heyy hope youre feeling ok! unis a bitch lmao, can you do one where y/n is betrothed/married to vasily and maybe shes a secret grisha? idk but shes sneaking around with nikolai but then vasily finds out or nikolai goes off to be sturmhond? something super angsty, you can decide how it ends! have funn
I have an idea but I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you want.
HESR ME OUT OKAY—
Warnings: cheating, smut, angst, etc 18+
^ that’s you getting caught with Vasily
Three years, seven months, eighteen days, three hours, and…six minutes since Vasily married you.
He isn’t abusive at all—not physically. He just likes to avoid you like the plague as if his Queen wasn’t the most important person in his life. If you’d wanted kids now you wouldn’t have them; Vasily had a son from his previous marriage, a union was was annulled after the girl was caught doing interesting things in a closet with her brother.
“I can excuse infidelity,” Vasily had said. “but not raw-dogging your family.”
Touche.
Now, somehow, it’s been a year since you’ve even laid eyes upon the King. He’s cozying up to foreign girls in the Southern cities, you assume. Vasily has never bothered to hide his own infidelities, of course, and you yourself have heard rumors of a bastard or two walking around the continent.
“You’re boring me.” A voice calls out and you glance up from your desk, your hand stilling over the paper’s you’ve been reading. Nikolai, slouched on the sofa in your private study, is barefoot and relaxed as he watches you work. “Entertain me.”
“I’m not a court jester.” You say, raising a brow as you look back to the paper. “Your brother’s son wants me to give him Sun Cast.”
“Sun Cast?” Nikolai snorts, tucking his toned arms behind his head. In a white button-up and rolled sleeves, dark pants perfectly cut against his strong legs, he looks absolutely sinful laid out the way he is. “Doesn’t Sun Cast have a Lord?”
“Yes, Lord Barlow. But your brother’s son—”
“He has a name.”
“—insists that he be given the castle upon his eighteenth name day.”
“A decent request for a future heir.”
“Sun Cast has more brothels and taverns than any city I’ve ever been to. More than any should have a right to have.”
“I know.” Nikolai smirks, wiggling his brows at you. “Excellent quality as well.”
Your annoyed look only makes him smile wider as you force yourself to scan the paper again, reading your brother’s son’s—Zorin’s—request. Finally you sign the document carefully, rolling it back up and pouring a wax seal onto the edge.
“I still don’t know why he couldn’t have just asked his father.” You continue, standing to tuck the paper into drawer. You’ll take it to the Council tomorrow. They can deal with Prince Zorin. “Vasily would’ve said yes without a second thought.”
“Yes but Vasily isn’t here,” Nikolai points out, standing as well to follow you out of the study. He stretches leisurely, a dramatic and slightly erotic sounding groan leaving him as he does so. At your unamused expression he winks. “and you are, my dear. Even if he had to wait a week he still got what he wanted.”
“He knows I can’t stand him.”
“I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” You roll your eyes as Nikolai approaches, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze. His fingers are warm on your jaw as his eyebrows furrow, expression suddenly more intent. “You’re doing a good job, you know. Being Queen. Everyone can see it.”
“All everyone sees are the endless meetings, and the bags under my eyes, and the other morning I snapped at a maid—”
“—and they still love you.” He interrupts smoothly, reaching up to use both his hands to cup your face. You pout, almost comically, and he grins. “Trust me. You are doing a good job. Vasily’s doing whatever he’s doing—”
“I know what he’s doing.”
“—and you’re here, keeping the kingdom together. We all commend you for it.”
You sigh and nod against his palms, peering up at him as he watches you for a moment. Your eyes narrow slightly and you give him a mischievous little smile.
“Why haven’t you ever requested Sun Cast, oh Lord of High-Quality Brothels?”
Nikolai’s answering smirk, followed by his words, make your blood run hot.
