide slightly panicking at the loud thumping of her heart, hoping you wouldn’t hear it. You let go of her, looking nervous around. – “Alright common Y/n.” – she said smiling. If there was any fluster inside of her, she hid it well. – “Where do we find this Lady Price?” – she asked getting on the tips of her toes to overlook the market.

“There.” – you said motioning with your head. Indeed Lady Price stepped out of her carriage. It made Eloise turn around hoping she wouldn’t see her. You took Eloise’s hand laying it over your arm. – “What do you require dear, some fruits? Flowers? Cattle?” – you suggested seeing the slight panic in her eyes. It made you laugh loud. Eloise chuckling sheepishly back. You glanced over your shoulder watching as to where Lady Price would go. She went to pass by some fruit markets. Pulling Eloise with you, you went after her on a distance.

Eloise and you stood by the fruit booth next to hers. You pretended to look for fruit, picking one up to smell for a second. – “I didn’t know Lady Price did this by herself. You would think she has maids buying fruit for her.” – Eloise whispered to you. – “Perhaps she only trusts her own judgement on fruit?” – you responded making Eloise quirk her eyebrow up. Her expression made you laugh loud.

Your laughter caught Lady Price’s attention as Eloise, and you freaked out. Eloise turned her back to the lady, picking up a watermelon to hold up in front of your face. She waited till Lady Price stopped looking and went on. You came peeking from behind the watermelon with a smile. – “A good choice dear.” – you joked. Eloise lowered the watermelon. – “I don’t think it is ripe yet, dearest.” – she responded putting it back down. Both of you smiled at the little charade going on. – “Not ripe? My fruit is the ripest!” – The owner shouted upon hearing her. Eloise and you wouldn’t have ears for it.

Gazing at each other, you came to her side, walking off with her. You were so lost in her eyes, you barely noticed Lady Price moving on. – “Wait, where is she?” – you said out loud, looking around desperately. – “There!” – Eloise called out. Before you knew it she grabbed your hand, pulling you with her. She started running with you over the market towards the house Lady Price went in. Eloise and you came at the house as she pulled you down behind some sacks of flour.

Crouched she and you crawled a bit closer to an open window to hear word of her conversation. Eloise was narrowing her eyes a bit to focus her hearing on the conversation. What she did made you form a smile. If you could burn her image on your sight, you would be happy if her face was the only thing you could see. Her very existence radiant to you. If one were to ask who your muse was, it was her. Every second spend in her company was uplifting.

The longer you were, the harder it was to say goodbye to her. At this point you never wanted to say goodbye to her. Wanting to have her stuck to you. Heart beating loudly for her, you leaned a bit closer to her. A grave urge to be close to her. A tingle in your lips, restless hands that needed contact with her hands. As clear as day, you wanted her. You weren’t aware of your surroundings anymore. Luckily Eloise was.

She heard the door open startling her. Her body flinched as she turned round, wrapped her arms around you and dropped down with you. You fell on your back, Eloise laying on top of you. Her eyes squeezed shut as you felt her muscles pull together around you to stay hidden. Hoping you wouldn’t be seen. Hearing footsteps fade away, Eloise waited a few minutes before getting up. The moment she got up, you were boiling hot.

If it was possible, there would be steam coming out of your ears. This was the closest she had ever been to you. – “Y/n.” – she said pulling you to sit up by your hand. You needed a second to recover from that. Eloise looked behind her. – “She left. Let us go inside and see what she was doing in there.” – Eloise got up as you had to scramble yourself to your feet. Following her, you went inside. Eloise barged in loudly announcing her presence as you remained on the background.

It took her one observation to understand what kind of house this was. – “Yes?” – a man with round glasses said curious. – “Nothing.” – she replied waving her hand. The owner went back to fill his cabinets. – “Who knew she sought out potions.” – she said smiley. – “I mean if it means becoming numb to hearing Cressida’s annoying voice I would jump at the opportunity of whatever intoxicating concoction he has in those bottles.”

