Kaiser and F!Reader, Regency/Bridgerton AU.
synopsis: With the death of the late marquess, Kaiser finds himself falling into his father’s role. Kaiser is many things, but responsible is not one of them. He must take on this season alone. He needs an escape, a safe haven, something to tide him over so he survives the season. That would be you, unfortunately.
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Content (chapter): reader getting red flags from Kaiser, drama, still slow burn (kindling stage??), fake dating (9 pages 🫡)
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This spring arrived early, much earlier than anticipated – with this, it seems to be urging the season along. As of this morning, Lord Luna and Lady Jolie have secured the title of first engagement. The young lord declared he was to be married before the season's end!
Though this would be no Lady Whistledown column without my deep-rooted skepticism now, would it? One can only wonder what the driving force for such a hasty proposal would be. Perhaps love at first sight truly persists.
The daughter of the Baron was one of the most well-known connections of Lord Luna. Perhaps she did not live up to the standards set for her by the Baroness–who was crowned diamond of her season, a title that led her to securing the Baron. For the daughter of such a noble family to lose a connection without a moment's hesitation leaves you to wonder.
Or perhaps Lord Luna’s honor may be left up for questioning, the foreign man with big green eyes played with the hearts of the girls of the ton, and made a reckless decision with one?
This author is curious to hear what the young ladies Lord Luna had called upon previously must think, to lose such a bachelor in the blink of an eye. Or even worse, to discover the loss of such a connection through the pen of this scrabbling madwoman.
Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers
“In all of my years!” your mother exasperated as she paced your bedroom. The paper crinkled in her grasp. You had barely gotten a chance to read the first sentence before your mother swiped it from you. “Why.. I ought’ to ask his mother out for tea–”
“Mama, please,” You whine. Beside you, your sister is watching Lenore, similarly fixing her hair to yours. Down, hair dusting against your neck, pieces pulled back to expose your face in the reflection.
“She questions this family's honor, and over the decisions made by a man,” She stops in her tracks, pointing a finger at you to solidify her statement “A foolish man.”
“Mama is right, he was your strongest and only true connection.” You bristle at your sister’s words. If only the scrabbling madwoman had shown you the same mercy she did for the Duke’s daughter. You bite your tongue, brows wrinkling in thought. You’re greeted by a thumb between your brows, smoothing them out. “Wrinkles, sister, wrinkles.” Lucia mutters as she swats away Lenore to ‘fix your face.’
Your mother continues pacing behind you. Once Victor catches wind of this, a war will rage throughout your home. Your throat begins to feel tight, and your eyes suddenly burn. You flutter your lashes, casting your gaze upward as your mother continues her not-so-silent rampage behind you.
Your gaze dips to your arm, a hand gently squeezing the skin there–a thumb delicately smoothing over the skin. You meet Lenore’s gaze, her eyes glassy and unblinking. You bite back a frown and slump your shoulders. She silently encourages you with a gentle pat to your arm before continuing to toy with your hair. Your eyes shut, and the voices of your sister and mother begin to muffle.
Adding insult to injury, upon leaving your room you receive word about a Soiree this evening. Your mother excuses yourself, and Lucia follows down the hall. You haven’t seen Victor since he received the paper. He didn’t care half as much as you had thought. Thankfully, you had Lainie and Laurence at your side.
“It’s just a gossip sheet, they’ll forget.” He offers futile comfort.
“And if they don’t?” You peer up at him from your position on the couch. You wished the cushions would engulf you. He snickers, biting into a pastry–crumbs coating his lips and dropping to the carpet.
“Then they can fuck off.” He seems too amused, he doesn’t take these things very seriously. But as of now, he’s all you have. It must be nice not to have to care, not to bear any responsibility to your family beyond just honor. Even then, before the scandal sheet you didn’t have to work or make up for lack of honor.