“I don’t need a brothel to make love to a beautiful woman, Your Majesty.” He says, cocking his head to the side. Your skin flushes pink as he tucks your hair behind your ears, his fingers lingering. “Or to admire one.”
You pull away, flustered and blushing, and it’s obvious Nikolai is holding back his laughter.
“Get out, you heathen.” You scoff, reaching over to grab the nearest rolled up piece of paper. You hold it like a weapon, armed and ready to defend your honor against visuals of Nikolai inside a brothel and what exactly he was doing in one. “Get out.”
“Hey, hey—hey!” Nikolai gasps dramatically when you whack him on the arm, then shrieks, diving out the door to your study as you give chase.
-
Three months later, Vasily brings his new mistress to court. High-born, of course, and very pretty, but it makes a mockery of not only your marriage, but also the crown.
“He can’t parade his whore around court for everyone to see.” Ser Dominik is ranting, halfway through the bottle of wine he and Nikolai have been sharing that evening. “I don’t care if he has bastards in the cities—we know about them. Bringing some woman from Saints knows where makes Y/N look like a cuck—”
“Easy.” Nikolai interrupts smoothly, raising a blond brow as his vivid eyes, such a startling blue, meet his best friend’s. “Don’t call her what you were about to call her.”
“Sorry.” Dominik mumbles, setting his goblet on the desk. He and Nikolai have been sequestered in the Prince’s rooms since dinner, talking about the red-headed beauty that had sat on the King’s lap all night. She’d fed him grapes and cheese from the platter in front of them, giggling shamelessly as you’d sat, stiff and annoyed, at the opposite end of the banquet table. “It’s just—Y/N…” Dominik trails off and Nikolai gives his friend a half-hearted smile.
“…is going to unleash Hell?” The prince offers. “I thought she was going a send her fork straight into the girl’s jugular when she had the audacity to refer to Y/N as Vasily’s ‘ball and chain’.”
Dominik laughs, then Nikolai does, and soon the two are shaking their heads in both disbelief and amusement.
“God, I hate your brother.” Dominik chuckles, taking a sip of wine. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“You should check on her.” The knight suggests, raising a brow at Nikolai. “I’m sure she’d like to see you.”
“Me?” Nikolai’s brow raises in return. “Why me?”
“You know why.”
The silence that falls is tense and Nikolai swirls the wine around his glass, staring down at the purple liquid.
“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.”
But he does.
In the past several months since you’d beaten him within an inch of his life with a piece of paper—his words, not yours—he’d grown closer to you. He spent as much time as he could—going to shows, spending evenings at the taverns you favored, even attending balls in distant cities as your guest.
He was your ‘date’, as some said. ‘Guest’, you’d both insisted.
But then there was the way he always found excuses to touch you. Holding your arm as you walked through the gardens together, teaching himself to braid your hair on cold nights when only books and the fireplace was your company, his hand on the small of your back as he directed you places, your smooth thumb wiping a trace of sugar from the corner of his mouth when you’d shared pastries together, his eyes always lingering on your soft, warm lips and—
“Don’t.” Nikolai blurts, his gaze darting up to Dominik’s open mouth. The poor knight hadn’t even begun to speak, yet.. “Don’t add fuel to the fire.”
The rumors, he means. Rumors of the way Prince Nikolai seems to gaze at you with lovesick adoration every time you look away.
“I’m not.” Dominik says, then blinks. “I won’t.”
“Good.” Nikolai stands abruptly and forces a stiff smile, lifting his brows to his friend. “I suppose I should check on our Queen, then.”
Dominik, watching his brother with a slightly amused smile, nods.
-
It’s a month later when Vasily decides to formally announce his mistress as his official lover. The entire court had been opposed, of course, to the diadem that had been placed upon the ginger’s head. You, seething and humiliated, had fled the throne room.
That night Nikolai arrives in your rooms to, as he refers to it, ‘talk shit’. You’re laughing and in a better mood than you could’ve hoped for soon, but then a knock hits your door.