Suddenly aware of you staring dreamily at her, she felt flustered. – “What?” – she asked moving her head a bit back. – “I am so in love with you.” – you confessed unable to keep it to yourself. Eloise smiled shyly away. The shop owner cleared his throat to announce for you to leave if you weren’t buying anything. Eloise and you went outside, making sure no one had seen you come from that house. Imagine the papers. His Royal highness and Miss Eloise Bridgerton seen unchaperoned in search of intoxicating herbs to numb the brain.

It would be scandalous. Eloise and you left the market. – “I believe we can take her off the list.” – Eloise said as you nodded. – “Y/n.” – she said making your flutter at how easy your name rolled off her tongue. – “I… cannot describe what my body experiences but I like it somehow. I never thought I was capable of feeling it, but I do.” – she confessed as you took both her hands.

Keeping an eye on her, you kissed her hands with care and love. Eloise smiled moving her hands so that she was now holding yours. Letting her thumb stroke your hands. Eventually Eloise and you parted as the time spend away from home was starting to get suspicious. You parted with her, knowing you would soon be with her again either to continue your search for Lady Whistledown’s identity or at another ball.

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 3 days

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A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

words: 1.9k

Chapter Two

“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”

Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me? You’re hurting me now.”

Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order. If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly. She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.

He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina. Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?” Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented. “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.” And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”

Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again. His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”. She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.

“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?” Why was his voice so soothing? Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness. The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next. She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.

True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.

Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.

Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.

"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."

Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."

Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."

"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.

"An act of desperation, I assure you..."

"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "

Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"

"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."

Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.

If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."

Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"

He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."

She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."

"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.

Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.

"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.

Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟

tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14

(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)

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starkeylover · 11 months

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convinced that if ur attracted to live action prince eric ur also attracted to benedict bridgeton (and vise versa)

#live action little mermaid #prince eric #live action prince eric #jonah hauer king #the little mermaid #bridgeton #benedict bridgerton #luke thompson #i love both of them with all my heart #netflix #disneys the little mermaid #the little mermaid 2023 #benedict bridgeton imagine #bridgeton imagine #disney

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avasversion · 11 months

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Jonah Hauer-King is the latest white boy to have rented out the free vacancy in my mind

#my mom said he reminded her of benedict brigerton #and i agree #the little mermaid live action #the little mermaid #disney live action #disney #jonah hauer king #halle bailey #ariel x eric #prince eric #ariel #the little mermaid 2023

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tys-kitty · 12 days

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Cassie wrote Benedict and Tatiana Lightwood and then wrote Gideon and Gabriel as an apology

#they truly have to come after their mother #benedict lightwood #tatiana lightwood #gideon lightwood #gabriel lightwood #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #tid #the infernal devices #clockwork angel #clockwork princess #clockwork prince

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brunchable · 2 years

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Prince Stephen ⠀⠀⠀⠀vs ⠀⠀⠀⠀ King Stephen

OKAY WAIT!!!!!!! THIS IS MY BEST ONES YET.

Benedict Cumberbatch's face over 2455 Kriuger Franc-Portret Ferzena + King George VI oil painting

#stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine #stephen strange fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch edit #photoshop #IF BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH WAS A PRINCE

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lenniharrisonsims · 2 months

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Happy Valentine's Day 💕

from the young Ivanovs💖

Ophelia & Luke

Rosie & Ramses

Ben & Taylor

Happy V-Day, friends! Hope everyone has a happy day full of love, in all it's forms 💗💞

#ts4 #ivanov legacy #ts4 simblr #ts4 legacy #happy valentine's day #valentines day #valentine's 2024 #crown princess ophelia #luke marin #princess rosalind #crown prince ramses #prince benedict #taylor prescott

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hoperays-song · 8 months

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When they create their own safe place together.

When they rewrite their definitions of what a family is for each other

When they become the only other people, the only friends, the only support they need.

When the they start to learn that they can rely on each other, on another person, for the first time.

When the found family becomes a family.

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fanfixes · 2 years

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Was re-reading An Offer from a Gentlemen again last night and came across this passage. Sophie’s first impression of Benedict was that he looked “like some charming prince from a children’s tale”

And then… it hit…

So hard…

I mean… common’

The casting team deserves an Emmy.

… A number of Emmys.

