🌹 [MASTERLIST] [COMING SOON] [HIGH TABLE] REQUESTS ARE OPEN, CHOOSE YOUR PROMPTS AND MAKE ONE JUST ASK ME ANYTHING YOU WANT What is destined to happen will always find a unique way to manifest. Never give up. Great things take time.
When Nefertiti, as it is known in the underworld of the assassins the sister of John Wick, is summoned by the High Table into a difficult situatuin, someone unexpected comes to her help.
We saw him chosing guns for the hitmans, but what if one day we saw him on the other side of the counter?
Prelude to the Tragedy - The Queen’s Gambit
Status: Excomunicado - Nefertiti’s High Table Files
Chapter I : The Continental - The Sommelier’s Oath
Chapter II: The Hunt - Havok in Beyoglu
Oneshots
Eleanor During a hunt, Dean sees a Mustang Eleanor which drives him crazy, and he needs to investigate who’s the driver.
Goodbye, sunshine Your best friend is killed by a rougaru and you drive the Impala to her hometown leaving your dad Dean and your uncle Sammy at the bunker.
Something You meet Cupid during a hunt and then magic happens.
Dream a little dream of me You have a dream with the Nephilim
Bad boy There’s only one bad boy, your bad boy.
Surely, it was a weird dream All dreams have meanings
Gone without a trace Love can cure a reckless broken heart?
Midnight Moonlight Valentine’s Day it’s for valiants
TV Land: open dusk till dawn
TV Land: Mamma Mia
TV Land: Men In Black
First love Just having a girl’s talk with Charlie. Just gossiping.
Rose’s 500 follower Song Challenge: I do my research too Let’s see if hundred of songs help
Amortentia Jack is hit with a love potion, can he win her heart?
The Monster None of the events turned out as expected
(coming soon)
Guide to spook an angel in 10 easy steps
Fortune
Posing to proposing
Kindergarten guardian
The mermaid and the angel
Cupid, are you still there?
Jealousy is a blond blue-eyed angel
Worst nightmare
Never said goodbye
Keep your hands to yourself
The Goddess and The Angel of the Lord
Another Egyptian goddess, two salty hunters and two angels of the lord
Timba
Trip to Dragonstone
Lucifer vs Lucifer
Nanny
I promise I’ll give it back
Hipster smart girl glasses
The moose and his ideas
Queen of Hell
Rock & Roll Angel: The bride of death
Just Another Angel: The librarian
The best hand
Winter’s Tale
Guess who?
The Relic Hunter: The Archangel Gabriel’s Feather and The Painting of the Unknown Landscape
Marry me?
Princess of Hell
Look, I found an angel!
Something stupid
How to kill a Doppelgänger
Training session
Hell’s a little hellish
Back from the death
Lucifer’s wrath
Soulmate radar ring
Ice cubes
Mind reader
Ace of spades
Cupid for a day
Undercover
Family business
Cuddling with Satan
The forbidden song
Revolver
Lazy weekend
From Zero to Hero
Bloody Tuesday
Badass Singer
Imagines
Imagine going on a supply run with the boys
Imagine trying to buy the aftershave for Sam Winchester
Imagine the boys wearing your glasses, just to tease you, knowing they look great on them
Imagine your father, Crowley, trying to find reasons to punish you because you messed up an important case
Imagine being Crowley’s daughter and you receive the letter from Hogwarts
Imagine Meeting Balthazar for the first time
Imagine the boys trying to be romantic, when the poetic spirit possesses them, some with better luck than others
Imagine dating Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones and introducing him to Team Free Will 2.0
Imagine finding Gace, Jefferson’s daughter, and you and your brothers learn that there’s a curse making the characters from the fairytales come to life
(Coming soon)
Imagine Lucifer meeting Lucifer Morningstar, because Gabriel sent you, again, to TV land
Imagine Gabriel comforting you after a hunt that went wrong
Imagine the boys being turned into kids
Series
Balthazar x Reader
( § ) Fly the world
From Russia with love - Part 1 You’ve messed things up, the best place to fly to is Moscow. Maybe you could start over.
The Italian job - Part 2 Moscow apart from beautiful, was huge and cold for a lonely girl like you. Maybe Venice and Rome could be warmer. (coming soon)
The Forbidden City - Part 3 To much love in Italy. It is said if you touch the gates of The Forbidden City luck will follow you. (coming soon)
Bram Stoker’s Dracula - Part 4 - Dénouement (coming soon)
Michael x Reader
The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things (Coming soon)
Prologue
Lust
Gluttony
Greed/Avarice
Sloth
Wrath
Envy
Pride/Vanity
Oneshots
Jefferson x Winchester!Reader
Once Upon A Winchester Is this the real life or is just fantasy? (Coming soon)
Who’s your favorite? The boys are trying to guess who is the favorite of their girls (Coming soon)
Jefferson x Reader
The Bottle of Rum (Pirate AU) You are the guardian of the Sun Stone, that always had an admiration for pirates. Unbeknownst to you, your father is one most feared pirates. (Coming soon)
Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones x reader
Imagine dating Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones and introducing him to Team Free Will 2.0
Imagines
Jefferson x Winchester!Reader
Imagine finding Gace, Jefferson’s daughter, and you and your brothers learn that there’s a curse making the characters from the fairytales come to life
(Coming soon)
SUMARY
The world is darker than it looks like, mobsters are the kings of the cities, sorceres, witches and wizards are a fighting a battle, portals of time and dimenssion are being oppened every once in a while, while usual citizens try to live in calm. Can love blossom among crime, murder, and obscurity?
Prologue
Oneshots
1K Summer Writing Challenge by @asadmarveltrashbag: Always & Forever
3K Writing Challenge by @asadmarveltrashbag: Thril Of It All
(₺) Trining Session It was supposed to be a usual training session, guess Bucky has another idea of ‘training’ (Lance Tucker version)
Marvel Drabble #1: requested by @asadmarveltrashbag
Anubis: The Doggo & Goddess -> The Cap² Writing Challenge by @justsomebucky & @imhereforbvcky
Gab’s 1K Writing Challenge -> The Alchemist Empress: The Revenant
Imagines
Imagine The Falcon and The Winter Soldier sharing an apartment
Oneshots
Leather & Whiskey It has been a really stressful day, the only thing you want is to relax without any moron interrupting your day.
Leather & Whiskey - Part 2 (coming soon)
Oneshots
Mr & Mrs McGarrett The chilling adventures of the McGarretts
Oneshots
Brendork (coming soon) You are having a shitty day and someone here eats all your chocolate
Oneshots
Tricks under the fedora (coming soon)
Oneshots
That’s the way (coming soon)
Oneshots
Trinity One night you wake up in the confines of Hell. Why? Because you are the exchange coin in a deal, all part of a macabre plan. Could someone you think you trusted save you or you will have to save yourself? (Coming soon
DISCLAIMER: I do not own John Wick Saga or any character appearing in the franchise. Any names or any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. The face inspiration for OC Nefertiti is Megan Fox.
A/N: Here comes the second part of the series. I am really excited to share this with you, as I have been planning this series very carefully, and I think it's turning out pretty amazing. I hope you enjoy a great time reading this as much as I have writing the chapters. :) <3
A/N/N: I had planned to post this yesterday, but I had to rewrite it again since Tumblr did not save my original post.
Soundtrack -> John Wick Saga Soundtrack
ACT I – THE MAP
The Suite. Still night.
Rain drums on the tall windows like impatient fingers. The silence is crowded. Not empty — never empty.
John. Nefertiti. The Sommelier.
A family made not by blood, but by scars.
On the table:
A rolled parchment map, yellowed and cracked, hand-inked with roads long since erased from any satellite or legal memory. Names written like Babylon’s Teeth, Jebel Ghost, The Gutter Saints.
Each mark is a death.
Each X, a kill-zone.
John circles Tangier with a steady hand.
Nefertiti marks Cairo.
The Sommelier places a black queen piece down.
“Here. In Istanbul. Their broker.”
John tilts his head.
“The one who hides the contracts.”
“He moves them. Disguises them,” the Sommelier nods.
“Quiet as a cough at a funeral.”
Nefertiti taps the queen with a black fingernail.
“We cut his throat. Then they talk loud.”
No one argues.
There’s no chain of command here.
Just gravity.
ACT II – THE PLANNING
The Armory.
Below the Continental. Midnight plus one.
No speeches.
No rallying cries.
Just the sound of bolts sliding, weight being tested, barrels kissed by flashlight. Hands moving across weapons. Checking weight. Balance. Load
John assembles a new AR-9 with hands that remember death by touch.
The Sommelier sharpens a sickle-blade that belonged to a Persian warlord.
Nefertiti doesn’t speak. She breathes through every movement.
The Sommelier fits her with twin knives, curved like falcon talons.
Not serrated. Clean. Elegant.
A killer’s jewelry.
Made just for her
He adjusts the leather strap at her back — slow, deliberate. Fingers pause longer than necessary at her shoulder.
“You were always meant to wear death like silk.”
She doesn’t answer.
But she lets his fingers stay.
ACT III – THE PACT
They gather by the elevator.
A final silence.
John loads his pistol.
Cocks it. Cold eyes.
“No survivors.”
Nefertiti runs a polished nail through the hilt of her knives. Smooth, seamless.
“No mercy.”
The Sommelier lifts a hip flask of red wine. Unscrews the cap.
Takes one small, reverent sip.
“No wine wasted.”
The elevator doors open.
Rain hammers down outside like warning drums.
ACT IV – THE ESCAPE
Rooftop. The Helipad.
A private chopper, unmarked, matte black, engine humming low like a panther’s growl. The pilot doesn’t ask questions.
Probably doesn’t have a tongue.
As they climb aboard, Nefertiti stops. Looks back.
The Continental towers behind them, silent, watching.
John watches her from the door. “You ready?”
“I was born in a kill-zone,” she says.
Then she steps in.
The chopper lifts.
Rain becomes mist. The war begins.
New York disappears below. The city watches with breathless silence.
Above them: clouds full of thunder.
Below them: the contracts. The brokers. The war.
ACT V – ISTANBUL
Night.
The city’s veins pulse with heat and incense. Istanbul glows beneath old stone and new power.
The air smells of cloves, gun oil, and fire waiting to be born.
They land outside the city proper — no airports, no beacons.
Their contact is waiting.
An old man named Dervis.
Skin like leather. One eye made of copper.
“He is at the Vezir Hotel,” Dervis rasps.
“Room 313. With the Foxes.”
“Foxes?” John asks.
“Killers. Pretending to be bodyguards. They hunt tourists for sport. Tonight, they watch chess.”
Nefertiti nods.
“Then we interrupt the game.”
ACT VI – THE MARKET ATTACK
The plan was the hotel.
But the Broker was smarter.
They were walking through the old district — side streets, a spice market’s edge. Locals closed up shop. Children ran past with candied dates.
And then — the wind changed.
A figure moved like a blur. Black robes, silver blade. Eyes that smiled without warmth.
The Envoy.
She came for Nefertiti.
Steel screamed. The first cut went across Nefertiti’s ribs. She spun, blocked, stabbed. But it wasn’t enough. Blood spilled — it was hers.
John fired from behind a silk vendor’s booth. Missed — just barely.
The Sommelier tackled Nefertiti behind a fruit cart, The Sommelier tackled Nefertiti behind a fruit cart, when he saw a hand grenade being thrown in her direction. Just in case it went off. But it wouldn't his sharp eyes caught a small dent near the neck, a manufacturing error nobody else would have noticed but him. Low quality batch nobody would use except the envoy, who pays more attention to the target rather than the details. Massive Mistake.
Blood soaked through her blouse.
“She’s fast,” she gasped.
“But you’re not dead. That’s the mistake.”
The Envoy vanished into the crowd — wounded, but not finished.
ACT VII – THE LOCALS
A wrinkled old woman in a red shawl pulled them into a doorway.
“Down,” she hissed. “Now.”
She led them through back alleys. A butcher handed the Sommelier a rag for the wound. A boy passed them three coats. No one asked for names.
