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juletheghoul · 2 months ago

Text

regrets

a/n: I cannot seem to stop myself from taking these amazing requests and going on a rampage because Marcus Acacius is my literal muse at this point. I bought my tickets for the movie and I am not going to know how to fucking act in that theatre. I sort of ran with this request, and inevitably it turned into feelings! This un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistakes and errors are mine! Hope you enjoy what I came up with! (this is before the last chapter)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, talk of war, Marcus is a soft boi at heart and he has some regrets about being a hoe in his younger days, *feelings*, also he takes a lil tumble but he's fine! Marcus gets wine-drunk, but he's still in control of his faculties, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His face lit up, brighter and happier than you’d seen him, maybe ever.

You smile to yourself from your place behind him, basking in the warmth of his mirth. The visitor had come unannounced but more welcome than any before him. An old, dear friend from his days as a mere footsoldier in the Roman army. Marcus opened his arms to the man, ushering him into his home with an almost uncharacteristic warmth–to anyone who didn’t truly know him.

“Gods, but it has been years has it not Marcus? Since our days on the march?” The man asks him, a tired sigh on his breath.

“Indeed it has. An age, we were mere boys then.” Marcus drains his wine and holds the cup out, you are already there, pouring just as it reaches you.

“Troublesome boys, wicked things were we not? We seemed to attract all kinds of mischief.” The man laughs, and Marcus joins, although his laughter is laced with a groan, peppered with shame.

“Do not remind me, we were terrors.” Marcus hides his face behind his cup, drinking with his eyes downcast and it’s that aversion that piques your interest. Visions of a younger, wilder Marcus fill your mind's eye, what had he done? The man laughs, and you keep your vigil behind your Dominus.

“I hold the memories dear, even the unsavoury ones.” The man raises his cup, and Marcus bows his head, agreeing. “Wish I had kept the looks of my youth as you have old friend.” They laugh together, clinking their cups and remembering things they do not say out loud.

The night wears on, and they drink until the hour grows late. When they begin to yawn, Marcus insists the man stays.

“Girl, see to the preparations of a room and then come tend to me.” He speaks slowly, carefully.

“Yes Dominus.” You smile, despite yourself.

When you walk into his room, he sits on his bed, staring at nothing.

“Dominus, are you well?” His eyes lock on you, he sways a little, only a little.

“Too much wine, I will feel this in the morning.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as you approach. “I should have known.” There is no anger in him, only a resigned acceptance.

“If I may be so bold Dominus, it seemed you were enjoying yourself.” You bring the basin over and dip a fresh piece of linen, his eyes track your movements.

“I saw a happiness in you that I have not seen before, I would see it more often if I had any say.” He tilts his face up to yours, and you cleanse it softly, smiling at the way his eyes close.

“Would you now, Girl, do you think me unhappy?” His voice is soft, but gravelly. It awakens the parts of your body that always awaken for him. It worsens when his hands land on your hips, pulling you to stand between his spread legs.

“No Dominus, well, at times yes. Not unhappy per say, but not the way I saw you tonight.”

“I am happy, Girl. I am happier than I have been in ages.” His hands rub at your hips, sliding down to grab at your ass.

“It fills my heart with joy to hear that.” You run your fingers through his hair, admiring the flush in his cheeks, the sparkle of candlelight in his eyes.

“And you? Are you happy, Girl?” He holds onto you, eyes locking onto yours and it feels bigger than it should, the question on his tongue.

“Yes Dominus, I am.” A long, pregnant moment passes and the tension rises, swelling bigger and bigger. Your heart races and then he rises, or, he tries to.

Water from the basin had splashed onto the floor, and he slips. His eyes widen with shock as he lands on his backside on the floor at your feet.

He sits in shock, his tunic pooling high on his thighs and it’s almost like someone else’s voice comes out of your mouth, a sharp bark of laughter comes out before you clap your hands to your mouth.

He stares up at you, the shock of the fall, the shock of your laughter, the wine, the moment—he laughs; you both laugh. Deep, loud belly laughs fill the room until tears fall from your eyes, until he holds his stomach. Any fear, any tension is gone with the crinkle of his eyes and the rare glimpse of his dimple.

“Oh Gods, I am of a form.” He gets it out eventually, smiling wide from his place on the floor.

“Apologies Dominus—“ the ache in your belly is so great you hold onto his bed. He waves away your apology, and carefully rises. “I did not mean to laugh—“

“Peace girl, it was something to laugh at.” He stands, careful of the offending spill and removes his tunic. “The sound of your laughter is welcome, always. I do not think you cruel.”

You don’t know how to respond, the wine has brought down his guard and made him something open, something honest and human–nothing like he is when he is too long away from the battlefield, nothing like he is when his station in this life pulls at him.

“I have not seen my friend in many years, it was nice to speak to him, to bask in the memories of my younger days. Even the ones I’d rather forget.” You let him speak, the novelty of his reminiscing making you smile as you prepare his bed for sleep.

“It was worth the price I will pay in the morning.” You bite your lip, the questions–the curiosity eat away at you as you move around the room, blowing out a few of the candles.

“I can see the turmoil, Girl, ask and I will alleviate.” He smiles, sitting on his bed.

“Apologies Dominus, I wish to know what mischief you sought out, or rather, sought you out? I cannot picture you a terror.” You take the basin away and he lets out a huff of laughter.

“Do not lie to me, Girl. You have seen my dark moods, I am a terror often.” He waves away the expression of shock, “You know my meaning. In truth I can be brutal, I know this, but it is in battle. In my younger days, on the march I was unruly. I found it hard to follow commands, so sure of myself–to my detriment–that I knew better, that I was wiser than those above my station. I paid for it and learned, grew wise but in those early days, we were rebellious.” He smiles, fondness and the ghosts of his past fresh in his mind.

You finish your duties as he speaks but are loathe to leave him, so you come closer, feigning at straightening out his sheets and fussing at his bed as he speaks.

“I was also cruel.” The smile morphs then, into something ashamed.

“Cruel? I do not believe it Dominus–” He raises a hand and your speech dies.

“I was, Girl. Exceedingly cruel, to women. I broke many a heart, took the virginity offered without a care and left them without so much as a word.” He shuts his eyes tight then and the playful, cheerful mood is lost. “I was not concerned with their feelings, I cared not about their honour, I simply took, and left like the thief I was.” He stares at his hands and although it was true, it had been cruel of him, it was the way most soldiers were. No right, no wrong, just the way of this world.

“Do you regret it, Dominus?” You stand before him again, the same tableau as before.

“Yes, I do, Girl. I regret the hurt I caused, the selfishness of youth.”

“That is enough then, I think. That you feel it this deeply, that you would change it if you could, that is enough. You need torture yourself no more, Dominus.” Your palm cups his face and he leans into it with a pained expression for a moment before his arms wrap around your waist. His face nuzzles against the valley between your breasts and you feel the way he breathes in your scent.

“Stay with me.” He pulls at your tunic, lifting it up and off in one swift motion before pressing kisses to your skin. There is a desire shining in his eyes. For your body, yes, but there are memories he is rewriting with you now, something kinder, something infused with more want, with love—the thought pops up and you brush it away.

“Do you not desire sleep Dominus? You had said the wine–oh–” His mouth takes your nipple in a steady suck, pulling a soft moan from your lips, and any and all concerns about his state out of your head.

He pulls away, flattening his tongue against the bud before moving to the next.

“No amount of wine could dampen my desire for you, Girl. Shall I stop?” He watches you, eyes locked as he takes the other nipple in his mouth and you shake your head no. His teeth bite, the little shock of pain heightens the pleasure and your fingers grip his hair harder than you mean to but it only makes him moan into your skin as he soothes with his tongue.

Slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, the desire for him so great it makes you ache. A sharp, hollow pain, like hunger pangs for his gift, for his body, for his love something whispers again, and again you ignore it.

“God’s Girl, you bring out a madness in me–” He pulls you down, his kiss so feral it almost hurts. Teeth clicking while you taste his wine-drenched tongue. You move to straddle him but you barely manage to sit before you find yourself on your back in the bed you’d just prepared.

His kiss is all-consuming, it is contagious–it pulls you into the depths of his madness. When he pulls away, you’re almost disoriented.

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, Girl, let me see what’s mine.” You bite your lip, skin on fire as you obey. He kneels between your spread legs, hand slipping down to palm himself as he watches you slip your hand down towards the silky hair at the juncture of your thighs. “Spread it open, I would see how wet you are.” he strokes himself slowly, eyes glazed as you follow his instructions, spreading yourself wide for his gaze.

It feels depraved in the best way, to have him watch you while he pleasures himself. There is a power flowing through your veins, something sweet and wicked and a boldness grabs hold of you. You dip your fingers low to spread the arousal onto your fingers, scoop some of it up to swirl against your clit.

“This is what I do when you do not call for me, Dominus. I touch myself like this, and think of you.” His hand lands on your knee, holding your leg up as he moans, wantonly at your admission.

“What do you think of Girl? Tell me–” He squeezes at his cock, brow furrowed while his eyes rake over you.

“I think of you taking me Dominus, I think of how good you feel, how big you are, how I can feel you for days, how I want nothing more than for you to come into my chamber and make me yours.” Your fingers speed up, the pleasure heightened by the depravity of it.

“Do you flutter at the thought of me giving you this?” He presses the tip of himself to your entrance, not pushing inside but letting you feel him there.

“Yes–” It’s a pained moan. The blunt tip of him spreads you just enough to tease, it’s an exquisite torture, one that could make you cry with arousal.

“Tell me you want it, tell me you’ll die without it, tell me you want me, Girl.” He leans forward a little, enough to make you chase the relief of him but his grip at your knee moves down to your hip, holding you there. Your fingers almost lose their rhythm. You let out a pitiful whine.

“Tell me, and I’ll give it to you, tell me you want me, tell me–” He begs now, and you nod frantically.

“I need you Dominus, I need you, I will die without you, I beg of you, give me the relief of your body.” Your tone is high, something frantic, something pathetic, something desperate but it soothes something in him.

It’s a tidal wave when he shoves himself inside to the hilt. The climax spreads through every vein, through your fingers and toes through his steady strokes. He falls to cover your body with his, his tongue licking into your mouth, every nerve alight as he moans into your mouth, his cock spilling his own passion deep into your womb within a few seconds.

“God’s above, I, that was–” He breathes hard against your mouth, his eyes darting about your face as you both pulse in and around one another, “I–” He seems a little lost for words. The euphoria is still bright in your body, and so you save him from himself. You pull him down for a kiss, soft and languid as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Shall I return to my chambers Dominus? Or shall I stay?” You push his hair back. The wine has made him forget himself, has made him forget that you are just his Girl, you have to remind him.

For the sake of your poor heart on the morrow.

“Stay.” You nod.

–

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #the general

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talaok · 2 years ago

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Hello!

I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.

Do you think you could write that?

summary: Pedro is a bad flirt

A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole

"please introduce me to her"

"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"

"because I can't"

"why?"

"please"

"fine"

__ __ __

It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.

Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.

“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.

Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.

Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.

Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.

“Y/n, did you know that?”

right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.

“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.

Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.

Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.

What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.

A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.

He fell into the friend-of-friends category.

He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?

"hi there, how's it going?" V asked

"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"

There it was, mystery solved.

V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.

Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.

"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.

A strange smile pulled at V's lips

"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"

You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"

"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too"

" Pedro's here to film a movie"

"are you?" you asked, interested

"yes, I- Uhm- I am"

He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.

"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.

"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"

"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"

"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed

"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"

"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"

You shot Vanessa a glance.

"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.

"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"

His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.

"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.

You couldn't hide your confusion

"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing

"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.

"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"

"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"

"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.

"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.

Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.

Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.

However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.

"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.

"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.

"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.

Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.

"Don't say anything"

"I'm not"

"good"

there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.

She busted out laughing

"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke

"Shut up"

"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"

He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"

"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"

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doukeshi-kun · 9 months ago

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omg i just had an idea…..nikolai tokyo drift street racer….he’s tatted and wears pressed on shirts….oh mygod..

𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙧!𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚

replies ✥ *gasp* new character unlocked??? hello street racer!nikolai muehehehe

content ✥ fem!reader, petnames

You were left alone by the bar. Your friend has been gone for about an hour now, spending her time with her partner who is one of the racers here. You are self-conscious of the environment of this street racing gang and you have found solace in staying just by the bar.

The noise of cars, the screeching of tyres and road, the cheers and curses from the people, sexy ladies standing by expensive cars—Oh, this place is so not for your introverted self. You wish you could go home but you have no exact idea how to get back without your friend's guidance.

You sigh once again as you watch the race of three cars that are happening right now. The cars are so fast��like a bullet. But you do not find it fun to just wait until a car is approaching the same checkpoint.

“Hey, pretty.”

You hear someone say, but you don't turn around since you thought the call was not for you. Until the person pokes your shoulder multiple times, causing you to turn quickly.

And you see a smiling man standing right beside you—his smile is adorable and innocent, and yet his appearance is rough. He has his white hair tied into a small bun, wears a compressed black shirt with matching pants and his arms are covered in abstract tattoos.

Beautiful man.

“Hello, pretty.” He says again, propping his hand on the bar table, looking at you. You feel heat rushes to your face and your stomach is twisting. He is standing so close—close enough that his cologne is practically ingrained in your head now.

“H-Hi...”

“You alone?”

“Obviously.” You reply almost too quickly, your tone sounds sarcastic. And you are quick to correct yourself upon seeing his amused face. “I-I mean, I wasn't alone. I had my friend and she's... gone somewhere.”

He grins. “You look new. Is it your first time coming here?” You nod slowly, eyes scanning his face—he is indeed a pretty man. His skin is flawless, though there is a scar slit down his left eye. He smiles at you and offers his hand. “My name is Nikolai. You are?”

You look at his hand—rings and silver bracelets. You reach it and your heart makes a small jump upon feeling his touch. You mutter your name and Nikolai hums pleasedly.

“Nice to meet you, love. Now, I'm cutting to the chase here. I think you're really cute.” He says, not bothering to hide his flirtatious manner. He clasps your hand with both of his and says excitedly, “Since your friend isn't around, she doesn't mind if I steal you for a moment, right? Oh—Oops, silly me. I should've asked you if you're already someone else's. So do you have any partners or something?”

He talks so smoothly—but a little rambling. Something about his tone reminds you of a jester. Lively and witty. Humorous and theatrics. It is a complete contrast to his looks.

