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girlatmirror · 4 months ago

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the viscount who loved me | jjk

It was your sister’s season, and she was the diamond, while your season was still a year away. Though suitors could seek your hand already, it doesn’t excuse you for secretly pining after the viscount who courted her.

viscount!jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) morally gray yn and jk, sexism (c’mon it’s the 18th century what did u expect), sex (bye minors), it’s not sex centered tho, longing and yearning (bring real romance back), cheating (is it tho, idk u be the judge), u might get mad at the main characters, enemies to lovers, heavily inspired (or stolen) by my loves anthony and kate 😍😍, yn is the younger sister and has yet to enter her season, but she is in her twenties!! (not specified in the text, but i was thinking jk is like 27, yn’s sis is 24 and yn is like 22, just to clarify) is idk what else. ENJOY!

The fresh, sunny air of London on that day called you to leave the mansion and ride your horse, Cinnamon, into the forest, just as you did every morning that was suitable for a nice ride. It was not entirely proper to do so in that society, but they did not need to know about it. You always felt safe; you rode at a time of day when you were sure nobody would see you. You had a set time of 20 minutes; after that, you returned home, wearing a cloak with a hat that covered half your face. If someone were to catch you, you could merely lower the hat, and they would not know who you were. The last thing you wanted was to bring shame on your family, especially not in a society as cruel as that one.

You rode to your familiar place and felt the breeze of the wind in your hair; you felt free. It continued to be the beautiful, calm ride you were used to—until you heard the sounds of a man, seemingly talking to you.

"Miss?" the voice from afar called. "Miss, are you in trouble?" To your dismay, the voice came closer so quickly that you did not know where to go or what to do. If you were to ride deeper into the forest, you would get lost, and if you rode straight ahead, the man would see you either way. It seemed even this baggy cloak could not conceal your femininity as you had thought it would.

The man came nearer, and you turned your head so he would not recognize you.

"Miss, if there is a problem, I shall help you," his deep voice stated. "It is not suited for a young lady to be out here unchaperoned."

You did not say a word, your face still turned in the opposite direction. You did not think it through, and he turned his horse to face you, ducking his head to see you. You had never felt this silly in your life. You took off the hat hesitantly, revealing long curls and innocent, almost pleading eyes.

Before you sat the infamous Viscount Jeon on his horse, a most important figure of the ton. The gossip columns described him as a ‘rake through and through,’ yet he was as captivating as a summer’s night and as wealthy as the stars were numerous. Indeed, there was not a mother in the ton who did not dream of him marrying her daughter.

You were sure he recognized you as well; with your sister being the diamond of the season, there was not a single gentleman in London who did not know the family he wished to marry into.

"I know you," he revealed. "You are the daughter of Baron Ln. Miss, you should not be here alone. It is dangerous."

"I am not here alone, my lord; I am here with Cinnamon... and you are here, also," you stammered, hesitantly and nervously.

The viscount did not hide his amusement, chuckling while shaking his head. He found the entire sentence you had just said to be hilarious.

"You do not need to be scared; I shall not tell a soul about this encounter," he reassured you, still chuckling. "But I believe you should head home now, for your folks should get worried."

You listened to him, still flushed and slightly embarrassed, and headed home.

The Viscount Jeon certainly was gentler than what the columns wrote about him.

___

"Mother, I was unable to breathe in this corset. It was utterly ridiculous, and it elevated my bosoms up to the sky," you said, exaggerating, while your maid tied up the corset—who was, at that moment, your rival.

The last ball you attended had been the first of the season at the palace, where your beautiful sister, Nadia, had been chosen as the season’s diamond by the queen herself. You had been proud beyond measure; your sister was the eldest of your household and often played a secondary motherly role. She deserved to have the finest suitors begging for just a pinch of her attention.

"I did not have such a problem, sister, and my corset was just as tight, if not tighter, than yours," Nadia declared, looking down at her much flatter body.

"I cannot help but wonder why..." sarcasm left your mouth.

Since the queen’s announcement, your mother had not stopped rushing, running errands, investing in your jewelry collections, and buying dresses from the finest modistes in the city. Your mother had always been insatiable and prideful, yet you had never seen this side of her before.

"My dear Yn, your sister is the diamond of the season; she is destined to wed a most extraordinary gentleman, one who must possess both fortune and lands in locales of which we have never even heard, and court her heart with poetry. Such is the very least that the daughter of a most noble man is entitled to receive. She is the jewel of her season, which ensures that all eyes shall be upon her—and upon us. We shall create a most splendid impression at tonight's ball at Danbury House. We simply must," Lady Ln proclaimed, her pride evident as she gazed at herself and her two eldest daughters in the mirror. "Moreover, Yn, what is this lamentation regarding your bosoms? Such femininity is precisely what captivates a gentleman and stirs envy among the young ladies of the ton. You shall also find your match. Both of my daughters are undeniably the most beautiful women of the ton, nay, of the entire world!"

You and Nadia glanced at each other, trying not to laugh at your mother’s boasting. She had been excited to get her daughters married since they were born, always saying that marrying off a son was not as exciting and beautiful as marrying off a daughter. Your two older brothers had both gotten married in the last few years.

You did not like to admit it, but you had been dreaming of your prince charming since you were just a little girl, waiting to get married. Not because of the couples you knew, but because of the books you read that spoke of longing, making you feel as if you were living the character’s life.

"Lena, get the ladies ready; I shall attend to the little ones. They are out in the gardens, engaged in activities unknown to me," your mother commanded the maid, exiting the chamber with graceful haste to see what her mischievous twins were up to.

"Is it not amusing how mama calls Hana and Idris little ones despite their approaching age of sixteen?" Nadia shook her head, smiling. She admired herself in the mirror and told Lena to fix up her hair. "I must look perfect."

Nadia was a perfectionist through and through, the eldest daughter of a baron and his insatiable wife—a combination that could only produce a girl whose expectations for herself were high, too high for anyone to reach.

"You do look perfect. You are the diamond, Nadia; not a single soul in that ballroom shall utter an ill word about you—and if they do, it is out of pure envy," you said adoringly. "I must say, I cannot wait to meet my new brother; I bet he is a most handsome gentleman who shall ask you to dance, and in the morning, he shall call on you, saying how he cannot stop thinking about you and that you are as beautiful as a blooming flower."

Your teasing was accompanied by you dancing around playfully and blinking your eyes at a fast rate, which irritated your maid, who, of course, wouldn’t say a word to you beyond measure as she adjusted your dress. Nadia shoved your shoulder in a joking manner, smiling to herself.

"I shall find myself a love match, much like Baba and Mama—I desire a love like theirs; that is my only goal," her eyes communicated her feelings of yearn, while you nodded.

"You shall. You are your mother’s daughter, after all; you shall always get what it is you desire," you kissed her cheeks encouragingly, and she looked at you with thankfulness.

"Ladies! The carriages have arrived. Make haste!" Your mother’s demanding voice called from downstairs, resulting in you immediately strutting down the stairs.

___

The Jeon family had a reputation to uphold. They were known for their generosity, their welcoming spirits, their lavish homes, and their riches. The viscountess was nothing short of the perfect viscountess, continuing to be so, even after her husband’s tragic death a mere couple of years ago.

She intended to find herself a replacement that season, desperately wanting to marry off her eldest, the viscount. Her desperation did not come from a place of fear of undesirability; it was quite the opposite.

The viscountess feared her son might be looking for a wife for the wrong reasons. What she and her late husband shared was a love she wished for all of her children; yet her son seemed to see the world differently. He wanted a wife only to fulfill his duties and produce an heir.

"Jungkook, the search for happiness and love is not shameful. It is indeed the bravest thing a man can do—to listen to his heart and let it guide him," the viscountess tried to woo her son, who did not look up from his estate’s accounts ledgers. "You cannot hold interviews for eligible young ladies to find a suitable one; you shall know she is the one when you gaze upon her and converse with her for the very first time."

"When will you realize that what you and father had is the exception, not the rule? I am the viscount; I hold many responsibilities, and one of them is to wed a girl of good noble breeding to replace you as viscountess and produce an heir who shall lead this family when I am gone," Jungkook responded calmly. "I have indeed let my heart guide me; we are in agreement. I shall not continue with the interviews, as I have already found my future bride in Miss Nadia, the daughter of Baron Ln."

His mother was shocked at the revelation, looking at him with a glimpse of hope and wonder. "The diamond? Oh, how delightful! She must have great promise to have caught the eyes of the viscount."

She recalled the last ball when the queen announced Nadia as the diamond. Her son had not had a chance to talk to her that night, as the girl was occupied with many overbearing suitors and mothers.

"Yes, indeed, Mother. She is accomplished in literature, she plays many instruments, dances quite beautifully, and she comes from a most respectable family. She shall be my viscountess," he explained further. "We shall attend the ball at Danbury House tonight, united as one. Miss Nadia shall be there as well; we might find a suitable gentleman for Yoona if that is what she wishes." Jungkook was referring to his younger sister as he spoke.

"Wonderful," his mother’s eyes sparkled with joy.