“Lady Wife,” Vasily drawls, drunk and leaning heavily against the door of your chambers. Nikolai and you had been in the middle of a rather competitive card game. “Come with me.”
You had, to Nikolai’s dismay.
You’d endured it, knowing damn well that his mistress was sleeping in a room not far down the hallway.
You hate him.
Hate him.
-
“Don’t.” You start, almost two weeks later when Nikolai slips into your study, watching you organize your desk. “Don’t say it.”
“I miss you.”
You stiffen and clench the scroll in your hand, effectively crushing it.
“You let him have me.” You snap, then turn away. “I’m sorry. Don’t—”
“What would you have me do?” He breathes, coming up behind you to turn you around. You face him, eyes damp as he grasps your waist. “You have to talk to me, Y/N.”
“I wanted you to do something.”
“Do what?”
“It’s like—” you tuck your hair behind your ears, frustrated. “It’s like no one gives a shit that he’s disrespecting me every day. If anyone were to defend me I thought it would be you—”
“I cant.” He snaps, fingers digging into your skin. “I cant do a thing and I hate myself for it, trust me. Saints, if I could kill him I would—” he stops, noticing your wide-eyed gaze. “Forget that.”
“Nikolai.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. “Please, just—” Please what? What?
“Y/N..” He groans, low in his throat, and leans into you, brushing your nose with his. “I want to protect you.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t be his. You shouldn’t be—you should be—“
“What?” You murmur, lips a fraction away from his. “Should be what?”
He grits his teeth and digs his fingers harder into you, making you gasp.
“Mine.” He finally says, reaching up to cup your neck in his hand. “You should be mine.”
The first kiss is bruising.
Youre both desperate, clinging to one another harshly as he tugs at the laces of your dress.
“Nikolai, you—“ you gasp, your eyebrows raising when he drops to his knees before you. His lips travel along your calf to your thigh, fingers tugging your underwear down in a quick movement: “Nik—” Your eyes roll back when he glides the tip of his tongue through your folds.
Fingers tangled in his hair you jolt, arching against him as he lashes his tongue against you, working you desperately towards your finish.
“Mmm..Nik—” You moan, nails scratching his scalp and he thrusts his tongue in and out of you, the warm muscle searching out the spot that makes you see stars. “Nik, I—”
He doesn’t let up.
You come against his mouth and gasp, his greedy tongue lapping up every inch he can reach. Then he’s lifting you onto your desk, scattering papers to the side.
“Please.” He mumbles against your mouth, hands tugging his pants down. “Please, I—”
Nikolai’s thrust is deep and quick, making you cry out into the skin of his shoulder. He grips you roughly, moving in sure, quick movements, slamming your cervix to Hell. Things on the desk rattle noisily, a several quills rolling off and hitting the floor. Your words are a jumble of moans and incoherent praise as he fucks you, hard and deep, making your head spin.
“Tell me you want me,” he begs, nipping the skin below your ear. “Tell me I’m yours.”
“Mine,” you gasp, walls pulsing around him as you reach a second peak. “fuck, Nikolai, yesyesyes—”
He groans as he finishes inside you, thighs hooked around his waist as his mouth crushes against yours, drawing your whimpers between his lips.
Moments later he sighs, burying his forehead into the crease of your shoulder.
“Still mine?” He questions, rubbing the ache out of your hips as your throat tightens.
hiii could i pls request something w modern prince nikolai?? i’m dying to know how they get back together😭
YES
Modern Nikolai part 3 I think!
The cafe is quiet at opening hours, but then again it always is now that it’s public knowledge that Nikolai avoids your former workplace.
The multitudes of ‘princess-hopefuls’—a term Oliver coined that refers to the women who think a casual run-in with Prince Nikolai could be the beginning of their own royal love story—have long since stopped haunting the corners of the coffee-scented establishment, the gentle hum of an espresso machine and the soft music in the background replacing excited whispers and gossiping.