In Istanbul, loyalty lives in silence.
They reached a hidden courtyard. A door opened. They vanished inside.
ACT VIII – THE WOUND
A dim room. Wooden floors. A single bulb. A wash basin with rosewater.
Nefertiti sat on a mattress. Pale. Blood crusting at her side.
The Sommelier kneeled.
Removed her coat.
He cut away the fabric. Hands gentle and steady unlike his eyes. Voice softer than wine.
“You always run toward the blade.”
“I don’t run,” she whispered. “I dance.”
He cleaned the wound. Applied pressure. She gritted her teeth but never cried out.
“I can’t lose you,” he said.
“You won’t.”
He kissed her forehead.
"She was good," Nefertiti whispers.
"Too good," John growls from across the room. Keeping watch on his sister.
The Sommelier threads the needle. Begins stitching.
His voice, low: "You scared me."
She exhales. A soft, wincing laugh.
"Good."
He presses gauze against the sutures. Smooths hair from her forehead.
Kisses her temple.
John turns away, jaw flexing.
"When I find her," he says, "I won’t give her the chance to run."
And The Sommelier held her until her breathing slowed.
In the corner, John watched.
His hands clenched.
Every second burned.
“Who was she?” he growled.
The Sommelier answered without looking up, making sure she rested without much disturbance, shielding her with his warmth and blazer
“The Envoy. The Broker’s right hand. Or maybe his left. She doesn’t sign contracts. She ends them.”
“Then she dies next.”
ACT IX – THE RESOLVE
Dawn.
Nefertiti stood now, slower, but steady.
John spread a fresh set of weapons across a table.
“No plan this time,” he said.
“Just blood,” she replied.
The Sommelier adjusted her new coat. Tighter. Armored.
He whispered:
“Let me go with you.”
“You always do.”
They stepped out into the morning.
And began hunting the Envoy.
ACT X – THE STORM
Beyoglu. Midnight of the next day.
Valya, as they learned her name, left a trail. Not sloppy. Intentional.
Blood on cobblestones. A silver coin in a wine glass. A dress folded neatly on a rooftop.
She wants them to follow.
Nefertiti straps on her blades again. Slower this time.
The Sommelier watches her.
"You don’t have to chase her."
She meets his eyes.
"I’m not chasing. I’m finishing."
ACT XI – THE KILL
An abandoned rail yard. Twilight.
Valya waits in the center, twin daggers drawn. No monologue. Just steel.
Nefertiti steps forward.
They clash.
No sound but metal. No wasted motion.
A storm meeting its reflection.
Valya draws blood. Nefertiti draws more.
The Envoy aimed with an evil smirk at the hitmen guarding the exit. John Wick. He would fire before even drawing back the blade
The Sommelier. Perfect oportunity.
The clashing of two knives at the speed of thunder.
He did not even flinch while he turned in the direction of the Enovy
Both of them landed at paper-thinness away from the Sommelier's neck.
Two gunshots reverberated at the same time.
Finally: a feint. A twist. A blade sword bracelet, through the ribs.
John Wick's bullet was not the killing one.
The Sommelier's neither.
Valya stares. Bleeds. Smiles once.
Then dies.
ACT XII – THE MESSAGE
They find a drive on Valya’s body. Encrypted. Stamped with the Broker's seal.
John pockets it.
"This was just a warning."
Nefertiti wipes her blade.
"Then we burn the message sender."
PRELUDE – THE FLAME RISES
As dawn breaks, the city doesn’t know it yet — but war has begun.
The High Table’s envoy is dead.
Their contracts will be exposed.
Nefertiti’s name is carved into legend.
Back in New York, Winston receives a message:
"The Queen draws blood. The crown tilts."
He smiles. Lights a cigar.
"Then it’s check."
Next Chapter: Interlude: First Pour
As per usual Feedback is very welcomed, let me know what you think, if you want me to keep writing in this style, or any thoughts about it, and what do you want to see next. Let me know if you want to be tagged <3
And if anyone is interested in discussing any details, please do not hesitate to send a message or leave a comment.
PS: I hope you enjoyed it despite the new writing style and chaotic timeline. <3. Thanks a lot for your patience and your kind words, it really means a lot.
Tagging some friends who might enjoy this fic (Hope u don't mind):
DISCLAIMER: I do not own John Wick Saga or any character appearing in the franchise. Any names or any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. The face inspiration for OC Nefertiti is Megan Fox.
A/N: Here comes the second part of the series. I am really excited to share this with you, as I have been planning this series very carefully, and I think it's turning out pretty amazing. I hope you enjoy a great time reading this as much as I have writing the chapters. :) <3
A/N/N: I had planned to post this yesterday, but I had to rewrite it again since Tumblr did not save my original post.
Soundtrack -> John Wick Saga Soundtrack
ACT I — THE CONTINENTAL
Night. Rain on black stone.
The city breathes smoke. Neon bleeds across wet pavement.
She walks alone.
Heels click. A trench coat glides like silk over steel. She carries no umbrella. Doesn’t need one.
The Continental stands ahead — polished brass, blood history.
Neutral ground. No killing. No mercy either.
Inside: midnight marble. Black-veined gold. The lobby glows with antique menace. Chandeliers humming low like something observant.
The concierge, Charon — crisp and alert — looks up, but not startled. Just respectful.
“Miss Wick. Welcome back.”
She nods once. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. And doesn't stop walking
Gunmetal elevator. She presses B2. The Armory. The Sommelier. Her reflection watches her from the steel — high cheekbones, braided hair, those eyes that don’t blink unless necessary.
When the doors open, the smell of oil, wine, and death rises.
Stone walls flicker with candlelight. Velvet linings and mahogany display cases line the room, each filled with weapons like art that were designed to kill beautifully. Everyhting curated. Loved
The Sommelier turns from a wine rack, a corkscrew in one hand and a .32 ACP in the other.
Custom suit. Thick hands and wide shoulders. Sharp jawline. And those eyes — not cruel, but tired of cruelty. Sharp eyes that can't help but linger a little too long.
He doesn’t smile, but his voice warms as it lands on her.
“Still partial to the 1911s, or are we finally graduating to a pair of Czech beauties?”
“I’ll keep what’s killed kings.”
She walks past him. Fingers drift over Damascus steel, a stiletto with an ivory grip. Then over the carving of a rifle.
His eyes follow her like a man watching the final star before dawn disappears. He watches her like a man memorizing a star.
She pauses by a velvet-lined drawer, not paying too much attention to the case she has in front, and looks over her shoulder.
“I need more than bullets tonight.”
He lifts a bottle from the wine rack, a bottle of Barolo — 1986 vintage, and sets it down beside her. Quiet. A gesture of something old and unsaid. An oath of the two.
“I learned. About Cairo. About what happened”
“Then you know they came for my brother.”
“And they’ll come again.”
“They can try.”
He unlocks a long drawer. Knives that sing like poetry lie waiting in velvet. Forged for art and execution.
“You’re not asking me to go, are you?” he says softly. Whispering in the quiet of the night.
Silence.
“You’ve never asked.”
“I’m asking now.”
He closes the drawer.
“Then I’m already packed.”
ACT II — THE SUIT
Upper Floors. John’s suite. A heavy door. Silence behind it.
Nefertiti knocks once.
It opens.
John Wick stands there, dressed in black, the shadows deeper beneath his eyes. Silent. But the same eyes, same stare — focused, but further away than it used to be.
She walks in, but no hug. They haven’t done that in years. Too much blood between, not enough forgiveness.
They sit.
Two tumblers. Whiskey. No clinking. Just the dull hush of alcohol poured for survivors.
“They put a Marker on me,” she says.
John doesn’t speak. His fingers curl once. And his eyes narrow dangerously
“You refused it?”
“It was you.” She affirms in a whisper, trying to hide the emotion in her voice. Nefertiti used to be better at it, but her throat closes.
He closes his eyes. Breathes in like smoke. Exhales steel.
“Then we burn everything.”
Outside, thunder rolls over New York. The war hasn’t started. But it’s close.
ACT III — CINDERS BENEATH THE WINE
Basement Level. The Armory. Hours later.
The Sommelier loads her gear into custom leather cases — dual pistols, ammo sculpted in brass, knives with kills etched along the tang. Every piece hand-fitted to her hands.
He stops when she brushes past. They stand shoulder to shoulder.
He speaks first, like always.
“I should’ve gone to Cairo with you.”
“You would’ve died.”
“Still.”
She closes a case. Gold latches snap like gunfire.
“You ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”
She doesn’t look up. “What?”
“If we’d left. Together. Before the Table. Before John burned his Marker.”
She pauses. A long moment.
“I wonder if I’d have loved you less.”
His eyes close for a second — only a second. That was enough.
She leans in. Lips brush his jaw. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just memory, unfinished. An oath between them
Then she’s gone. Like a whisper before war.
ACT IV — RED ROOMS AND GOLD TEETH
Across the city. In a club that pretends it’s a temple, a meeting of lesser kings.
High Table loyalists. Their laughter is cruel, their suits too clean.
They know Nefertiti is in New York. They don’t know she’s hunting.
She enters through the back. No grand entrance. Just silent death.
The first body hits the marble with a wet gasp. By the time they reach for weapons, she’s already fire and blood.
Twin suppressors cough in rhythm.
Knives flash like scripture.
A garrote bracelet ends a senator’s smile mid-sentence.
A survivor stumbles. She presses him to the wall.
“Where’s the Bishop?”
The man whimpers. Bleeds. Cries.
She leans close.
“I asked you a question.”
He tells her. She makes sure he won’t tell anyone else.
ACT V — WINSTON'S CHESSBOARD
Back at the Continental.
Winston pours himself scotch. Watches raindrops streak the window like memories.
“I warned them about the Wicks,” he mutters. “But they never listen.”
Nefertiti enters, blood still drying on her collar.
“The Bishop’s here in New York. He’s building a court.”
Winston raises an eyebrow. “The Table sent him?”
“No. He came on his own.”
“Even worse.”
She sets a gold coin on his desk — melted slightly at the edge. Scarred by a kill.
“I want the Bishop alone.”
Winston studies her. “And what do you want me to do?”
“Stay out of my way.”
He nods. Sips. “Then let the game begin.”
ACT VI — THE BISHOP'S MOVE
The Bishop. Real name unknown. Rumored to have written the rules now carved into the Continental’s stones.
He operates from a cathedral-turned-armory in Brooklyn.
When Nefertiti arrives, the stained glass is glowing with red light. A choir echoes on recording — pretense of divinity.
She and the Sommelier breach the sanctuary together. John waits outside, watching the street. Ghost duty.
Inside: war.
Automatic fire from balconies.
Incense hides gas traps.
Candles detonate into firebombs.
They move like one — she glides, he covers. When he’s wounded, she circles back. Refuses to leave him.
They reach the altar. The Bishop stands beneath a crucifix, hands behind his back.
“You’ve broken every rule,” he says. “You think love will save you?”
She steps forward. Eyes full of ancient rage.
“No.”
“Then why come here?”
She raises her pistol. Fires.
“Because no one saves kings.”
ACT VII — CHECKMATE
They burn the cathedral behind them.
The Bishop’s body is left in the pew, a gold coin nailed through his throat — the message clear.
Nefertiti doesn’t speak on the ride back.
John drives. The Sommelier bleeds beside her, hand resting near hers but not touching.
At the Continental, Winston meets them at the door.
“Was it worth it?” he asks.
She looks past him, into the lobby where killers whisper and watch. Some in respect. Others prefer not to show any fear.
“Ask them.”
EPILOGUE — THE QUEEN AND THE CELLAR
Later.
She sits alone in the Armory.
Wine glass. Unopened letter. Blood on her wrist from a shallow graze.
The Sommelier enters.
No words. He kneels before her and bandages the wound with a handkerchief. His.
When he finishes, she pulls him closer.
This time, it is a kiss. Real. Heavy with everything unsaid for years.