“No, I don't see anyone at the moment...”

He giggles. “Well, isn't that perfect?” He releases your hand, nudging his head to the parking area that has a fleet of racing cars. “Would you like to come with me? I can show you around. Besides, isn't it boring to just sit here and drink your third glass of cocktail?”

“Well... you are right, but—”

“Come on, baby. I'll show you fun. You gotta have some fun if you came here after all those troubles.” He tries to convince you again. You are unsure. You do feel bored, yes. And now that you have a company, it's not a problem to have fun a little, right? Your friend is gone and this man is being all buddy-buddy.

“I guess I could...”

Nikolai smirks as he gestures for you to follow him. You do, trailing him by his side. He asks you a couple of casual questions. Though you are getting comfortable with him, you cannot help but notice curious eyes from passersby.

Is he well-known here? Why do they look at me like that? Or am I kissing my own ass?

Timid by the unwanted attention, especially when you are finally entering the proximity of other racers, you cling your hand to Nikolai's tattooed arm, scooting closer.

“Ah, don't you worry baby. These people not gonna eat you.” He says. “No one's gonna bother you. If they do, I'm gonna shoot them.”

“What— That's not funny..!”

“Oops, my bad, darl'.” Nikolai grins, guiltless. He stops by a dark red racing car with black and white patterns around it. You scan the car, noticing a common occurrence of a theme here. This car must be expensive when you see the logo on it.

“You’re pretty rich.” You say when you touch the patterns. They feel like stickers and surprisingly, you see it is almost peeled off. Nikolai taps the car proudly.

“Uh-huh. Expensive car, cheap stickers. Don't get me wrong, I just love to dress her up frequently. Cheap stickers are easy to take off.” He explains. “Let's get inside. I decorated the interior more.” He opens the door, inviting you to get in. You follow him, getting into the passenger seat, and indeed, the interior of his car is much more flamboyant.

There are small decoration pieces of jester masks, the dashboard is covered with black and white stripes-printed fabric, and a few red pompoms are hanging on the rearview mirror. The backseat is covered with white fabric with black diamonds printed on them. There are two small cushions on the seat too.

“Phew, okay.” Nikolai enters the car after he is done talking with other racers briefly. He closes the door and starts the engine, turning on the AC and radio. You lean forward, looking outside. Colourful racing cars all around.

Suddenly the car is moving out from the parking lot. You turn to Nikolai. Your eyes cannot stop staring at his tattooed arms, trailing down to his body. You almost forgot what you wanted to say to him, distracted by his physique.

“Nikolai? Where are we going?”

He smirks and says nothing as he drives his car to the racing road.

“Wait. Wait, are you racing now? Wait, I thought you were just gonna show me around—”

“I said I'm gonna show you fun, didn't I?” Nikolai grins teasingly. More cars are approaching the starting line. The fierce noise of roaring engines is all around you. You look outside the window beside you, seeing that the spectators are all spirited up for another race for the night. You even see your friend among the crowd, with a beer in her hand.

A presence looms behind you and you feel his warm breath teasing your neck. Nikolai reaches for the seatbelt right next to you. His scent salivates you and you swallow nervously when you peek a glance at his bicep. Your stomach makes a funny twist when he is just too close.

Nikolai cackles at your face when you turn to him. He grins and stretches his arms.

“Buckle up, darling! If I win this race, I'll get your number!”

©doukeshi-kun 2024 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @/cherikolya

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

#道化師-jest❃ུ۪ #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #nikolai imagines #bsd nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai gogol #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader

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cherriecove · 4 months ago

Text

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 6)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend's brother. Cherrie's Note: Hi everyone sorry for my short break writers block is the worst! Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

The room erupted in congratulations and expressions of delight at the news of your mother’s pregnancy, but you were momentarily lost in your own world, still processing the joyous news of your engagement alongside the worry for your mother. Gwayne, standing beside his father, beamed at you with a mixture of relief and happiness. The dream you had scarcely dared to hope for was now becoming a reality.

You glanced over at Gwayne, his gaze fixed on you with genuine warmth and affection. He stepped forward and took your hand in his, his touch sending a comforting tingle through you. “Princess,” he said softly, “I’m truly honored. I promise to do everything in my power to make you happy.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “And I am equally honored to be betrothed to you, Ser Gwayne.”

Your father’s voice drew your attention back to him. “Yes, it is indeed a fortunate match. I trust you both will handle the responsibilities with grace.” He looked around the room, his gaze settling on Gwayne’s father, Otto Hightower, who gave a nod of approval. “We have much to prepare for, but for now, let us celebrate this joyous occasion.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of well-wishes and excited chatter. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Gwayne and the future you would share. It felt like a dream, and yet the warmth of Gwayne’s hand in yours made it all the more real.

As the small council room began to clear out, you found yourself alone with Gwayne once more. He gave you a shy, yet hopeful smile. “I suppose congratulations are in order for both of us,” he said softly.

You laughed gently, the sound light and carefree. “Indeed. Though I suspect there will be a lot of work to do.”

Gwayne nodded, his eyes reflecting the same determination you felt. “Yes, but I have every confidence that we can face it together.”

You shared a moment of silent understanding, the connection between you deepened by the shared promise of a future together. As the evening approached and the Red Keep’s halls began to quiet down, you and Gwayne took a stroll through the gardens. The weight of the day’s events settled comfortably between you. The air was cool and the stars began to emerge, twinkling like distant promises of what lay ahead.

Gwayne stopped beside a fountain, the water’s gentle murmur providing a soothing backdrop. He turned to you, a serious expression on his face. “I know that our betrothal may have come sooner than either of us expected, but I want you to know that I am committed to making this work. I want to be more than just a husband; I want to be your partner and friend.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for the knight who had so quickly become an integral part of your life. “And I want the same, Gwayne. I am eager to face whatever comes our way with you by my side.”

Gwayne reached out, taking your hand in his once more. “Then let us make the most of this time we have together, learning and growing in each other’s company.”

With a soft laugh, you nodded in agreement. “Yes, let’s do that.”

As the night deepened and the Red Keep settled into peaceful slumber, you and Gwayne walked side by side, the promise of your shared future lighting the way forward.

In the weeks following your betrothal, the reality of Gwayne’s impending departure to Oldtown settled in. The excitement of your engagement and the whirlwind of wedding preparations provided a welcome distraction, but the necessity of his return to his duties as acting lord was a constant undercurrent in your thoughts. When he left, Gwayne’s letters became a cherished part of your daily routine. Each letter was a blend of affection and updates about his work in Oldtown. He spoke of the challenges he faced and the responsibilities he managed, but his words were always filled with love and reassurance.

You reciprocated with equally heartfelt letters, sharing news of the preparations and your daily life at the Red Keep. The Queen’s pregnancy progressed, and though her growing discomfort was evident, everything appeared to be moving along smoothly. The announcement of a grand tourney to celebrate the expected birth added a new layer of excitement to the Red Keep. The tourney was to be a splendid affair, and you immersed yourself in the preparations with renewed vigor, driven by both the anticipation of the event and the hope of Gwayne’s return.

As the day of the tourney approached, the Red Keep transformed into a bustling hive of activity. The grounds were adorned with vibrant banners, the lists were meticulously set, and the royal box was prepared to host the day's festivities. The air was charged with excitement, and every corner of the castle seemed to be abuzz with the promise of the upcoming celebration.

Despite the flurry of preparations, your thoughts often drifted to Gwayne. You found yourself daydreaming about his return, imagining the joy and relief of seeing him once more amidst the spectacle of the tourney. The thought of him being present, competing and celebrating, added a personal excitement to the already festive occasion. The prospect of reuniting with him after his time in Oldtown filled you with a blend of anticipation and eagerness.

The day of the tourney arrived, and the atmosphere at the Red Keep was electric. Knights from across the realm gathered to compete, their colorful banners fluttering in the breeze as the crowd’s cheers filled the air. You took your place in the royal box, flanked by Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were equally caught up in the excitement.

As you waited for the tournament to begin, you couldn’t help but scan the arena for a glimpse of Gwayne. The anticipation of his arrival added an extra layer of thrill to the already vibrant scene. When the familiar colors of House Hightower finally appeared, your heart leapt with joy. Gwayne had returned for the occasion, and the sight of him in the lists, prepared to compete, was a moment of pure delight. Your father announced that your mother was currently on the birthing bed and then commenced the tourney.

#hotd x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #targeryan reader

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inactivewattpadauthor · 2 months ago

Text

Fujin x Nurse Reader: Neonatal

Context: Fujin, a guest at a pregnant Sonya and Johnny's hospital room, meets a nurse who works on the exact floor.

(Yes, ik he could've possibly been in the void in canon while Sonya was preggers)

Warning: Angst(?) I don't want to spoil my own one shot lol ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dim white lights flickered as Fujin slowly walked around the room his mortal friends were in.

Sonya Blade is finally due to birthing her first newborn. He felt honored to be invited to visit her and the soon to be father, Johnny Cage, but he felt he had no place in the room while she's in labor.

Not because the blond woman seemed snarkier than usual, specifically at Cage, but really, why should he be there? It wasn't his child being borne.

So, feeling slightly downed, the friendly wind god decided its best he waits out their door. Fujin would be happy to go back in after the child comes into the world.

The pretty silver haired male's boots echoed a slow rhythm down the halls. He really should be happy for them. He is happy for them. But also... he feels sad.

Children were a blessing to have. Little bundles of endless joy. A joy he will never know. And as much as he doesn't like to think, he's envious of the two involved mortals.

Fujin stops in his tracks. He's probably walking a little too far from the room. And he'd rather not cause any alarm to anyone, to whomever catches him in this silent, maybe soothing liminal space of a hall.

The shine of the lights reflected off the light blue tiles. When Fujin turns back, he notices his reflection in the window. However, his quite admirable appearance isn't what he focused on.

Through the window, he saw a tiny little human bundled in a blanket!

The demigod steps closer to the window. The baby was clearly asleep comfortably. So small. So adorable!

Fujin notices more cribs with more babies nesting in each one. Do they all come here soon after they enter the world?

Fujin looked back at the one closest. Placing a hand on the window, he fantasized the newborn as his very own. He wishes he could cradle them. Wish to hold them and keep them safe.

All he could do was smile at the sleepy bean. "I know you'll grow into something great, little one." He whispers.

Silence rose in the ambiance more. Fujin hadn't walked back to the room. All he just wanted to do was stay put and observe the many new babies.

Though it seemed all were asleep, doing literally nothing but breathing correctly, they make Fujin happy.

"Which one is yours?" A sudden voice spoke up behind and Fujin flinches up.

Just out of nowhere, a nurse comes up on him. A neat smile on her face, not covered my the mask resting on her chin. H/c slightly shown beneath the blue cap.

No footsteps or anything. Not that the Lord noticed.

"O-Ohh... Pardon me. None of these are mine." Fujin informs the lady. "I just wanted to watch them."

From your perspective, you watched this man stand here for nearly twenty minutes, looking at the children. It's quite late. Maybe 2 am. He looks troubled.

"Ah. Are you a visitor?"

Fujin nods quietly before looking back at the window. "My friends are about to have their first child. I thought it would be more appropriate to be at a distance."

You walk to his side and also observe the youngings. "I hear you. Do you have your own?"

"Truly, I wish I could." You could hear the sadness in his tone. The silent assumption you made was based on appearance. He's not a normal human, obviously. You didn't mind!

Earthrealm has crazy things. Maybe he has really important things to tend to than to get settled!

"I hear you. I wish I had mine." You tell him with the same smile.

Your words didn't quite make sense to him. Looking at you, he questions with the need of elaboration, "I'm sorry?"

It's quite a private story indeed, but you don't care. Everything eventually worked out for you.

"I got to hold my baby girl for five months."

His glowing eyes widened at what you were telling him, then sympathy was given off. "I'm sorry you had to endure such an experience. I can only imagine what many pains came with that."

"No need to be sorry for me. Yeah, it drastically changed me, but I'm happy to work here. Like you, I wish I could have my own; but I'm happy to help parents nurture their newborn infants."

Fujin smiles softly at such optimism. "That's a very graceful thought."

"Thank you. I always try."

Muffled crying took both of your attentions. A baby in the row nearest to the window has woken up. Their wails are definitely louder in the room.

"What's wrong with that one?" Fujin asks with concern.

"Could be it's not used to being out the womb. Or just hungry." You casually say.

Patting his shoulder softly, you start to move on now. You're still on the clock. "I best get back to work now. I'm pretty sure I'm the only free one on the unit."

"Very well, I admired speaking with you."

Before Fujin walks back to Sonya and Cage's delivery room, he watches you work gently with the infants.

Your endurance inspires him.

*Boooonnnnussss æeugh*

Fujin was still seated outside the room before he abruptly heard a loud scream, muffled by the walls.

His heart skipped a beat. Should he go in there to check up on all of them? Make sure Blade is okay. She's a string woman, but Fujin doesn't mind at all if he needs to use his God powers to heal.

Opening the door, was the actor walking out in tears. Fujin looks at him, concerned.

"She broke my hand!" Johnny's voice shakes as he showed off the impressively swollen hand.... that was him yelling??

Fujin just looks even more worried as Cage ran off to get his broken hand treated. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fujin would casually stare at newborns and be very fond.

I'd give him a kid fr😔

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat headcanons #mk imagine #mk headcanons #fujin #lord fujin #fujin x reader #mk fujin #goddesswritings

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obeymefictionwriting · 2 months ago

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Love Potion

Tags: fluff, solomon x reader Word count: 1.2K

Something has been off for a while now and to be honest, it started bugging me.

No, Solomon was great. Perfect even — like always. Even Lucifer grudgingly admitted that Solomon was just a perfect boyfriend material, which was a really rare compliment from the Avatar of Pride himself. But recently, I had that weird tingling feeling…

It all started with a missed movie night.

“MC, I am so, SO sorry”, Solomon smiled, regret crystal clear in his beautiful blue eyes. “I just have plans, some unexpected business. Can I make it up to you or can we maybe postpone our date?”

“No problem”, I brushed it off easily back then. “We can do it tomorrow”.

Solomon beamed in delight and hugged me tight, nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck.

“You are the most loving, beautiful, and patient girl in the whole Devildom and beyond”, he purred, his hand reaching for mine and squeezing it. “I will text you once I get home”.

I then received a text from him almost 5 hours later: a simple “sorry i’m exhausted love”. On one hand, it was okay, but on the other… something was off, really.