That’s why when Nikolai, clad in a baseball cap and a sweatshirt from the university he graduated, sits across from you, the elderly patrons and younger customers that tend to mind their own business barely bat an eye. Only the currently working barista, a girl named Margery who replaced your own position, lifts her eyebrows briefly before going back to her work, the prince a minor distraction in her routine of grinding coffee beans and steaming milk.
“Y/N.” He starts immediately, his familiar voice raw and soft as he sits across from you. Your fingers, already wrapped tightly around a warm cappuccino, tighten further. “You look…I mean, I missed you. You..”
When you allow yourself to meet those sad blue eyes, so vivid even under the slight shadow of his visor, a feeling of longing overtakes you. You still love him. Of course you do. But he hurt you.
“Switzerland.” You say, ignoring his statement as you move forward. “Oliver invited me.”
He’s quiet for a second. His jaw twitches—the only sign of his irritation.
“He told me.”
“And?” You ask. You’ve always been able to read him like a book. Seeing him become slightly annoyed by his brother’s actions is only another reason on your rapidly growing list as to why you shouldn’t go. “You don’t want me there. I don’t want to be there. Olly—“
“I do want you there. Christ, Y/N.” His hand darts out to touch yours upon instinct before he squeezes his eyes shut, clearly frustrated with himself as he tucks his hands together under the table, safe in his lap. It’s too late though—his warm fingers have already brushed your knuckles and now you want to hold his hand again. God, you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle after a dry spell. “I’m sorry. I—Jenna misses you. Olly won’t stop talking about how excited he is for you to come. My mother—” Nikolai pauses. “My mother would be…absolutely relieved to see you.”
“Your mother, lied to me.” You say, eyebrows furrowed as you let go of your cup and tuck your own hands into your lap as well, mirroring his actions. Two sides of a coin, the two of you are. Two halves of one soul. Inseparable. Irreplaceable. “And Jenna, and Olly. And you.” Your voice catches and you both seem to tense at the same time. “You lied to me. You said you loved me but you—”
Oh shit, your voice is doing that thing where it sounds a bit croaky before you start crying.
Not here. Not here.
“Y/N,” Nikolai murmurs, reaching out again. His jaw is clenched tight as he splays his fingers, laying himself bare for you if you want him. “I’m sorry. For everything for—“ he squeezes his eyes shut. “I never should have lied to you. I know that. But I love you, okay? That’s real. I’m real.” When you don’t reply, only watch him with misty eyes, he swallows roughly. “I love you.”
Hesitantly, you take his hand. It sends a jolt through your body, the both of you taking in a slight inhale.
“I’ll come.” You say, trying not to tense when his fingers curl instantly around your own, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. His blue eyes are soft and full of relief.
“Thank you.” Nikolai tightens his fingers on yours for a moment, his voice tight. He clears his throat when you tug away, a forced, slightly nervous smirk on his mouth as he relaxes into his seat. “So…matching boards this year?”
You snort, remembering his awful attempts at teaching you to snowboard a year or so ago during a similar trip.
“You have to stand up.” Nikolai laughs, lifting the visor of his helmet as you crouch in the snow, gripping the board below you for dear life. “It’s not a sled.”
“It’s whatever I say it is.” You grumble, raising an eyebrow at the prince. He reaches down and, as if you weigh nothing, scoops you up under the arms and sets you down in the powdery snow.
“You didn’t even bother to strap in.” He scolds as you beam, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Nikolai’s helmet taps yours in a semblance of a kiss before he’s guiding you towards the warmth of the resort, the prospect of hot chocolate and fireplaces raising your spirits.
You smile involuntarily at the memory and shrug, fidgeting with the gold bracelet on your wrist. The both of you seem to realize it’s one he got you at the same time but, thankfully, he doesn’t comment. Pride still lingers in his tone when he speaks, though.