___

The Jeon family arrived quite late, but in style. The viscount dressed in fitted trousers and a crisp white shirt that accentuated his strong arms and broad shoulders, his brothers dressed similarly, and his sisters in beautiful, rich silk gowns.

Jungkook was already on the lookout for a certain diamond who had caught the attention of the entire ton. He was not worried she would reject his advances; after all, he was the viscount, and there was not a single gentleman in London who could claim to be more eligible than him.

"Excuse me," he gracefully pushed through the people standing before the diamond, all waiting for a turn to speak with her. "I wish to dance with you, Miss Nadia."

As the voice of the viscount was heard, the stares of the ton overwhelmed Nadia, everybody in utter shock; the viscount, who mothers had been trying to get to look at their daughters for years, wished to dance with a girl in her first season out? How very surprising and envy-inducing.

Nadia nodded shyly, letting go of her very proud mother’s hand and accepting the viscount’s. She wondered where her sister was until she saw her at the drink stand fetching herself a lemonade.

"You are an excellent dancer, my lady," Jeongguk expressed, his hand in hers as they attracted all the eyes of the crowd.

"That is all your doing, my lord," she shyly answered, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "You are quite a natural."

Their conversation continued for the next few minutes. They discussed very trivial matters, but Jeongguk made sure to let her know that she had caught his eye.

Eventually, Nadia moved on to another gentleman, and the viscount disappeared out of sight.

After a while of proudly watching your sister dance beautifully with potential suitors, you decided to step outside for a while to catch a breath of fresh air.

You were not particularly in the mood for dancing that night.

"Do not tell me the Viscount Jeon is looking for a love match this season; what happened to the viscount who visited his courtesan at least once a day and enjoyed a good brothel show?"

As you walked into the garden of the grand Danbury House, you heard a conversation that sparked your interest. A group of men, including the viscount who had just danced with your sister, and a few others you did not recognize, were talking. Letting your curiosity wander, you remained silent and listened to their talk unfold.

"I assure you, I am not out to find a love match; I am simply fulfilling my duties. Is it so impossible to find a suitable wife for a viscount, one who has hips meant for birthing, the ability to woo me with her intellect, and does not require love? It is simply a struggle," Jeongguk complained.

"Not a lady in London lives up to the standards of the viscount, I presume," the other man standing laughed. "I have seen you dance and converse with the diamond of this season; tell me, Viscount Jeon, does the diamond live up to your standards?"

"She is a respectable young woman who I plan on getting to know better, but I must not judge yet, for I fear I do not know what I might find out," the viscount answered the man’s question with honesty.

By then, you were sure your face was red with anger. How dare that man, that filthy rake, talk about your sister or any woman that way? And to think that Nadia was completely smitten with him already, you could not believe this audacious behavior.

They continued talking about useless things.

"We shall go back inside, my lord; are you coming with us?" one of them asked.

"No, you go. I shall join you later," he said, wanting to stay in the fresh air.

He started moving in your direction, and you quickly tried to get away, but your foot caught something, making a loud noise. "Who is there?"

You knew you were as good as caught, so you revealed yourself. "It is you. Were you eavesdropping?"

It seemed his audacity continued.

There was a spark in his eyes as he looked you up and down, as if he suddenly remembered the encounter you had in the woods or as if he really enjoyed what he saw.

"I was not! Also, one cannot eavesdrop in a public space…" you defended yourself. "The words you spoke were filthy and jarring, my lord; I cannot help but believe it is best if you do not let your interest in my sister unfold."

He visibly became uncomfortable, the evidence in his face demonstrating that he knew he had said things that did not particularly present him well.

"Those words were not meant for your ears, Miss Yn," he said, attempting to maintain his composure.

"I heard them regardless. If this is you with all your guards down, if these are your true feelings, you are not a suitable match for my sister," you emphasized defiantly.

The viscount lifted his eyebrows at you, letting his eyes linger on your body until he gazed into your face again. "You do realize there is not a lady in London who does not seek the kind of marriage I offer? That is, besides the privileges of becoming the viscountess."

"Oh, is that true? You assume the ladies of London are so easily charmed by a pleasing smile and nothing more?" you questioned him, causing him to grin.

"You find my smile pleasing?" he smirked down at you.

"I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high. And I stand by what I said; you do not suit my sister," you spoke, crossing your arms.

He skimmed your body, an amusing expression forming on his face. "Miss Yn, I remember the morning in the park very well. It seems to me that you do not care much for the rules of this society; that is why you spoke to your viscount in that manner."

"My apologies, my lord. I simply feel defensive over my sister," you apologized, feeling blood rush to your face.

"That is quite all right; I know what it is like to have siblings one cares for," his smile was warm, which surprised you.

After a few awkwardly intense looks between you two, you decided to bow respectfully and leave the scene.

You left Jeongguk standing for a while, the smile on his face visible even from a long distance; your jasmine scent lingered, and your words never left his mind.

___

Ever since the announcement, suitors from all over London had come to visit the Ln house to spend time with the diamond.

You quickly got used to seeing gentlemen in your house every morning, conversing with your older sister while you pretended to be occupied with something else, secretly listening to their conversations.

That day was no different. It was exciting, to say the least, not only because you were happy for your sister, who was receiving all these presents and love, but also because it broadened your understanding of courtships; your sister was paving the path for you in the future.

Oh, how excited you were for your future marriage.

As you walked downstairs after waking up from a long night of carefree sleep, you could already hear the distant sounds of a suitor.

You smiled to yourself, walking into the spacious living room, where you found your mother and father sitting on one couch with smiles that spoke volumes.

As you entered the room completely and saw who your sister was talking to, your face began to drop.

It was him. The viscount.

The man whom you could not escape from, for some reason.

While they finished their conversation, your mother noticed you standing there. "Good morning, Yn! Look who came to visit your sister first thing in the morning! Greet the Viscount Jeon."

You bowed respectfully and begrudgingly spoke, "Good morning, my lord."

He simply smirked, reciprocating the greeting.

It was as if he was provoking you with his handsome face and effortless demeanor.

"I shall head home now," he announced, standing up from his seat. "Breaking my fast here was very lovely indeed, Lord and Lady Ln; I must thank you dearly."

They exchanged pleasantries and enthusiastic goodbyes, of course, not without the viscount promising to come back tomorrow around the same time.

As he stepped outside, you followed him, pretending to go on a garden stroll.

"My lord!" you called after him, making him turn around to you.

"Yes, Miss Yn?" he spoke with a tinge of teasing, which seemed to always be present when he spoke with you.

His coachman was patiently waiting, watching you two standing face to face.

"Why have you called on my sister?" you asked; you were always known for your bluntness, which was something you tried to work on.

The viscount sent you a questioning but amusing look before replying, "Am I not allowed to?"

You shook your head, trying to put your thoughts into words.

"You are allowed," you answered hesitantly. "But what I said to you at Danbury House, I meant. I do not believe you are the right man for my sister."

There was a short exchange of glances between you; you hoping he understood your concerns and him wondering how you gathered the audacity to speak to a viscount that way.

It was not that he was angry about it; he was merely surprised. He had never had a person talk to him that way.

"Miss Yn," he started, his voice low. "I believe your sister can make her own decisions, can she not? And I must say, she did not seem to have a problem with my presence at all… quite the contrary."

You knew he was right, but there was something in your intuition telling you that this would not work out; you looked at him and did not see your sister’s future husband.

Yes, he was wealthy, and he was quite handsome, but still… he was not the man your sister was looking for.

"I believe I know my sister better than you do, my lord," you insisted, as stubborn as you always were.

He simply chuckled. "I do not doubt it," before hopping into the carriage and waving goodbye to you.

You could not comprehend how severely irksome he was.

___

In the following weeks, Jungkook tried his hardest to impress your sister; calling on her, giving her extravagant gifts, attending events and balls seemingly only for her.

It felt like he could propose to her at any moment, and you did not like it.

Your sister, on the other hand, seemed to be very happy with the viscount’s affection for her.

Who would not be?

One day, your mother hosted a gathering in the diamond’s name—an opportunity for suitors to see your sister and make themselves known to her.

The Jeon family was invited and set to attend, but the invitation for the viscount was lost in the mail.

Jungkook was very busy that day; meetings and managing accounts and staff took up a great deal of his time.

He did not have time to prepare himself for the crucial task ahead.

After asking his brother, Namjoon, for help with the poetry he intended to read out loud at the Ln house, he read over the piece of paper and could not control his scoffs; he thought poetry might be the most deceptive tool of all.

Such pretty, empty words.

He ordered a carriage, hastily moving to make it to the party that he was so conveniently not invited to, and hoped for the best.

The doorman immediately let him in, obviously knowing who the Viscount Jeon was—a familiar face to all of London indeed. Marching in as if he owned the place, he found a huge gathering of gentlemen performing their talents—or lack thereof—to impress Nadia.

You and Nadia were sitting next to each other on the sofa; you wore a judging yet amused face, and Nadia looked very grateful for the time they took for her.

He dreaded that his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they did on your sister; you were wearing an accentuating, expensive gown and a classic updo, your expressive eyes drew him in.