He started having this “business to attend” every week. And with every week, he just seemed more and more tired: light bags under his eyes, constant yawning and tiredness… And I simply had no idea what was going on and it was driving me mad.

To be fair, I always had doubts about how I even ended up with Solomon as my boyfriend. He was the most powerful sorcerer ever and I always considered myself a simple human, no more than that. Yet, the way he held my hand, carried me around or told stupid jokes just to see my smile served as a valid proof that he indeed loved me… Until now?

It was another Wednesday night and he, once again, “was busy”. And I just had that weird gut feeling that he was at home. So, I decided to crash the Purgatory Hall and see for myself, what’s been keeping him so occupied for the last couple of weeks.

As I approached the massive building, I spotted Luke in front of the gates.

“Oh, h-h-hi, MC!”, he exclaimed nervously. “Solomon told me to tell you he is not here!” The boy shut his mouth with his hands, panic clear on his face. I laughed and patted his head.

“It’s okay, dear. Just thought I’d drop by and say hi”.

“Hi, love”, a velvet voice purred and Simeon emerged from the entrance. “Care for a little walk? I promised Luke to treat him with this Satanico Ice Cream that the Devildom has been raving about. Asmo even has it on his Devilgram”.

Simeon was having the most honest expression on his beautiful face but it wouldn’t trick me.

“Thanks for the offer but I really wanna just say hi”, with these words, I slipped in the doors and walked to Solomon’s room only to find it…empty?

Heavy cursing from the kitchen got my attention. I dropped the idea of staying in the room and headed to the kitchen, dreading what I might see there.

The kitchen was lit by warm lights and candles. The fire in the stove was burning bright and everything seemed a bit too much in peace…

“MC! Oh no”, Solomon groaned from the kitchen corner. He hid his hands behind his back and approached me with a somewhat guilty look.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but what’s going on?” I looked around. Everything seemed…normal? A pot on the stove, cut veggies, a loaf of bread on a cutting board… And that’s when I understood what was missing.

“Hey, wait a second. Why does it actually smell GOOD?

Solomon sighed and tried to fix the mess of his blonde hair. He looked at me with a mix of affection and guilt and sat on a chair.

“Well, you know how I cook, right?”

“A disaster”, I said brutally. “But I love you for so many more things and you should know that”.

“Well, yes… but I just thought I really wanna cook you something, you know? I sometimes see how Beel treats you to all these amazing stuff and I often think how nice it would be if I were able to create something as delicious”.

“Oh, Sol”, I came up to him and ruffed his hair affectionately. “You are the most powerful sorcerer and the most caring boyfriend. It’s okay not to be able to do something”.

“But I want to”, he said arrogantly. “So… I’ve been taking cooking classes. That’s why I have been missing past few evenings. I…I wanted to surprise you”.

He looked at me with genuine worry and even a hint of sadness and I suddenly realized that, despite being the most powerful sorcerer, he failed at the only thing he wanted to perfect — cooking for me. I felt my heart skipping a beat, warmth flooding my chest with love for this silly boy.

“So, what’s for dinner?”, I asked excitedly, kissing him softly on the cheek and observing the table.

Solomon smiled weakly, clearly not eager to display his culinary progress.

“Well, I tried making a love potion for my baby, which was supposed to be a stew… But the only thing I managed to cook properly is.. this”.

He lifted a lid from a plate and I saw the most perfectly looking omurice with a little ketchup heart on it. I giggled and grabbed a fork.

“Can I try it?”

“Eh, if you are sure about it”, Solomon was observing me with a mix of anxiety, curiosity, and worry.

I took a small piece and put it in the mouth, chewing carefully. After a moment, I turned to Solomon, face dead serious.

“You are in so much trouble”.

His face dropped, becoming grey.

“Oh no. I messed up again, didn’t I?” “Well, you are in trouble because from now on, I will be requesting this damn thing for my breakfast every morning. Sol, it’s delicious!”

He smiled in relief, his face lighting up and making him look even more adorable than ever. He came up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and putting his chin on my shoulder.

“I will learn how to cook all your favorite dishes, MC. Hell, I’ll bake our wedding cake”.

“Wedding cake?!” I stared at him in disbelief.

He gave me a sly smile, grinning.

“Oops, let that one slip. Never mind, there is still some time till I master bakery. Finish your omurice, darling. And as they say in the human world — kiss the cook, right?”

“You deserve all the kisses”, I picked up the plate and took his hand. “But not in the kitchen”.

“Why not?” Solomon tried to object.

I was about to reply when we heard Luke’s voice behind the kitchen door, “Do not bake a wedding cake without me!”

“I haven’t even say yes”, I tried to frown but Solomon laughed softly, leading me by the hand to his room.

“Oh sweetheart. I am quite confident in your answer. But I’m curious about one thing, though… Should the color of the cake’s frosting match the bridal garter?”

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me hc #obey me solomon #om solomon #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #fluff #fluff headcanons

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muiitoloko · 9 months ago

Note

I swear, I live for your Eli fics. 😔💗

Title: Forbiden love

Summary: He was yours and you were undeniably his.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, forbidden love, self-criticism, fear, abandonment, guilt and possessiveness.

Author's Notes: I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed the story! Your feedback means a lot to me and I am grateful for your continued support. And now speaking of my portrayal of Eli Michaelson, I must confess that I may have taken some creative liberties and deviated slightly from his original character. I recognize that this departure may not be perfectly in line with how he was originally portrayed, and for that I apologize. However, I hope the story still resonates with you despite these changes. Thank you for your understanding and for allowing me the creative freedom to explore different aspects of the character.

First part here.

Eli finally broke the kiss, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back slightly, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He gazed into your eyes, a mixture of desire and admiration reflected in his own. Despite his typically stoic demeanor, there was a hint of vulnerability in his expression as he savored the moment.

Your lips, swollen and inviting, beckoned to him, and Eli couldn't resist the urge to lean in once more, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before speaking. "My apologies, darling," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "It seems our little indulgence has caused me to neglect something rather important."

He gestured towards the back seat of the car, where a grocery bag containing a tub of ice cream sat forgotten. "It appears my ice cream is melting," he remarked, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. Your confusion only served to amuse him further as you looked at him quizzically.

"Yes, indeed," Eli confirmed with a nod. "Ice cream. A mundane necessity, but one that mustn't be overlooked." He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine as he reached for the bag and retrieved the tub of ice cream.

And Eli, driven by his impulsive desires and fueled by the allure of the forbidden, wasted no time in taking charge of the situation. Ignoring any semblance of propriety or restraint, he declared his intentions with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

"We're going to eat ice cream in your apartment," he announced, his voice commanding and authoritative as he met your bewildered gaze with an unwavering stare. Before you could protest, your mind reeling with a mixture of guilt and confusion, Eli had already taken action, stepping out of the car with the tub of ice cream in hand.

You watched in stunned silence as he locked the car with a casual flick of his wrist, the gesture oozing with an air of entitlement that left you feeling increasingly uneasy. As he strode towards the entrance of your building, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation creeping into your heart.

Following in his wake, you fumbled with the key to your apartment, your mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. This was wrong, you knew it deep down in your bones. Eli was Barkley's father, and you had no business entertaining him in your home.

But despite your reservations, you found yourself unable to resist his magnetic pull, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. As you entered your apartment, the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. Despite Eli's assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all wrong, that you were crossing a line that should never be crossed.

"You know, Eli," you began, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension. "I don't think this is a good idea. You're Barkley's father, and... and we shouldn't be doing this."

To your surprise, Eli's response was not what you expected. He turned to you with a look of genuine sincerity, his usually stoic expression softened by a hint of vulnerability.

"You're right," he admitted, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I shouldn't have put you in this position. I promise you, I won't do anything you don't want. I just... I just wanted to spend some time with you. To talk, to... to eat ice cream."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself at a loss for words. Despite his flaws and his questionable behavior, there was something undeniably earnest about Eli's demeanor, something that stirred a sense of empathy within you.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly, a flicker of trust blossoming within your heart. "Okay," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, let's eat ice cream."

As you retrieved two spoons from the kitchen, you couldn't help but notice the way Eli's gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the curves of your body with a mixture of longing and admiration. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you found yourself strangely comforted by his presence, a sense of warmth spreading through you like a gentle embrace.

Returning to the living room, you handed Eli a spoon with a tentative smile, your fingers brushing against his in a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He accepted the spoon with a grateful nod, his lips quirking into a small smile as he presented the tub of blueberry ice cream with a flourish.

"Blueberry ice cream," he announced with a hint of excitement, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "My favorite."

As you settled onto the couch next to him, you couldn't help but marvel at the simplicity of the moment, the way in which the tension between you seemed to dissolve in the warmth of the shared experience. Despite the complexities of your relationship and the uncertainties that lay ahead, you found solace in the simple act of enjoying ice cream together.

For Eli, the realization that he had managed to keep his promise and resist the urge to make a move on you filled him with a strange mixture of pride and confusion. It was a rare moment of introspection for a man who prided himself on his unwavering self-assurance, a glimpse into the depths of his own psyche that left him feeling strangely vulnerable.

Was he getting old, he wondered? Was this the onset of a midlife crisis, a sign that he was losing his edge and succumbing to sentimentality? Or perhaps, just perhaps, there was something more profound at play, something that defied rational explanation and defied the boundaries of his carefully constructed reality.

As he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his heart fluttered with a strange mixture of longing and uncertainty. You were a mystery to him, a tantalizing enigma that defied categorization or definition. And try as he might to resist the pull of your allure, he found himself inexorably drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

As you glanced down at your spoon, a pang of guilt washed over you. Barkley also loved blueberry ice cream, and here you were, sharing a moment with his father that should rightfully belong to him. "You know," you began, your voice tinged with remorse, "Barkley loves blueberry ice cream too."

Eli's spoon froze midway to his mouth, his expression growing solemn as he fell silent. His usually sharp gaze softened, clouded by a flicker of introspection as he processed your words. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt guilty too, if he shared your remorse over the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

But when you turned to him, seeking reassurance or understanding, Eli remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he withdrew into himself. It was as if a shutter had fallen over his emotions, masking his true thoughts and feelings behind a façade of stoic indifference.

"Barkley doesn't deserve you," Eli finally muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Today only confirms that."

"It doesn't matter, Eli. I don't deserve Barkley either," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm such a... such a bitch." you put the spoon aside and brought your hands to your face, feeling like the worst human being in the world.

Eli's expression softened even further, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and concern. With a gentle touch, he removed your hands from your face, his touch surprisingly tender despite his usual aloof demeanor.

"You're not a bitch," Eli insisted, his voice firm and unwavering. "Don't ever say that about yourself." His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, offering a glimmer of solace amidst the turmoil of your emotions.

But despite his reassurances, you couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of guilt and shame that threatened to consume you whole. Tears welled up in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks in silent streams of remorse as you struggled to contain the flood of emotions raging within you.

Eli's hands remained a comforting presence against your face, his touch a tangible reminder of the fragile connection that bound you together in this moment of vulnerability. And as he wiped away your tears with gentle strokes of his fingers, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth stir within your heart.

"Why do you care?" you whispered hoarsely, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "Why do you care if I'm hurting?"

Eli's response was immediate, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes with a fierce intensity that took you aback. "Because I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never felt like this before. I've never cared about anyone's well-being other than my own."

His confession hung heavy in the air between you, a stark reminder of the depths of his emotional turmoil. And as you gazed into his eyes, you couldn't help but wonder what had brought him to this moment of revelation, what had sparked this newfound sense of empathy and compassion within him.

But before you could voice your thoughts, Eli pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your protests with a gentle gesture. "Let's pretend this never happened," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I'll go away and leave you alone. Just... just don't cry."

You reached out to him, grasping his hand in yours with a desperate plea for reassurance. "But I don't want you to go," you confessed, your voice raw with emotion. "I don't want to be alone."

Eli's eyes softened at your words, a flicker of understanding passing between you as he gently brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks. "Then don't let me go," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Stay with me."

But even as you clung to him, desperate for the fleeting comfort he offered, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of doubt that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

And as you tried to protest once more, your words stumbling over your lips in a desperate attempt to convey the magnitude of the situation, Eli silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed against yours with a fervent intensity, erasing any semblance of resistance as he poured his emotions into the passionate embrace.

Fuck wrong, he thought, his mind clouded with a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had never felt like this before, never experienced such a visceral reaction to another person. Was this what being in love was about? Did he fall in love with you?

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of panic and confusion coursing through his veins. Love was a foreign concept to Eli, a weakness he had always scorned and dismissed as beneath him. And yet, here he was, grappling with the overwhelming certainty that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

But even as the revelation settled like a heavy weight on his chest, Eli couldn't help but recoil from the truth. Love was a vulnerability, a weakness he couldn't afford to indulge in. It was a betrayal of everything he had ever believed in, a betrayal of the cold, calculating persona he had spent a lifetime cultivating.

Why was he hurting so much? Why did seeing you suffer make him suffer too? The questions echoed in his mind, taunting him with their relentless insistence. He had always prided himself on his emotional detachment, on his ability to remain unaffected by the pain of others. And yet, here he was, consumed by a turmoil of emotions he couldn't begin to comprehend.

As he broke the kiss, his breath ragged and uneven, Eli gazed into your eyes with a mixture of longing and anguish. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for everything."

But before you could respond, before you could make sense of the maelstrom of emotions raging within you, Eli kissed you again, his lips hungry and demanding as he sought solace in the fleeting embrace. And in that moment, as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming tide of passion and desire, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for the two of you yet.

But as the kiss deepened and the world fell away around you, a sense of unease lingered in the back of your mind. Eli was Barkley's father, a fact that couldn't be ignored or dismissed. And no matter how deeply you cared for him, no matter how much you longed to be with him, there were lines that should never be crossed.

As you reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, your heart heavy with guilt and uncertainty, you couldn't help but meet Eli's gaze with a mixture of fear and longing. "I can't do this," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "We can't do this."

But even as you spoke the words, a part of you knew that they were futile, that the bond between you and Eli was stronger than either of you could ever hope to resist. As he kissed your jaw, his lips tender and insistent, he murmured softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret. "Send me away, darling," he pleaded, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will go. I promise."

But you remained silent, your heart torn between conflicting desires as you struggled to make sense of the tumultuous emotions raging within you. Eli's words hung heavy in the air between you, a silent plea for absolution that went unanswered as you grappled with the weight of your own desires.