Lainie offers you a tea cake, planting the small pink coated pastry in your palm. You thank her, and she offers what little reassurance she can. But she’s so young she hasn’t a clue what a hasty proposal suggests. All she thinks is that he was unfaithful to you. Not that any man will ever be pure and faithful, but he was only courting you.
“What about the Marquess?" She hops up onto the sofa, her dress billowing around her. Her knees are pushing against your leg.
“No,” Laurence responds before you can. Your mouth hangs open with words unsaid, your gaze landing on him. Has Victor mentioned this to him? The last thing you needed was those two managing your season.
“What do you mean no?” You scoff. His cheeks puff up and his eyes dart to the ground. He hadn’t a clue what he was saying, just blindly following Victor.
“I mean, do you want Kaiser?” Your nose wrinkles at his question.
“No,” you began, gaze falling to your hands in your lap “..No, of course not.” You stammer. The sweat beads accumulate on the back of your neck, and your gown feels tight. Of course, you didn’t want him. He was Neurotic, arrogant, and anything but a gentleman.
Laurence doesn’t push any further, which isn’t as good as one might think. Normally he would have teased you for your horrible taste or insulted your ability to talk to men. But he only gave you silence. Fantastic. Once his back is turned you shoot a warning glare at Lainie, who shrieks and runs off.
Lucia pivots as she enters the room, allowing Lainie to dash off before facing you. She gives an accusatory raise of her brow.
“Now just what did you tell her?” she scoffs and sits across from you, smoothing her dress out as she does.
“Nothing, I swear.” You frown. She only rolls her eyes, reading the invite carefully. There’s a drawn-out silence before Lucia gives a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Mama wanted me to tell you that tonight’s soiree is raven-themed. Lady McMillan wants us in feathers and the color black.” It’s not traditional to wear black, typically older women wear darker colors. Not everyone.
“Do we even own black?” You inquire. Lucia just shrugs.
“I do.” She quips playfully, her head cocked to the side. Hair brushing across her exposed neck. You quirk a brow. Her words don’t help you, but okay. She snickers at your expression, smoothing her hands over the couch fabric. “Mama might have something.”
You convinced your mother to let you try on an old gown of hers. You fit close to her measurements now, but not exactly. You can only hope that her old gowns fit your measurements.
“Try the violet one.” Your mother calls from her closet, sorting through the fabrics and swatting away lady’s maids whenever they come too close to anything she holds dear. You’re secured into a violet dress, pins tugging it where it would be taken in. It’s black beaded up at the bust, with layers of chiffon over the skirt, enhancing the appearance of your hips. The chiffon veils a deep cool cool-toned violet that appears more red or blue depending on the way the light hits it. The chiffon secured off at the waist with a straight across satin black ribbon at the empire waist seen in most gowns.
“Black silk gloves with a feather lining would be most appropriate, no?” Lenore uses a piece of string to visualize where the gloves would stop. Your mother has to be talked into it, unsure if this gown fits the theme. But Lenore is a persuasive woman, and skilled at getting your mother to comply. You thank Lenore with glassy grateful eyes, earning a chuckle from the woman.
The colors go well together. Laurence and Victor donning black suits (as per usual.) with feathering in place of flowers pinned on their right pec. Lucia has a solid black gown and a feather hairpiece that fans upward, black feathers curling up a few inches overhead. Your feathers are sewn into the matching hairstyles you don, though your feathers hang downward and are less eye-catching. Your dress and newfound scandal will do all the attention-grabbing this evening.
You halt in your steps upon exiting the carriage, escorted by your father this evening. He peers over at you, a frown on his lips. He’s not as uptight as your mother, or even Victor. His energy is often spent on political affairs.
“There is nothing to fear.” He offers what little reassurance he can. It’s not often you get to attend these with your father, usually, he’s off working or speaking with colleagues in the corner. You swallow, gaze falling to your feet.