"Please excuse my tardiness," Jungkook took his chance right when someone finished his performance, making a loud announcement that turned everybody’s head. "I shall read a poem I wrote for Miss Nadia.”

Your expression was hard to read; though you were certainly annoyed by his sudden appearance, there was something gleaming in your eyes that he could not overlook. Your eyes locked in a room full of people, something that seemed to happen quite frequently between the two of you. Your effect on him made him nervous to perform; for some reason, he cared for your opinion quite a bit.

Naturally, everybody respected the viscount and his wishes, giving him their full attention. Nadia’s smile was beaming; your mother was more than happy to see the viscount show further interest in her daughter, and the rest were in awe of the viscount, whose shell was very hard to penetrate to make such an effort for the diamond.

"What is it to truly admire a woman?" he read from a small piece of paper in his hand, and your heart began to beat faster than it should have. "To look at her and feel inspiration, to delight in her beauty, so much that all— all your defenses—"

Suddenly, he stopped; everybody in the room quieted as they attentively listened to his beautiful words. His sudden silence caught some off guard, including you, who sat there looking at him with longing eyes, and Nadia, whose smile slowly vanished. Whispers began to break out.

"My apologies, I cannot do this," the viscount stated, resulting in Nadia frowning slightly. "Truth be told, I am not a man of poetry; those words are someone else’s entirely."

A few quiet gasps could be heard around the crowd of people, but Jungkook did not shy away from speaking the truth.

"Miss Nadia... I cannot offer you pretty words and rhymes, but I assure you, when it comes to action and duty; I shall never be found lacking."

Your breath hitched in your throat, as if his words were hitting you in your chest.

There was a part of you that was grateful for his honesty; the probability that your sister would not want to continue a courtship based on a false perception.

But there was another part that hated his honesty; why did the man you were supposed to hate repeatedly find his way into your heart by revealing sides of him you felt drawn to?

You knew the viscount did not want a love match.

And you loathed him.

So why did your chest burn with every word he spoke?

You could tell your sister was lost for words, watching the viscount with curious eyes.

"Nadia..." your voice came out smaller than you expected. "If you wish for him to leave, I—"

But your sister’s response shocked you. She stood up and clapped her hands, a sign of approval for the viscount’s words.

Others started joining her, but you stayed put in your place.

Jungkook’s growing smile beamed, feeling relieved that Nadia didn’t seem to mind his lack of verbal affection.

"Nadia," you murmured to your sister. "Did you not hear what he said? He cannot offer you the love that you long for."

Nadia let out an understanding "I know," before explaining herself, "I have come to accept that. I do not need a love match that can turn into an incompatible marriage in the future; I now merely desire a stable, harmonious marriage, and I believe the viscount can offer that to me."

You did not know what to do besides sigh and nod. "I just want you to be happy, Nini."

Your sister took your hand and lovingly squeezed it before giggling. "I do hope you and the viscount can find common ground throughout our marriage."

You simply awkwardly smiled at her to mask the storm brewing inside you.

She got up to confront the viscount, while you sat on the couch, staring into nothingness while contemplating the confusing feelings that were so foreign to you.

___

With every passing day and night, Jungkook found himself consumed by thoughts of you.

You appeared in his dreams, haunting him like a beautiful ghost, the face behind his sleepless nights.

He was aware of the problematic nature of the situation—courting one sister while dreaming of the other was not something a gentleman did.

But your beauty resembled summer nights and hidden love letters, while your resistant character was consuming and complex; yet he saw kindness in your eyes.

To be truthful, he could not stop his thoughts surrounding you since that morning in the park—the first time you two talked, the first time he heard your beautiful voice.

While you swore you would not admit it to a living soul, you felt similarly.

The viscount refused to leave your mind, appearing in your dreams unannounced and causing havoc inside your heart with every moment you stayed in or out of his presence.

You could not bear it.

Not only did the viscount consume you, but shame accompanied him.

But you promised yourself it was a fleeting moment, and he told himself to suppress his feelings.

___

"My dears, we have received an invitation from Jeon House, inviting us for a week to their country residence in order to continue the courtship away from the ton’s attention; is that not lovely?" your mother spoke, excitement evident in her voice. She was sat beside your father, who was paying more attention to the pie.

"Ah, yes, I’m afraid I cannot join you for that trip; I have business to attend to here in the city," your father spoke, placing a reassuring hand over your mother’s. "But I am certain you will handle it yourself, dear."

Your mother simply nodded and smiled, still in a very happy state about where her daughter’s courtship was headed. Nadia was sat next to you with a similar shy smile on her face.

You, on the other hand, could not help but feel a strange sensation; it was so foreign and something you could not describe. You loved seeing your sister happy, yet there was always a selfish voice in your head.

What if the viscount were to propose?

You began to imagine that scenario in your mind, and you did not like the thought of it at all.

But you feared it wasn’t because of your ‘hatred’ for the viscount, but because of something that was quite the opposite.

___

After packing, organizing carriages, and your mother stressing the entire day, you finally made your journey to the countryside.

It was only your mother, your sister, and you, as your mother thought your younger siblings were better off at home with the housekeeper.

You felt beautiful, dressed in the finest clothes, the most beautiful cosmetics put on your already lovely face. But you were in an undeniable state of distress.

Just as you stepped out of the carriage after four long hours, you were met with the friendly faces of the Jeon family.

Your eyes immediately met the viscount’s, who always seemed to have a certain look of yearning and some sort of pain when he saw you. You locked eyes with his deep brown ones, which somehow spoke a thousand words. His nostrils flared slightly, and it was as if you were both in a trance, unable to take your eyes off each other.

You shared a moment swimming in his eyes before he slowly diverted his gaze elsewhere.

Somehow, he looked even more handsome than the last time you had seen him.

You rued those feelings, the tingle you felt near him, the desperate need to be in his strong arms, to be the only one he knew to love—those feelings you had only read about in books, the tingling in body parts you were taught not to speak of.

But more than that, you cursed yourself for feeling them; how dare you think about your sister’s intended that way?

Were you a girl of no upbringing? Were you not a lady intended for marriage in just less than a year? It was breaking not only your soul but your perception of yourself to be plagued by these feelings; but you knew it would break you more to betray your sister, so you knew you had to stay quiet.

Amidst your overwhelming thoughts, a graceful young lady who was about the age of your older sister and bore a great resemblance to the viscount approached you, right after greeting your mother. She stood next to the viscount, and unbeknownst to you, noticed the shared glances of longing between the viscount and you, surprised to see her usually earnest brother so taken by a girl.

"You must be Miss Nadia," she spoke with a gentle smile. "I am Miss Yoona, the viscount’s younger sister. I have heard very much about you. You are even more beautiful than he described."

You bowed respectfully, yet you did not have the words to express that you were not who she thought you were.

Jungkook stepped in, embarrassment slightly evident on his face as he coughed a little. "Yoona, that is not Miss Nadia; that is her little sister—Miss Yn."

He then pointed to your sister, who was greeting the viscountess. You saw a look of confusion on Yoona’s face.

After everybody greeted each other, you settled into the rooms assigned to you and made yourselves at home.

The rooms were spacious, clean, and very elegantly decorated.

The Jeons were indeed a very generous family.

You suppressed the thought of how lovely it would be to marry into the family, as it was just a thought for you, but the reality for your sister.

And you did not want to hurt your sister or yourself.

___

Despite the comfortable beds and the expensive silk fabric of the sheets, you could not sleep.

Not only because you were not used to sleeping on foreign beds in foreign houses, but because, if your mind could not rest, you could not.

Nadia, on the other hand, had fallen fast asleep on the bed next to yours.

You needed something to distract you from the chaos in your head; a glass of cold water or a breath of fresh air would do.

As silently as you could, you got out of bed and started wandering the halls of the grand Jeon house with a lamp in your hand.

It was magnificent.

You breathed in the warmth, smiling to yourself; it was as if the house knew what a loving family owned it.

While walking towards nothing specific, you stumbled into a large room, empty of people and full of books.

You entered it with a calm heart, grabbing one book after another, taking in the beauty of the written words.

Your calmness was short-lived as you heard the huge door open. You gasped loudly and held up the lamp to see who it was.

Before you stood the viscount in a nightshirt that modestly exposed his muscular arms. He looked handsome, even at nighttime.

"Are you not able to sleep, Miss Yn?" he asked while fully entering the room.

You shyly turned your whole body toward him, feeling exposed in your silky nightgown that clung to your every curve.

Feeling his eyes flicker over you, a sense of timidity washed over you. "No... I cannot seem to fall asleep. I do apologize for roaming around without permission, my lord; I simply could not resist these many books."

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.

"You do not need to apologize," he assured you, now standing in front of you. "This is...was my father’s library. He read and collected books from all over the world. He was a very well-read man."

"May his soul rest easy," you softly sighed, pouting slightly at the mention of his deceased father. "He sounds like an extraordinary man."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "He was. I would not be the man and the viscount that I am today if it were not for him."

You did not answer, simply making space for a short moment of beautiful silence between you. Your eyes were intertwined with his deep ones; you felt as if you could dive into them.

"Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly asked; you simply nodded. "Why is it that you are so opposed to the idea of me marrying your sister? Do you truly hate me so?"

You broke the eye contact for a second, trying to gather your answer, while your heartbeat undeniably quickened. "I do not hate you, my lord. I simply worry for my sister. I want the very best for her."

The viscount came closer to you, chuckling again, exposing his barely visible dimples. "And you believe that I cannot offer her the best?"

Your arms were now touching, sending electricity through your body.

"I simply cannot forget what I overheard in the gardens at Danbury House," you answered his question as confidently as you could.

Jungkook’s eyes slightly darkened at your words. "Those words were not for your ears, Miss Yn."

You started to become defensive, letting out a "But I did hear them regardless."

He poked his cheek with his tongue, his nostrils flaring up with mild anger, stepping closer to you until there was hardly any space left between you. "You do not know how much you aggravate me, Yn Ln."

You now felt his fresh breath against your face, causing dizziness.

"And you," you uttered quietly in response, your eyelids becoming heavier. "You believe you do not vex me? I have only grown to accept your presence for my sister’s sake, but only God knows how long I will last in this... this lie."

Jungkook tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in to whisper into it. "This lie that you insist upon, what is it exactly? That you and I vex each other... or that we cannot seem to get away from one another?"

His voice was low and thick, tinged with a hint of teasing. You slightly backed away, but only to meet his dark eyes, which seemed to challenge you.

He leaned in until his lips were almost brushing against yours.

"My lord," you spoke in a soft whisper. "I—"

The sound of the door opening interrupted you.

Before you could get away from each other, a shocked Yoona witnessed the scene; as quickly as she entered, she left again, closing the door after saying a rushed "I am so sorry.”

You separated from Jungkook immediately after, running out in embarrassment and shame, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the library.

You could not believe what you had done.

___

Dinner with the Jeons was incredibly amusing; they were a big, loving family who were not afraid to share jokes and stories, even in front of guests.

To say you enjoyed yourself at dinner would have been an understatement.

In a moment of beautiful chaos, everybody laughed while simultaneously discussing intellectual topics. Jungkook raised his glass and stood up to make an announcement.

He was seated at the head of the table.

"I would very much like to start my toast by thanking our dear guests for taking their time to visit us at our country house. We are very delighted by your presence here with us," he started his tasteful speech. "Miss Nadia, it has been a delight to get to know you further. It is safe to say the Baron and Baroness Ln deserve praise for raising such an upstanding, demure woman... I would like to ask you a question, Miss Nadia."

While he spoke, the entire room fell silent, everybody attentively listening. His words added suspense to the atmosphere, making everyone wonder what he wanted to ask her.

It was obvious what everybody immediately thought of—for he was most likely going to ask for her hand in marriage.

Your mother and Nadia exchanged excited looks while you felt a thick lump form in your throat. The Jeons were all looking at Jungkook with an air of anticipation, waiting for him to finally speak the words.

Yoona tried her best not to gaze upon her brother with a frown of disapproval after she experienced whatever it was that happened between him and you the other night.

Jungkook began to awkwardly cough and put on somewhat of a feigned smile. "I wanted to ask you if you were ready for a game of pall-mall with this family or if you’d rather spare yourself the mayhem."

The whole table broke out in laughter—partially because they genuinely laughed and partially to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

But you did not laugh, and neither did your sister.

"I would be... honored to play a game of pall-mall with you and your family, my lord," your sister tried to mask her sadness playfully.

During the rest of the dinner, your hand was placed on your sister’s back, soothingly running it up and down her spine.

___

Hours after the dinner, it was nighttime when you were supposed to be asleep, but you and Nadia found yourselves sitting on the bed—her head on your lap and your hand in her hair.

You always comforted each other in non-ideal situations, but this time felt different; it was the first time you felt you had wronged your sister, being the reason for her despair.

"Perhaps the viscount does not wish to propose because of you," your sister suggested, looking up and trying to gauge your reaction.

Your breath slightly hitched as you felt your cheeks warm.

"Uh—whatever do you mean, sister?" you carefully asked.

Nadia gave you a knowing look, presumably confused as to how you did not understand what she meant.

"The two of you loathe one another!" she exclaimed, her words making you sigh in relief. "He is probably under the impression that you would not approve."

You chuckled lightly at the irony. "Nini, he does not care what I think! I am your younger sister, not Baba or even Mama. Even if I do not approve, I do not make the decisions for this family; Baba does."

Your sister nodded but elaborated further, "I know, but there is something in my heart telling me that you are the reason he is so... reluctant."

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping she would not come to the right conclusions, wondering how you could steer her away from thoughts that could possibly lead to the destruction of your sisterly relationship.

"It is not as if I am desperate to marry him, but I believe it would make Mama and Baba unbelievably happy if I were to marry the viscount," she continued, sighing as she absentmindedly played with her hair. "He is wealthy, and he comes from a great family... I do not want to disappoint them."

"If the viscount does not wish to propose to you, it is not because you are lacking, Nini. You shall find wealthy suitors in every city you visit," you stated your opinion. "But I shall talk to him about it if that is what you wish."

Nadia jumped up from your lap, now facing you.

"I should very much like that, Yn," she admitted.

You gave her a gentle smile before getting up to pay the viscount’s office a visit.

His office was on the other side of the mansion—a long way to walk—but with your thoughts running wild, you did not feel the length of the walk.

You knocked on his door hesitantly and entered after he called out, "Come in."

He was seated at his paper-covered desk, staring down with intensity before looking up and seeing you.

"Miss Yn," he addressed you with a trace of surprise in his voice. "Is everything quite all right?"

You did not feel like wasting time, so you jumped right to your point.

"You have been set on courting my sister despite my every objection, and now you plan to cast her aside?" you accused, your tone defensive. "What has she done to deserve this?"

His eyes darkened; he momentarily forgot about the paperwork, getting up from his chair to walk up to you.

"It is not her," he raised his voice. "It is you."

His honest words felt like a gentle hit in your face; your intuition knew what he meant.

"But I am to marry next season!" you exclaimed reactively.

"You believe that is what I desire you to do?" he shouted, his jaw clenched. "There is not a thing you can do—not a corner on this earth that you can travel to—that will free me from this torment."

He continued, "I am a gentleman; my father raised me to act with honor, but that honor hangs by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"You are the bane of my existence... and the object of all my desires," the viscount added, almost in agony, coming closer to you, whispering in your ear. "Night and day, I dream of you. And when I—do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you..."

Your breath hitched; your tight dress accentuated your breasts as your breath quickened with every word he spoke with every step he took closer to you.

"I did not ask for this," you finally got the chance to talk, facing him directly, barely an inch away. "To be plagued by these feelings... being distracted every time you enter the room, hiding those feelings from my sister... I did not ask for any of it."

"If I were to wed your sister, that would bind me to you for eternity," he stated, stepping away from you. "And I would spend my whole marriage dreaming of you, wanting you, longing for you... until the last thread of my honor snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your sister?"

You shook your head, unable to say anything.

"Then I shall not go forward with this courtship," he declared, his eyes burning into your skin. "If that is what you wish."

You slightly shook your head—not out of disagreement, but as a signal to yourself to stop the urge to melt into him, a dizzying feeling taking over you.

"It is very much what I wish, my lord," you admitted in a whisper. "I could not bear it..."

He stepped closer again, now breathing your air. "What could you not bear?"

Your fingers grazed his and it felt like a fire ignited inside you.

"I could not," you whispered into his ear, fingers tapping gently against his thick arms. "I could not bear the sight of you with her."

Jungkook leaned into your touch, his eyes closing from the overwhelming urge to embrace your whole body.

"Yn..." he softly breathed into your ear. "All I find myself thinking about—all I find myself being able to breathe for—is you. Do you think I want to be in this position? Contending with these thoughts of wanting to be nowhere except with you. Wanting to run away with you. Acting on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter... how much I must remind myself I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a sensation between your legs, pressing them together. He continued, "It is maddening how much you consume my every being."

You grazed your hand further down his arms, eyes locked and bodies almost pressing against each other; if anyone were to catch you, it would be scandalous.

"No," you protested in a whisper. "It is you— you who has thrown my world off its axis, you who has made me question my sanity, you who consumes my every thought, so do not dare to blame me... do not blame me."

Your lips brushed against each other, his breath hitting your lips and your breath hitting his, before they finally collided and became one in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered down to your defined waist, grabbing onto you as if you would fly away.

Your hearts were racing; he cupped your face with one hand and fiddled with your dress with the other; you melted into one.

"Tell me you want this," Jungkook insisted in a breathy, aroused voice.

"I want this, my lord," you purred against him, before gently biting into his lower lip. "Teach me everything you know."

Jungkook had no self-control in that moment, feeling like an animal in the wilderness.

He loosened the ties of your dress with an urgent hand, and you felt the cool air caress your skin as the fabric fell open. Your breasts, heavy and full, spilled out of the dress, begging for his attention. Jungkook's eyes locked onto them, his pupils dilated with desire.