“You asked once,” she whispers. “If I ever wondered.”
“And now?”
“I don’t need to wonder anymore.”
Next Chapter: Chapter II: The Hunt
Timeline:
* The mission from El Cairo, which I plan on writing a one-shot story too, that the Sommelier talks about in ACT I — THE CONTINENTAL, are not the events The Queens Gambit tell. They also take place in Cairo, but some time later.
* The El Cairo mission takes place a bit before John Wick's comeback to the assassin underworld. The outcome of this mission is a marker placed on Nefertiti
* The Queen's Gambit events start when Santino D'Antonio claims the favour in John Wick 2. The Egyptian Dahshur from the Queen's Gambit, claims the marker as a protection offering to Santino D'Antonio
* Nefertiti was made excommunicado for:
--- Business conducted on Continental grounds -> Act III from The Queen's Gambit
--- Not honouring the marker -> She stayed true to her code. Her rule
* John Wick was made excommunicado for:
--- Business conducted on Continental grounds -> John Wick 2
* The High Table will take part in this war
As per usual Feedback is very welcomed, let me know what you think, if you want me to keep writing in this style, or any thoughts about it, and what do you want to see next. Let me know if you want to be tagged <3
And if anyone is interested in discussing any details, please do not hesitate to send a message or leave a comment.
PS: I hope you enjoyed it despite the new writing style and chaotic timeline. <3. Thanks a lot for your patience and your kind words, it really means a lot.
Tagging some friends who might enjoy this fic (Hope u don't mind):
Real Name: Natalia Wick, younger sister of John Wick - Trained beside him. Bled deside him. Nobody uses her real name when refering to her or mentioning her. Only five people are alowed to use her name.
Alias: Nefertiti - named for her grace, intelligence, and lethal elegance - Beauty that disarms, precision that terrifies.
Reputation: see more --¬
* The Queen with a Crown of Lead - known for surgical precision and classical beauty. Assassins whisper her name like a prayer or curse.
* The Queen with No Throne - not part of the High Table, but feared like royalty.
* A ghost story whispered by killers who know better than to speak her name twice.
Skills: firearms, hand-to-hand, stealth, impossible escapes. She uses a mix of elegance and violence.
Favorite Weapon: All kinds of poisons, Custom Glock, Smoke Bombs and Grenades. - Elegant weapons: Twin stiletto knives, garrote bracelets, gold-plated suppressed pistols. A sword bracelet courtesy of the Sommelier.
Style: Egyptian-inspired elegance. Dresses like a model, kills like a ghost. Weapons hidden in her heels, hairpins, or clutch.
Fighting Style: Fluid, dance-like brutality - silent, fast, deliberate.
Code: Unlike John, she never tried to leave. She's loyal only to blood, not the High Table.
* The Table crumbles. Blood does not
* Loyal to her brother above all else. If the world bruns, she'll walk through flames to shield him.
* Family over creed. She obeys no one - not the High Table, not the Continental - unless it alings with her family's survival.
* Selective compassion. She shows no mercy to those who targert her bloodline, but will spare innocents or those who prove loyalty
Emotional Complexity:
* Never wanted out of the game - Unlike John - but she always understood Why he did
* When he left, she stayed to protect him from afar - pulling strings, making kills to delay contracts aimed at her brother.
* She harbors guilt for not leaving with him. Now, as enemies close in, she regrets not insisting they both escaped.
Chapter 1: The Continental
This is some of the classified information the High Table might have found in her files when writing the contract now that the war has been set. The assassin underworld is thirsty for some of the price that the Wicks represent.
PS: I hope you enjoyed this bit of information about my OC. In the next chapters I will be adding some timeline and John Wick's information or theories I might find interesting for the development of the story, or in case anyone is not familiar with the John Wick/The Continental/Balerina saga. Also please let me know if you have any doubts or do you want to discuss somethig about this series (My writing and the movies). Feedback is very welcomed. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Love y'all 3000 <3
Tagging some friends who might enjoy this fic:
@e48anele @luma48 @buckysmischief @morsmordre-writes @asadmarveltrashbag @ultramarvelslug @ftwdimagines-blog @ftwdimagines @beccollie18 @bitchassbucky @marvelblackhunter-blog @marvelblackhunter @hellacuteangelofthelord @nocturnalherb16 @justsomebucky @imhereforbvcky
Crime Story Challenge: John Wick & The Continental
Plot: When Nefertiti, as it is known in the underworld of the assassins the sister of John Wick, is summoned by the High Table into a difficult situation, someone unexpected comes to her help
Prompt: We saw him chosing guns for the hitmans, but what if one day we saw him on the other side of the counter?
Main Characters: John Wick and The Sommelier
OC: Natalia "Nefertiti" Wick
Warnings: Violence. Guns. Mafia. John Wick. A horrible writing. Phone Editing. Possible mistakes.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own John Wick Saga or any character apearing in the franchise. Any names or Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Face inspiration for OC Nefertiti is Megan Fox.
A/N: This is a new proposal of writing style, and I wanted to exlore more of the John Wick universe, specially The Sommelier that even though his screen time is short it was long enough for me to find him intriging and wanting to write about him, following the prompt mentioned above. And I thought the best way to do that was to propose this Original Character called Nefertiti.
A/N/N: I finally found some inspiration to write, and I wanted to celebrate this with you by writing this fic. I love every and each of my followers. Thanks a lot for your love and support. I’ll be leaving my ask open for those who want HC or short Drabbles. I love Y'all 3000
Soundtrack -> John Wick Saga Soundtrack
THE QUEEN'S GAMBIT
By the time the envelope reached her, blood had already dried on the seal.
Nefertiti sat alone in her Cairo suite, draped in dusk and silence. The red wax glistened with the unmistakable crest of the High Table. A Marker. Already bound. Already owed.
She lifted it between two gloved fingers, hiding her nails obsidian and sharp.
The candlelight flickered against the gold of her ankh pendant, resting against her collarbone like a heartbeat. She kissed it — a habit formed young, back when she and John still whispered prayers in Russian before a job.
But there were no gods in their world. Only oaths and debts.
She broke the seal. Inside: a name written in black.
John Wick.
Her blood chilled — not in fear, in fury.
They dared.
They dared.
ACT I — THE SUMMONING
The Continental – Cairo rose like a temple of shadow and sandstone, veined with golden light and rules carved into its walls. Here, killing was a currency, and loyalty a liability.
Nefertiti walked through its brass doors like a storm, dressed in silk. Her heels tapped like hammers on the polished floor. Twin stiletto blades shimmered at her thighs, hidden in the folds of her Egyptian-inspired gown — black and gold, like a scarab queen.
The concierge bowed. “Ms. Nefertiti. The High Table envoy awaits.”
He waited atop the tower in the golden suite: Dahshur — snake of a man, draped in linen and rings. A sycophant with a voice soaked in honey and poison.
He did not rise when she entered.
“Natalia Wick,” he said. “You’ve aged like the gods themselves. Cold and eternal.”
She offered no smile. Only her presence.
“You’ve bound yourself,” Dahshur continued, tapping the Marker. “You owe a blood debt to the Table. And the Table calls. The target is your brother.”
Silence pressed the air.
Then: her voice — velvet over steel. “You’re mistaken. My debt is to blood. Not marble thrones.”
“Refusal means death.”
She stepped closer, slow and regal. “Then let the gods weep…” Her eyes burned with ancient fury. “Because I choose blood.”
ACT II — THE AMBUSH
She didn’t wait for the elevator. She leapt from the balcony into the alleys below, landing in silence, vanishing into Cairo’s labyrinth.
An hour later, her face lit up every assassin’s phone across the continent. Excommunicado. Open contract. No protections.
First came the Twins — Russian butchers with cleavers for hands — ambushing her in Khan el-Khalili’s spice market. They died beneath a rain of shattered perfume bottles and sharpened compact mirrors.
Then came the Veil — a Moroccan sniper. She used a copper serving tray to blind him with sunlight before slitting his throat with her garrote bracelet.
She ran through the old city, leaping from rooftops, blades singing.
By nightfall, fifteen lay dead.
Her dress was torn. Her hair disheveled.
She looked divine.
INTERLUDE — THE SOMMELIER
She slipped into the shadows of a marble hallway — this one not in Cairo, but New York.
Winston’s Continental smelled of leather and lavender oil. Old blood and old rules.
She passed through undetected. Winston watched from his surveillance feed, lifting a glass of scotch with an arched brow. “God save the Queen,” he whispered.
She descended into the cellar.
He was there, as always — the Sommelier. Crisp vest, steady hands, eyes that saw through everything but her.
They didn’t speak at first. Only looked. A thousand battles in a glance.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, gently.
“Only on the outside.”
He uncorked a bottle. Not wine — bullets. Gold-tipped. Custom-forged. He handed her twin gold-plated pistols, each kissed with an Anubis insignia.
“I thought you never left this place,” she said.
“I don’t,” he murmured. “Unless you ask.”
She didn’t. Not out loud. But he followed her up the stairs.
ACT III — THE QUEEN STRIKES BACK
They returned to Cairo under night’s cloak. The skyline burned with the promise of war.
John was already there.
He’d arrived hours before. When he read her note — They came for you. They fell for me — he had said nothing. Only packed his weapons.
He stood on the roof of the Continental, watching as Nefertiti and the Sommelier crossed the square.
Three assassins stepped out to stop them.
John handled two.
Nefertiti flicked her wrist. A blade sang from the sleeve of her shiny leathered raincoat. The third assassin collapsed, throat open like a letter.
Together, they walked through the golden doors.
Inside, silence.
Breaking the sacred rule.
No business on Continental grounds.
And yet, no one moved to stop them.
She rode the elevator alone. The Sommelier and John remained in the lobby — not out of fear, but out of respect. This was her war.
The doors parted.
Dahshur waited in his suite, surrounded by guards.
“Natalia,” he drawled. “What a mistake you’ve made.”
She didn’t speak.
She danced.
Her pistols whispered death.
The guards fell, one by one — bullets to eyes, throats, hearts. She moved like water, like vengeance, like royalty.
Only Dahshur remained. He tried to flee. She caught him by the wrist and drove her khopesh blade — ceremonial, curved, dipped in gold — into his ribs.
He choked. “The Table will—”
She twisted the blade. “You should’ve picked a lesser god.”
He died choking on his own blood.
She leaned down and pressed a fresh Marker into his palm — her seal, her symbol, her warning.
The Queen has spoken.
EPILOGUE — THE BLOODLINE
A week later.
John sat in a dark room, lit only by the flame of a single candle.
He read her note again.
They came for you. They fell for me. – N.
He burned the paper.
Smoke curled in his eyes. Fire flickered across the photos of the High Table members pinned to his wall.
Footsteps.
The Sommelier entered silently and placed a velvet box on the table. Inside: a gold bullet.
“She left this for you,” he said.
John stared at it.
Then at the candle.
Then at the darkness beyond.
The war had begun.
And this time, he wouldn’t fight alone.
Open Contract: Nefertiti -> The High Table Classified Information
Next Chapter: Chapter 1: The Continental
I am finally back to writing, this one was a real challenge since I do not have much experience writing crime or action, but here it is something that I am planning to keep exploring, and writing a multichapter series. As per usual Feedback is very welcomed, let me know what you think, if you want me to keep writing in this style, or any thoughts about it, and what do you want to see next. Let me know if you want to be tagged <3
PS: I hope you enjoyed it despite the new writing style
PS/S: I know I still have open the Hawaii 5.0 Series, but don't worry I will be updating the Part 2 pretty soon two <3. Thanks a lot for your patience and your kind words, it really means a lot.
Tagging some friends who might enjoy this fic (Hope u don't mind):
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven
Summary: The Duchess and Lord Peter host a pre-wedding celebration. (Third person to get the story moving ;) )
Warnings: mentioning of consumption of alcohol, mentions of poisoning, mentions of a hostage situation
For Katie & Liz
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Standing hidden in the shadows of a second floor window, the Duchess watches on as the indigo sunset sneaks away behind the tree line of her family’s old vacation home - now her home. There she stands, watching on as the people of the Ton flock to her home in their most beautiful dresses and most dashing suits, marveling at the long forgotten spacious estate.