“I’ll pick you up for the airport, then?” Nikolai says, tilting his head to the side in that boyish way of his.
You bite your lip, worried you’ll regret this, but nod.
The trip couldn’t come soon enough, and the first day was a nightmare.
Nikolai had picked you up, as promised, and you spent the uncomfortable ride to the airport together with small-talk and updates on what the both of you had been doing since your breakup. For Nikolai, lots of meetings, travel, and work on his graduate school degree. For you…mostly nothing.
Lovely.
Thank God for Oliver and Jenna, though. They’d met the two of you at the private airport and had spent the entire time talking your ear off, forcing you to play card games and drink way too much champagne. For a few hours it had felt like old times. When it was time for bed and you’d curled up in the luxurious area on the plane, it’d felt like so many flights before with the royals around you.
And as you’d closed your eyes, the bed across from yours being Nikolai’s, you could’ve sworn he’d been watching you before you’d fallen asleep.
-
The moment you’d landed Hell had broken loose. Nikolai’s mother embarrassed everyone involved by apologizing profusely for the entire scandal and, with teary eyes, swore she saw you as a second daughter. It had taken everything in you not to cry as you forced a smile, Nikolai reaching out to press a reassuring hand to the small of your back before he thought better of it.
He hadn’t touched you since the cafe.
That night there was an excruciating dinner where Oliver’s friends had asked questions about the, as they referred to it, ‘Commoner Dating Thing’. The drunker they’d gotten the worse they were until Oliver, drunk himself, threatened to personally hang the next person who brought up your relationship.
You’d loved Oliver more than ever before in that moment.
Nikolai, though, had offered to take you home alone in his private car that night. You, feeling humiliated and exhausted, accepted.
“I’m sorry.” He’d whispered, head tipped close to yours as the car drives silently towards your hotel. You could only imagine how Olly’s limo looked then; there was a stripper pole and way too many bottles of champagne—as is usual for Lantsovs—inside of it the last time you saw it. “I’m sorry for them.”
You sighed, leaning your temple against his on instinct as you drove along. Somehow—you weren’t sure when—his hand had ended up on your knee. His thumb was caressing the joint leisurely, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke.
“They’re idiots.” He said, thumb stroking a bit higher up your thigh. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“People wonder, Nik.” You said back, your eyes finding his in the near blackness of the tinted car. “People are always going to talk about what you did.”
“I know, I know.” Nikolai sighed, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, threading the stands through the digits. “But I’m going to have to get you to forgive me.”
You laughed, only half amused, and shook your head.
“Nikolai, I don’t—”
“Forgive me.” He murmured, voice warm and sweet as honey. “Love me again, Y/N.”
His hand slid to the back of your neck and tilted your face up to his, eyes scanning yours for permission. When you only stared back, slightly breathless, he made a small noise of relief and pressed his mouth to yours.
Your heart dropped into your stomach.
Oh, You.
“Y/N,” he sighed, kissing you deeper as his fingers tightened. Nikolai, your mind echoed. Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.
His lips were warm and soft, roving over yours with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. He was taking his time, his tongue sliding carefully against your own as your eyes practically rolled back into your head. Making another small sound he tugged your leg up over his, his other hand darting to your seatbelt. With a click you were pulled onto him, your thighs sliding around his as he yanked you even closer, fingers digging into your skin.
“Mmm..” you hummed into his mouth, his hands sliding up under your shirt to feel along your ribcage, his warm palms seeking the underside of your breasts. “Nik—”
“Ssshh.” He murmured, thumbs gliding over your nipples as you gasped, clutching the front of his t-shirt.
Oh.
As you gripped him his left hand traveled south, his mouth finding yours again as he dipped his fingers below the hem of your leggings. At the first stroke of his fingers against your clothed center you jolted, a small groan leaving Nikolai as he felt how damp you already were for him.