His hands wandered down to your hips, gripping the curve of your bottom through the thin fabric of your undergarment. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he pulled you closer, his mouth still devouring yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the tension in his body a testament to the passion that burned between you.

"Are you certain?" he asked once again, his hands working to remove your undergarments.

You simply nodded, too dizzy and aroused to form a sentence.

Your hands wandered over his shirt, playing with the buttons before tugging on it, urging him to take it off, which he did, revealing his strong arms and chest. You kept your hands glued to them while he took off your bodice, revealing your full breasts to him.

Lifting you up and sitting you down on his desk, he immediately massaged your breasts and took one in his mouth, licking and sucking on it, making you moan in pleasure. "I have dreamt of this very moment for so long, Yn."

You ‘hmm’ed in response, grinding your hips against his in search of friction. You felt a big bulge in his pants, moving your own up and down on it, resulting in quiet groans from Jungkook.

"I..." you tried your best to formulate a thought. "I am so... sticky between my legs, my lord; is that normal?"

Jungkook chuckled amidst his arousal, leaning in to plant a short kiss on your lips. "Yes, my love; that is quite a good sign. Do not worry."

You felt comfortable with him; you admitted, "I have the same feeling quite often when I think of you," without realizing the implications.

Jungkook threw his head back in desire, unable to contain his urges to take you right there.

He took your hand in his and led it to his pants.

"Feel it," he urged, his voice simmering with lust as you began to grab his hardness and gently rubbing it. "That is what you do to me, Yn."

You tugged at his pants, and he quickly took them off, first revealing his drawers, which he removed as well.

He could not waste any more time.

As he revealed his large penis, you gasped.

"Do not be afraid, my love," he assured. "I will be very gentle.”

You were seated on the desk, and he was standing before you, his naked parts touching, with gasps and moans filling the entire room.

He positioned himself in front of you, looking into your eyes to ensure you were ready, only to be met with your awaiting gaze.

"What are you going to do now?" you hesitantly asked, hands on his bare arms.

His hands were placed lovingly on your soft waist, soothing you to ensure you were comfortable. "I will enter you now."

You nodded, not fully understanding the idea.

You blamed the mamas who were too ashamed to speak of essential things like that one.

Slowly entering the tip inside you, you gasped from the pain. "It hurts, my lord."

Jungkook stopped for a moment to cup your face, planting a kiss on your lips. "It will take time, but soon enough, you shall find pleasure in it, I promise."

You gazed at him, immediately believing his words, but wondering, "Does it hurt you as well?"

Jungkook laughed at that, slowly starting to thrust gently into you. "No, not at all. It is a very pleasant feeling for me."

His words came out as grunts, which you found incredibly attractive.

"Well, that is certainly unfair," you pouted, but gradually adjusted to the new feeling.

Jungkook agreed with you, saying, "I know," while chuckling.

As you began to get used to his thrusts, you leaned in even closer, urging him to fully enter you and thrust harder.

"You are simply the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes upon," he praised with hushed grunts, to which you cooed.

The fact that your families were outside the four walls of his office, peacefully sleeping, was something long forgotten by both of you, alongside the idea that he was the man who was supposed to be courting your sister.

You chose to forget about the one thing that was printed in your mind for the past months, even if only for a few minutes.

His thrusts began to become stronger, eliciting seductive sounds from both of you. His strategy to make less noise was kissing you almost the entire time.

His big hands roamed your entire body, and your legs wrapped around his hips; you were surprised at your ease—being with him felt not only beautiful but also effortless.

After a few final thrusts, his hips began to stutter, and a foreign sensation started to form in your stomach, causing you to look at him with a helpless expression, to which he answered, "I know, I know, my love; just allow it to happen."

You hesitantly let go, your head tilting back as you felt yourself reach a pinnacle—a feeling of pure bliss.

Jungkook could barely speak understandably, closing his eyes as he savored the last few thrusts before he reached his orgasm, pulling out and coming on a piece of cloth before he could release inside you.

"You did beautifully," he smiled and kissed your forehead lovingly.

You simply smiled back, the shame slowly returning as you put on your dress again.

He engulfed you in a gentle embrace before whispering into your ear, "Go rest now, my love; we shall see what we do tomorrow. Do not worry about anything; I will take care of it. That is a promise."

Somehow, you did not feel comforted by his words, but you reluctantly obliged, ignoring the slight pain in your legs as you walked through the halls of the mansion back to the room you had to temporarily share with your sister, who was already asleep.

You could not sleep that night, too consumed by wondering how and when you became that bad of a person.

___

The following day, you avoided Jungkook as much as you could. You felt ashamed, dirty; you felt like a bad person.

Your uncommonly quiet behavior did not go unnoticed by your mother and your sister; they kept pestering you about it.

But you did not know what to say to them.

Throughout the entire game of pall-mall, you acted out of the ordinary, not playing as well as you normally could.

Nadia and you were playing with Jungkook and four of his siblings, who were all much better players than the two of you.

"It seems you have forgotten the game, sister," Nadia giggled, watching you struggle with the mallet.

You kicked the ball hard in the wrong direction and almost tripped over; if it had not been for the strong hand that held your waist up.

"Be careful," the viscount’s deep voice rang in your ears.

Although you could stand on your own, he continued to hold onto your waist, his lips almost touching your ear. He forgot his surroundings, and so did you, as you locked eyes and shut out everything that was not each other.

It was a sight of pure chemistry, pure love; a blind man could see the feelings sparking between the two of you.

Visions of the prior night swirled in your mind as you leaned into his muscular body, completely in tune with him even in sheer silence.

Until Yoona interrupted you two with a cough, causing you to separate as quickly as possible from each other with more than embarrassed faces.

Jungkook’s siblings awkwardly laughed, and Nadia’s eyes, which you were avoiding, were boring into you penetratingly.

After the game, you went back to your rooms to prepare for lunch.

Strategically dodging your sister as much as possible, you pretended like nothing had happened between the viscount and you, while your insides brewed with fire.

But Nadia was the confrontational type.

"I see the way you look at each other, Yn," she admitted to you, hurt evident in her voice. "I have seen it for a long time, but I thought... you hated him. Had I known you did not, I would have ended the courtship."

"Nini..." you whispered. "I did not want to hurt you. I do not know how I could have been so selfish. You do not know how much I hate myself right now. I did not tell you because I was ashamed of myself... I did not want you to think that I purposely wanted to steal the man you love."

"I am not in love with him!" Nadia exclaimed in response, "I love you! You are my sister, Yn. If you would have told me from the beginning, I would not have been angry with you."

"I am so deeply sorry, Nadia," your face was a tearful mess at that point. "I did not know what to do; I thought... I was sure this would be just a passing infatuation, but... please forgive me, sister."

Your sister’s gentle hands found their way to your tear-stained cheeks. "I understand..."

"Please, I beg of you, do not let this ruin our sisterhood," you sounded pathetic, but you did not care.

You loved a man you were not supposed to love; you did things you were never supposed to do.

"You are my little sister, Yn," even in anger, her voice was soft and assuring. "You always will be... but do give me time to process this."

You nodded, immediately pulling her into a warm, strong embrace, whispering "I love you" to her.

___

You traveled back to London in complete silence, your sister still unsure how to talk to you and your mother, disappointed in the lack of proposals, but still happy with the time spent together.

For a couple of weeks, you did not hear anything from the viscount or his family. You tried to distract yourself with books and art, but nothing filled the emptiness in your heart.

You knew you gave the viscount the impression that you did not wish to speak with him, but you longed to hear or read his words.

One day, your mother entered your room with a pensive look. "Mama, what is it?"

"Yn... I have news, very important ones," she sat down at the edge of your spacious bed and took your hand in hers. "The viscount... he asked for your hand this morning. Your Baba approves, and Nadia does too, my love."

Your heart jumped outside your body for a moment, completely in shock.

You were happy, but you were not at the same time; perhaps the viscount only proposed because he was the gentleman he claimed to be and was merely fulfilling his duty?

"The viscount does not love me, Mama; I know it..." you sniveled, sadness washing over you. "He is simply fulfilling his duties because we..."

Your mother cut you off with an understanding look.

"Yn..." she spoke softly. "It is well; you do not need to tell me what happened between you and the viscount."

You sent a grateful gaze at her.

She always knew the right words to say when you were in distress.

"But, my dear," your mother expressed in an almost hesitant tone. "Whether the viscount wishes to marry you out of duty or out of love... I believe we should accept his proposal."

You were not angry at her idea because you wanted to marry him more than anything else in the world, but you feared he felt forced into proposing.

It was as if your heart had declared war on your mind.

Reluctantly, you nodded.

"I understand," you softly whispered. "Tell Baba to accept his proposal, but I wish to speak with the viscount beforehand."

Immediately after what you said, your mother ordered the maid to send an invitation for tea to the Jeon house.

___

The next day, Jungkook arrived with his mother by his side and an expensive bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"These are for you," he handed them to you, smiling shyly.

You silently thanked him, feeling the awkwardness brew; thankfully, your mother took the viscountess aside and left you and Jungkook enough room for a private conversation.