Undeterred by your lack of response, Eli continued to shower you with kisses, his lips tracing a path down your neck with a relentless determination. He leaned into you, his body pressing against yours as he urged you to lie back on the couch, his touch igniting a firestorm of need within you that threatened to consume you whole.

With each fleeting caress, each tender kiss, Eli knew that he was pushing the boundaries of propriety and decency. He was the one who had pursued you, who had chased after the forbidden fruit with reckless abandon, knowing full well the consequences of his actions.

But in that moment, as he gazed down at you with a hunger that bordered on desperation, Eli couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted you, needed you, with a ferocity that defied reason or rationale. And if it meant crossing lines that should never be crossed, he was more than willing to pay the price.

As he slid his hand up the length of your thigh, his touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your veins, Eli felt a surge of triumph swell within him. You were his, body and soul, and nothing would stand in the way of claiming you as his own.

"Send me away," he whispered once more, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Tell me to leave, and I will go. But if you ask me to stay..."

"Kiss me," you interrupted him, your voice barely above a breathless murmur. "Please, Eli, kiss me."

And in that moment, as the world fell away around you and the boundaries between right and wrong blurred into obscurity, Eli's resolve crumbled like sand slipping through his fingers. With a low groan of surrender, he captured your lips in a passionate embrace, his kiss a fervent declaration of desire and longing.

As his hands roamed freely across your body, tracing the curves of your silhouette with reverent awe, Eli couldn't suppress the surge of possessiveness that coursed through him. You were his, he realized with a fierce determination that bordered on obsession. And no matter the consequences, no matter the cost, he would do whatever it took to make you his own.

For better or for worse, he was yours, and you were his. And as he kissed you with a fervent intensity that left him breathless with longing, Eli knew that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

In that moment, as the world faded into oblivion and time stood still, Eli found himself lost in a whirlwind of emotion unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Love, desire, longing... they all merged into a single, overwhelming sensation that threatened to consume him whole.

But as he clung to you with a desperate intensity, as he poured his heart and soul into the kiss that bound them together in a tangled web of passion and desire, Eli knew one thing for certain.

He would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Eli moaned against your mouth as you arched beneath him, your clothed core rubbing against his cock that was already straining in his pants. 'Fuck, when was I ever turned on by just one kiss?' he thought, his mind clouded with desire as he struggled to maintain control.

He looked at you, eyes dark with desire as he questioned where your bedroom was, and you chose to show rather than tell. Getting out from under him, you stood up, taking Eli with you. And Eli followed you eagerly, the ice cream forgotten on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You entered your bedroom, and Eli looked around curiously. Your bedroom was quite tidy and small, but that didn't matter at that moment. You sat on the edge of the bed to take off your heels, and Eli did the same with his own shoes, not being in a hurry to undress.

But he stopped for a moment after taking off his shoe, placing a hand on your thigh as he questioned if you had condoms. You nodded, going to get a box from the bedside table drawer, saying that you use them with Barkley. But when you mention Barkley, you feel guilty again, and Eli interrupts you.

"Don't think about Barkley now," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Just you and me, darling. Just us, here and now."

With a soft sigh, you pushed aside your doubts and fears, surrendering yourself to the overwhelming tide of passion and desire that threatened to consume you whole. And as Eli leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his touch igniting a firestorm of need within you, you knew one thing for certain.

There was no turning back now.

As Eli undressed, carelessly tossing his clothes aside, you watched him with a mixture of admiration and desire. His physique was impressive, he was not a muscular man but was attractive with hair on his chest. But it was when he revealed himself completely, with his thick, throbbing length on display, that you couldn't help but gasp in amazement.

He ran his hand along his shaft, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you watched with rapt attention. It was like watching a masterpiece come to life before your very eyes, each stroke a brushstroke in the canvas of your desires.

With practiced ease, Eli rolled a condom onto himself, the latex sheathing his hardness in a barrier of protection. And as he turned to you, his eyes dark with desire, you felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"It's time to undress you, my darling," he murmured, his voice husky with longing. And with a tenderness that belied his usual arrogance, Eli began to strip you of your clothing, each garment falling away like the layers of an onion, revealing the treasure hidden within.

As he peeled away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him, Eli's gaze lingered on your form with an intensity that took your breath away.

"You have no idea how much I fucking dreamed about this," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "I imagined you, I touched myself thinking about you. And now, to see you here, beneath me, it's more than I ever dared to hope for."

And with that, Eli bent down, his lips trailing a path of fire across your skin as he worshipped every inch of your body with reverent devotion. When he took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with a hunger that left you trembling with desire, you couldn't help but moan his name, your pleasure echoing in the quiet confines of the room.

You grabbed his hair, chanting his name in a breathless whisper as Eli's lips curved into a wicked smile, relishing in the power he held over you. With deliberate slowness, he teased and tormented you with his lips and touches, each caress igniting a wildfire of desire within you.

He played you like a finely tuned instrument, his every move calculated to drive you to the brink of madness. And as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his words a symphony of seduction, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper under his spell.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice low and husky with desire. "Did you dream about me? Did you think about me, even when you were with Barkley?"

Your cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment at his probing questions, but you couldn't deny the truth. "Yes," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought about you more times than I care to admit. Sometimes, even when I shouldn't have."

Eli's smile grew even more smug at your confession, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Naughty girl," he purred, his tone dripping with amusement. "Thinking about me when you were with Barkley. You've been a bad, bad girl, haven't you?"

But instead of feeling ashamed, you felt a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins at his words. There was something undeniably thrilling about being caught in his web of desire, about surrendering yourself completely to his dominant will.

And as Eli continued to lavish you with kisses and touches, tormenting you until you begged for more, you found yourself unable to resist his magnetic pull any longer. "Please," you whimpered, your voice hoarse with longing. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me."

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Eli finally relented, his desire matching yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Spread your legs for daddy," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Wrap your legs around my waist, and let me show you what you've been missing."

You couldn't help but gasp in surprise at his choice of words. "Daddy?" you questioned, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. "Is that... is that okay?"

Eli just responded nonchalantly, his smirk never faltering. "I'm used to being called that by younger women," he admitted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But if I could choose, I prefer my title to be used: Doctor. However, I don't mind indulging you in your little fantasy."

You nodded, not bothering to respond as you eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Eli wasted no time, sliding into you with a smooth, deliberate motion, his movements fueled by raw desire.

As he leaned closer to you, his hands on the sides of your head, you couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. "Doctor," you whispered against his ear, the word feeling strangely illicit on your tongue.

Eli shuddered at the sound of his chosen nickname, his control slipping slightly as he cursed under his breath. "Fuck, that's... that's sinful," he groaned, his voice husky with desire. "Shit, what are you doing to me?"

But instead of answering, you simply tightened your grip on him, urging him deeper with each thrust. And as he buried himself completely inside you, you couldn't help but moan his chosen name again and again, each utterance driving him to the brink of madness.

"Oh, Doctor," you whimpered, your voice filled with need. "Please... I need more."

With a feral growl, Eli complied, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate as he sought to satisfy your every desire. He continued fucking you with an intensity that bordered on savage, his every thrust hitting all the right spots with unerring precision. As he watched you beneath him, moaning and squirming in ecstasy, a smug grin spread across his lips, his narcissistic side coming to the forefront.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he buried himself deep inside you. "You like that, don't you? You like being filled up by Doctor Michaelson's big, thick cock."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver of pleasure coursing through you at the sheer arrogance of his tone. But even as you struggled to maintain your composure, Eli's relentless thrusts drove you ever closer to the brink of ecstasy, your body trembling with need.

With each thrust, each deep, primal growl that escaped his lips, Eli seemed to revel in his power over you, his dominant nature on full display. And as he leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his hands roaming freely across your body, you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

"Harder, Eli," you whimpered, your voice barely above a desperate plea. "Fuck me harder, I need it. I need all of you."

Eli's eyes darkened with lust at your words, a feral grin spreading across his lips as he complied with your request. With renewed vigor, he pounded into you with an intensity that left you breathless, your senses reeling from the sheer force of his desire.

"You want it rough, huh?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance as he drove himself deeper and deeper into you. "You want me to fuck you like the dirty little slut you are?"

Your cheeks flushed crimson at his words, a mixture of shame and desire flooding through you at his brazen display of dominance. But even as you struggled to maintain your composure, Eli's relentless assault on your senses left you trembling with need, your body aching for release.

With each thrust, each delicious moment of agony and ecstasy, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building with an intensity that bordered on unbearable. And as Eli's movements became more urgent, more desperate, you knew that you were teetering on the brink of oblivion, on the verge of surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

And then, finally, it happened.

With a primal roar of ecstasy, you felt your climax wash over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as Eli continued to pound into you with an intensity that bordered on savage. And as you cried out his name in a breathless whisper, your voice lost in the throes of passion, you knew one thing for certain.

You were his, completely and utterly, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

And as you arch against him, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, Eli holds you close, his strong arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, his voice a gentle murmur against your skin as he calms you from the storm of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you.

"You're doing so well, my little slut," he murmurs, his words a soft caress against your ear. "Just let go, give in to the pleasure. You belong to me now, completely and utterly."

With a contented sigh, you sink into his embrace, basking in the warmth of his touch as he holds you close. But even as you revel in the afterglow of your climax, a sense of anticipation lingers in the air, a hunger that refuses to be sated.

Eli turns you over, positioning you on all fours on the bed, your body trembling with excitement as you await his next move. He grips your hips firmly, his touch possessive and commanding as he positions himself behind you, his cock throbbing with anticipation.

With a low growl of desire, Eli plunges into you with a single, powerful thrust, filling you to the brim with his hardness. You gasp in pleasure, the sensation of him stretching you to your limits sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

But Eli shows no mercy, his thrusts relentless and unforgiving as he pounds into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless with need. You grip the sheets of your bed tightly, your nails digging into the fabric as you struggle to hold on to your sanity in the face of such overwhelming pleasure.

And as Eli's balls slap against your clit with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, you can't help but moan like a wanton slut, your cries of ecstasy filling the room with their sweet melody.

"Yes, yes, just like that," you whimper, your voice a breathless moan of pleasure. "Fuck me, Doctor Michaelson, make me yours."

Eli's grin widens at your words, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he claims you as his own once more. He grips your ass tightly, squeezing and kneading the flesh as he pulls you closer, his desire consuming him completely.

"You're mine, all mine," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "I'll never let you go, my little slut. You belong to me, body and soul."

And with that, Eli drives into you with renewed fervor, his thrusts growing more desperate and urgent with each passing moment. And as you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of oblivion once more, you can't help but revel in the overwhelming bliss of surrendering yourself completely to his dominant will.

As the intensity of your lovemaking reaches its peak, Eli's movements become more frantic and desperate, his hips driving forward with a primal urgency that leaves you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With a guttural groan, Eli spills himself into the condom, his release accompanied by a deep, resonant moan of your name that reverberates through the room.

You collapse onto the bed, spent and sated, Eli following suit and falling on top of you with a satisfying weight that leaves you breathless. For a moment, you revel in the intimacy of the aftermath, the heat of his body pressing against yours in a comforting embrace.

But soon, Eli pulls out of you, his softening member still wrapped in the condom as he rolls onto his back, his chest heaving with the effort as he catches his breath. You snuggle into his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as he strokes your curls with a tenderness that surprises you, making you fall asleep against his chest.

As Eli stared up at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in your hair as you lay nestled against his chest, your breathing slow and steady as sleep claimed you. He knew this was his chance to slip away, to leave behind the tangled mess of desire and longing that had consumed them both in the heat of the moment.

He had already taken what he wanted, had tasted the forbidden fruit of your passion, and now he could simply walk away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath on your own. It was what he had always done in the past, after all. Take what he wanted and move on, with no regard for the consequences.

But as he looked down at your peaceful face, your skin glowing with the remnants of your lovemaking, Eli couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within. Why did the idea of walking away from you bother him so much? What hold did you have over him that made him hesitate, even now?

Gently pulling away from you, Eli laid you down on the pillow, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form as he contemplated his next move. What would he do with you now? Would he turn you into his pet, his plaything to be used and discarded at his whim? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

But as he caressed your cheek with a tenderness he hadn't known he possessed, Eli realized that he couldn't bring himself to treat you like just another conquest. You deserved better than that, he knew it deep down in his soul.

But why was he hesitating so much? If it were anyone else, Eli wouldn't have even given it a second thought before leaving. But with you, it was different. With you, everything was different.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Eli ran his hands through his hair, feeling more confused by a woman than he had in years, maybe even never before. The thought both intrigued and frightened him, stirring up emotions he had long buried beneath layers of arrogance and self-assuredness.

But as he removed the condom from his shaft and made his way to the bathroom to discard it, Eli couldn't suppress the arrogant smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. Once again, he had won. He wanted something, and now he had it, like always.

But as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered words of doubt and uncertainty. Was this really what he wanted? To use you and discard you like yesterday's trash?

No, he realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. You deserved more than that. And maybe, just maybe, so did he.

With a heavy sigh, Eli made his way back to the bedroom, his heart heavy with the weight of his own conflicting emotions. He knew he couldn't stay, couldn't give you what you deserved. But he also knew that he couldn't simply walk away, not without at least trying to make things right.

And so, with a sense of determination that surprised even himself, Eli leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'm doing. But I promise, I'll figure it out. For both of us."

As Eli started to pick up his clothes from the floor and get dressed to leave, he froze when he heard you moving in bed, waking up softly and calling for him. He hesitated, torn between his desire to stay and his fear of the consequences of his actions. But before he could make a decision, you spoke up, your voice tinged with bitterness as you realized that Eli was preparing to leave you behind like nothing more than a one-night stand.

Desperation clawed at your heart as you watched him dress, your mind racing with a million questions and doubts. Would he really just leave you here, alone and abandoned, without a second thought? Were you nothing more than a fleeting moment of pleasure to him, a distraction from the monotony of his existence?

Eli's response was evasive, his words carefully chosen as he tried to placate your growing anger and frustration. But as you pressed him for answers, demanding to know what his intentions were, Eli's patience began to wear thin.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he snapped, his voice tinged with frustration. "I told you, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm confused, okay? Can't you see that?"