The cobblestone and brick mansion was covered with overgrown ivy - a nuisance to many, but one of the Duchess’ most favorite parts of her home. The long, pebbled entrance to the estate was lined with candlelight and flowers, welcoming eager party guests in for celebration.
Music plays faintly through the halls of the manor, echoing against the walls, along with the chatter from the growing crowd on the main floor of the home.
A calming, raspy voice broke through the noise - “You do not suffer from cold feet, do you, my dear fiancé?”
The Duchess smiles softly to herself before turning towards the voice of her betrothed, who was standing a few steps away from her with a smile spread across his handsome face, adjusting his navy suit just as she glances his way, “Now, my dear Peter - that is an awfully silly question.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle - “Then what on earth is plaguing that beautiful mind of yours, Blue?” His brows furrow inquisitively. “Why are you hiding away from your own engagement ball?”
She bites the inside of her cheek before letting out a sigh - “I am nervous, Peter.” Her shoes click as she steps over to the man, gazing up at him before resting her forehead on his shoulder, letting out another sigh. “I just needed a moment to breathe, I suppose.”
Lord Peter’s warm fingertips move down to the Duchess’ chin, thumb and finger gently urging her gaze upward to meet his warm eyes - “I know that it seems as if the entire Ton will consume you, but I swear I am here to pull you out if they do. You say the word and I will whisk you away to wherever your heart desires,” he pulls her face to his, delicately kissing the tip of her nose before letting out a sharp exhale through his nose, followed by a cheeky grin. “If it brings you peace, you should know that the staff has prepared our favorite foods. I promise, my Bluebell, all of this should be over in just a few hours. The last of our required pleasantries will be over after this evening.”
The small smile on the Duchess’ beautiful face melts into a sorrowful look, biting her inner cheek yet again. “Peter, that isn’t it.. I feel as if something is afoot. Or - or something has gone wrong,” she explains, standing up a little straighter and placing her palm on her gut. “I feel it - deep within me. I feel as if something is watching me… Watching us.”
Peter slightly shakes his head - “It is just you and I, my love. You are safe with me,” he murmurs, his calloused fingertips spreading to cup his hand to her cheek - “No one dare watch you. No one would dare hurt you. If someone were to hurt you, I do not care to think of how I would defend you.. how I would protect you. They should pray a doctor is near if someone were to ever have the thought of harming a single hair on your beautiful head. I will always protect you. I vow it already. Until this day forward..”
He pauses - his opposite hand cups her cheek, bringing her forehead to his, “Only one more day until you are my wife. This party is just one last bump in the road until we are one. You say the word, Your Grace - and I will immediately escort you out to wherever you want.”
The Duchess smiles, shaking off the lurking paranoia in her gut and focusing on Peter’s comforting words.
“Let us go on and get things over with, my dear Peter,” she says, sweetly grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallways towards the main staircase of the manor. “Peter, do you remember running down these halls in the summers?” She says as she continues to lead him towards the party.
“Anthony Bridgerton chasing us down the hallway wearing a white sheet to appear as a ghost is something I will never forget,” Peter says with a laugh. “He made sure the candles were always blown out and then appeared as the ghost. Mr. Cobblestone?”
“Cobblesworth!” she exclaims, rounding the corner, still pulling Peter behind her, “why on earth Ant thought that was a frightening name, I shall never-“.
“Of course I find the two of you running down the halls like you are mere children,” Lady May’s voice rang out, stopping both Lord Peter and the Duchess in their tracks. She smiles at the couple, nodding her head towards the staircase, “You two are needed downstairs. Your guests are expecting you.”
Lord Peter extends his arm towards the Duchess, holding his wide hand out, “Shall we, my dear fiancé?” He smirks, bouncing his brows at her. A small laugh erupts from the Duchess as she places her gloved hand into his, “We shall, my dear Peter.”
The betrothed step forward towards the top of the grand staircase lined with flowers and glowing lanterns extending down to the crowded dance floor where people began to stop and stare at the beautiful couple descending down the stairs.
“You look absolutely breathtaking,” Peter whispers to his bride. “I feel as if I cannot fathom that this is truly our own engagement ball.”
“I feel as if we are playing make believe, Peter,” the Duchess breathes, glancing his way. “This moment feels like a dream. Are we truly to marry tomorrow? We simply cannot be this old.”
Peter lets out a laugh as they reach the end of the staircase and step onto the marble dance floor, immediately greeted by Lady Danbury and Sarah.
“Lord Peter. Your Grace,” the two women curtsy to the couple.
“Sarah, Lady Danbury,” the Duchess smiles, reaching her hands out to two women. “This is beautiful, beyond my dreams - beautiful. It would not be so without the two of you, and of course - our lovely Lady May.”
May smiles and reaches her hand out to cup the Duchess’ shoulder, “This has truly been our pleasure, Your Grace. I simply cannot believe that tonight is a celebration for the two of you.. you still are those rambunctious children to me. Oh,” she pauses, tears beginning to form in her kind eyes before she quietly clears her throat, “Nevermind me. Tonight is a night for joy. I truly hope the two of you enjoy yourselves greatly.”
Peter clears his throat, gently wrapping his arm around Lady May’s shoulder and placing a tender kiss on her forehead, “oh, how I love you.” He looks down at her and scrunches his nose with a smile - “Though, I am convinced that you want me to shed a tear this evening, Aunt May.”
She lets out a scoffing laugh and touches her pointer finger to the tip of Peter’s nose, “Go, get drinks - enjoy yourselves. Us old hags will be around.”
Peter turns to his betrothed, holding out his hand to her - “My dear Bluebell, would you care for a dance?”
The Duchess smirks up at her fiancé, placing her hand in his - “I truly thought you would never ask, my dear Peter.”
Lord Peter leads his Bluebell through the crowd as the music plays on, pausing as they reach the middle of the dance floor.
The party guests dance around where the couple stands, just feet apart from one another underneath the ornate, candle lit chandelier in the vast ballroom. Peter steps towards his soon to be bride, slightly bowing his head to her - a smile spreading across her beautiful face before she replies with a small curtsy.
Peter reaches his hand out, fingertips gently brushing along the fabric of her gown, bringing her closer to his chest before placing his flat palm onto her lower back. Simply touching the Duchess had Peter nearly breathless, but he proceeds - his vacant hand tenderly wrapping around hers as he guides them, beginning to dance along with the crowd.
“I am so pleased to no longer have to lead us in dancing, Peter,” the Duchess giggles as they dance around the room. “Your foot has not once touched mine. I am impressed, Parker.”
Peter lets out a loud laugh, “I am also no longer shorter than you.. by far.”
“Lord Parker!” Anthony Bridgerton exclaims as he and his wife, Kate, near the couple on the ballroom floor, waltzing towards them with eager smiles.
“In the flesh, Lord Bridgerton! You must be Kate!” Peter speaks over the music. The beautiful woman in Anthony Bridgerton’s arms nods with a small smile, “I am!”
“Ah, well - I give you my sincerest apologies and condolences for having to put up with my dear old mate!” Peter jokes. “It takes a special woman to tolerate Anthony Bridgerton!”
The Duchess lets out a snort and Anthony scoffs, his tone playful as he says - “Peter Parker, I had planned to toast you and your beautiful fiancé, however I shall now refrain from that due to your blatant rudeness!”
“Please, I beg of you! Show me mercy, Lord Bridgerton!” Peter says dramatically as the song ends, “Please, Ant - forgive my unpleasantness and toast me!”
Anthony rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a devilish smile as he claps his hands, “I would like to propose a toast to the beautiful couple!” The crowd silences, turning towards where the four stood in the middle of the dance floor.
The staff hurriedly disperse drinks to the party guests and hosts - most everyone grabbing a beverage from the trays from which they were being served; the Duchess and Lord Peter receiving their drinks hand-delivered.
With drinks in hand the crowd listens on as Lord Anthony Bridgerton speaks, “I have had the pleasure of knowing the soon to be bride and groom since I was a small boy,” he pauses, looking towards Peter and his Bluebell, flashing them a knowing look before he continues, “Actually - I have had the privilege of knowing these two since before I can remember. In fact, we used to play in this very home.” He looks up at the beautiful glass ceiling - the stars still shining brightly down upon him - though the amber glow of the candlestick chandelier illuminated the room. “I believe I can speak for all of us children who got to spend the summers running through these halls and playing make believe when I say that these are hallowed grounds. This home is magic. The family that resided here was magic.”
Anthony looks at the Duchess, his dark eyes so kind - as if he were a boy again as he spoke - “oh, the make believe games we would play.. This home used to be a pirate ship… or - or a mythical castle… and now it is your home, Your Grace; soon to be the home you share with Lord Parker. Hopefully one day, a home where the small patter of feet hitting the floor resides again.”
The crowd is full of sporadic giggles.
Peter and the Duchess look to one another, exchanging loving glances before turning back to Anthony, who continues - “Lord Parker, Your Grace… I pray you have a life filled with immense joy, prosperity - and that you will always and forever share a passionate love for one another.”
Anthony raises his glass, looking around the room and winking at Kate, “Please, raise your glass with me in honor of the beautiful couple.”
The crowd of people raise their glass-filled hands to the sky as Anthony says - “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” The crowd answers in return before taking a sip from their glass, cheering and clapping as the music starts back up.
“Anthony,” the Duchess coos, stepping towards him. “That was absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”
“Ant, you should be in politics the way you commanded that crowd!” Peter quips, poking his fingertips towards Anthony’s ribs, causing him to retaliate with a shoulder to Peter’s - poking him back. “Only if you do it with me!”
“Lady Bridgerton,” the Duchess smiles, stepping towards the striking woman in purple. “It is so lovely to finally meet the woman who stole my mate’s heart.” She scrunches her nose, leaning towards Kate and gently grabbing onto her hand, whispering - “You are far too beautiful for Anthony Bridgerton. Who put you up to this marriage?”
Kate bites her lips between her teeth - trying to contain a smile before letting out a chuckle and squeezing the Duchess’ hand - “Anthony told me you are as humorous as you are beautiful. It is so nice to finally meet you, Your Grace.”
“Ah - formalities…” the Duchess smiles, “Peter has started calling me Blue as of late, and I quite like it. So how about that, Lady Bridgerton?”
“If I call you Blue you shall call me Kate. No more formalities, yes?” Kate replies with a squeeze of her hand before Anthony and Peter approach them.
“Mrs. Bridgerton - we are needed in the drawing room,” Anthony smiles, squeezing Kate’s side - her beautiful face turning into an embarrassed smile just as Peter turns to the Duchess.
Peter’s soft lips brush against her ear as he leans into the Duchess - one arm barely brushing against her waist as he whispers , “We are needed in the foyer - Lady Danbury’s carriage leaves within the half hour. We must see her out.”
“We shall see you onward into the evening,” Anthony says, pulling his wife away from the crowd.
“See you, Bridgerton,” Peter says with a half smile, turning towards the Duchess - his hand urging her towards the main entrance of the mansion.
They walk towards the crowd and into the now quiet entrance of the home, meeting Lady Danbury as she awaits her departure. She stands, gripping her cane just as her carriage pulls up to the open front doors of the manor -, she turns towards the couple, smiling sweetly - “This evening was absolutely beautiful. I will see the two of you tomorrow evening.” She sighs, looking between the couple before she says, “Enjoy the rest of this event. Cherish it, for tomorrow you become husband and wife.”
Just as Lady Danbury steps into the carriage, Peter is pulled away by - “Benedict Bridgerton,” he turns, placing his hand on his friend’s back, “Just the man I was looking for.”
Benedict stops and turns to Peter, his eyes glancing quickly to the Duchess before averting back to Peter, “Lord Parker, Duchess.” He bows before taking a small sip from the glass in his hand, “Thanks for having me.”