"I have not heard back about the proposal yet," Jungkook carefully started.

You nodded. "I have my Mama’s and Baba’s approval... Nadia’s too."

Jungkook watched you with attentive eyes, trying to gather what was holding you back from taking him as your husband.

"But I am afraid you are only proposing because of what happened at the country house," you confessed to him, looking down at your lap. "I do not want a marriage that is based solely on duties, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked frustrated, shaking his head.

"Listen to me, Yn," he grabbed your chin gently, locking his eyes with yours. "I love you. I have loved you from the moment we raced each other in that park. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together, and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it, embrace it, or even allow it. Knowing you, you probably will not. But you must know it in your heart. You must feel it because I do. I love you."

You looked away for a second, tears of joy and longing filling your eyes.

While you gathered your words, he continued, "I know I am imperfect, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine my life without you, and that is why I wish to marry you."

At that point, your face was tear-stained all over, returning your gaze to him as you smiled delicately.

"I love you, Jungkook, and I will marry you," you declared. "But do not think there will come a day where you do not vex me."

He now wore a big smile on his face, leaning in to engulf your full lips in a gentle kiss.

"Is that a promise, Yn Ln?" he breathed against your lips.

___

hiiii, i’m back!! i hope u all get my vision of jungkook as the viscount bridgerton because i do. btw, i’m sorry i’m not rlly active on here but i am a college student okay, i am very busy i cannot help it😭😭 i try to write as much as possible but a girl’s gotta have priorities. anyway, i hope everybody who reads this has a nice day💋 (btw, i love ur feedback, ur comments, etc. so pls don’t be shy)

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fushitoru · 9 months ago

Text

chapter 4: the game a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary: satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

a/n WARNING this chapter is suggestive. like always minors dni. not edited at all bc im sick of this chapter lol (like always i fear). see u at the bottom ;)

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader,

It has come to the attention of This Author that Miss Itadori, the undeniable diamond of the season, has made her appearance at Gojo Manor a full week ahead of the rest of the ton. Such early arrival can only provoke speculation: might the tender buds of affection be blossoming in the Kentish countryside? Shall we soon witness Miss Itadori departing with more than just fond memories, perhaps even a ring upon her finger? These are the very questions now fluttering through the minds of young ladies and their ever-watchful mamas, who may find their carefully laid plans to ensnare Lord Gojo dashed before the house party has even begun.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Gojo leaned back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly drumming on the armrest as he watched you fumble with the library door. The soft fabric of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, a glimpse of bare skin catching in the dim light⸺something not lost to Gojo’s eyes as he watched your figure disappear angrily. Your face was flushed, eyes wide and uncertain. Despite the flurry of emotions playing across your features, what struck him most was the way your hands trembled as you fought to maintain composure.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. You had come here⸺of all places⸺into his sanctuary, and for what? A part of him couldn’t reconcile the image of you sneaking into the library in the dead of night with the proper, composed lady you portrayed during the day. The whole encounter felt surreal, leaving a knot of confusion coiled tightly in his chest.

His gaze lingered on the empty doorway after you vanished, a strange hollowness settling in his chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him like the shadows of the room. His fingers tightened around the armrest, knuckles whitening as if he could grasp onto something concrete⸺something that made sense. But all he was left with was the lingering echo of your footsteps in the hallway and the ghost of your flushed face in his mind.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. His mind kept returning to the way your nightgown had slipped from your shoulder as you fumbled with the door. The pale fabric had slid down so effortlessly, exposing the curve of your bare skin. It wasn’t scandalous, not really⸺not enough to warrant the way his thoughts kept circling back to it. And yet, he couldn’t shake the image, the unexpected flash of vulnerability. The sight of it stirred something in him, a quiet confusion that unsettled his usual composure.

What was it that made him notice? Gojo’s brow furrowed as he considered it, his fingers absently drumming on the armrest of his chair. He had witnessed plenty of women in far less modest circumstances (most of them courtesy of his friends, who forced him to go to ridiculous events), and yet, this felt different. There was something about the way you had tried to maintain your dignity, the way you had fought to compose yourself even as your face flushed and your nightgown betrayed you. It was... distracting.

The memory of your fearful expression gnawed at him. He had expected haughty arrogance or calculated charm, not genuine fear. You weren’t like the people who usually surrounded him, playing their part in society's grand performance, all vying for his attention. There was an intelligence in your eyes, a spark that made him feel something unsettlingly close to admiration.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it matter that you were different? Why did he find himself enjoying your company, despite the fact that you seemed entirely uninterested in his? He drummed his fingers against the armrest, contemplating the possibility of pursuing you for the rest of the season⸺though he quickly dismissed the thought. You were uncooperative, difficult. A chase after you would be nothing short of exhausting.

And yet...

His attention shifted back to the desk, to the scattered papers you had left behind. Gojo reached for them, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the parchment as though handling something fragile. The numbers and diagrams were a mess of scribbled notes, and yet, they held a strange familiarity. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines with his eyes, piecing together the fragmented calculations. Then, like a puzzle falling into place, it clicked.

Venus. Of all things, you had been calculating the size of Venus.

Gojo’s hand froze midair, hovering over the papers. He blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He had assumed⸺no, expected⸺you to be reading some frivolous romance, a book about love and passion, something fitting for a young lady sneaking into a library. But instead, you were working on complex celestial calculations.

He had pegged you for a typical young lady of the ton⸺someone more interested in the latest gossip or the affections of suitors than in the stars. It annoyed him, more than he cared to admit, that he had been wrong.

Gojo set the paper down, his hand resting on the edge of the desk as he leaned back in his chair. The flicker of irritation that sparked in his chest was unfamiliar, unsettling even. It wasn’t just that you had surprised him⸺plenty of people had done that before. No, it was the fact that he had misjudged you so completely. He prided himself on being perceptive, on seeing through people’s masks with ease. Yet here you were, slipping past his assumptions with nothing more than a few scribbled notes and a fleeting presence.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time in a long while, he felt uncertain. Gojo wasn’t used to feeling this way⸺unsettled, annoyed, and a little too curious for his own good. He tapped the papers lightly, lost in thought. What did it mean that you had gotten under his skin like this? That he found himself wanting to unravel the mystery of you, to see what lay beneath the surface of your carefully constructed facade?

A sigh escaped his lips, low and quiet. His hand finally left the papers, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t quite grasp. The world around him was filled with people who either fawned over his charms or remained blissfully unaware of his true nature. But you? You saw right through him. You challenged him, unsettled him, made him question things he had never thought to question before.

With a final glance at the empty doorway, Satoru leaned forward again, ready to dive back into his work. But this time, his thoughts weren’t solely on his family’s ledgers. They were on you⸺and the undeniable pull that had started to form between you.

And inevitably, because Satoru is distracted, he lets the lull of sleep sneak up on him, swathing him in its deep, heavy blanket.

No, Satoru hears himself think. You’re not supposed to be here.

You’re sitting on his bed, somehow made it up to his chambers. A part of Satoru comprehends⸺in all his sleep-deprived glory⸺that he is definitely dreaming, but there’s an overwhelmingly stubborn part of him that dominates his entire consciousness, refusing to accept the fact.

You’re leaning on your elbow, resting on your side on the foot of his bed. Part of him wants to believe that you are really here, sheer nightgown that seems to get shorter and shorter⸺slipping up your thighs⸺every time his consciousness paints an image of you. The sheer material drapes over your figure, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist and the fullness of your hips, painting a picture that torments him.

“My lord,” you whisper.

It’s just his title, but your voice carries a sweetness it never holds in reality, dripping with an unfamiliar softness that makes Satoru’s heart lurch. Panic takes root, and he scrambles back, trying to distance himself from the fantasy in front of him. His back slams against the headboard as he fights to resist⸺not just you, but the part of himself that aches to abandon all notions of honor. That part of him that craves to do things to you that are anything but honorable.

Then, he notices your smile. It’s not the polite, practiced smile you show at balls or to suitors vying for your attention. This one is sincere, warm⸺a smile that speaks of affection, the kind you’ve never shown him before.

Like you are in love.

And you are not helping Satoru in his restraint because you position yourself, crawling like a predator, straddling his lap. Satoru is suddenly breathing too fast, his chest tightening with the weight of desire and disbelief.

Your lips are at his ear. Your lips are so soft. “Touch me,” you say, trailing your lips down feather light across his jaw.

Right now, you are in love. With him. You are his, and Satoru desperately does not want to fight it.

He does not want to.

Your hands start trailing down his torso, and now he registers that he is simply wearing a linen shirt and underwear because you are tracing the edge of his underwear, touching his inner thighs, getting so, so impossibly close to⸺

“No,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am a man of honor.”

But that’s a lie. One that Satoru clings to, because admitting the truth would shatter everything he’s built. His identity, his values⸺they all rest on the lie he’s desperately trying to hold onto.

What he really wants is nothing between you and him.

He wants that flimsy nightgown gone, the one that barely covers your thighs and what lies between them. He wants to keep the candlelight burning so he can see every inch of you, learn every detail of your body. He wants to slip off your chemise and explore the softness of your skin, trace the swell of your breasts, the dip of your hips, and taste the sweetness of your lips.