But your anger only intensified at his dismissive tone, your fear and insecurity bubbling to the surface as you lashed out in frustration. "Confused?" you scoffed, your voice trembling with emotion. "You think you're confused? Try being in my shoes for a fucking second, Eli. You waltz in here, make me fall for you, and then expect me to just let you walk away without a second thought? What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

Eli's eyes narrowed at your accusation, his jaw clenching with barely contained anger. "I'm not playing any games," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I came here looking for one thing, and one thing only. And now that I have it, I'm leaving. End of story."

But as he moved to leave, you couldn't suppress the surge of anger and betrayal that welled up within you, threatening to consume you whole. "So that's it, then?" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "I'm just supposed to let you walk out that door, without a backward glance? Is that what I am to you, Eli? Nothing more than a disposable fuck toy?"

Eli's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of guilt flashing in his eyes. But before he could respond, you continued, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I'm scared too, you know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what this means, of what will happen if Barkley finds out. But I can't stop thinking about you, Eli. I can't stop wanting you, even though I know I shouldn't."

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air between you, the tension palpable as you both grappled with the weight of your emotions. But then, with a soft sigh, Eli moved to sit next to you on the bed, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek.

Eli's hand trembled slightly, his touch hesitant and uncertain. "I... I don't want to leave," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Part of me... part of me wants to stay, to be with you. But..."

He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. "But you have to end things out with Barkley first," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "I can't... I can't share you, not with him. I won't share you, not with anyone, especially not my own son."

You felt a surge of emotion welling up within you at his words, a mixture of relief and longing washing over you like a tidal wave. He chose you, you realized with a sense of awe and wonder. Despite everything, despite his arrogance and self-assuredness, Eli chose you.

You reached out, taking Eli's hand in yours and squeezing it gently, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response. But instead of returning your gesture, Eli tensed at your touch, his hand pulling away from yours as if burned.

"Why are women always so complicated?" he muttered under his breath, his frustration evident in his tone. "I just want... I just want to go out and think. I just want... damn, I don't know what I want."

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the conflict raging within him as he grappled with his own emotions. Part of him wanted you, you realized with a pang of sadness, but the other part of him was afraid of getting too attached, too involved.

You sighed, feeling the weight of his indecision bearing down on you like a leaden blanket. "Okay," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "If you want to leave, then go. I won't stop you."

Eli looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing in confusion as he called your name hesitantly. But you ignored him, your heart heavy with disappointment and hurt. "Just go," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't stop you. I won't blame you. I won't expect anything from you. Let's just forget..."

As all this happened, you turned around and laid down with your back to Eli, burying your face in the pillow as you fought back tears. You couldn't bear to see him go, couldn't bear the thought of being abandoned by him so callously.

Eli stood still for a moment, his gaze lingering on your bare back as he struggled with his own conflicting emotions. He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Damn woman," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with frustration. "Fine, I'll stay. But give me some of the covers, will you? I'm freezing here."

You turned around in surprise at his words, your heart skipping a beat as you realized that Eli hadn't left. He had chosen to stay, chosen to face the challenges that would come with you. And in that moment, a weight lifted off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of relief and gratitude.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion as you reached out to share the covers with him. "Thank you for staying."

Eli just grumbled in response, his facade of indifference slipping slightly as he settled down beside you. But despite his gruff exterior, you could see the warmth in his eyes, the flicker of something genuine that he couldn't quite hide.

He cared about you. He was in love with you.

With a surge of emotion, you threw your arms around him, holding him close as you whispered words of love and gratitude into his ear. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew one thing for certain.

Eli might be complicated, he might be arrogant and self-centered, but he was yours. And you were his.

Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, hand in hand, heart to heart. For in each other, you had found something worth fighting for, something worth holding on to.

Eli continued to grumble as he shifted uncomfortably in bed, the chill of the room seeping into his bones and sending shivers down his spine. "If we're going to be together, you'd better invest in a better heater," he muttered, his tone gruff with annoyance. "It's freezing in here, you know."

You couldn't help but laugh at his complaint, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the room as you snuggled closer to him. "I'll make sure to add it to the shopping list," you teased, your voice laced with amusement. "But for now, why don't we just share body heat? It's much more efficient."

Eli rolled his eyes at your suggestion, but he didn't protest as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close until there was no space left between you. And as you pressed yourself against his warmth, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

Maybe things weren't perfect, maybe there were still challenges to face and obstacles to overcome. But in that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew one thing for certain.

You were home.

#eli michaelson #eli michaelson x reader #nobel son #barkley michaelson #alan rickman #alan rickman x reader

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faun-the-fawn77 · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2 - "𝕀'𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕"

"I'd love to change the world But I don't know what to do So I'll leave it up to you" ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Word Count: 3.0k Chapter Warnings: swearing, a brief mention of s/h scars, mentions of future character death, lowkey simping for Kagaya, MC hates Sanemi and Obanai, don't worry that'll let up soon;) Note(s) at the bottom! <Previous: Chapter 1 - Next: Chapter 3>

It was quite a cool day out despite the sun glaring down. Wind blew softly by, sifting through the wisteria flowers. I could smell the overwhelming scent of those trees. I instinctively went to rub my nose to deter the oncoming sneeze only to remember my hands were tied behind my back.

The moment Ubuyashiki stepped foot onto the porch, a warmth spread through me. His presence was so calming. I can understand why the Hashira were so calm and level-headed during the meetings.

"Welcome, my dear demon slayer." And, oh, did I melt at the sound of his voice. It was smoother than the Dove milk chocolate I would indulge in from time to time.

"Good morning, everyone. It feels like a beautiful day. The sky is a perfect blue, isn't it?"

My head was turned just enough to see Ubuyashiki 'looking' up at the sky. My heart lurched. I almost forgot he was blind. I moved my head a bit to see that it was, indeed, clear skies. An ocean of blue with the faint wisps of clouds closer to the horizon. The warmth of the sun didn't hold a candle to the warmth that Ubuyashiki managed to have with his very presence.

"It makes me very happy that we can have our twice-yearly Hashira meeting without any members having changed." I could hear the scuffling between Tanjiro and Sanemi. This was Tanjiro's first time seeing the master of the corps so it was understandable. That, and seeing Ubuyashiki's illness. My brows furrowed as I traced along the little scars adorning my wrist.

"Master," Sanemi lowered his voice, "I sincerely pray for your increased happiness. It is good to see you so healthy." I nearly scoffed at how sincere his voice sounds. The fact that he can find it in his heart that is three sizes too small to care about Ubuyashiki is insane. Genya deserves better than this two-faced piece of shit.

The smooth voice of Ubuyashiki hummed out, "Thank you, Sanemi."

Then the gravelly voice of the Wind Pillar spoke up, "I'm sorry, but before the meeting, would be so kind as to tell us why this corp member who travels with a demon, Tanjiro Kamado is here? And the foreign girl who was found passed out at the battle scene?"

I shuffled in my spot, wincing when a pebble dug into my kneecap. I could feel eyes digging into my skull as soon as Sanemi finished speaking. If they weren't talking about me before, they were now. I was growing uncomfortable at the prolonged silence until Ubuyashiki spoke up, deterring the attention to him.

"Yes, my apologies. I have accepted Tanjiro and Nezuko. I want everyone else to do the same." The pounding in my head from when I woke up was back tenfold with how loud everyone had suddenly got. I curled in more, wishing to have earplugs or something to block out the chaos.

"I wasn't finished."

I breathed a sigh of relief at the instant silence. I looked up a bit, seeing Ubuyashiki seemingly staring right at me. I froze. Oh god, am I in trouble? Wait, did I actually do anything to even be in trouble? I felt my hands shake and start to get clammy at the thought of being killed by any of the powerful people around me.

"Hello, my dear. I hear you speak English?" I shot up, back pin straight at the sound of my language being spoke by Ubuyashiki. His accent and the sound of his voice was a comfort to me at this point.

"I do! Uh- I mean , I do, sir. Am I in trouble?" A light chuckle escaped Ubuyashiki's mouth at my question.

"No, you are not. We just have some questions for you. Will you be willingly to answer what we want to ask?" I looked at the others around me. I knew what happened. How this all ends. I could not, however, reveal that to anyone. Ubuyashiki maybe, but everyone else?

"I will answer as best as I can, sir." Ubuyashiki hummed and nodded. His daughter on his left side translated to the others that could not understand. Everyone seemed to perk up at that. The situation with Tanjiro and his demon sister nearly forgotten until the master spoke up.

"Urokodaki has sent a letter in regards to Tanjiro and Nezuko." Now that they were back to Japanese, I zoned out. The questions that I'm sure to be asked are going to be a complicated one to answer. How does one even explain my situation? 'Yeah, so, I fell asleep after hiking up the trail I usually go to and when I woke up I was falling from the sky'.

After shifting in my spot again, I noticed how light I felt. My eyes widened as I realised my hiking pack was no longer on my back. I looked around subtly to see if I could spot the moss green pack only to see it resting in front of Ubuyashiki. How I didn't notice that before is beyond me but, hey, I have shit vision so.

I bit my lip out of anxiety. If they see my phone or anything electronic then they'll surely accuse me of being a witch, or worse, a demon. Do they even believe in witches? Are those a thing in Japan?

The raising of voices snapped me from my thoughts. I looked up to see the white haired douche cutting himself open, his arm extended over top of Nezuko's box. His blood dripped down onto it. Everyone waited with bated breaths to see if the small girl would attack the Wind Pillar.

Scratches sounded from inside the wooden container. Soon enough the demon girl tumbled out, her eyes slitted and focused on the cut from Sanemi's arm.

I heard grunts over on my right, seeing Tanjiro struggling to get up from Obanai's hold. Obanai was kind of a prick too, wasn't he? I glared at the shorter male until I felt scales sliding around my neck. A white snake with piercing red eyes stared back into my (E/C) ones.

"Come on, want a taste?" I turned my gaze to Sanemi and glared. I could tell he was trying to provoke the girl into attacking him. Watching Nezuko struggle against herself was painful to watch. The smell of his marechi blood almost broke her but, Nezuko 'hmphed' and turned her head away. I giggled a bit before shutting my mouth when Sanemi turned his glare to me.

"What did she do?" Ubuyashiki's daughter on his right explained what Nezuko did which had him smiling.

"There you have it. Nezuko Kamado will not attack a human." Ubuyashiki went on talking a bit more to the others. Tanjiro was still at the edge of the porch after he was freed from Obanai's hold thanks to Tomioka. I noticed Nezuko had crawled back into her box, huffing at the gobsmacked Wind Hashira. When the Kakushi came in to take Tanjiro away, I cringed back after hearing the demon king's name slip from his lips. Oh god, the second hand embarrassment.

"He will be staying at the Butterfly Mansion until he is healed." Shinobu spoke. And with that, Tanjiro was dragged away by the kakushi.

It was silent for a few. I could hear the faint caws of the crows nearby. Kaburamaru still resting around my shoulders. Sanemi made his way back to the line up and, finally, Ubuyashiki spoke.

"Who would like to go first?" More chaos. They all seemed to be talking over each other, looking at me with wonder. I fell back, my head almost colliding with the gravel when an arm wound around my shoulders, pushing me upright. Kaburamaru hissed at the person and coiled a bit tighter around me.

"Be careful! Don't want you passing out again!" I jumped when I heard Rengoku's booming voice by my ear. He was smiling down at me, his eyes sparkling as if this is his first time eating sweet potatoes. I smiled nervously, and nodded, hoping it was the correct response to whatever it was that he said.

"My children, please, let her have room," Ubuyashiki spoke, saving me from the group of slayers surrounding me. I sucked in a breath at the freedom. Look, when you're surrounded by attractive people asking you questions in a language you cannot understand then you'd freak out too.

"We got reports of the use of a breathing style no one has seen. Care to explain?" Sanemi was standing off to the side, arms crossed over his heavily scarred chest, waiting for an answer from me.

I glared right back into his eyes. I turned my gaze from the irritating male and to the head of the corps, trying to explain what I remembered, "It was a spur of the moment thing. When I saw that Tanjiro was going to be sliced up, I kinda just reached for what I had on me to see if I could at least delay the attack. I didn't expect a giant flaming tail to sprout from the old knife I had."

"Liar."

I turned to Sanemi when that word slipped from his lips. He was staring right at me, his gaze narrowed and his brows scrunched up in irritation.

I scoffed, "Liar? How can I be a liar if what I'm saying is all I know? You expect me, a foreigner, to know why the hell that happened? I don't even know how I got here! For God's sake, I can barely even wield a weapon! And, assuming you all have been through the backpack I had with me, you'd know that I am, in fact, not lying!" I was huffing at the end. It was silent as Sanemi and I exchanged glares.

"Then why do we have a report telling us that you had, in fact, used a breath style? Quote unquote 'Breath of the Dragon. Sixth Form: Tail of Thorns'. Ring any bells?" A pain shot through my skull when the supposed breath style I used was uttered from the scarred male. I inhaled sharply at the pain, trying, and failing, to suppress the groan that was bubbling up my throat.

Shinobu, the ever-smiling woman, crouched in front of me. I could barely make out her face, my eyesight blurred from the tears lining my lash line. The pain was subsiding slowly but, when Shinobu placed a gentle hand to my forehead, I recoiled from the pins and needle feeling that sprouted from the spot she had touched.

"What did you say to her?" Shinobu turned to look at Sanemi. From the tone of her voice, I assume she had asked him a question. What that question is, I could not tell you. I watched as Sanemi's frown turned from a scowl to concern.

"I asked her about the breath style she used. Are you blaming me for her stupid headache?" I could almost feel the anger radiating from Shinobu when Sanemi had finished speaking. In fact, Rengoku and Tengen and even Mitsuri had turned to glare at the man. I wish I had popcorn or something to snack on. It's like watching a reality show that was actually interesting.

"Her 'headache' seemed to have appeared the moment you said that. If she has transient global amnesia from the concussion she had suffered, then she won't remember anything from the last 24 hours. It's best to let her recover those memories before prodding into her mind." Shinobu huffed and turned her attention back to me. I blinked at her, watching her expression shift from anger and irritation to calm and...happy? Her hand rose to gently touch my forehead again, this time with no pain sprouting from the spot.

"Since Kocho won't let me ask those questions, then how about we discuss the contents of your 'backpack'. Rengoku, grab the sack." Sanemi directed the last part of his words to the Flame Hashira. I sat there on my ass, wrists still bound together, seeing the others beginning to plop down closer to me as Rengoku grabbed my backpack, speaking lowly to the master, and returning to the semi circle of Hashira. He dropped the pack in front of me, taking a seat on my left side, and untied my restraints.