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rambleonwithrosie · 3 months

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The Lancastrian casting did NOT have to go this hard in the Hollow Crown... Like excuse me who said they could make ALL the Henrys hotties?

Like y'all I was already pro-Lancaster I didn't need this kinda propaganda to seduce- I mean induce me

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 19 days

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A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world of world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

word count: 2.4k

Chapter One

Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look. Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her. The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides. Thanks to Simon (and his obsession), she could distinguish in seconds between the genuine article and that which easily fooled the masses, a cunningly detailed replica—and the sleek ragtop that looked to have skidded to the side of the road, leaving a spray a gravel and black, burnt rubber in its tracks, was absolutely the real thing.

So she’d slowed down, only half meaning to, cataloguing the fine details and quickly estimating its worth, while admiring its classic lines and the bright flash of its chrome detailings. Seraphina couldn’t keep from grinning, thinking about how instantly covetous Simon would be in the face of such a find, and how jealous he would feel to know that she had stumbled upon it with no effort whatsoever.

The man bending over the open hood

straightened as she passed, arresting her attention with a commanding, steely gaze that left her feeling like a marked woman. As though he not only saw her, in her every visible feature, but somehow inexplicably knew her—and needed her. Vitally, and immediately. Despite the lick of common sense apprehension that fluttered through her vitals, simple curiosity and a deeply embedded tendency to act the good Samaritan had Seraphina making her second, even bigger, mistake of the afternoon--pulling over to park her hovercraft several feet in front of his stalled vehicle.

She looked into her rearview mirror; he had turned to watch how she would proceed, holding his hands up with his fingers splayed wide, surely his way of expressing she could approach him safely. “Not so fast, buddy,” she murmured, “I wasn’t born yesterday…and I’ve seen your kind before.” Sera cut the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition and flicking the lock mechanism off the small can of mace dangling from her keyring. She wasn’t so foolhardy as to face the tall, well-built stranger unprepared; nearly a decade of travels up and down the coast of California, performing in seedy, small town dives, then upscale pubs and bars, and finally city nightclubs, had taught her well to be ever on her guard.

And she’d learned a few tricks in the course of her career, for if the mace should fail; she could—and had—flipped a drunk onto his back a time or two, who’d tried to cop a feel when she passed across a darkened dancefloor; and she knew all too well how much force was necessary, knee to groin, in order to incapacitate those pigheaded brutes who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when they followed her out to the parking lot at the end of a gig. Handsome he might be (decidedly so, she mused, angular features, piercing eyes, thick, dark hair, an errant lock strayed upon his brow; such a striking combination!) but she was not fool enough to ever judge the book by it’s cover.

The stranger stood motionless a moment more, the light breeze ruffling that wayward lock until he brushed it back, a swift yet languid move that spoke of cat-like grace and an elegance that didn’t fit the setting or the way that he was clothed. He was straight-backed, slim-hipped, long-legged--and poised with a confidence befitting a prince, and not the work-a-day posture of a blue-collar joe or road-weary drifter. Yet the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes; Sera found it a little feral, and felt her pulse increase as a taste of adrenaline—that trusty “fight or flee” response—hit her system.

But she was already committed, having left the safety and cool comfort of her two-seater; if he was an actual threat, the worse that she could do was show the weakness of timidity now. Sera left her sunglasses in place, determined he would not read a bit of doubt in her eyes or bearing, the can of mace tucked neatly in the palm of her left hand, and walking forward into the dry, baking, Mojave Desert heat.

Sera gave a low but audible whistle, advancing as casually as she could, finally calling out to him, "She's a real beauty--and someone's taken serious loving care of her too." The 300-year-old Mustang appeared as close to mint as any vintage vehicle she had ever seen; given its obvious value, she had to wonder why the hell he would even have it on the road--especially in desert conditions. That instinctive voice of warning sounded an answer in her head: that's because it's not his.

Okay, Sera, she cautioned herself, give him the benefit of the doubt; he could have come by that automobile in any number of ways. She stopped a half-dozen steps from where the stranger stood, aiming to read his reaction as she asked, "Early 21st century, right?"