“I just don’t know how I’m going to uphold my relevance.” You mutter. Your throat closes in on you the closer you two draw to the grand house. Guests dressed in black with over-the-top feather headpieces swarmed in, casting their gaze onto you and your family as you passed. Thankfully, the blame is not entirely yours. Lord Luna and Lady Jolie will take the brunt of it. You’ve seen this before. It’ll smooth itself over. With that, you draw in a breath and cross over through the doors. The hostess greeted your father, not sparing you so much as a glance.
The room is dimly lit, the black of everyone’s attire only enhancing the darkness of the room. The candlelight casts a warm glow onto passersby. There is feathered decor all around the hall, and drinks are served in gorgeous dark dark-toned gauntlet-style glasses. The most brilliant thing about this event is the Greek marble statues posted all around, some chipped and aged–yet so carefully polished. A few gladiator statues surrounded by men who gesture up with their glasses.
Across the way, like clockwork, a pair of azure eyes lock with yours. His blonde hair set him apart from the crowd. Tonight, he dons all black–accessorized with a few blue feathers. You walk with your father, who fails to notice the way your gaze is magnetized to the Marquess. He’s so incurably annoying, yet always seems to have his eye on you.
Though tonight was different. He’s scrutinizing you. You squint your eyes at him, to which he does the same. He turns away first, disappearing into the sea of watchful eyes.
The evening is long and drawn out. Normally, you’re approached by at the very least ten hungry bachelors in one evening. Tonight, you barely receive five conversations. All of whom are from lower-ranking families, some of whom have even suffered scandal themselves. You do your best to be polite, though it is increasingly hard to do so with each painstakingly pathetic conversation.
Lucia struggles tonight as well, typically she can wrangle in any man who so much as breathes in her direction. Tonight? You watch her lose connections faster than they arrived. Her fists balled at her sides as she clings to some semblance of skill. The guilt lumps in your throat as you watch her from beneath the arm of a statue.
“Excuse me just a moment,” You lift a hand, gently waving to the man you were speaking to (More accurately: he was speaking at you.) You weave through the crowd, sights set on Lucia.
Within an instant, the wind is knocked out of you, and your back hits one of the marble statues. You suck the air in through your teeth as the stone jabs you right where your skin is exposed.
“I beg your par-” The words die on your tongue as you look up to see the frazzled Michael Kaiser. His nose wrinkled and brows creased. Your interaction does not go unnoticed.
“I sincerely apologize,” he strains out, swiftly taking your hand as if to help you to your feet. He tugs you closer to him, hand in yours. If not for your crippled reputation, you might’ve shot some snarky remark his way. You give a gentle smile, one that does not reach your eyes.
“Accidents happen, no?” You humor him, and some watching lose interest. He gives a hearty, although dry chuckle.
“You would know about accidents more than anyone, My lady.” Venom laced in his words, daring you to bite back. The two of you begin walking to ease back into the crowd. Side by side. He swiftly releases your hand, arms resting behind his back as his fingers tightly close around his wrist.
“I would, wouldn’t I?” You give a gentle laugh back, anger bubbling in your chest. “After accidentally walking in on your little incident, My Lord.” The vein in his forehead bulged.
“Ah, you’re a funny one, girl.” He grits his teeth, suddenly steering the two of you away from the rest of the crowd. To avoid further incrimination you stay in the same room, standing before one of the less popular statues in the corner. To others, you were discussing the art piece and the deeper meaning behind it. But to you? You were battling on the front lines for the tiny shreds that were left of your honor.
“You have no right to insult me.” You state, peering up at him.
“And you swore you wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened at the races.” His jaw ticked.
“I never told anyone, so relax your shoulders.” You offer what little assurance you can, though it’s not like you care. He’s childish and rude. His hair seems out of place and a bit choppier, his eyes have bags beneath them. The light purple coloring beneath his eyes contrasts with the pale of his skin.