I dragged my pack closer, seeing the others lean closer to catch a glimpse of what I'll produce first. I hid my smirk as I unzipped the green pack, and dug for the familiar metal container that held the first aid supplies.

"We'll go one by one. How about that? If you have any questions about anything, Sanemi will translate 'cause I heard he's just nice like that." I held back a chuckle when I heard the Wind Hashira growl at that. The others, however, laughed when Ubuyashiki's daughter had translated what I said.

I pulled out the medical kit, moving my back pack to my right side since I basically trust Mitsuri with my life at this point. The green painted box was placed in front of me. I unlatched the locks and opened it to reveal general first aid stuff. As I looked inside, I'm pretty sure there was quite a few stuff that they couldn't recognise.

"This is just the basic first aid kit I bring with me on hikes. I'm sure Shinobu would like to go through it. Wanna hand it down to her for me?" I watched as Mitsuri passed it to Shinobu, who took it with careful hands. I could practically see the flowers and sparkles dancing around her as she dug through the kit. I smiled and blindly reached my hand into my bag again. I emptied out everything I had, or, I thought it was everything. I picked up my bag to hand to Obanai(untrusting motherfu-) only to feel a bit of weight to it. I reached in one last time, and felt three paper-back books. I yanked them out to see the first breath user's face staring right at me.

"Oh no..." My heart dropped right into my ass when the three volumes of Demon Slayer appeared in my hands. I completely forgot these were in there. I could feel the breath that was caught in my throat, my hands shaking as a cold fear rushed through my blood.

"Hey! What's got you shaking in your shoes?" Sanemi's rough voice cut through my panicked thoughts. I ignored him as I shoved the three books under my thigh, trying to hide them from any prying eyes. I was in the presence of the most vigilant people so when I felt the books leave from under me and in the hands of the irritating Wind Pillar, I almost fainted on the spot.

"What the hell? Why is Iguro on here?! Answer me!" He shoved the books into the Snake Pillars hands. His face was in mine. I stared at him, putting on my best poker face.

"I don't know what you're talking about. They just appeared in my pack so..." I looked away from the guy, watching Obanai flip through the volume that had himself on it. I chewed on my bottom lip, seeing the slight tremble in the Hashira's hands. I could only assume he's seen Shinobu's death...and the others fighting Kokushibou.

"Ask her what she knows about Muzan Kibutsuji." Even Obanai's voice was shaking with emotions. I could see Sanemi's brows furrow at whatever the Snake Pillar had said. Ubuyashiki even seemed to sit up straighter and turn to 'look' at me.

"Iguro wants to know what you know about Muzan." I cursed the snake guy under my breath. I couldn't tell them what I knew. It's bad enough that I have three of the twenty three volumes on me. If I played dumb then they would know I'm lying. I can't tell them about the final battle but...

"He's the demon king. The first demon to ever exist. I... know Obanai had just read about Shinbou's demise to Upper Moon 2. If I could tell you who lives and who dies, then I would but, that goes against the laws of this universe. I cannot tell you whether Muzan lives or dies. I can tell you that I will save those I can so that when the time comes to defeat Muzan, we'll have the numbers. If I do have a breathing style, I'm sure I'll be trained by someone who can help me master it," I spoke. I winced a bit at everyone's crestfallen expression at the news of Shinobu's death to the same demon who had killed her older sister. I even saw a flicker of fear flash in the Butterfly Pillar's normally emotionless eyes.

I stared ahead right at the master of the Demon Slayer Corps.

"It may not be today or tomorrow but, we will have the numbers to defeat that Michael Jackson rip-off and we will do it with the lowest amount of casualties as possible. If I can plan this right, we might even be able to convince a few demons to our side of the war." The moment that last sentence came from my mouth, I could feel the chaos before it erupted.

"Quiet."

Ubuyashiki's chocolate voice sounded throughout the courtyard. The others sat back, glancing between me and the master. The smile on Kagaya's face was that of determination.

"If what you say is true, then may I ask what demons you plan to convince?" Sanemi scoffed at that. I wanted to throat punch him so bad at this point for his pissy attitude towards everything but I held back.

"Akaza who is Upper Moon 3 and hopefully I can get through Upper Moon 6, Gyutaro and Daki. It's not much but, they're the ones that I'm sure will be easiest. Upper Moon 2 reminds me too much of another person that I know so convincing him will achieve nothing. Upper Moon 1 however... It will take everything I know about his life before he turned. Upper Moon's 5 and 4 are just lost causes," I explained. The thought of some of the strongest demons turning on Muzan to help us defeat him seemed to make some of the Hashira perk up.

If the words 'defeat Muzan' could be a feeling then I'm sure it would be whatever is in the air right now.

Ubuyashiki smiled, "Then I'll leave it up to you, (L/N) (Y/N)."

...

"How do you know my name-?!"

I got my charger! And I would have uploaded yesterday but my cat had to go to the vet and now im on the verge of my breaking point cause I do not have enough for his dental work:,) Anyway... More chapters to come! I am trying my best to edit them myself before I post. I am a one man team so I try and I DO NOT want to use A.I. for editing:,) so if I miss anything then let me know!

Also! sorry for the heavy hate on Sanemi...Since reading the whole series I kinda have a grudge against the guy. Being an older sibling myself, I cannot stand when someone hates their younger sibling ESPECIALLY if they are all they have. I know he doesn't actually hate him but I don't think I could EVER treat my younger brother like that. So I will let up when MC gets closer and meets Genya but for right now, she will be hating on the dude.

I will write more interactions between both Tomioka and Rengoku next chapter considering the next one is going to be a bit more fun and not story-based entirely. Anyway, hope you enjoy this so far!

TAGLIST:

@eris-rose-86

#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfiction #kny fanfiction #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyuu x reader #isekai au #demon slayer au #isekai reader

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chaedomi · 1 year ago

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Hellooo hope you are doing well, I am not quite sure if you are taking requests but if you are could you please write yandere Satan or Lucifer from obey me •-•.

𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦ om

gn!reader x lucifer, satan (yandere / separate), implied violence, minor spoilers (?), unhealthy relationships. ꨄ — masterlist

QUITE THE interesting individual you were… There was kindness in you, to whoever treated you well and deserved it. Then there was a mean streak to you, quickly shutting up the offender with your bluntness and sharp tongue. There were times you were great company, people choosing to seek you out during their moments of loneliness. And of course, you had your annoying moments where people are filled with the urge to chuck you out the nearest window. Sometimes you are like a ray of sunshine and open to everyone, and sometimes you were… emotionally constipated. There’s no doubt you would gain attention, some more than others.

LUCIFER

Really? Really? Is this what it’s going to be like now? Okay. It could be ANYONE else he could have chosen to view as a potential lover. Perhaps someone who held a noble status to their name, or someone powerful (to which you are)... But, NO, the person his heart decided to flutter for was you, the human who had him suffer quite many migraines on their first stay, the human that had spiked his anger into a violent bloodlust, the human who couldn’t stop prying into matters that didn’t concern them, the human that somehow turned minor inconveniences into life-threatening situations. As you can tell, LUCIFER was anything but pleased when he finally sorted out that odd feeling he had whenever he was near you.

Everyone saw it, whereas you experienced it, how passive-aggressive his actions became. He’s still pretty much the same, except for the fact that whenever he addresses you, there is a tone in his voice as though he’s accusing or blaming you for something. And you being you decided to talk to him about it, trying to search out a way to fix whatever offended him somehow… which deepened the warm feeling he harbored for you, and made him crankier. Even Diavolo and Barbatos had to tread carefully around him for a few days…

He eventually caved in to the feeling, accepting that yes, this is how it will be from now on. However, it’s not for the reason that you think it is, him getting frustrated of continuously avoiding the problem. There’s this bubbling rage that creeps up in his chest whenever you direct your gentleness to anyone other than him. Forbid that he catches you doing it to his brothers or even worse, Solomon.

Whatever Lucifer desires, he will get it. Those words of course also apply to you as well, bluntly stating it to you in another font on the night you made a pact with him. So, do as you want, scream, cry, or kick at him, he will not budge. He will even somehow find a way around the power of the pact, exploiting it and twisting it to his benefit. Lucifer understands your reaction, indeed no one will be happy in this situation, but do beware, he does not have the best patience. If you go too far, he will give you a reason as to why so many are petrified of his existence and inflict punishment. Hmm… your fault for capturing his attention like this.

SATAN

You had struck so many emotions in him that SATAN was on edge for a long while. He was akin to a ticking time bomb and became very unpredictable. Just the slightest things had him spewing fire from rage; he practically reverted to his former self, the violent and spiteful person that was first transported into Devildom. He couldn’t understand why he felt this way toward you… a more extreme emotion mixing with the fondness he already held for you. He’s studied it so many times, reading various books or whatever could help him cope with what he’s going through. But not one book provided him with a satisfactory answer, and it drove him crazy.

It took the assistance of Asmodeus, who took pity on how much of a mess he looked, and Leviathan who was able to link his behavior to a famous fictional character trait. Satan finally gets the answer to his problem, and he’s so amused. It would explain a lot, actually. There’s no surprise when word gets around that he has threatened the life out of someone for simply displeasing him. However, his rage for that will NEVER compare to the FURY he feels toward someone who even dares to approach and cross the boundaries he placed on you. He wants to be let loose and throw HELL on that person. He would have never thought that he valued you this much.

He’s very much aware that his tendencies are abnormal. But, he’s a demon, why should he entirely care about what’s wrong or not? Some part of you is very grateful that you are not fully exposed to his more demonic side. Far too many times than you’d like to count have you witnessed his rage and him giving into it, especially when it revolved around you. It will always send a shiver down your spine…

Nevertheless, even though Satan does not necessarily expose his anger to you, the way he begins to vibrate from the wrath coursing through his blood, or the way his veins pop out on his forehead when you try to take your stand is as equally as terrifying… Satan is usually patient with you, his anger fizzling out most times by your voice alone. But, on topics such as these when you disagree with what he does, he cannot help but extend a bit of his cruel nature to you. Eventually, you gave up and accepted your predicament. Lucifer was already bad in his own way, why the hell would you choose to test the waters with The Avatar of Wrath?

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #🥛━ 𝓡𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #obey me #obey me nightbringer #yandere obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x y/n #obey me x you #yandere obey me x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #romantic yandere #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #lucifer x reader #satan x reader

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ramspatula · 1 year ago

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Carnations | Cole Brookstone x fem!reader

Cole Brookstone was a normal guy. Yes he may be built like an ox and almost a foot taller than me but he went to the gym a lot and bodybuilding was his hobby. And ghosts don’t exist. And I’m not crazy.

Masterlist, Next part

Carnations symbolise love, captivation and distinction. There also just flowers. Plants, sometimes weeds. A lot of women put them in their bouquets for their wedding and then have them flattened and put into a frame so they'll never die and stay forever alive and young. The carnations I'm currently staring at are pink. Like almost every other flower they also come in different colours like white, red, yellow, and scarlet. You can dye them different colours too. I only know this much about the flower because of an old customer.

I started working at the little corner shop about a year ago and every Sunday morning when I got stuck with the early shift, an elderly woman would come into the shop to pick up her newspaper. And every time she'd come in with a singular pink carnation from the florist across us. She'd always be wearing a little pastel felt hat covering her white hair. The hat always matched with whatever pastel outfit she had chosen to wear. The first time I saw her she offered me a smile and asked me:

"Do you know what flower this is, Dear?"

"No, sorry."

"It's a carnation, and it's pink. That's why I chose it."

"It's pretty."

"Indeed, flowers tend to be."

Then she'd take her newspaper and leave. I never thought of it as anything special at the time until she came back the next Sunday and again asked me:

"Do you know what flower this is, Dear?"

"Yes, it's a carnation."

"Have I told you this before?"

"Yes, last Sunday. I remember."

"It seems my old mine is slipping now. Acting it's age, I'd say!"

"I also said they're pretty."

"Well, flowers tend to be."

And again the next Sunday she'd come into the shop and again she'd ask me:

"Do you know what flower this is, Dear?"

"I believe it's a carnation."

"Yes! Well done, my Dear. My mother once dyed them for my wedding bouquet."

"That one is pink."

"Indeed but they grow in different colours such as white, red, yellow, and scarlet."

"All pretty colours."

"Flowers tend to be, my Dear."

I began looking forward to seeing her on Sundays, waiting for the faithful question.

"Do you know what flower this is, Dear?"

"A pink carnation but they also come in different colours."

"Indeed, they have a wonderful symbolism too."

"Is that so?"

"Love, captivation and distinction, my Dear."

"Pretty."

"Flowers tend to be, my dear."

Even now when it's already over, I can't help myself from waiting for her every Sunday.

"Do you know what flower these are, Dear?"

"They're pink carnations and have a wonderful symbolism."

"I bought two for some estranged reason, I am only in need of one."

"I'm sure you could house two of them."

"No, my dear. I cannot. You must take one!"

"Are you sure?"

"I insist, my dear!"

"Thank you, it's very pretty."

"Flowers tend to be, my dear and so are you."

I never saw her again after that day. I put the flower into a small glass frame and squashed it between the frames before hanging it up in my room. It felt too special to ever let go. I say I squashed it but I got my best friend 'Peach' to do it for me. I thought I'd accidentally destroy it something ridiculous. 'Peach' isn't her real name by the way but it's been years and no one else has called her anything else. I'm not sure if anyone else knows her actual name? She ended up getting together with this guy named Lloyd Garmadon. His Dad used to be an evil overlord? I don't know what that was about or how he's walking about freely now? Peach told me not to ask about it and that he had pure evil inside him that was cured by his fight with the green ninja. The ninja were a massive thing here in Ninjago city, well ninjago as a whole. They had dragons that appeared out of no where and these crazy 'powers' that basically made them super-humans. They're vigilantes technically. I once ran into a ninja, the Earth ninja.

It was a late night, I was coming home from a party where a lot of underage "activities" took place. I couldn't see straight let alone walk straight. I fell into a bush. Don't ask. I got mud all down the outfit I was wearing and I laid there, sobbing. At that moment, I felt like shit until I heard his voice.

"Miss, are you okay?"

"What, are you fucking stupid?"

"I-"

"Am I fucking okay? Be so fucking for real."

"You're drunk."

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"Listen, I'm a ninja I'll get you home."

"How do you know where I live, perv?"