Satoru can’t focus on anything except the fact you are utterly, scandalously close to him, sitting on his lap and staring at him as if you love him.

And his treacherous heart wants to abandon duty, honor, the dukedom, the royal family⸺everything⸺and simply take you. To feel the weight of you pressed against him, wrapped around him.

But just as his hands move to cup your face, you start giggling. “No, you are not.”

Satoru blinks, confused.

You laugh again, light and teasing. “You are no man of honor.”

And suddenly, your laughter echoes in his mind, filling the room with its taunting melody. It etches itself into his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark.

“You are a coward.”

You entered the drawing room to break your fast, Choso by your side, and immediately locked eyes with Gojo, who was already seated at the table with his mother. He quickly looked away, focusing on the toast he was slathering with an ungodly amount of jam.

As you moved to sit at the table with Choso, you couldn't help but study him. Gojo appeared more disheveled than usual, perhaps a bit fatigued, though any sign of vulnerability quickly vanished when your mother spoke.

“Lord Gojo, it is a fine morning, is it not?” she inquired with her usual warmth.

Gojo smiled, leaning back in his chair with his characteristic nonchalance. “Indeed, Lady Itadori, especially as I am blessed with such lovely company as yourself and your daughter.” His eyes flickered toward you, an arrogant glint in them before they shifted back to your mother.

You and Choso exchanged exasperated glances.

Your mother chuckled, clearly charmed. “Oh, my lord, you flatter me. Tell me, what do you favor for breakfast? I am always curious to hear of others' preferences.”

“Clearly, it is toast drowned in enough jam to satisfy an army,” you muttered under your breath, delicately spreading butter onto your own toast.

Gojo’s eyes flashed, and he couldn’t resist a retort. “At least I do not indulge in something as dull as butter.”

You stiffened. “Butter is far superior to such overwhelming sweetness. Jam annihilates the taste of the toast itself, rendering it pointless.”

“And butter,” he shot back, “adds nothing but blandness. It is unremarkable, simple, and tasteless.”

A surge of heat rose to your face, ready to deliver another sharp remark, but before you could respond, Duchess Gojo’s lilting laughter filled the room. “Oh, my dears, what a lively couple you make!” Her tone was teasing, her eyes alight with amusement. “Such spirited conversation at breakfast⸺how delightful!”

Both you and Gojo stiffened, your faces flushing, though whether it was from irritation or something else entirely, you couldn’t say. You hastily turned your attention back to your toast, while Gojo busied himself with his tea.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together lightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since we are all in such a lively mood this morning, I do believe a game of pall-mall is in order once breakfast is through. The garden is in full bloom, and the weather is perfect for it.”

Your mother smiled graciously. “A wonderful idea, Duchess. It has been some time since we last enjoyed a game.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess agreed. “And I daresay a little friendly competition will do us all good. What do you say, Lord Gojo?” She turned to her son with a knowing look. “I trust you are up for the challenge?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “I never shy away from a challenge, Mother. But do be warned, I have no intention of losing.”

“Confidence is a virtue,” you remarked dryly, reaching for your teacup, “but do not let it cloud your judgment. Pall-mall requires more than mere bravado.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Ah, a challenge from you as well. This shall be an interesting morning indeed.”

“Let us hope your skills in the garden match your flair for words, my lord,” you retorted, your tone light (for the sake of preventing your mother a heart attack) but your gaze to Gojo sharp.

Duchess Gojo’s laughter rang out once more, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, this will be most entertaining! Come now, let us finish our breakfast, and then we shall see who emerges victorious on the field.”

You took a sip of your tea, pointedly ignoring the way Gojo’s gaze lingered on you as you did so. The day had barely begun, and already, you felt the familiar tension of being in his presence. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge⸺whether at the breakfast table or in the garden.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, we must let our diamond choose first. After all, she is the only lady participating today.”

You smiled warmly at her, a polite nod of appreciation. Gojo, however, frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced between you and the bag of mallets. “Are we not simply setting her up for victory?”

Turning to him with an innocent smile, you crossed your arms. “What’s that, my lord? Are you unable, as a man, to deal with the loss of your chosen mallet? I know some men depend heavily on certain familiars to win.”

Gojo held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he looked away. “Choose whatever you want. I will be sure to defeat you regardless.”

Duchess Gojo placed a warm hand on your back, encouraging you forward. “That’s the spirit, my son. Now, Miss Itadori, do choose which one you fancy.”

You approached the bag of mallets, your eyes scanning over the selection. They varied in subtle shapes and sizes, each one seemingly tailored for a different style of play. Your gaze settled on a mallet slightly larger than the others, painted a light blue shade. Its weight and shape seemed particularly advantageous for aim and control—perfect for directing the ball with precision.

As you picked it up, Gojo’s expression darkened, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course, she chooses the best one,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well,” Duchess Gojo crossed her arms. “I suppose it’s only fair that you all let the lady go first.” She turned to you, nodding. “I will go join your mother for tea inside, my dear.” Winking, she adds, “Show these boys how real ladies do it.”

As the duchess took her leave, Choso, always the supportive brother, leaned over to you with a small smile. “Excellent choice, sister. Show them how it’s done.”

You gave him a grateful nod and positioned yourself for your turn. With a graceful swing, you sent the ball rolling smoothly across the lawn. Choso clapped in approval, but when you looked up, Gojo and Yuji were both glowering at you from the sidelines.

Gojo’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly not amused by your success. “Beginner’s luck,” he commented dryly. Yuji could only nod in mindless agreement to Gojo, and you graced him with a glower. Traitor.

Now it was Gojo’s turn. He stepped forward with confident ease, positioning himself with the mallet as though he had been doing this his entire life. With a swift, practiced swing, his ball shot forward and struck a target dead center. Yuji’s eyes sparkled with admiration, practically beaming at Gojo’s skill.

Choso and you exchanged petulant glances, unimpressed by Gojo’s display. But Yuji’s excitement only grew, and he couldn’t resist praising his mentor. “Incredible, my lord! You never miss!”

Choso’s turn came next. With a focused look, he lined up his shot and knocked Gojo’s ball right out of position, sending it tumbling off course into a forested area. Gojo let out a forced laugh, masking his irritation as best as he could, and you clapped and let out a small, petty giggle. “Good shot, brother! I fear Lord Gojo will have to travel much distance to retrieve and get it on course.”

You would come to bite your words.

When it was Yuji’s turn, he aimed with all his might and sent your ball flying out of position. You gasped in outrage, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, you will pay for this.”.

Gojo, on the other hand, gave Yuji a hearty pat on the back, beaming with pride. “Well done, Yuji. Well done.”

It was now your turn, and you stomped your way towards the forested area where you and Gojo’s balls had traveled towards. Soon enough, Gojo was following after you.

The path was shaded by trees, and the coolness of the forest was a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You could help but give each other glares until you finally broke the silence.

“How dare you bewitch my brother into turning against me?” you accused him, stepping over a stray root.

Gojo rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “It appears that Yuji’s blood is indeed not thicker than water,”

“Or maybe⸺just maybe⸺your charm isn’t as infallible as you think.”

Keeping pace beside you, Gojo scoffed. “And yet, here you are, still engaged in conversation with me. I must be doing something right.”

You shoot him an angry sideways glance. “I’m only here because my ball is, unfortunately, in the same direction as yours. Nothing more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s mere coincidence that fate keeps pulling us together.”

“More like unfortunate circumstance.”

The two of you continued bickering as you searched for your wayward balls. The back-and-forth banter echoed through the forest, neither of you willing to back down.

Finally, you spotted them⸺your ball and Gojo’s⸺resting precariously on top of a narrow stream of water. You both halted, glancing at each other, and then, without a word, you raced forward.

Gojo reached the water’s edge first, but you weren’t far behind. Neither of you hesitated as you waded into the shallow stream, your focus entirely on retrieving your respective balls. The bottoms of your clothes became soaked in the cool water, but neither of you paid it any mind, too busy grappling to reach your goals first.

Just as you managed to scoop up your ball, your dress snagged on something in the water. You stumbled forward, colliding directly into Gojo, who had just retrieved his own. The sudden impact sent both of you toppling into the water.

You landed squarely on top of him, the shock of the fall leaving you momentarily dazed. Gojo blinked up at you, his breath catching as his gaze dropped to your now-dampened bodice, honing in on your bosom. For a moment, his usually sharp and calculating eyes softened, confusion flickering across his face as if he didn’t quite understand the effect you were having on him.

You scrambled to find your words, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t mean to⸺”

Before you could finish, Gojo gently grasped your shoulders and helped you off of him. He stood up first, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he brushed off his wet clothing and offered you a hand. You took it, steadying yourself as you rose to your feet.

Gojo swallowed hard, clearly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then quickly closed it, shaking his head. “I must go,” he muttered,.

Without another word, he turned and left, leaving you standing there in the stream, confused and flustered as you watched him disappear into the trees.

“I am not impressed.” Nobara impassively stares you down with a glower.