The man smiled--more sincerely this time--and nodded. "That she is," he replied, sparing a brief look at the stalled car, "Unfortunately, she's not going anywhere, anytime soon." His smooth, deep voice was as pleasant to the ears as his form was easy on his eyes, and his accent distinctly British, leaving Sera to ponder how and why he'd found his way into the midst of the Mojave. "I believe it's the transmission," he added.

In an instant, his eyes flicked downward, as though he registered that small, innocuous movement. She rushed to fill the vacuum of silence that hung between them, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicions her little move might have awakened. “I know collectors,” she told him, running her right hand through her hair, fluffing it a bit, hoping to draw his eyes upwards again “…fanatical ones, who would pay a small fortune to make such a treasure theirs.” She leaned toward him, adopting a confidential tone, honest in her curiosity, “However did you manage it?”

Sera could hear the tick of the internal combustion engine as it cooled, informing her he hadn't been stranded long. Surveying the area behind the Mustang, she spotted several telltale puddles of transmission fluid in the car's wake. "Looks like you might've blown a hose," she speculated, indicating the fluid spotting the back trail. "Those kind of parts are few and far between these days...but I bet we can find a mechanic who might be able to juryrig something enough to get you on the road again."

She turned back to find him watching her, his exotic-looking eyes narrowed. Appraising her in a way that made her feel...exposed. Unnerved. Vulnerable. Sera squeezed her hand against the reassuring weight of the small, defensive weapon cupped in her palm.

He inhaled sharply, a fleeting look of calculation crossing his face. “It was an unexpected…” he paused, studying her carefully, “…but well-timed acquisition of…convenience.” Such a reply was far too vague to answer her question—but didn’t surprise her in the least.

“Then you must be a man of remarkable luck, Mr…” Sera let her voice trail off with the question, fully expecting there would be little truth in his answer.

And then he was moving past the safe cushion of space between them, extending a large, powerful looking hand towards her, as way of introduction. “Harrison. I’m…John Harrison.” His grip was firm, not too tight, but Sera sensed—felt—a strength restrained that fit his bearing perfectly. Intimidating, but not frightening; confident—and intriguing her beyond her good sense should allow; and his eyes were locked on her, regarding her with such curiosity and healthy appraisal, that she slipped her sunglasses atop her head without a moment’s hesitation, meaning to meet his gaze directly.

Sera hadn’t realized she was staring until he cleared his throat. “And you are?” he asked, smiling warmly, surely feeling the advantage now of having gotten past her bravado. Her mouth felt dry—it had to be the arid atmosphere and not embarrassment over her awkward reaction to him--so that her tongue actually stuck a moment before she stammered out her name. “Seraphina.” She said it rather breathlessly, then bit her lip against revealing her surname.

Harrison had not released her hand, although his grip was gentle, and the warmth of his skin pleasant against her own. “Seraphina,” he repeated, the small smile creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and a hint of his true smile finally reaching his eyes. “Lovely name, Seraphina. Exotic in its way, and as rare and fetching as a desert rose.”

Ordinarily, Sera would laugh off such obvious flattery; she’d had enough of it--and insincere at that--throughout her years as a torch singer. This stranger—John Harrison—looked a better class of man than those who usually tried to ply her with compliments. That was no reason, of course, to take him more seriously than any of the others. And yet she felt a sort of…solemnity…about him; a dignity and self-assurance that spoke of a far more purposeful life than those of plain, ordinary men. He was damned attractive too, enough to have her a bit flummoxed at so dear a distance.

"Seraphina,” he reiterated, teasing the syllables along, the depth and richness of his voice making her shiver a little despite the desert heat. “A derivative of seraphim, the highest order of celestial beings in religious myth. Heavenly, fiery, winged immortals, tasked with surrounding and praising the throne of god.” He leaned nearer, well past that unspoken barrier of personal space, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply through his nose, seeming to seek her essence by scent alone.

Such unexpected intimacy left Seraphina speechless, every instinct she had telling her to give ground a step or two—yet she remained still, for when he opened his eyes, she found herself fascinated by their changing hue. Seraphina had never seen such striking eyes on a man before; and she’d have sworn that they were blue. Pale blue when she’d seen them from a distance, in the bright, unfiltered sun; then a surprising, piercing, azure when she met him face to face. Now they seem to shift unpredictably from purely blue to nearly green with however the light played upon them, with flecks of gold speckling around the pupils.