“Lord Kaiser,” a German accent chimes from behind us. You both turn in sync, faced with a boy. He gave a kind smile, and he had a full cupid's bow and beaked upper lip. His eyes are big like a child’s.
“Alexis,” Kaiser responds and his shoulders relax a little. You study the interaction between the two men, Alexis approaching closer, his gaze on you.
“Why, you’re the Baron’s daughter.” He gently reaches for your gloved hand, taking it and pressing a brief airy kiss to your knuckles. He was charming and soft spoken, more so than any man who has graced your presence this evening.
“I’m pleased to meet you, My Lord.” You say with a gentle bow of your head. His gaze is unwavering, almost eerie. “Are you and Kaiser.. Colleagues?” You query and he gives a gentle chuckle.
“No, no, long-time friends. We’ve played together since we were children.” Imagining Kaiser as a child was rough, since children are meant to be cute. You briefly look at the blonde, whose mind is clearly elsewhere. Some friend you are.
“Say, Lord Kaiser, would you mind if I stole her for a little while?” His voice asks gently, as if he were scared to hear Rushes to your neck as Alexis looks back at you.
“If that’s alright with you, of course?” You have no other options, and he seems bearable enough. Once you get past the eerie aspect.
“I’d be honored.” You gently take the hand he extended out to you as he whisks you away from the unbearable Marquess. Moments like these must be what inspired princess fairytales. He’s shorter than Kaiser, but warmer and more gentle. His arm thoughtfully looped through yours as the two of you took a walk about the room. If this were a ball, you’d be more than willing to dance with him.
“You run into the Marquess often, no?” He asks with a warm chuckle. Your gaze bounces back to him as the two of you approach a sculpture by Michelangelo. You turn your attention to the sculpture, head cocked as you relax your shoulders.
“On occasion. I assume he’s told you?” Alexis nods, giving a gentle smile. His smile slowly became eerie.
“He’s mentioned you, which is quite out of character. I had to meet his new lady friend for myself.” The two of you share an awkward chuckle.
“I wouldn’t say lady friend,” you begin before clearing your throat “How do you know the Marquess?” you inquire. His gaze was transfixed on you.
“We grew up together, though not through our families. We played together as children, and would often get into trouble.” He gives a boyish laugh, you mirror with your own soft one.
“He doesn’t seem fond of fun,” You jest.
“Not much anymore, he grew out of it in his late childhood. With his title, that’s predictable unfortunately.” He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “But enough about my dear friend, what of you? What’s your family like, being the daughter of the Baron?” His question catches you off guard, your gaze going back to the sculpture.
“I grew up with built-in friends, my siblings. Blessed with two little sisters, and two older brothers.”
“Laurence, yes? He is my age. He’s a funny one.” Ness nods as the two of you walk about the room. You begin to wonder just how much he knows, unable to hide the crease in your brow. Wrinkles, sister.
“Alexis.” An accented voice calls from behind you, the two of you immediately whirling to face the source. The Marquess. Alexis offers yet another gentle smile, his eyes suddenly eager.
“Why, Lord Kaiser, I was just getting to know your lady friend.”
“She is not my lady friend.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind me taking her off your hands then, no?”
“Sure, whatever, I just need to use her right now?” Kaiser says, gesturing for your hand. You stare at it a moment, his gloves tapered immaculately to his long fingers. Your nose wrinkles. Use You? Before you can respond, his hand swiftly reaches for yours. You’re snatched away from the brunette man before you could even think of what to say. With little choice left but to comply, you silently walk with Kaiser to the other end of the room. There's urgency in the gate of his walk, one you’d only notice by his footing.
“What is the meaning of this?” You whisper at him, tearing your hand from his once you’re stationed behind another statue away from the view of the ton, who are too busy with their own affairs to notice.
“Porsha,” He says through gritted teeth, eyes not yet meeting yours.
“You’re so dramatic, are you not courting her?”