"If you've been drinking then you have an ID on you."

"An ID?! I am side-eying you so hard right now."

"You can't even look straight right now."

"Yeah because I'm side-eyeing you."

"Let's take you home."

He was practically a giant. An absolute ox of a man just like my personal harassment case, Cole Brookstone. The 6'7 body builder with the outgrown black hair that he sometimes tied into a man bun. I met him over a year ago at Peach's birthday party, Lloyd had introduced us and the whole night was spent laughing together and talking shit about every one we didn't like at said party. I hadn't laughed with a guy like that before, it's fair to say he was on my mind the rest of the night and next couple weeks after that. Peach and Lloyd had been together for years and always succeeded in making me feel like absolute shit with how much they loved each other. I once climbed in bed between them. That's a long story I don't care to explain.

"You like the flowers?" Cole asked, leaning practically over the counter. His body was bent and his arms were crossed, leaning on the counter.

"Yes, I do. Thank you." I replied, giving him a little smile.

"Do you know what flower they are?" He asked and I smiled to myself.

"Yes actually, they're pink carnations." I told him and heard him chuckle.

"My Grandma always use to buy a singular carnation before she passed, she never told me why but my Dad said she'd been doing it ever since my Grandpa died."

"I remember."

"What?"

"Your Grandma always came into this shop right after to pick up her newspaper. I didn't know she passed, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be sorry, she went peacefully. Plus it was a while ago."

"Really? She only stopped coming in about 6 months ago. I remember she always got the same newspaper! 'Ninjago Daily'. I remember because it was the only newspaper that didn't have Garmadon on the front!"

"Y/n, she's been dead 14 years now plus 'Ninjago Daily went bust about 20 years ago, before we were born."

"No, I specifically remember she got that paper and she always wore those little felt pastel hats!"

"Yeah, sounds like her but trust me she's gone and I only know the paper went bust because my Dad lost all his shares in the paper and I've been hearing about it for the past 19 years I've been alive."

"Well ghosts must exist then."

"I think you're just crazy."

"Cole."

"That's a better explanation than ghosts."

A cold shiver ran its way down my body as he left. Ghosts don't exist, right?

#ninjago #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #Cole Brookstone x reader #earth ninja #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #zane julien #jay walker #nya smith

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mitsuyeaah · 2 years ago

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more than art.

— geto suguru x f! reader

cw: art gallery owner!geto, art gallery employee!reader, just pure fluff-ish!!! geto trying to flirt :)

a/n: my first time writing a (short) fic for jjk & geto!! apologies in advance since i haven’t really grasped geto’s character that well! i got inspiration hehehehehe

as you made your way to the office, you caught a glimpse of a tall figure slipping into one of the restricted access areas of the art gallery. you furrowed your brows as the male confidently walked inside and past the stanchions held together by a red velvet rope. the loud clicking of your heels reverberated through the quiet gallery as you made your way to the area the mystery man went, annoyance bubbling in the pit of your stomach, ready to tell him off.

“excuse me sir.. you’re not supposed to be in here.”

the man, genuinely shocked, whipped his body around to face you. he was dressed in a white button down, tucked into a black dress pants—the sleeves of his top rolled up to expose his veiny forearms. his onyx hair was securely wrapped into a bun, some stray hair cascading down his handsome face.

he raised his arms up in defence, giving you a sheepish smile, “oh! i’m sorry.. i was just looking at how this place was coming together.” you opened your mouth to say something in retort but abruptly stopped when you noticed how familiar the man in front of you looked.

those slender eyes and black earrings..

oh. oh. suguru geto

shit. he was the owner of this art gallery; a wealthy man. old money. you should have known, you’ve seen him close deals with several artists who’s art works don this massive gallery. your heart dropped as you quickly placed your palm to cover your lips in shock.

“o-oh my goodness! i’m so sorry, mr. geto! my bad, please, take a look for as long as you want!” you could feel heat spreading throughout your body as you profusely apologised, embarrassment engulfing you.

geto let out a small chuckle, his tone was full of velvet and honey. “no, no, it’s okay! you were just doing your job, i like that.” he wandered further down the vast room, analysing each framed work with such keenness in his eyes.

“hmm, this one’s quite the photograph, isn’t it?” he turned to look at you, finger pointing at the framed photograph behind him. you found yourself taking quick hasty steps to get closer to the man. “y-yes, indeed! i am actually very fond of this artist. the way they make such use of natural lighting.. it brings so much colour and emotions into the photograph. almost like you’re inside it.”

your eyes scanned the art before you, tracing every curve and bend of it as you allowed yourself to get lost within it’s artistic uniqueness. geto, on the other hand, studied the way you looked at the photograph with such passion. your eyes glimmering under the light like it held stars within them.

he thought you were cute.

“hmm, i like how you describe it.. kind of like reading between the lines, but in terms of art. most people don’t really appreciate the feelings behind every piece of art work.”

warmth crept up your cheeks as he complimented you. suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. your hand mindlessly reached up to your nape to scratch at it as you felt warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“ah.. thank you, mr. geto.” “oh, drop the formalities. just, suguru, please.” you hesitated for a bit but nodded, “yes.. suguru.” you didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips turned at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

the two of you mindlessly walked around the room, being cautious of the art in the room that were yet to be displayed. you’ve never really spoken to suguru up until now but there was just something between the two of you. your personalities clicked with one another. both of you meeting in the middle.

there were times where you rambled on about the photograph in front and he’d finish your sentence like he was reading your mind. and the both of you would just look at each other in awe, laughing at how bizarre it was.

you also didn’t miss the way he stole glances at you from the corner of your eye while you admired the art work ahead. your skin burned under his onyx gaze but you pretended not to see it, like it didn’t affect you at all.

“this one is truly beautiful.” you gaped at the photograph.

it was a photograph of the vast ocean. endless hues of cerulean engulfed the entirety of the photo—hints of sparkles of white here and there from the reflection of the sun. your eyes traced the curves of the gentle waves that creased the vast blueness. it was very detailed. to some, it was only a photograph of the water but to you, it showed how truly vast the ocean was. the unexplored depths of it, and the beauty of its azure body.

“mmm, beautiful indeed.” suguru muttered from beside you, his tone was a little off. almost like a dreamy sigh.

this time, you slowly turned your head to him. you were once again met with his intense onyx gaze, it was fixated on you.

you weren’t going to lie, it made your breath hitch. “..the art work..” you didn’t even make sense but you nervously chuckled, meekly pointing a finger at the photograph on the wall but suguru just shrugged, a small smile forming upon his lips. “oh, i am looking at a piece of art.”

your heart pounded against your chest as he said that without faltering. shit, was he flirting with you?

before you could say anything, he spoke up once again, “you know.. i’d love to talk about things more than art.. if you’re interested.”

#geto suguru #geto drabbles #geto fluff #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk geto

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yunarim · 1 year ago

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🥀 DAUGHTER OF EVIL | RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

The flower of evil sweetly blooms with maddening color // Although it's a very lovely flower // Indeed, there are too many thorns to touch it

ʚ🌹ɞ — ever since little you’ve been a servant of evil famous for an unswerving loyalty and devotion to the queendom’s only ruler, a crimson tyrant named riddle rosehearts. his every complaint, his mere whimsies — you’ve made those all come true, had he only snap his fingers. and now, witnessing the end of both of you — you wonder, what kind of future awaits you two?

✎ tags : gn reader, saga of evil inspired, reader as len (aka servant of evil but not riddle's twin, reader and riddle are not siblings in any ways), can be read as platonic, angst throughout the fic, mentions of death, happy ending

▸notes : lmao i actually re-entered my vocaloid obsession phase and decided to give it go. i kinda have all the dorm leaders assigned to the 7 deadly sins series, would you be willing to read everyone else's parts? ㅋㅋㅋ ✦ W.C. : 2.8K

“So, shall we start?”

Riddle crosses his legs, a high heel pointing at the lowly being in front of his eyes begging for something ever so utterly insignificant it’s boring. Ah, no, there’s another emotion making his blood boil in his vessels — annoyance.

“Your majesty,” a plowman swallows under Riddle’s sharp gaze and folds his hands in a prayer gesture, falling to his knees. “I h-have no right to beg, b-but the field can no longer be plowed, it has exhausted all its resources. A-and it hasn't rained in the kingdom for a long time…”

“Ha,” Riddle lets out a provocative laughter. “So? You know you can’t beg me, but came here just for that purpose?”

“P-please, if only you could cast a rain!.. I will repay you twice, no, thrice as hard!! P-please, your majesty, I!—”

“To think that you expect me to excuse you for ruining the field!” He laughs, the hoarseness in his voice rises with a playful tone gliding around him. “Ha!! You insolent brat. You’re forgetting I sorely despise such ignorant fools like you. Off with your head!”

You know what follows this line. You see a collar of an unbelievable beauty, yet also of an eeriness no one would ever want to experience. The collar clasps around the man's neck thin from starving, and wants to dart your glance somewhere else but him, knowing exactly well that you can’t.

“N-no…” a plowman cries. “I’m begging you, your majesty!! Please, anything but my magic!—”

“Take him away,” Riddle sighs, unamused. “I can’t stand these wails anymore.”

“As you wish, your majesty Rosehearts.”

Riddle follows your figure with a concentrated gaze fixed on your movements, and frowns at your actions. You tell the guards to get rid of the man that instant, no emotions flowing in the gleam of your eyes, and he wonders… How could you fit him so well?

There’s an absolute silence when you return and stand beside him at his right, a strong aroma of roses lingering around. It’s deceptively alluring, yet you feel like your skin could crumble just by standing here a second longer, though you also admit there’s no choice other than bowing your head so low it’s painful.

“Yuu,” you don’t dare to shift your eyes to him, nor to move an inch.

“Yes, your majesty Rosehearts?”

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?”

“You’re my sublimity, my only light and meaning of my lowly existence,” you answer unswervingly.

“Haaa,” Riddle sighs, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Want to be beheaded so much?”

“I am very sorry, your majesty.”

“You don’t look sorry at all.”

You finally move, ready to fall on your knees, but he rises from his throne and waves a hand, stopping you from doing anything absolutely ridiculous. Ah seriously, did he hurry when thinking you fit him so much?

Can’t you see he’s being different to you?

“Yuu,” his voice is suddenly low and dark. “Drop your act immediately, I know you’re a terrible actor.”

“In order to be an exceptionally flawless servant to you, your majesty Rosehearts, I must—”

“Enough!!”

You finally look up at him, witnessing his frown.

“It’s Riddle for you.”

You jolt when hear his heels echoing in the hall, and turn around to raise an objection, but then again who are you to have the right to do that?

The bells ring with deafening blows of the striker against the bronze walls, and Riddle turns to you, meeting your lost glance.

“Oh, it’s tea time.”

“I’ll prepare everything.”

You bow as lowly as you can, and ask to excuse you for leaving, and go back to the kitchen as if nothing ever happened a few minutes ago.

He’s always been like that. You remember him since you were born. You, a child of a counselor close to the previous king, possessing an enormous amount of magic within, and Riddle, future kingdom’s ruler. Despite your family losing all its value and status, you were assigned to being Riddle’s servant, thanks to the devotion of your ancestors.

Every other servant would often ask you how come you just didn’t abandon your position with the magic of your level or why wouldn’t you just kill him.

You don’t know yourself. If it was that easy to answer, you wouldn’t be here in the first place, and yet an image of Riddle’s genuine smile with a child-like playfulness splashing in the corner of his small red lips was fathoming you with a happiness blossoming inside.

Your heart aches whenever you remember Riddle mother’s strict yells and slaps she gave for mistakes at the age of five. You remember him sneaking out to eat a strawberry tart you bake, you also can’t forget the scars she left on you for being so lenient and exceeding your authorities—to think you dared to try helping him.

After all that,

Was there even a way to betray that smile that shines on his face when he looks at you?

“Oh, Yuu.”

You bow to Riddle when you see him approaching you riding a horse. His intimate tender smile who no one ever managed to witness, the smile he demonstrated exceptionally to you.

You can’t help but smile at him in return and jolt right after, remembering you have no right to do that.

“Ah,” he says, jumping off the horse with a light elegant move, and comes to you. “Why did you stop?”

“Stop?” You echo him.

“Smiling. It suits you.”

You swallow painfully, lowering your head and hearing an annoyed sigh from him again.

“Well then,” his hands land on your waist, causing you to gasp. “I just have to make you smile again.”

“Y-your majesty Rosehearts?..”

“Josephine,” he calls his horse and smiles. “Help me out.”

Josephine lowers slightly to make it easier for you to get on, and Riddle tries unsuccessfully to put you on.

“Your majesty Rosehearts, let me…”

You follow his silent request to get on the horse, and look at him with a confused gaze. Everything becomes more complicated when he jumps right after, making your back touch his chest, and he grabs the reins.

“Y-your ma!—”

“Ha-ha!” His laugh is clear and genuine, he smells like roses even on a horse, and you can’t help but smile. “I always wanted to ride with you.”

“With me?..”

“Indeed. You’re different from them.”

“Yes?”

“You…” A strong wind current makes you close your eyes and grab the reins in order to not fall, and feel Riddle pressing his whole body to yours, making sure you will hear him almost whispering in your ear. “Never speak bad about me behind my back.”

You don’t know how to respond, but Riddle doesn’t look like he would be happy to hear your reply in any case, so you let yourself enjoy the ride for a minute, and then turn to him, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his pinkish cheeks.

“I have something to report—”

“Yuu!”

You hear two familiar voices, and ask Riddle to dismount. He helps you to get off the horse, and those who called you by your name run to you, welcoming in a warm embraces.

“Ace, Deuce,” you greet them calmly, despite your heart beating much faster. “I apologize for meeting you in such an unpleasant state of mine.”

“Nonsense,” Ace laughs off. “You’re just as silly as ever!”

“He’s right,” Deuce joins him and pokes your cheek. “We missed you!”

“I…” You turn to Riddle.

He’s not frowning, he’s not annoyed, he’s… You know that emotion. Disdain.

“Good afternoon, your majesty,” Deuce welcomes him, bowing, and Ace follows him not so eagerly.

“Ignorant as you ever were.”

“Your majesty Rosehearts, I wanted to report that Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade came in order to negotiate regarding the distribution of magical resources.”

“That is right, your majesty,” Deuce says. “And we have to proclaim the most important decision we had to make.”

You feel Ace grabbing you by the shoulder and look at him as if he lost all of his mind. And maybe he really did.