“Let me touch you.” He begged, thumb pressing hard against your clit and circling the lace hiding it from him. You moaned involuntarily, lips moving to his neck. “Please, I—”
Was that a fucking cough in the background?
At the same time you both turned your heads to glance at the tinted partition between yourselves and the driver; when that had been rolled up, you couldn’t recall. Embarrassed and pink in the face you turned back to Nikolai, another sharp gasp leaving you when he ducked his head to suck one nipple between his lips.
“Stop.” You warned, red and breathless as you climbed off, buckling yourself back up. “Control yourself.”
“I cant around you.”
Despite yourself you’d smiled, crossing your arms over your chest as you caught your breath.
because I know you filthy bastards are obsessed with him
AN: SEE MY MODERN NIK MASTERLIST FOR MOOOORE
Nikolai’s mother is losing her mind.
“I have incompetent sons.” Queen Tatiana, proud single mother and Queen of Ravka, scoffs, pacing around the vast parlor as she grumbles complaints. This has been going on for the past thirty minutes and the three younger royals are exhausted. “Incompetent!”
Nikolai’s eyes are shut as he takes slow, deep breaths, his mind racing. All he can focus on is you. You who won’t answer a single call; you haven’t in almost a month. You who he craves desperately, the news headlines on almost every source of media he has access to constantly screaming at him.
‘Commoner to Royal Lover: A Fraud’ was the first title he saw when he opened his phone that morning and the image of the two of you grinning at a camera, the photo having had been taken at last year’s Christmas party, made him so upset he ended up locking his door so no maid could witness him breaking down.
He feels nauseous every time he thinks of you or hears your name, his heart so broken by your absence that he thinks he might be losing his mind as well.
“Banned from North America.” His mother is saying, exasperated at her youngest son. She wags her finger at the brunet and glares, her cheeks flushed with annoyance. “Banned. And right before the Independence Day Ball, good God, Olly. I raised you better than this.”
The prince in question, Oliver, raises a dark brow at his mother. The boy is slumped dramatically in an arm chair with wide sunglasses on his face, his dark brown hair tousled in the messy, rock-star look he prefers. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose when his brother exhales a long plume of smoke, tossing his bright-red vape up into the air almost contemplatively.
^^^ this is Olly’s dumbass idc that’s how I see him fight me in the comments
“To be fair,” Oliver starts, grinning wickedly as he crosses one leg over the other, his Gucci loafers catching the light from the elaborate chandelier on the ceiling. “the President’s daughter was very welcoming.”
“Oh I’m sure she was. Now the White House wants you to give a formal apology for allowing the poor girl to be caught topless in a closet with you.” Tatiana rolls her eyes, running a hand through her blonde hair as she continues her pacing.
All Oliver can do is grin.
“You’re an idiot.” Nikolai’s youngest sibling, Jenna, huffs, sprawled out on the carpet in front of the fireplace, her laptop charging beside her constantly tapping foot. “You and your stupid antics. I for one would never be caught dead making out in a closet, especially not with someone like you.”
“She couldn’t resist me, my dear sister.”
“You’re wearing a leopard-print coat. I don’t know how she didn’t.”
“Maybe if you had better style you’d get girls too.”
“I have a girlfriend you giant dick-licking dumb—”
“Shut up.” Nikolai speaks for the first time and both siblings glance at him in surprise. He doesn’t usually take that tone with them. Not ever.
“Nik.” His mother scolds, eyebrows furrowed as she looks between the three of them. “That’s no way to talk to your siblings.” Even if they’re idiots, her expression adds, but the eldest prince can’t find it in himself to be amused.
“Neither of them have said anything of substance in over an hour.” Nikolai argues, rising from his seat. “Oliver cant go two weeks without causing an international incident, Jen somehow thinks she’s not a princess and can skip every state meeting ever, I’m so stressed out I can’t breathe and the love of my damn life hates me.” He runs a ringed hand over his face, eyes squeezed shut, and misses the sympathetic grimace on his siblings’ faces. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Nikolai, darling—” his mother starts, but he’s already gone.