The Duchess notices a strange tingling feeling growing on her cheeks, which also feel flush all of the sudden. Benedict and Peter exchange conversation, but their words are far too muffled for the Duchess to understand - and now that she is trying to read their lips she’s realized that her vision has grown blurry too.
She blinks, trying to see a little clearer, just as Peter places his hand on her back - his voice is muffled as he speaks. The Duchess turns to Peter, her vision finally clearing a bit as he says, “Are you okay?”
The Duchess slightly shakes her head, looking dazed and a little frightened before she says, “I - yes, yes - Peter. I believe I may have just had a few too many drinks this evening.” She looks over to Benedict and then back to Peter before she says, “Don’t mind me, you two seemed as if you were in deep conversation - I will go get a breath of fresh air outside and find you later, Peter.” She nods to her friend, “Benedict.”
“Would you like for us to escort you?” Peter says before the Duchess can leave, his honey eyes pierced through her blurred vision - “Are you sure you are alright, my Bluebell?”
“Do not worry about me. Do not spoil your fun with Benedict on my behalf - I shall only be a moment, Peter,” she says before excusing herself.
-
The Duchess stands yards away from the beautiful mansion - watching on as the blurry silhouettes of party guests dance around the ballroom. Muffled music plays on as she turns towards the babbling, wide creek behind her - one of her most favorite parts of her property. Limestone rock glistens underneath the stream, glinting off of the distant amber glow coming from the bustling manor.
The water seems to sparkle due to the Duchess’ growing dizziness. The chitters of animals and humming of insects from the forest just beyond the creek grow louder, overwhelming her senses.
She falls to the ground with a grunt as her head hits the grass, her vision meeting the blurred starry sky above where she lay.
“There you are, Your Grace,” a voice says from above her as a man appears in her vision.
“Peter?” She moans, barely able to open her eyes. “Something seems to be the matter. I cannot stand.”
A hand reaches down and scoops the Duchess up from the ground and onto her feet, a strong arm wrapping around her waist as her body starts to fail again, her head going limp as she stares up towards the night sky.
“Curare,” the man says, scooping her legs into his arm, cradling her as he continues - “Do you know what Curare is, Your Grace?”
She lets out a small moan, her body completely limp in his arms - her weak eyes fixated on the sky.
“Curare is a paralyzing agent, Your Grace. It’s a poison that weakens your skeletal muscles; too much Curare can cause death,” the man says as the Duchess’ eyes finally meet him.
The tall brute that tried to assault her at the Bridgerton Ball months ago stood with her tired body in his arms. The same man that snuck into her room and hid in her wardrobe for hours hoping to rob her of her innocence, hoping for a scandal to get the Duchess to marry.
“Fredrick,” she whispers, barely able to speak at all.
Her heart races realizing she cannot scream for Peter. She cannot run. There is no escape.
A devilish smile spreads across his face, “Curare comes from a plant boiled and strained into bitter paste. How were your special made drinks this evening, Duchess? Could you notice the bitterness, or are you so innocent and sheltered that you do not know what spirits taste like?”
The Duchess’ eyes are filled with hot tears as she whispers, “Why?”
“Simply? I want your riches, and I truly do not care how I attain them at this point - so you shall come with me and I shall leave this ransom note right here on the grass for your fiancé to find later on in the evening when he cannot locate you,” Sir Fredrick says with a smile. “And who knows what could happen to the poor, defenseless Duchess while Lord Parker tries to locate her?”
The Duchess lets out a small, close-mouthed whimper as Sir Fredrick tosses her over his shoulder and tosses the ransom note to the ground and begins to walk away with the Duchess and into the dark night.
-
“Bridgerton, I simply cannot do another shot,” Peter yells over the string music and the roaring crowd of party guests. His eyes scan around the room before he turns back to Benedict, “One moment, Ben - I must check on my beautiful fiancé.” He holds up a finger and makes his way to the French doors leading towards the stone path to the creek, recalling seeing the Duchess head that way for a breath of fresh air.
Peter crosses the threshold to the cool night air, carding his hands through his greased locks as he surveys the waterline, not seeing his future bride.. but seeing something on the ground in the distance.
He jogs over without hesitation, nearing the cream-colored paper laying on the grass, his fingertips clasping the page reading the penned note demanding money in exchange for the Duchess’ life.
All of the life leaves Peter’s body as his stomach drops, his throat drying immediately, unable to even swallow as he desperately searches the area for any glimpse of his bride - his best friend.
Tears brim in his frightened eyes as he falls to his knees, gripping the earth beneath him as he tries to keep his composure - though hot tears run down his handsome face, dripping onto his suit.
He turns towards the manor, screaming from the very core of his soul, wailing “Benedict! Ant!” He cries - screaming out for the Duchess before something clicks in his head, something he had only felt once before.
Rage.
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Well, dear Reader - what do you think? I’d love to know. What will happen to the Duchess? Will Peter save her in time? Find out in Part Six!
I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for such a long wait!
- <3 Cait
A Lord & A Lady Taglist: @loserbee14 @fk12b @todaywasafairytale07 @bellestalesoffiction @nayspy @splintered-emotions @dark-night-sky-99 @panic-at-space-camp @dxmerons @jeezlouiisee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @strangerdangerwrites @spiidergirlsworld @softyutae @kas-1 @lovelyweepingrebel
Warnings: romance, mentions of loss, mentions of pregnancy
Part One Part Two Part Three
You watched as Peter walked away from you, disappearing into the darkness of Lady Danbury’s home. You grip the candlestick in your hand as you start after your friend down the hallway - determined to find out why exactly he had been acting so strangely towards you.
The tall man rounds the corner of the hallway, entering the dimly lit library as you follow after him.
“What on earth have I done to you, Peter?” You whisper, sitting the candlestick down on an end table beside you - stepping closer to Peter as he quickly turns toward you. “Why on earth have you followed me, Y/N?” His brows are furrowed as he looks to the door before his brown eyes lock gaze with yours, causing your stomach to drop. “Did someone see you follow me? This will not look good for you-“
“Answer my question, Peter. What on earth have I done to you? You ask to form a faux courtship to find a love match for me, only to act strangely and rude towards me or any real potential for a match? What have I done?” You take two steps towards Peter, stepping into the glow of the candlelight. “You and I are friends, Peter. I thought you enjoyed my company. I thought you wanted to help me.”
Peter is quiet, stoic as he stares you down. His white blouse had become unbuttoned at the top since his tussle with Earl Covington and Lord Fredrick in your room. His hair was disheveled just as his clothes were, stepping into the candlelight in front of you. “You would not understand. It is over now anyway,” he whispers, brushing his fingers through his hair as he shakes his head. “Go back to your room, Y/N.”
His brown eyes stare you down as you cross your arms over your chest, “I am not a child, Peter. I wish you would not treat me as such. Now - what have I done to make you treat me like I am mere dirt?” You gulp, uncrossing your arms from your chest as it rises and falls. “You lie to me and treat me as if I am the villain? We have so much fun together, Peter - what have I done to make you despise me so?”
Peter seems hurt by your words as he steps towards you, only inches away as he whispers, “Go to your room, Y/N. I cannot be alone with you.” His voice is raspy and low as he peers down at you. He has become breathless as he inches closer towards you, seeing how beautiful your face was illuminated perfectly in the amber light of candlesticks surrounding the two of you.
You can feel his breath hit your chest as he seems to be moving closer to you. “What?” You breathe out - unsure of what you had just heard. “You - you cannot be alone with me?”
Peter gulps, eyes fluttering as his breath hitches. His fingertips graze the deep rounded collar of your nightgown, causing you to shutter as your eyes fall to Peter’s plump pink lips.
You did not realize how close the two of you had become until you looked down at his fingers tracing your bodice, seeing a paper cut on his already bruising hand. Your eyes flash back up to his handsome face.
His brown eyes look as if they were dripping with honey as the candlelight danced in the warmth of his gaze - seemingly stuck on you. “I -,” he breathes - his fingertips graze your collarbone as he whispers, “I am a gentleman.” He lets out a shaky breath, “And - and you - are a lady… it is not proper for us to be alone.”
Peter’s long lashes lay upon his cheeks as his eyes close. Taking a deep exhale he drops his hand from your collarbone, “I promised to help find you your true love’s match, and I intend to keep that promise.”
“What if I want it to be you?” You whisper, quickly covering your mouth with your hand as your eyes shoot open - staring right at Peter. He’s shocked, seeming to have stopped breathing as he looks at you - only centimeters away, “Excuse me?”
“I am - I am so sorry,” you exhale, stepping away from Peter. “You are right, I need to go back to my room. I am saying nonsense.” You had already started to walk away whenever Peter breathed your name.
You turn in response - meeting Peter chest to chest, letting out a small gasp at the collision.
“Nonsense?” He asks, his voice small. “If that is how you truly feel-.”
“It is not how I truly feel,” you hesitate - breath shaking as you and Peter stand chest to chest in the quiet library. “That is not truly how you make me feel.”
Neither of you vacate your stance. Being this close to Peter made you feel as if he could swallow you whole and you would be content. You wanted to be wrapped up in his strong embrace.
“How,” he breathes, looking to your lips as he licks his. “How do I make you feel?”
His eyes snap back to yours, causing you to nearly choke on your very breath as you mutter, “you - you make me feel….”
Peter’s calloused fingertips brush against your left hand as his long fingers intertwined with yours, holding your small hand in his. He brings up your hand to his mouth, bringing it to his lips - placing a tender kiss to the top of your hand, never breaking his eye contact he held with you.
Your stomach drops watching as Peter kisses the inner of your wrist - using his other hand to spread your palm on his chiseled cheek, humming as he shuts his eyes, leaning his cheek into your hand.
Time seems to stop as you start at the beautiful man cradling your hand closely, pressed against his content face. Being touched like this was so foreign to you - but felt so right.
You can feel yourself gravitating towards Peter’s full lips, licking yours in the process. His eyes open, piercing your soul as he leans towards you - so close now you can smell the champagne still on his breath from Lady Danbury’s ball.
“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Lady May’s voice rang out from the doorway, causing both of you to turn her way - seeing Sarah and Lady Danbury beside her standing in shock as they saw you and Peter so close… touching.
“You two, drawing room - now.” Lady Danbury’s voice boomed as she and the two other women walk away.
-
“You two do understand what has to happen now that Lady Y/N’s purity has been tarnished?” Lady Danbury paced slowly, bracing on her cane when she would speak to you and Peter as you both sat on the small floral couch in the dimly lit drawing room. “There is no telling what else has conspired between the two of you. Should we get a doctor?”
“Lady Danbury, I assure you - nothing else has happened between us. I just - I had a lapse of - judgement,” Peter started. “We were-.”
“Lady Y/N has been kept pure of mind, body and soul her entire life. Her father was determined to keep her pure, untouched and pristine for her future spouse,” Sarah chimed in. You had not seen her this upset in a very long time. “That has been my entire career with this family, Lord Parker. Keeping her safe, keeping her from perversion. You have now ruined that.”
Sarah points towards you, “You have defiled her innocence. No one will have her now!”
Hearing their words made your heart sink into your stomach.. it made your skin crawl.
“All she wanted was a love match, which you said you did not want - am I correct, Lord Parker?” Lady Danbury spouted, leaning on her cane as she stared at him. “You told me next year, Lord Parker - so why ruin Lady Y/N’s chances at love if that is what she has been desiring to find?”
Peter swallowed, hanging his head - too afraid to look your way as Lady Danbury continued. You watched as Peter gripped the side of the sofa, seeing his knuckles turn white as he absorbed the woman’s words.
You felt as if you were dreaming as you stared at Peter, imagining how he touched you in the library. How he sighed into your touch as he nestled his cheek into your hand. His eyelashes were so long, so beautiful as his eyes shut - seeming to take in every moment that he was near you. Touching you.
“-it is what your uncle would have told you to do, I know it,” Lady May said - bringing you out of your thoughts.