“I wonder,” he mused, almost to himself, while Sera remained entranced and silent, unable to look away despite knowing she must look utterly foolish, “Might you be the angel of mercy I’m in such desperate need of?”

Befuddled, Sera sputtered back, "I...um...what?", finally taking a step back and pulling her hand from his grasp.

"I mean to say how fortunate I am, you came along precisely as you did. " Harrison shrugged and took a step back as well, his manner self-effacing enough to lend sincerity to his words. "And that your nature is a kind one--I imagine most women would have cruised by without a care for my predicament, given this isolated location and the potential threat I could embody."

Regaining her composure, Sera lifted her chin proudly, "I've managed to look after myself for many years now, and in dodgier situations." Her usual insoucience restored, she asked the most vital of questions, looking him squarely in the eyes to read the truth before he even answered, "Do I have reason to fear for my safety, Mr. Harrison?"

His eyes widened and he grinned, and then he began to laugh. Heartfelt, and deep in his throat; the rich sound of melted, dark chocolate--the rare sort of sweet that was supposed to be healthy for one, but only if consumed in moderation. A woman could lose herself in such a laugh, she realized, and I'll bet he knows it too.

"If there was any reason at all, you've quite disarmed me already." Now it seemed he was sizing her up beyond first impressions--and liking what he saw, by the look of satisfaction on his face. "I promise you, Ms..."

"It's just Seraphina for now please, if it's all the same to you. " Sera pressed her lips thin against the smile that wanted to break forth, enjoying both his unspoken surprise at her overall boldness--and what she dared to believe was an appreciation for her physical charms.

Harrison acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Then I promise you, pretty Seraphina, that I harbor no ill intent towards you. And I would be deeply indebted to you for the aid I am sure you intend to offer me."

She felt her cheeks flush at his easy compliment--not taken in, but happy to accept it nonetheless. "Well, it's a shame to have to abandon her here, but the closest hope you have for a spare part--and a mechanic with working knowledge of antique cars--is at least a hundred miles away."

"Alright then," he affirmed, moving past her to slam shut the Mustang's hood, "We should probably be on our way."

"Of course." Sera turned to follow him, wanting a closer look at the rare vehicle before they drove away. "You should put the top up too; you may not make it back here until tomorrow at least."

He nodded again, striding to the driver's side door to start the car and raise the top. Something not quite right here, she thought, frowning; I could swear that this model and the ones that followed, had a remote on the key fob to control the mechanism. It reminded her that she'd initially thought the car did not belong to him--and that somehow she had allowed his charm cause her to lower her guard.

She stepped to the passenger side, hoping for a peek inside to confirm her growing suspicion. "You ought to raise the windows, too," she told him, leaning close enough to peer inside the passenger side window, "No telling what might find its way inside here once darkness falls. It gets pretty cold here at night..." Sera swallowed hard when she got a look at the ignition cylinder; it had been removed from its place beneath the steering wheel and hung down by several wires. The wires themselves appeared to have been rearranged.

Her heart in her throat, Seraphina searched her memory for the word to describe exactly what she was seeing. Hotwired. That's what they called it; a quick and easy way to boost a car. Simon had educated her, marveling at the skill of those he'd read about who could do do in under a minute. She'd never dreamed of seeing something like it up close. Yet there it was, and the man who'd done it clearly hadn't wanted her to see it. Which meant...

He was faster than her by far; almost preternaturally fast. Harrison had grabbed her left arm ( --- damn, he had noted she was carrying something there! --- ) through the window opening, his iron grip digging into her flesh painfully. "Drop it," he ordered her, "Drop it now. I can explain everything if you just remain calm, Seraphina."

She didn't mean to, but she whimpered softly, not only at the discomfort he was inflicting, but also for the cold menace in his eyes. Had she thought them beautiful, compelling, alluring, just moments ago? Now it seemed to her they were the deadliest eyes she had seen in her life.

(to be continued)

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