“Her mother is in control of that. They whisked me away on a busy street and I didn’t want to dig myself a deeper hole. You’re just the lesser of two evils.” Your lips part in offense. He finally meets your gaze, assessing your expression. “Just stay with me,” He pleads silently “I cannot bear her obnoxious presence any longer.”
You search the crowd for your brothers, you only manage to locate Victor–The lad swarmed by marriage-hungry mamas aiming to marry their daughters up in status. He should be occupied for a while.
“My brothers do not like you.”
“I do not blame them.” he echoes.
“I can’t be caught with you, so let's make this quick.” You say, scoffing silently before taking a step away from the hiding spot. Kaiser soon followed. The two of you walk about the room, not bothering to stop and admire the statues. It’s not long before you feel the piercing force staring daggers through your back. You cast your gaze behind you briefly, meeting Porsha’s unblinking gaze.
“Don’t look,” Kaiser reprimands with a scoff, keeping his chin turned upward.
“It’s hard not to when she looks like she’s planning my murder.” You mutter under your breath, maintaining a pleasant expression on your face.
She follows you two for some time before giving up and approaching another group of unsuspecting men. You and the Marquess share a mutual exhale of breath before sucking it right back in again. Your brother, Victor, is headed straight for you. His brows dipped and wrinkled just enough to convey a message to you, and a warning to Kaiser.
“It’s Victor,” Kaiser exasperated.
“Yeah, I know my own brother.” You steer yourself and Kaiser into another direction, weaving through people carefully before dipping down a hallway blocked off by a statue in the center of the threshold. You're backed to the wall in hopes your brother won't track you down. Kaiser’s arm extended across your front, planting you against the wall. His gaze lingered on the soiree, your gaze locked on his sleeve. You swallow hard as his fingers graze the waist of your gown, pressing the fabric into your skin. You’re keenly aware of his smell, the way his chest is puffed up and momentarily still.
“He’s gone.” His voice cuts through the silence, his arm subconsciously remaining across your front. Neither of you should acknowledge the gesture.
“Yeah, but I’ll have to deal with his wrath at home.” You cast a glare in the blonde’s direction. His brow twitches.
“Oh please, I don’t even know what I’ve done to offend the men of your family.”
“Perhaps your reputation,” You quip. The arch of his brow twitches visibly. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, gloved fingers carding the blonde locks with urgency.
“As if the state of yours is any better.” He mutters under his breath haphazardly, but before you could even dignify his insult with a response the sound of heels clicking behind you comes to a brief halt. As if someone had just rounded the corner.
“Marquess,” a voice drawls out sweetly and your heads snap to the source; Porsha. “So this is where you ran off to? If you were busying yourself with the baron’s daughter, you could have just told me so.”
You felt the color drain from your face, gaze dropping to the arm across your front. His hand finally drops to his side and he mutters something under his breath in German. Porsha was the last person you’d want to find you like this, especially now. Your mind rushes with possibilities and explanations you could give, the party just beyond the wall. You’re only a few feet away from the rest of the ton, it could be but only a misunderstanding.
“She had to fix her shoe.” His voice cuts through the silence before Porsha’s lips start flapping. She hums in response, expecting more than just a measly excuse. “She tripped and I went to help her. What kind of gentleman would I be if I simply sat aside and watched a lady trip and make a fool of herself?” There’s a flicker in Porhsa’s long lashes, and her brows crease and relax.
“All alone in the hallway? I do find that hard to believe, My Lord.”
“She tripped into the hallway. Have you no sense of logic, woman?” His voice dropped an octave and his accent seemed to thicken. You felt your own heart jump at the switch in demeanor, as if his front had been shed. She caught it too, eyes glassy and wide.
“Well, perhaps–” she began to fumble her language.
“Perhaps you are the scrabbling madwoman behind the pen.” he accuses, and you look up at him swiftly. Was he not thinking? He's dragging this out, of course, she wasn’t the writer. The girl is barely capable of reading. Her throat visibly bobs, she swallowed hard. “Would this be the next story to appear in your gossip column then, Lady Whistledown?”