“But it is not what Lady Y/N wants! I am not the man that she wants,” Peter’s voice was raspy as he spoke. “Allow her to have her true love’s match. It is what she desires-“
“I do not care what she desires, Lord Parker. Desires went out the door the moment you allowed your desires to cloud your judgement in that library - and god knows where else,” Lady Danbury interjected with a clack of her cane. “You two will wed.”
Those four words rang out loudly in your head as you stood, quickly taking off running out of Lady Danbury’s home as everyone yelled for you to “wait!”
But you were gone.
Peter turned to the women, pointing his finger as he started to speak, “you three know I have respected you my entire life. Tonight, this morning…” he drops his hand, shaking his head as he rubs the back of his neck. “She will not forget the way you have said she is unworthy and unfit to wed a good man. Those thoughts will play out in her head now, I know her.. I have known her since we were children - she will not forget how you three have treated her this day.”
He rubs the bridge of his perfect nose, sighing, “I am the one to blame. I am at fault here, not her. How dare you blame her for my own actions?”
The women are all at a loss for words as Peter continues, “Now - if you three can kindly excuse me I am going after her. I am going to do what is right because that is what she is worthy of.”
“Ladies,” he bows, almost mockingly as he turns, beginning to run after you.
-
Your bare feet seemed to be moving faster than your thoughts were as you ran out into the foggy, dewy field into the woods behind Lady Danbury’s home. You did not turn back, for you were too afraid of what you would see coming after you.
You just ran, trying to hide yourself away in the midst of bluebells just as the morning sun began to kiss away the night - still hidden behind dreary rain clouds as you finally reach the tree line, stopping to catch your breath as you cling to your chest.
A figure moves in the distance, approaching you at high speed as you try to get up - unable to move from the exhaustion from your sprint.
“Please, stop!” Peter’s voice rang out. “Peter?” You yell as you brace yourself against a large, old tree.
“Please - there is something I must say,” he’s breathless, bracing his hands on his knees as he stops just feet from you. “I am sorry.”
“You are sorry?”
“I have made such a mess of things..” he lets out an exhale as he stands, bracing his hands on his hips as he still catches his breath. “I - I did want to help you find a love match… I did. But then…” he shakes his head with eyes shut. “Then Benedict said he had feelings for you… and - and - and that changed things for me. The moment he said that he felt for you it turned my whole world upside down. My brain felt as if it were on fire.. my feelings got the best of me -.”
Puzzled, you look to your handsome friend - hearing the words coming from his mouth you start to stand.
“And so I - I just got inebriated to make the thoughts go away. I knew I was not the man that you deserved.” he pauses, looking up at the tall green trees towering above him. “In that moment at the gentlemens club it was as if the heavens shone down upon my old mate Ben, highlighting him just for you,” he wipes sweat from his brow as he continues. “Benedict Bridgerton is a good man, he will be a good husband. I am a - I… I have been through things, Y/N - and I knew in my soul in that moment that you and I were not fated, no matter what I may feel for you, or how long I have felt for you.”
“You feel for me?” You step towards him, feet flat on the wet grass, hair falling into your beautiful face - wet from the misting of rain beginning to fall around the two of you.
Peter's full hair fell flat on his face, his hands to his side as he spoke, “I am not the man that you deserve.”
“Why, Peter?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.
“I - I was married…”
You stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide as if you had seen a ghost, “W-what?”
“In America - I fell in love with a brilliant woman… my - my Gwendolyn. She was beautiful, kind, passionate.. I met her while I studied under two incredible scientists - and we fell in love..” he clears his throat, looking at the ground now as he continues. “We met and were married within a month.. and then a month later we found out she was with child… we were so excited to have an heir. All I have ever wanted my entire life is to love a woman well and to give her a child. My child..”
He sniffled, brushing his hand through his hair as he whispered, “It - it was too early when she went into labor. I awoke to her screaming, the bed was… it was - horrible. She needed more time - they both needed more time…” Peter grimaced, fumbling around his bare ring finger. “I called the doctor, I tried - they were all there within an hour but.. it was - it was too much blood. I did not know what to do for her. I grabbed anything I could to stop the bleeding… I sat behind her and held her close to my chest..”
“I tried…” Tears started to fall down Peter’s face as he whispered, “I held her until her breaths got shallow, and then I started to panic… I did not know what to do for her..” he hung his head lower, sobbing as he said, “Gwendolyn and our baby both died in my arms before the doctors could even arrive. She left me, they both left me alone. And I have been alone since.”
It is silent, other than frogs ribbiting and the small whisper of the rain falling.
“May begged me to come with her this season, to - to try again. She said I deserved to be loved again and to find love again. I - I did not want to come, I did not want to find love again because I know that no matter what - no matter who I love.. they will leave me. I know that loving someone with all of my heart, with all of my soul - the kind of love that you feel in your bones… I know that one day I have to say goodbye - no matter how much time I may have with someone,” he paused, looking up to you. “I do not want to lose you like I lost her. I do not want to go through that loss again - I do not want to love again. Alas here I am, standing here across from you in this field - a field that we grew up playing in together.. I am here and all I have to tell you is that I - I have loved you since we were children..”.
Your mouth is agape - shocked and in awe as Peter speaks.
“I - I thought it was a mere childhood crush flooding back into my heart, what I feel for you..” he shakes his head. “Ben said his peace on how he admired you, wanted to escort you to Lady Danbury’s ball… How could I take away the happiness from my old mate like this? How could I have defiled you - my oldest friend - like this? If I truly loved you like I know I do I wouldn’t have-“
“You love me?” Your voice is shaky - realization washing over you.
He paused, swallowing back the tears swelling in his brown eyes - “Yes,” He whispered quietly as a single tear dripped down his cheek. “I have loved you since I can recall or remember. I did not know it to be love until love had been defined for me with my late wife. I have loved you the entire time and merely thought it a schoolyard crush… We were thick as thieves as children, Y/N - inseparable.. Nothing has changed after all of these years away from you. And for that I am so sorry. I let my feelings overcome me the past few days, I was jealous… my only desire is to make you happy and protect you from harm.. but I was the villain lurking in the shadows.. I was the one that defiled you. I pray one day you can find it in your soul to forgive me.”
“Do you remember in the summers whenever we were all together and we would play such silly games? Like the game in the creek… or - or house? Ant would play the dog, Daphne would play the child and Benedict would play the butler,” you recalled.
“And you and I-,” Peter chimed in with a tearful smile.
You nod, tears brimming in your eyes as you say, “And you and I were always husband and wife - the mama and papa…”
“Always,” he nods, stepping towards you. “I always begged to play the part of your husband. And here I am years later begging you - pleading with you to right my wrongs. I will take care of you and protect you from anything and everything that may come our way. I will stand beside you through it all and I will love you until I take my last breath. I - I did not want things to go this way between us. I respect you and admire you.. I cherish you - I can be a good husband to you. Please - marry-.”
“-Marry me, Peter,” you whisper.
“W- Excuse me?” He stammers, furrowing his brows as water drips from his brown hair.
“Marry me, Peter Parker,” you say. “Ever since my family died in that fire years ago… losing my mama and papa and brother, and all of those poor people that were our help… they were trapped and I was away at a ladies finishing school? I - I - Life is but a mere blink in time, Peter. I too know loss such as yours, you know that. I came here this season hoping to find a true love’s match and here you are, the boy turned man - my Peter.. my best friend… you - you have always meant so much to me and I understand it now. The way you make me feel.. I understand, Peter.. I love you, I love you, I love you… I came here looking for a love match and then there was you. Marry me, Peter.”
Peter brushes his hand past the bluebells surrounding the two of you - plucking one for himself and examining the beautiful color. “I will marry you as long as you promise to wear bluebell flowers in your hair when you walk down the aisle to me.” His brown eyes snap up to you, gently extending his arm to you - placing the flower behind your ear.
His fingertips sent shivers down your spine as they brush wet hair from your face, stepping towards you - now chest to chest.
“I promise to wear bluebells in my hair as long as you promise to marry me,” you whisper, looking up to Peter. “Please, Peter?”
Peter's hand slowly cups your cheek, cold and wet against your skin as you breathe into him letting out a sigh as you rest your face into his touch. He rubs his lips together as he gazes down at you - his heart racing at the thought of touching you.
“I would love nothing more than to be your husband.. to make you smile and to hear you laugh after I have said something far too comical. I want to chase each other around at your countryside home just like I would whenever we were children. I desire nothing more than to spend the rest of my days loving you fully, wholeheartedly…” he sighs. “I would be honored to be your husband - if you will have me.”
You just nod, feeling helpless under Peter’s touch.
His thumb brushes your bottom lip, seeming to take in your aroma as you look up to him - the space left between the two of you was laced with eager anticipation as he whispers, “Absolutely breathtaking.”
“Peter,” you breathe his name as he brushes over your lip again. “Kiss me,” you whisper. “Please…”
Peter cranes his neck towards you, leaning in as he places a tender kiss to the very corner of your lips, his cheek brushing against yours as he places another small kiss to the opposite corner of your mouth. Your breath is shaky as he pulls away, looking down to you, whispering, “Are you sure?”
Before he can finish, your lips collide with Peter’s in a sweet embrace - pressing a hand firmly onto his chest as you kiss him. A moment you had dreamed of for years.
Both of your lips were wet from the rain and salty from tears. Peter wraps a gentle, muscular arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him as the hand on your cheek wraps into your hair - kissing you deeper as you let out a small whimper into his kiss.
The peacefully falling rain turns into showers around the two of you, drenching you both as you pull away from your embrace will laughs.
“We must get back before one of us catches a chill,” Peter yells over the rain, his hair completely drenched now and falling into his face as he holds his hand out to you. “Care for another sprint, my dear fiancé?”
“How about a race, my dear Peter?” You say just as you start to take off into a sprint, sliding a bit from bare feet on the wet grass.
“Not fair!” Peter yelled from behind you, sprinting after you as the two of you made your way back into Lady Danbury’s garden, nearing the back entrance to her home.
Peter catches up to you, slipping on the grass as his legs come out from underneath him, falling with a grunt. You turn towards the noise, slipping on the damp grass as well, falling down just as Peter did.
“Are you hurt?!” Peter asks as he crawls over to you, laughing at the sight of mud and grass all over the two of you. “Look at us! We look as if we were children playing in mud.”
“Who said we aren’t children playing in mud?” You retort, putting a handful of wet grass onto Peter's head as he sat across from you on the ground. He gasped in shock before he mimicked you, laying a glob of mud on your wet hair.
Your mouth falls open as you let out a breathy laugh, “My own fiancé has put mud in my hair? You have given me no choice but to retaliate with brute force, Lord Parker.” You throw yourself at him, shoving your muddy hands in his handsome face, gaining a large laugh from him as he tried to do the same to you. “I am far too quick! You cannot get me, Peter!”
“Oh yeah?” He asks, throwing himself on top of you as he rubbed a large handful of grass on your cheek. “Hm, you do still look awfully pretty with mud on your face.”
“Ahem,” a voice rang out as the two of you turned, muddy and wet as rain fell around the two of you. Lady Danbury stood bracing her cane as a footman held a large umbrella over her head. “I assume the two of you will wed after all? Or is mud wrestling quite the opposite?”
You and Peter stand, brush off your clothes and look at the woman in front of you. “We will wed in two weeks time,” Peter said, matter of fact as your head whipped around - shocked at such a short time. “Uh - yes.. Two weeks we will be married. It will be at my countryside home,” you nod to an annoyed Lady Danbury.
“Well, I suppose it is time to plan a wedding,” she said as she turned. “You two, follow me.”
-
There will be a part 5! Lemme know if you’d like to be on my taglist!
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4.3k words (warnings: mentions of blood and stalking)
Part One Part Two
After what had happened in the garden’s at the Bridgerton estate, you and Peter went your separate ways; you with Lady Danbury as she escorted you back to her beautiful home and Lord Peter to the nicest gentlemen’s club in town with his old mates Anthony and Benedict Bridgerton for a night of drinking, pool and camaraderie. Just as you are dressing into your nightgown in the comfort of your room at Lady Danbury’s house, Lord Peter Parker is cheersing with his friends in a crowded club as men gamble around where the three friends sat huddled around a table in the corner of the room.