“We need to take Yuu with us as the only person left in the whole Queendom of Roses with such an enormous magical energy in order to provide them a promising future.”

You met Ace and Deuce while going shopping in the Clock Town, running out of magical artifacts, and instantly felt an unknown warm feeling growing in your chest. Red roses of happiness blossomed within, when you recognized that you can actually feel the emotion of being loved by your friends. You genuinely enjoyed the times you happened to meet them in the town.

And even though you knew they, like all of people in the Queendom of Roses, couldn’t stand Riddle Rosehearts’s tyranny and frivolous restriction of other people's magical abilities, you were predestined to have an exceptional enormous magic flowing within you, which Ace and Deuce were interested in. And unlike others, their unrotten desire was to make you happy, to let you study magic just as freely as you wished.

You once said you can’t betray your master, and the following question ‘Why is that?’ was absurdly reasonable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

There was no such reason. Nothing except for Riddle’s warm smile, his lenient approach to you and the way his cheeks grew red when he was trying to impress you with gifts. You couldn’t dare to imagine deceiving his rapid heartbeat whenever you two studied magic together.

But Ace and Deuce were adamant to the point they wanted you to be free even and tyrant to be dethroned miserably. Despite knowing the state Queendom of Roses was in, how people starved and died after their magic being restricted which led to rain no longer falling and soils drying out forever, you still were… selfish.

And maybe your friends were too when deciding they could just rip you off Riddle’s strong chains.

“Make sure the Clock Town is badly stirred.”

You fell on your knees, your mind filled with void, and the only thing you could think about was to execute an order Riddle gave.

Your hands were shaking, you couldn’t hold the magic pen properly, and the flames of red flew everywhere around the Clock Town.

Heart-rending screams filled the entire space. You did not notice how the cinders and burnt dust filled your lungs; hysterical crying and crackling sparks of fire rang in your ears, but you mindlessly walked forward, squeezing the magic pen in your fingers.

“Yuu…” Deuce heard you, turning around.

He threw his head up, and a new stream of unrestrained tears gushed from his clear teal eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Remember me and Ace love you.”

He chuckled before you casted a magic spell devouring him.

“Goodbye, my dear best friend.”

You closed your eyes, dropping the pen and letting out an uncontrollable wail.

The servants ran away as time was short. You watched Ace leading the opposition, magic traces so obvious it could be seen in the air with the flows of bright crimson, ashes surrounding every inch of the castle, and you drew the curtain.

“Your majesty Rosehearts, you should run!”

“To hell with running away! I’m not a coward! I want to protect you!!”

“Y-you majesty Rosehearts,” your voice trembled at how genuine Riddle sounded, and you bit your lip, kneeling before him.

“Before long, the angry townspeople will probably overthrow us. Even if we so rightly deserve this. Despite this, I will still defy them.”

“Don’t you dare!! It’s an order, Yuu!”

You turned to him, his eyes glowing with unconcealed sadness and rage at once, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Off with your head!”

You reflect the spell he tried casting on you, gifting him with an apologetic smile, and Riddle sees how much blot you accumulated.

“Yuu… no… you can’t…”

“Riddle.”

He rose up his head and felt air hitching in his throat, not allowing him to say anything to you.

“I’ll cover as you, and you use all the magic remaining to cover as me. You need to escape immediately, this would be my one and only wish. You remember I never asked for anything? Now it’s time for you to finally grant me your safety.”

Wave of magic enveloped you, and the second after Riddle was staring at the copy of himself, an ink embracing your limbs, and he felt pathetic for leaving you in that state.

“You… you ignorant… brat… How could.. you!” Sobs prevented him from speaking clearly, squeezing his throat with burning rods, but he could not go across your last request, waving a magic pen, and taking on your appearance. “If it’s to protect you, I will even become evil.”

Even if the entire world becomes his enemy, I will protect you, so just be there smiling and laughing.

You feel like burning, ashes and magic currents no longer feel familiar, it’s a deadly fire to your skin, and you see Ace screaming when flames envelop your body, and you physically feel how phantom rips off your body, the threads of your connection dying out. You use your last remaining powers to let the cover be saved to the very end, even when Ace’s hateful odious gaze filled with poison towards Riddle fixes on you.

It’s painful. It’s painful to the point you want to let your cover wear off, to beg Ace to save you from this burning hell, and the glimpse of familiar crimson hair locks somewhere behind the wall of dust chains you up to the conscious state for a moment.

Ah… right. The very reason you feel like disappearing is him.

You smile at him, seeing his teary eyes, and want to run closer, to ride Josephine together one more time, to sneak out and eat a strawberry tart, to practice magic together, to—

To envelop him in your warm embrace and to never let him go. If I could be reborn, at that time, I’d like to play with you again.

You press a hand to your forehead, wondering how in the world did you end up transmigrating to the other dimension. It was pretty much fine minding your business on Earth, why would you suddenly transfer here? And what is here actually?

You hear people whispering something about you—magicless human, blah-blah-blah or whatsoever—is magic really a thing here? You suddenly feel a viscous feeling tiring you out when you think about using magic. How peculiar, given you don’t even know what it would be like.

“To think you presume you would run away from me.”

You blink absentmindedly when you hear the voice so oddly familiar and strangely endearing, despite the situation not being conducive.

“Off with your head!”

The tone, the hoarseness in this voice makes you jolt and swallow, you don’t realize you’re shivering.

“You okay?” Someone asks you but you don’t hear anything despite the voice.

You follow its source with your concentrated gaze and finally find the boy with bright red hair and gray eyes, an annoying gaze of which is aimed at the creature who introduced himself as Grim, who caused the commotion.

“As wonderful as ever. Any and all magic gets sealed by your Unique Magic, Riddle-san.”

Riddle…

How come you know his name despite never having met him before?

“Hmph,” the boy shrugs it off. “Of course I— Huh?”

You feel his gaze landing on you, and he drops his magic pen, looking straight at you. Indescribable feeling fills you up instantly, and you suddenly just know your skin feels like it's burning, and somehow there’s a rose aroma lingering in the air.

“Yuu?..”

“Huh? You know them?” The other boy asks when Riddle parts his lips.

“I am not… sure?”

“You’re,” you approach him, subconsciously feeling a strange urge to embrace him. “Riddle Rosehearts.”

“You’re correct, indeed, but how in the world… Ahem.”

He coughs and stretches out a hand to you to shake it.

“Nice to meet you. Please call me… Riddle.”

“What?! Did dorm leader Rosehearts just say to call him only by his name… this magicless human?!”

You don’t know what you are getting down on your knees and taking his hand, pressing an ephemeral kiss on its back.

“W-wha?!—”

“Oh!” You raise up instantly, realizing what you just did. “I’m sorry, it was an… instinct?..”

“Is that so…”

Somehow… you don’t understand what is that exceptionally majestic about him, but you smile and see how his cheeks grow red.

“Riddle,” you say his name out loud quite awkwardly, as if trying to roll it on your tongue and taste how it sounds, and he blushes. “I know it’s sudden, but would it be okay to eat a strawberry tart together after this all will be solved?”

“I… don’t mind.”

If I were to be reborn... it'll be nice if we'll meet again.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years ago

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Whatever the Poets Say | b.b. | Epilogue

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Tooth aching fluff

Author’s Note: This is it. The end. I’m so proud of this story 🥹

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

6 Months Later

Queen Charlotte’s eyes darted back and forth, reading the book in front of her intently. Her expression gave nothing away; there was no way to tell if she liked what she was reading or if she hated it. And truly, that was the most anxiety inducing part of it all. However, she refused to show her stress.

In the Queen’s hands was a copy of Whatever the Poets Say, written by an Anonymous Young Woman. Though, it was no longer all that anonymous given that the Queen –and her cohorts –all sat with the author in the room. However, the author now was not the timid, shaking girl she was when the Queen first met her months ago. Now, Mrs. Bridgerton sat confidently in front of her Queen, sipping her tea with a sly grin on her face as the Queen finally slammed the book shut.

If the Queen of England liked her writing before, there was plenty of hope that she would like it now as well.

Mrs. Bridgerton set her tea down on the table beside her, leaning back in her seat. Her grin had turned into a soft smile, waiting for the criticism that she knew would be coming. But Queen Charlotte just smirked.

“I am in need of a biographer,” she said simply.

Mrs. Bridgerton furrowed her brows. “Excuse me?”

“I need a biographer, Mrs. Bridgerton. Must I repeat myself again?”

She quickly shook her head, sitting up straight. Any confidence she once had had disappeared, and was replaced by confusion. “No, your Majesty. I just…You want me to write your biography?”

“I want someone with a keen eye and a way with words. You happen to have both.” The Queen waved dismissively. “You will be compensated for your work, of course.”

Mrs. Bridgerton broke out into a smile and she stood, bowing to the Queen now. “Yes, of course. I-I would be honored to tell your story, your Majesty. More than honored, truly.”

Queen Charlotte’s smirk turned soft, and she shooed her cohorts out of the room. When the door shut, leaving the two women alone, the Queen stood before Mrs. Bridgerton. “You are far more useful to me here than you are as the lady of the house. I do hope your husband does not mind me keeping you during the day.”

“Benedict will surely understand, my Queen,” she reassured, hands behind her back now. “He knows well what I want to do with my life –he will not stand in the way of it.”

“How refreshing,” the Queen hummed, turning now to walk to the window. “A gentleman who wants his wife to work.”

“A gentleman who wants his wife to be happy,” she corrected softly, watching her for a moment. “And this…this is an opportunity one cannot ignore.”

“It’s not, is it?”

*****

“Where have you been all day!” Eloise yelled as she slipped into the Bridgerton family home.

The two had been invited over to dinner with the Lord and Lady Bridgerton, though Benedict had rolled his eyes when the invitation arrived so prettily written. She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that Kate had made Anthony write a formal invite to dinner.

“I was in town,” she explained simply. It wasn’t a lie, technically.

“What did I say about becoming a better liar?” Benedict asked, stepping out of Anthony’s study with a grin. His hand found her’s without a moment's hesitation.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “I am simply omitting details. I was in town, though.”

Benedict pressed a kiss to her cheek, and Eloise gagged playfully. “Just you wait until you find your match –then you won’t be gagging at the sight of love,” he teased.

“I need to speak to your wife,” Eloise insisted, pushing him aside and taking her sister-in-law’s hand. “Privately.”

Before Benedict could argue, Eloise pulled his wife into the sitting room –where Edwina and Kate both sat.

Holding her book.

“Oh dear.”

“‘Oh dear,’ indeed,” Edwina teased, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I thought I was going crazy, reading the book.”

“As did I,” Kate agreed, brow raised as she flipped through her book. “I kept reading it, and thinking, ‘This sounds rather familiar.’”

“Oh yes, and then of course, Elric tells the King of France that the main character is a gossiper…that is when I knew,” Eloise pointed at her now, eyes narrowed. She seemed less entertained by the whole thing. “A little warning would have been nice!”

“I did not think you would read it,” Mrs. Bridgerton defended, putting her hands up while she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Truly, I did not even know it was on the shelf yet –the Queen had a copy, but I assumed the Queen just had everything first –,”

“What do you mean, the Queen had a copy?” Edwina asked, eyes going wide.

“Is that why you were in town?” Eloise continued, not letting her a word in.

“The Queen loves gossip more than any of us,” Kate hummed, rolling her eyes.

Mrs. Bridgerton took a moment to let the ladies chat, then shook her head. “The Queen…she wanted me to finish the story, remember? When Eloise told her I was Whistledown…She read the book when it was published.”

“Well, did she like it?” Eloise demanded, eyes wide with excitement, having forgotten her annoyance.

Mrs. Bridgerton nodded. “She asked me to be her biographer. She…gave me a job.”

The three ladies stared in surprise, clearly failing at producing a coherent sentence outside of, “Really? “Oh my goodness,” and “Bloody hell.” It was a far better reaction than she anticipated, though she didn’t think anyone would react negatively to the news.

“I haven’t told Benedict yet, which I’d very much like to do now –,”

“Yes, yes of course. Go tell him –that is so exciting!” Edwina exclaimed, standing up and hugging her now. “I am very jealous, honestly.”

“As am I,” Eloise hummed, though she still seemed a bit frustrated. “I am still mad at you however.”

“Why on earth are you mad?”

“Because you let me read…read smut about my brother!”

Mrs. Bridgerton considered, for a moment, Eloise’s plights. Then she just laughed. “Was it at least good smut?”

“I hate you,” Eloise seethed, throwing her hands in the air. She repeated the phrase over and over as her sister-in-law slipped out the door with a laugh.

Benedict was leaning against the wall, as if he had been there waiting the entire time she was with the ladies.

“Do you not have something else to do while I am busy?” She teased, taking his arm when he offered it.

“I have plenty to do,” he replied, guiding them towards the back doors and into the gardens. “I just have not seen you all day –I missed you.”

“You will need to get used to that, then, I suppose.”

“Used to what?”

“Missing me during the day.”

They stopped at the steps of the house, and he looked down at her with his brow raised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I have been given a job. With the Queen.”

Benedict’s face lit up with excitement as he turned to face her fully. “The Queen gave you a job? Doing what? How can I help? Can I help? I know this is yours but I want to –,”

“Benedict,” she interrupted, laughing at his excitement. Her hand reached up to rest over his heart. “She wants me to be her biographer –to write the story of her life.”

He couldn’t help himself as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up to spin her around. She squealed some in response, unable to keep herself from laughing as she held onto his shoulders. “I am so proud of you!” He exclaimed, keeping her off the ground as he held her close. “My wife –the Queen’s biographer. What an honor it is to be married to you.”

She turned sheepish, feeling that blush creeping back up again. “You flatter me, Benedict. I –,”

“I must flatter you! You are a writer! For the Queen!”

When he finally set her down, Benedict rested his hands on her waist, looking down at her with adoration and awe. Her heart ached with joy –something inside her blossomed with Benedict’s support. His overjoyed reaction gave her exactly what she needed.

“I love you, Benedict. So very much. Thank you for believing in me.”

“I love you too,” he promised, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “And there’s no need to thank me for doing something that is easier than breathing.”

———

Taglist: @queensgirl718 @drowninginaseaofbooks @severewobblerlightdragon @wildflowerel @just-an-ace-elf @kamala-khann @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @imheretobeinvisible

#benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict Bridgerton imagine #benedict Bridgerton #Bridgerton

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