-
That night he’s alone on the balcony when Jenna approaches him, crossing her arms to lean against the rail. Nikolai lets out a long stream of smoke and glances over, raising a brow at her pinched expression.
“I messaged Y/N.” She says, avoiding his gaze as she stares out at the vast gardens outside the palace. She picks at her nails for a moment—black polish chipped and practically gone—before giving her brother a side-eye. “She won’t answer my calls.”
“Welcome to the club.” He lets out a small, sarcastic laugh before taking another drag off his cigarette. The end burns bright red in the night air as he sighs, popping his neck from side to side. “As far as I’m concerned she’s never going to speak to me again.”
“That would be well deserved.” Jenna comments, then sighs aloud. “Jesus, Nik. A PR stunt? I thought everything was genuine. So did Olly.”
“It was genuine, damn it.” He grunts, putting out the cigarette before tossing her an annoyed look. “No matter what the press wants to say, I love her. I mean that.”
“Then what happened?” The princess’s brow is furrowed as she crosses her arms. “I mean, I thought you two were in love.”
“So did I.”
NEXT OASAART COMING YOPP
meant to say next part but I will not be changing it
When are you continuing the modern prince nikolai girl I need to know what happens next 😫
I will not be continuing this series. The fact that you would even ask me to continue is honestly sort of insulting because as a creator I have to pull out my blood sweat and tears just to make stupid fanfictions for you desperate little raccoon looking leeches and—
SIKE
Modern Prince Nikolai PART TWOOOO ISHHHHHHH
Social media was going wild.
You spent your days holed up in your apartment binge-watching Netflix and avoiding your phone. You had dozens of missed calls from your family, your friends, Nikolai’s manager, as well as the prince himself.
His calls were what hurt you the most. You’d stopped listening to the voice messages—they were nothing but constant pleading for you to speak to him, for you to just let him explain, to let him console you.
No.
Regardless of the fact that he was a royal the security guard at your complex a seventy-five year old veteran named Ben proved his loyalty by refusing to even let Nikolai inside the building, let alone ring your doorbell.
That hurt the prince. It was Ben with whom he’d snuck flower deliveries to when Nikolai had started to pursue you. Ben who always winked at him when he left in a rush at an odd hour of the morning, cheeks flushed and dress-shirt wrinkled. Ben who always said, ‘in my day royals didn’t run around with their shoelaces undone’, earning a loud laugh from the prince.
It seemed the old man had chosen sides.
“Y/N, please.” Nikolai’s voice rings out from your phone, your finger hovering over the pause button of his latest desperate voicemail. “Please let me talk to you. I can explain everything okay? You have to—”
You delete the message.
Weeks pass in this way.
You’ve stopped checking Instagram all together; the posts of the two of you have gone completely viral, even more so than they did when you first began sharing the details of your budding relationship. Even your wallpaper, a photo of you the prince with his arms around your waist, chin propped on your shoulder from behind, had been changed.
You recall how you met with a twinge of overwhelming sadness.
You’d been working as a barista at a local, hipster-style coffee shop when you’d had your first interaction with the prince. The Beegies were playing at full volume as you danced around, bumping cabinets shut with your hip and humming to yourself. When a man had approached the counter you’d told him, in your most cheerful voice, ‘just a sec’, before popping a chocolate-dotted finger into your mouth.
“Croissants are messy.” You giggled, wiping your freshly cleaned hands on a towel before looking up. “How can I—oh.”
Nikolai had a small, amused grin on his face as he watched you, fascinated by the gorgeous barista that had been mumbling ‘Staying Alive’ to herself. You smiled back, bashfully, and when his order was complete you found his personal phone number written on a napkin.
The two of you had gone on your first date a week later.