“Lord Peter Parker back after all of these years?” Anthony sighed, smiling as he reminisced about old times. “I feel as if I haven’t seen you since we were boys, Parker. I have missed you terribly - especially whenever I play pall mall during the summers since there is simply no one else apt to beat me remaining in London.” “Hey!” Benedict yells, just as he does a shot of liquor, wincing as he points to Anthony. “Anthony here does get beat in pall mall as of late.”
“By whom?!” Peter leans forward, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol he had been consuming, he turns his head towards the blue eyed man - squinting at him. “I am sorry, but it cannot be you, Benedict.”
Benedict winces, ”Ouch, Parker! Is that what you think of me?” He laughs, shaking his head as he points to his brother, “Tell him, Ant.” Anthony leans back into his chair, rubbing the pads of his fingers on his bottom lip. “My wife,” Anthony says in a whisper, followed by a drunken giggle. “I cannot wait for you to meet her. She is incredible - we met last season.”
“Do not let Anthony’s swooning fool you, Peter. They hated each other at first,” Benedict laughed. “But they use that vigor for something else now.” He danced his eyebrows at Peter - gaining a chuckle from him as Anthony slapped Benedict’s arm, “Oh do shut up, Benny.” Anthony wafted his hands away from his body before pointing drunkenly at his brother, “Ole Benny has his eye on someone,” Anthony slurs with a smile, “Tell him, Ben.”
Benedict blushes, wiping his palm over his face as he speaks, “Well..” “Well what?” Lord Peter chuckled, taking a swig from his liquor. “Who on this earth has the eye of Benedict Bridgerton?”
It is silent for a moment before Anthony blurts out, “Lady Y/N!”, quickly covering his mouth, brown eyes bouncing between the two men.
Peter’s heart seems to stop hearing your name. All he can mutter is, “What?” A deep ache seems to suddenly form in the pit of Peter’s stomach as he clears his throat, taking another sip from his drink. His brain feels as if it’s on fire.
Was it the alcohol?
Benedict wafts his arms away from himself, trying to laugh off the fact that he was blushing, “Enough, enough! Enough about me.. Where have you been since 1809, Parker?”
“I’ve been in New York, living in America. I interned under two incredible men, Professor Norman Osborn, a scientist hoping to cure people’s ailments - and Professor Otto Octavius, a brilliant man hoping to invent a machine that creates power rivaling the very sun that shines down on you and I,” Peter explains, taking another swig from his cup. He shakes his head quickly, grimacing - gaining a chuckle from his two mates.
“But why come back to London after all of these years?” Anthony asks, cocking his head to the side. “It cannot merely be to catch up with your old mates. Pete.” Peter hesitates, biting his inner cheek as he eyes Anthony. He places both of his hands on the table in front of him, as if to brace himself - his eyes look to the face of his wristwatch. “Oh, look at the time.. you two keep me out so late. My apologies. I hate to be a bore - but I must return to Lady Danbury’s estate, my Aunt May will be worried.”
Benedict and Anthony groan, throwing their heads back in a joking anguish as Peter stood, shaking both of the men’s hands. “How about we schedule a good game of Pall Mall soon, Bridgertons?”
“We must! Oh how I’ve missed you, Parker,” Anthony smiles, bringing Peter in for a hug, smacking his palm on his back before pulling Peter into a headlock. “And yes, we must schedule pall mall while you are in London so I can beat you like old times!”
“So I can give you another scar, eh?” Peter laughs as he and Anthony point to their matching chin scars. “Not if I give you one first, Parker!” Anthony says, bringing Peter into a headlock “I promise not to ram into you chin first again” he says, pulling away from his friend and waving at the two men as he exits the gentlemen’s club, drunkenly walking home to Lady Danbury’s home through the quiet town. Peter decides to enter through the back gate of the Danbury estate, strolling through the gardens and pausing just as he gets to the beautiful bluebells.
His calloused fingertips graze over the flower, feeling the soft petal against his skin. Peter shuts his eyes as he inhales the distant aroma of the bloom. Hyacinth. He can smell the alcohol on his breath.
The crispness in the air reminded him of the morning he found you standing by the bluebells when he and May had first arrived back into London. He remembers the way your nightdress looked just as dawn had begun to kiss away the darkness of the night. How you stood barefoot on the dewey grass before him.. The way you watched him as he spoke… How your eyes studied him - those beautiful eyes.
Peter’s brown eyes open as he grips the stem of the indigo flower, delicately pulling his own from the crowd of blooms and bringing it closer to his blurred eyesight. He held up the bluebell to the moonlight to better illuminate the beautiful shade of its petals. He hiccuped as his eyes shifted towards the window where you were staying, smiling to himself as he noticed you sitting at the window curled up with a book in your hands. The candelabra sitting beside you highlighted your beauty just perfectly.
Time slows down as Peter blinks, watching you from below as your eyes scan the pages, seeming to be completely enthralled with the literature in your hands. Peter remembers making fun of you for reading so much as children, but also knows that if it was not for you he most likely would not have a love for reading like he does today.
Peter hesitates for a moment as his arm falls to his side. He pulls his book from his back pocket and delicately places the bluebell flower on the page he had previously folded in order to keep his place in the novel. He shakes his head, smiling like a fool as he continues to stroll towards the back entrance of Lady Danbury’s home - keeping the book close to his chest.
-
Sarah hurries you to the carriage as soon as you are dressed and ready to promenade, shutting the small door behind her as she plops down on the seat across from you in the cart. “Lady Danbury will be right behind us, Lady Y/N. Her and Lady May have to deal with Lord Peter’s uh - ailments this morning.” The carriage takes off, the motion pushing you further into the seat beneath you as you look out of the window, watching the town pass you by.
“I should have known,” you sigh, turning to Sarah. “He was with Ant and Ben last night. Those three always get.. Well, we will just say they get into situations when together..” “Ever since they were boys, them three,” Sarah chuckles. “Do you remember whenever your Mama and Papa hosted the Bridgertons and Parkers the summer you turned eight? The boys were coerced by a then fourteen year old Viscount Bridgerton to sneak into your parents liquor cabinet late one evening.”
You let out a snort, interrupting Sarah as you politely covered your mouth, “And then the boys stole all of Mama and Papa’s liquor! Lord Peter and Sir Benedict were merely ten and twelve..”
“Oh, those three knew what they were doing because they wound up getting drunk on the lawn. Lady May and I found them the next morning, thanks to Sir Colin,” Sarah said just as the carriage came to a halt. “Lord Peter was the worst of the lot, that child.. He was like the dead; he had consumed so much gin.”
“I remember how the three of them tried to play it off as if they had eaten something that did not agree with them,” you watched as the carriage came to a halt, arriving at the flourishing park. “Lord Peter was to escort me this morning..” you say in a murmur.
Sarah perks up at your words, smiling widely, “Lord Parker was not still intoxicated this morning after all.. we thought it a joke. You mean to tell me you two fancy one another after all of these years?”
“I would not say that we fancy one another,” you watch as Sarah slowly exits the carriage, a footman holds his hand out to you with a bow. “Thank you, kind sir.” You bowed, turning back to Sarah as you say, “We merely appreciate the other’s company is all.”
Sarah made a face, unsure of your words as she squinted - opening up the umbrella she had in her hands and holding it over the two of you. “Let us promenade, Lady Y/N. Make sure to stay underneath the shade.” The two of you begin to walk through the park, people wave and bow - greeting you kindly as they pass you by.
The two of you approach a tent set up with a table and a few chairs surrounded by cushions and trays of food. You both sit and are served tea as men begin to approach the tent, swarming at a chance with you. Not only did you have a title, you were also this season’s Diamond, hand-picked by the Queen herself. No man in his right mind (or his mother) would pass up an opportunity with you. Not even..
“Ah, Sir Bridgerton!” Sarah smiles, patting the chair beside her as you turn, seeing none other than your dear old friend, Benedict Bridgerton standing before you with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His blue eyes shine down on you as he flashes you a toothy smile. “Lady Y/N,” he bows. “Would you mind if I joined you two lovely ladies for tea?”
You raise an eyebrow at the man, crossing your arms as you smirk, “It depends, Ben.. Will I eventually become as indisposed as Lord Parker if I say yes?”
He pulls a chair out, sitting down beside you - giving you a devilish smirk as he whispers, “it depends.. would you like to become as indisposed as Lord Parker? Because I can make it happen.”
You cannot help but to blush as you uncross your arms, quickly sipping your tea. “How have things been for you since you are back in the city, Lady Y/N?” Benedict asks, preparing his tea. “How has this season been for you so far?”
“This season has proved to be a bit of a challenge considering I am hoping to find a love match and most of the suitors here just want a woman to give them an heir,” you say frankly, causing Benedict to choke on his tea. Sarah giggles. “Tell me, Benny - how has this season been for you so far?”
“Well, you see,” he sighs, looking up at the tarp of the tent hanging over him. “I too am to find a love match. Daphne lead the pack marrying the Duke her season. Then Anthony followed suit marrying Miss. Sharma his season. All love matches. And now it seems as if it is my turn to follow in my siblings footsteps.”
You meet his blue eyes, softly smiling as you nod, “A love match for Mr. Bridgerton, huh? Have you found her?”
Benedict smiles, licking the remnants of tea from his bottom lip as he whispers, “I haven’t yet, but I am hoping to - eager to.” You swallow back more tea, trying not to choke on it as he continued. “Someone educated, kind hearted and-.”
“Well hey there, Bluebell,” Peter’s voice boomed. You, Sarah and Benedict all look up to see Lord Peter standing with a book in hand. He smiles, trilling his fingers on the book as he asks, “Mind if I join you for three tea?”
“Uh-,” Benedict stammers, leaning back in his chair. “Of course,” you say with a smile as Peter plops down beside you. “Thank you, Lady Y/N. Sarah,” he nods. “Thank you for the remedy you gave me this morning.” He looks to Benedict, “Benny, thanks for getting me to the point of needing Sarah’s famous remedy.”
“Whatever are you doing here, Parker?” Benedict asks.
“Has no one told you yet?” Peter says, preparing his tea. “Lady Y/N and I are courting. Openly - of course. But nonetheless courting now. Whatever are you doing here, Bridgerton?” Peter’s tone is a bit sharp as he taps off the tea onto the side of his cup.
“Oh- I-,” Benedict blinks, sipping on his tea as he eyes Peter. “I did not know. My apologies, Lady Y/N. My intentions were to ask you to tonight’s ball that is being hosted at Lady Danbury’s home.”
“Well, we will already be there, Benny,” Peter blurts out. “But you already knew that, correct?”
“Lord Parker,” you interrupt, side-eyeing Peter - confused at his tone. You turn to Benedict, smiling at him, “Lady Danbury was kind enough to offer Sarah and I to stay with her this season since my countryside home is so far away.”
“And kind enough to offer my Aunt May and I a place to stay at her estate as well,” Peter interjects, leaning back in his chair and throwing a plum up in the air, catching before he takes a large bite.
You place your palms on the table and look to Benedict, “I would love to have a dance reserved with you this evening, Benny. Would that be okay with you?” Benedict blushes, nodding - “I would love nothing more.”
Both you and Benedict turn towards Peter, who was staring Benedict down, plum juice dripping down his chin. “Well…” Benedict sighs, getting up from the table as he waves. “I feel as if I have overstayed my welcome. Sarah, Peter - thank you for tea. Lady Y/N, I am looking forward to our dance this evening.” He bows before walking away.
You turn towards Peter, scowling at him as you speak, “What on earth was that, Peter? You said you would help me find a love match. What could possibly be wrong with Benedict Bridgerton?”
Peter seems to roll his eyes at you as he takes a sip from his tea. “Peter? Have I done something?”