“No, of course not.” She sputters “I’m a lady, I’d never do such a thing,”
“A lady who looks for trouble to spread to the ton? To take down the competition? You’re the only one to have seen us, and I would make that known if need be,” He draws in a sharp breath as if speaking pained him. More so, speaking to her pained him. “You’ve already written about the Baron’s daughter once, yes? Questioned the nobility of his wife?” he raises his angular chin, staring down at the girl through his nose. There was a darkness in his eyes, one that you had not quite noticed before. It was unsettling, lacking in humanity and mercy.
“No, my lord.” She cowered down, taking a step back. Her voice shook as she curtsied and excused herself swiftly. He showed no hesitation in baring his teeth to a woman, demonstrating the power a man held over a lady. Especially a man of status. Heat flushed through your chest and you felt the prickle of sweat on your skin. You’re unsure whether to be grateful, or fearful.
“She will still talk.” You broke the ever-growing silence, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. He glanced down at you, brow cocked.
“Then we’ll make it so she can’t,” he says ambiguously, though his teeth remain clenched, the vein that reaches just past the high collar of his shirt throbs visibly. He doesn’t even seem sure of himself.
“My lord, calm down,” You whisper urgently, pressing a grounding hand to his arm. His head swiftly whips around to face you. He draws back with a huff, and your fingers curl up into your palm.
“I am perfectly calm,” he spat out. He paces back and forth, shaking his head and smoothing his hands through his hair. “We can just prove her wrong, she will go on to say that we were being scandalous, which will leave eyes on us, and–dear gods, you’re still unchaperoned.” He rambles on, staring you dead in the eye as his chest heaves beneath the fabrics he adorns.
“That’s enough.” You plant your foot down, the sound of your heel clicking against the wood. “We need to put on a show. That’s the only way out of this, and the only way to keep my brothers’ and father from mounting your head in the study.” His fists noticeably tighten, the fabric of the gloves taut against his knuckles. You draw in a breath and soften your voice, meeting his gaze again. You bear worry in your eyes, as if your own feelings could serve to soothe him. You’re not sure if it worked, the only indication he gives is the release of tension in his face, and the relaxation of his shoulders.
“We could pull off a sham-courtship, show we have nothing to hide. It doesn’t need to end with you ensnared in a marriage with me.” His brow quirks at your suggestion.
“I have no interest in marrying you,” he states bluntly. Your brow creases further.
“Are you simple-minded? Do you know what sham means? Besides, there are other benefits, no?” You begin, leaning against the wall with a sigh. You no longer worry about formalities with him, there’s nothing truthfully respectful beneath his Marquess facade. Only a boy with daddy issues. “It could help me with my lady whistledown situation, and aid you in seeming unavailable. We know how to act respectfully, so the only true challenge is making my family believe us. And like you.” He bristles at the last statement, his gaze on the wall as if reading the wood for answers. His peachy lips pressed into a fine line.
“The ton will be watching us closely anyway, so that erases half the effort of trying to gain attention.”
“Exactly.” You reply. He’s calmed visibly, the strain of his expression only suggesting contemplation, but he seems less like a rabid animal now. “This will work, I know it will.” You share a final reassurance, pushing off the wall to stand beside him. A fleeting moment of silence passes between you two, one that makes your heart race and your blood feel warm in your veins. His hand reaches for yours, and you accept. You join the soiree together, beginning your so-called courtship.
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a/n I’ve been gone for so sooo long, I hope these 9 pages make up for it lols. I had fun writing this, it’s been forever since I touched on it. So I apologize for plot holes/gaps n stuff, and possible POV shifts or inaccuracies.
The slow burn is finally burning tho trust
One more thing, I’m more active on my second blog!! It’s more informal and short story/hc based, and requests are open!!!:)
@noomimi @silverwings920 @syleepy