For some reason you aren’t very surprised when His Royal Highness, Prince Oliver Lantsov, arrives on your door randomly one morning, stopping you on the way out of your apartment with a broad grin and wide splayed arms.
“My Everlasting Delight!” He greets you, formulating a dramatic expression as he peers at you over the frames of his sunglasses. “I missed you, darling.”
“Thought you were in Milan.” You say, staring him down with an empty grocery bag in hand. He shifts on his feet for a moment.
“I uh, was. But then Vivianne…” Olly makes a vague gesture and grimaces. “You know how models are.”
“I don’t, actually.”
“Well anyways,” the prince smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders, jovially tugging you down the walkway and towards the street. Cars drive by, busy in the heart of a bustling city. “I just wanted to let you know that my birthday party is coming up. We’re going to Switzerland obviously, and you must come.”
Your stomach twists and you cringe at your friend, the leather of his jacket cool against your arms as you walk. You shrug away from him, the scent of expensive cologne chasing your senses and blending with the crispy breeze of the outdoors.
“I’m not going this year.” You say, giving him a ‘duh’ look.
“Why?” His head actually cocks to the side.
“You know why.”
“‘You-Know-Who’?”
“He isn’t Voldemort.” You sigh, rolling your eyes even as your heart begins to weigh heavily against your ribcage, the too full organ seeming to be longing for a way out. “Yeah. Nik.” You sigh again, louder. “It’d be weird and he’d be there and I’d just—I don’t know, have to hang out on the sidelines at a lot of points and I just don’t think—”
“You’re my friend too, you know. If I want you there than he can be mature for once and behave himself, yeah? He’d do that.”
“This isn’t about him behaving, it’s—” you pause, running a hand through your hair in frustration. What do you mean? Sure, some part of you—more than you wanted to admit—longed to see him. To see the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, see the hidden grin he’d give you when he thought someone in a room was being ridiculous, the way he’d find an excuse to touch you no matter who was around, the way—
“Y/N?”
You look at Olly. The prince’s eyebrows are furrowed, an unspoken question on his lips. You force a faint smile and loop an arm through his, resting your head on the boy’s shoulder for a beat.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” You lie, squeezing his arm for emphasis. He nods but a gleam of suspicion lights up those familiar brown eyes. “Seriously. Now what are you doing here?”
Olly watches for another beat before shrugging, relenting to your change of subject.
“Shopping.” He muses, then smiles deviously. “Join me. I have my mother’s card.”
—
The days leading up to the annual ski-trip were filling you with anxiety.
On one hand, somehow Olly had forced you—against all odds—to attend the weekend outing. An overnight flight to Switzerland later and you’re standing in a large hotel room, the view of snow-clad mountains and trees meeting your stare.
When a knock hits your door you turn, opening it hesitantly. The entire hotel smells like expensive vanilla and hints of smoke from the fireplaces, undercut with natural cleaners from the ridiculously efficient housekeepers. The figure standing outside the door gives you a hesitant smile, his freshly cut blond hair short and shiny in the light.
“Hey, Y/N.” He greets, voice laced with nerves, and your heart stops.
thinking about modern!Prince Nikolai and him having younger siblings!!!!! (I hate Vasily so I’m not including him. Nik is the oldest. Move on.)
Let’s talk about Oliver!!! His younger, sassy, arrogant brother that doesn’t give a shit about being royal! He wears shades 24/7, has a girl and boy on his arm at all times, clubs like his life depends on it, will literally never become King ( he’d rather die ) and becomes your built in bestie
And also maybe Nikolai’s younger sister??? I wanna call her Jenna because I can. She’s ubbbbbber smart. can hack anything and everything. Gorgeous. Chews gum until her jaw cramps. Her girlfriend goes to university with her (both comp sci majors). Sneaks a flask into every ball and shares it with Olly when no one is looking.
Nikolai bought the alcohol.
Dont ask me why but im attached to modern Prince Nikolai and I have so many drabblea for you guys!!!