“You have done nothing,” he says quickly, seeming annoyed by the question. “There is nothing wrong with Benedict Bridgerton, I was just trying to act tough - make him feel the fire underneath him. After all you are looking for a love match this season,” Peter says, taking another bite from his plum. “You can dance with him all you want tonight, but in order to make our courtship seem legitimate we must at least share one dance this evening.”
“What if whatever this is with Ben is a potential love match, Peter?” You ask with a hopeful smile. Peter’s stomach turns in knots seeing you swoon over your childhood friend. “What do you mean?”
“What if you and I do not need this ruse further because of Benedict? What if he is the man I am to fall in love with?”
Peter wants to scream. He wants to stand up and flip the very table before him.
But instead Lord Peter Parker stands, bowing at you and Sarah and leaves promptly - turning back for nothing.
-
“What do you think I have done?” You ask, grunting as Sarah and Helen pull against you to tighten the corset of your gown. “Do you think that I said something?” You watch from the comfort of your bedroom as people start to crowd in the garden for Lady Danbury’s ball.
The garden was illuminated with chandeliers and candelabras - making the place glow yellow as music started to play.
“No ma’am, I do not think you did a thing,” Sarah says, adjusting the last bits of your gown and hair in the mirror. “He was most likely being a grump because of last night's shenanigans with the Bridgerton boys. Now - why don’t we get you downstairs, my lady?”
She places her cold palm on your shoulder, “You look so much like your mother. How I miss her so.”
You place your hand on hers, clearing your throat - “As do I, Sarah. I miss them all every day.” You pause, recalling the last time you saw your family before the accident. Tears form in your eyes remembering the way your father used to hug you, and how your mother smelled. You could still hear your brother’s voice even after all of these years.
The sound of Sarah clearing her throat pulls you from your thoughts as you flash her a smile, shaking off the emotions stirring in your chest. “Enough of this dreariness - they are most likely missing us down at the ball.”
-
The night was perfect. Women twirled around in their beautiful ball gowns and men wore their best suits, showing themselves off like peacocks to the debutants of the ton. Mothers schemed as they bumped their daughters and sons into the highest ranking singlites of London - hoping to win a prize of an inheritance and a title.
You were one of the greatest - if not the greatest prize to be won this season. Suitors crowded around you as Sarah and Lady Danbury chose from the lot. You would be led onto the dance floor over and over - time and time again, dancing with a strange man only to grow more and more uncomfortable as time passed.
“How many children can you give me?” This suitor asked, stepping on your toes as he danced you around. “I would love as many as possible.”
“And what of me?” You ask, grimacing up at the slender man. “What if I die having so many children?”
“Your duty as a woman would be fulfilled,” he spouts out. “And my duty-“
He stops, turning behind him and stepping away as Sir Benedict Bridgerton steps into his place. His warm smile immediately calms your nerves. “Lady Y/N, you looked as if you needed saving,” he giggled, adjusting his large palm onto the small of your back. “I apologize, mother needed me.” He said, bringing your hand into his as the two of you begin to dance. “But alas, I am here now. You shall fret no longer,” he jokes.
You smile widely up at the handsome man, “Yes. Alas, you are here now, Ben.”
The two of you dance not once but twice times in a row, laughing as you recall old memories of growing up together and diving into conversations about the future.
“Ah,” he laughs, holding his chest. “You have worn me out! Would you care if I spun off and got us a refreshment?” “I would love a refreshment, Ben. Thank you,” you smile.
Just as Benedict is out of view Lord Peter Parker appears out of the garden’s thick maze. His brown eyes seem to pierce yours from across the ballroom floor, shining brightly from the lights above. He seems to stalk you from across the floor, giving you his hand as he bows, “May I have this dance, Lady Y/N.”
You hesitate, still confused by his abrupt exit during tea time at the park earlier. “Lord Parker,” you bow, placing your hand in his. Feeling your face flush as you look into his deep eyes.
The world seems to stop as he brings you into his strong arm, placing his large hand flat on your back as he brings your hand into his.
“Follow my lead,” he whispers. His breath hits your bare neck, sending chills over your body. “You - you didn’t call me by my name, Peter… no one can hear you right now.”
“My apologies, Lady Y/N.”
He did it again. It wasn’t an accident.
“What did I do?” You ask, furrowing your brows at your friend as the two of you continue to dance. But he is silent. “Peter Parker!” You say with a shove, “Why are you being so horrible to me all of the sudden?! What on earth have I done to you?”
Peter looks shocked that you shoved him as he bows, dramatically holding his arms out as he turns - walking away from you yet again without a word.
You can’t tell if you are more furious or embarrassed as you turn on your heels and walk off of the ballroom floor and into Lady Danbury’s home. Sarah tries to chase after you as you ascend up the stairs and run towards your room in tears. But she is too late, reaching your room just as you slam the door.
Tears stream down your face as you start to rip away at your corset, stepping out of your extravagant dress - feeling as if you could scream. What on earth did you do to Peter Parker to make him act so rude?
Why did you come here in the first place?
“I’m such a fool,” you cry, stripping down to your underwear as you hold your head in your hands and you sit on the side of your large bed.
You fall asleep crying, holding yourself in bed.
-
Thuds wake you up. Gasping as you sit up, holding your chest as you squint - hearing sounds coming from your wardrobe. You quickly throw on your nightdress, grabbing your lit candlestick from the table beside your bed as you approach the wooden doors to the wardrobe.
Before you grab the handle the doors fly open as two objects fall out into the floor with loud thuds.
And groans?
You gasp, shining the light from the flame below you - seeing the faces of none other than Sir Fredrick and Lord Covington looking up at you, both laid out on the ground. That means they had been lurking in your wardrobe for hours.
You let out a loud scream as you turn, running towards the door and opening it - shocked at the sight of a sleeping Peter Parker kicked back in a chair beside the window with an open book on his chest. He stirs as the door opens, feet loudly hitting the floor as his eyes open wide.
“S-Sir Fredrick and Lord Convington,” you say with wide eyes as you look at Peter. “They were hiding in my wardrobe. They-“
Peter is up out of the chair and onto his feet before you can utter another syllable. “May!” He screams as he stalks into your room.
You follow behind him, watching as Peter grabs one of the men by the collar, punching him in the face with a grunt as you watch the man fall to the floor. You cannot make out much, it’s too dark to see anything besides Peter’s silhouette above one of the men as he pummels him. “Why are you in her bedroom?!” Peter screams.
Just as things seem to get out of control, both Sarah and Lady May enter the room with a few guards - all holding lit candlesticks. It’s enough to illuminate the room now.
Your eyes widen seeing blood on the floor as you scanned the room, stopping as your gaze falls upon Peter straddling one of the men. He’s angry, fuming as he holds the man’s head off the ground as he grips his shirt’s collar. “I will not ask you again, Covington,” Peter growls.
“If there was a scandal she would have to wed,” the man let out a pained moan. “If we could have had our way with her she would be tainted and one of us would end up with the title and money that came with Lady Y/N.”
Peter grimaced, punching the man in the face again as he threw him to the ground - standing above him as he hissed, “Throw these two out of here immediately.” The men are apprehended and taken out of the room. The crowd follows, panicking about what had just happened - leaving you and Peter alone with the one candlestick in your hand.
Peter walks over to you, his shirt is unbuttoned and his hair is a mess from the altercation. He looks to you with tired eyes as he whispers, “Please tell me that you’re okay, Y/N.” You nod quickly. “I am a bit shaken but I am okay because you saved me, Peter. Thank you..”
He looks at your shaking hand holding the candle, subconsciously caressing your fingers with his. You swallow watching as his skin meets yours.
Were you dreaming?
Peter’s chest is rising and falling as your eyes shift back to his, seeing that they were already on you. He steps closer, sighing as he takes in your aroma.
Was he looking at your lips?
You lick your lips, watching Peter’s honey eyes look back up to yours, blinking his long eyelashes at you as a soft smile appears on his face.
His fingers have wrapped around yours as he looks back to your hand - realizing what he was doing and pulling away immediately. “My apologies.. I am pleased to know you are safe now, but I must retire to bed.”
Before you can reply, Peter is out the door and down the hallway, leaving you alone.
—
Here she is, Part three. Should I keep going or nah? If you love me you’ll let me know how this part made you feel. PLEASE COMMENT REBLOG AND LIKE!
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This one was a good drama addition, really I am hoocked to know what happens next.
Also, let's appreciate this beautiful saga (i labelled this as saga because i really hope to read more of this, cause no one can get enough of Peter Parker and the Bridgertons)
Bridgerton AU nonsense continued???? Enjoy my ramblings!!!!
Part One Part Three
Lady Danbury’s beautiful home seemed to be filled to the brim with potential suitors day after day - lining up and down the hallways hoping for a peak or a chance at this season’s diamond. A Lady - a potential duchess. Your story was bleak, but the bleakness made you more valuable to the people of the ton, inheriting the title and what came with your Father being a Duke - just underneath the Queen herself. Mother’s hoped to marry their sons in with someone like you for the status and father’s, for the money. And the suitors - well, the potential for a real love connection wasn’t happening when most of the men thought with what was between their legs instead of what was inside of their hearts.
Sarah, Lady Danbury, Lady May and yes - Lord Peter Parker himself were in the drawing room with you at all times - keeping their distance as they drank tea and chatted. Sarah, Lady May and Lady Danbury all sat at the small round table just beside the piano where Lord Peter Parker sat, twiddling his fingers to play the melody of Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor as he would continuously glance over at where you sat with a potential suitor.
“He won’t do,” Peter whispered to his Aunt May as she sipped on tea, the piano bench creaking underneath him as he leaned towards her. “Peter, why ever would you say that? He is an earl, he can provide for Lady Y/N.” Peter lets out an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes as he starts to play the bass line of the song, hitting the keys harder than before.
Bridgerton AU??? Honestly this is just nonsense from my brain, unedited - enjoy!
Here is a period piece + tasm Peter Parker. You’re welcome ;)
Part Two Part Three
“Now don’t forget to stand tall and confident like we’ve practiced. It’s your first season, so this first impression is important,” your ward, Sarah said with a smile, “Lady Y/N, remember - you want the title of this season’s diamond. You want to impress the Queen.” Sarah made last minute adjustments to your gown and hair, the both of you bouncing slightly from the motion of the carriage in motion.
You held a hand over your queasy and tightly bound stomach, “Sarah - I am just hoping to not pass out from the tightness of this corset. I can’t even think straight, I feel so bound up.”
Sarah tsks, placing her cold palm on your cheek, looking at you with her kind green eyes, “Lady Y/N, I know. We do not have to stay the entire time, but we do need to show you off to the ton. You look radiant. You will be the talk of the town.”
“I hope not,” you murmur, trying to calm your shaking hands. “I still don’t think I need a husband yet.”
“Lady Y/N, you know that your father left you a substantial amount in his will, but in order to access the rest of your inheritance you need to marry a titled man within the year.”
You pause, placing your hand on Sarah’s - still cupping your cheek, “I know what his will says, Sarah. But what I have now is enough for me. I want to marry for love, not for a title. Mama and Papa loved each other so, I cannot fathom marrying for any other reason, even an inheritance - you know that.”
“Lady Y/N, please - just try tonight. Give the suitors that Lady Danbury and I have lined up for you a dance tonight, try to get to know them. You never know what could happen,” she smiled, dropping her hand from your cheek. “Remember what Lady Danbury has done for the Bridgerton children. She can do this for you, ma’am.”
You turn away, swallowing back the lump that had formed in your throat as the carriage came to a halt - jarring you a bit as you braced your gloved hands on the seat beside you. “What if they don’t like me?” taking a shaky inhale as you look through the small carriage window, the yellow glow of the ball illuminated the glass conservatory.
Sarah let out a raspy chuckle as the carriage doors open, displaying the beautiful ball going on before your eyes, “Like you? My dear, they will love you.”
If only if only the woodpecker sighs the bark on the tree was as soft as the sky why the wolf waits below hungry and lonely he cries to the moon if only if only