You fluttered your fan, maintaining a delicate air of mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean, my dear friend?”

The two of you sat at a small table on the terrace, its stone surface warm from the midday sun. Before you, the expansive field served as Gojo’s personal training ground, scattered with targets and archery equipment. Gojo and his protégé, Yuji, had clearly been at it for hours, their bare skin glistening with sweat under the relentless sun. They moved with a practiced ease, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

Gojo was currently demonstrating a particular stance to Yuji, his voice carrying faintly over the terrace as he corrected the younger man’s posture and grip. Yuji, ever the diligent student, watched him with an intensity that bordered on awe. You couldn’t help but reflect that his expression now⸺determined and assured⸺contrasted much with his encounter with you at the game.

Nobara’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the scene. “Why are we here?” she asked flatly, her gaze lingering on the two men.

You turned to her with a smile, fluttering your fan with exaggerated elegance. “Why, to record in my journal, of course. One must capture the beauty of Mother Nature when it presents itself so generously from this terrace.”

Her expression remained unimpressed. “Is it truly Mother Nature that has captivated you, or Lord Gojo’s bare skin?” She glanced down at your unopened journal, its quill resting untouched beside it. “And how much progress have you made in this recording of yours?”

You couldn’t suppress a laugh, caught in your own half-hearted excuse. “Well, even you cannot deny that he presents a rather fine figure, can you? And I will get to my writing in due time. Inspiration must first strike, after all.”

Nobara sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “I cannot fathom how you find pleasure in looking upon a man who has caused you so much distress. Many times, in fact.”

You glanced back toward the field, watching as Gojo effortlessly pulled back his bowstring, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. His form was impeccable, each action a demonstration of his skill and strength. Yuji, in contrast, struggled to replicate the motion with as much ease and accuracy, though his determination was evident.

"He’s clearly enjoying himself," you commented dryly, turning your attention back to Nobara. "Torturing me, that is. I might as well make due of my harrowing and demeaning stay here and enjoy some aspects of Gojo. I swear, he delights in the fact that I’m stuck here."

Nobara’s eyes narrowed, and she snorted. "Oh, absolutely. Men like him don’t get much amusement in life unless it involves making someone else miserable."

You shook your head, remembering the library encounter all too vividly. Gojo had seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, and yet he had taken to taunting you with his usual smugness. That infernal smirk of his had been etched into your memory.

"I almost wonder," you mused, "if he was actually shocked to find me in the library. Perhaps I caught him off guard for once."

Nobara raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing? Looking for a book on how to survive insufferable dukes?"

You chuckled softly. "No, I was reading about Venus, actually. But Gojo⸺he assumed I was indulging in some silly romance. Imagine his surprise when he realized I was working on calculations instead."

Nobara’s lips twitched upward in amusement, but before she could respond, a loud thud! echoed across the terrace. Both of you looked down just in time to see Gojo's arrow hit the target dead center.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he would show off. That insufferable man never missed an opportunity to flaunt his skills. Yuji, predictably, looked like he was about to faint from admiration.

Gojo notched another arrow, his back muscles rippling as he drew it back with practiced ease. His abs tightened with the effort, and though you told yourself you were merely observing his technique, your gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. The tautness of his form was, undeniably, impressive.

“It is a shame,” Nobara remarked, her voice breaking through your thoughts. “He does present a rather fine figure. If only his character matched his appearance.”

You blinked, realizing that your gaze had lingered on him for far too long. “What?”

Nobara glanced at you, her expression half-amused, half-pitying. “I merely observe that if his manners were as well-formed as his physique, he might be a most agreeable companion.”

You opened your fan again, waving it lightly in front of your face. “Perhaps. But we both know that appearances can be deceiving.”

Nobara’s expression turned serious as she looked at you. “You must find yourself a husband who is both well-formed and well-mannered, my dear. Else I shall be forced to gouge out my eyes every time I am called to attend on you.”

You sighed dramatically, closing your fan with a soft snap. “Whatever you say, Nobara.”

Yet, even as you dismissed her words, your gaze drifted back to the field. Gojo was a puzzle, indeed. And whether you liked it or not, he had captured more of your attention than you were willing to admit.

Satoru is sweaty and hot, and therefore he must rush back to take a cold bath.

The weather is quite warm, he must admit to himself. Teaching Yuji had been nothing sort of pleasurable; the boy’s physical prowess was quite impressive, and he learned things very, very fast. If Yuji were to keep learning and working on his skill, he would easily be up to Gojo’s level or even surpass him.

As he climbs up the stairs to the terrace, he wipes his brow, which has budded with sweat. When he crosses a table that overlooks the field, he notices a book. His mother and him wouldn’t expose any books like this⸺a fine and intricate design covering the top⸺to the harsh, humid weather, so he picks up the book, frowning.

Frowning, he picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him. The book felt unfamiliar in his hands, and as he opened it, the words within seemed to swim before his eyes. Annoyed, he rubbed the sweat from his forehead and squinted, finally making out the fine, neat handwriting on the page.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

Satoru's eyes widened, and a flicker of intrigue sparked within him. He flipped to the next page, where the writing grew messier, more hurried.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

His eyes widened. If he had been intrigued before, now he was thoroughly captivated. This had to be you. His heart began to beat faster as he quickly turned to another page, where the ink was still fresh, and a pressed leaf lay nestled between the pages.

If I were to base my choice of husband solely on physical appearance, I must confess that Lord Gojo would be a most compelling candidate. However, to consider him without regard to his character would be a grave disservice to myself and to dear Nobara, who would bear the consequences of such a choice daily.

I hold out hope for a suitor with a similar strength of physique, one whose form displays power and grace, much like Gojo. His muscles, so clearly defined, speak of formidable strength and control—his back rippling with every pull of the bowstring, his breath labored as he steadies himself.

Alas, such attributes, though appealing, are not enough…

His fingers hovered over the delicate page, the words sinking in. A part of him wanted to laugh at your sharpness, your refusal to fall prey to his charms, but another part⸺one that kept resurfacing and resurfacing against his will, showing up even in his slumber⸺felt something else entirely.

…What a pity, indeed.

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n i feel like the only important plot point in this chapter is that gojo is a boobs guy

sorry if this chapter was a little icky :( i prefered publishing this than having to subject my dear beta reader to having to edit this mess or even me having to think about it further. i will rest so that the next chapter is better <3 (lots of fluffy moments to come in the next one)

gojo when you spawned in his bedroom

will finally treat myself to answering asks after I wake up since i'm done with this dreadfull chapter <333 jesus it's 3am

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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monstersholygrail · 2 months ago

Text

So I currently have the flu and I just can’t stop imagining how funny it would be to have a Vampire bf look after you.

Specifically, Army Medic Vampire bf who was a medic during the First World War for Great Britain. He was by no means a professional of any kind. He honestly kind of sucked. But he did it because he had to.

Now he has you, his sick mortal lover, and he’s getting war flashbacks.

You lay on the bed, looking like you’ve been through war yourself. Your nose all red and your lips chapped. Body so achy it’s almost as if you were lifeless. Luckily he knows that’s not the case as you jerk forward and blow your nose, the sound akin to a cannon firing.

Army Medic Vampire bf lays with you on the bed, his cold body helping to cool down your fiery fever. He brushes his hand along your damp forehead and through your hair and you sigh in a brief relief.

“Ahh, this takes me back,” he says wistfully.

You curl your lip at him before wincing as any movement to your face aches. So you don’t even try and melt back into your boyfriend.

“To what?” You ask, nose so stuffed he can barely make out your question.

“To the sounds of my comrades dying,” he replies bluntly.

You gasp harshly and weakly try and smack at his chest but it hurts you more than it does him. And the action throws you into another one of your countless coughing fits.

Army Medic Vampire bf shushes you gently, bringing you into his arms. Making sure every inch of you is molded against him. He can feel the heat of your skin and worry swells inside of him.

“I’ve got you, my heart. Die easy knowing you were loved.”

You roll your eyes, your bf ever the dramatic one. But you don’t try and move away, his skin feeling way too good right now.

“Oh my god, I’m not dying,” You try and explain to him again for the umpteenth time. He stills against you, considering your words as if it’s the first time he’s heard them.

“Are you not? People perish from the flu all the time,” he asks, sounding genuine enough. He doesn’t go out in human civilization much anymore to know the difference. In his time people left this world due to much smaller things than the flu.

“Well not me,” you reply stubbornly.

A long silence falls over the two of you while you focus on trying to calm back down and he thinks over your words. You may make this claim but you can’t be certain. And if this sickness does not steal you from him then perhaps the next one will. He figures it’s a risk he can no longer take. He failed to safe people before but now he can ensure another sickness will never touch you.

“Hmm, well when you are better I shall turn you and make you forever mine. You’ll never have to suffer from this again,” he says reverently, his voice shockingly tender as his true worry for you shines through.

He squeezes you tightly in his arms, not daring to let you go. He’s lost many people in his human life and his vampiric one.

But the one person he refuses to lose is you.

633 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 3 months ago

Note

yandere phainon x reader but the peter nguyen meme. we're about to kiss at the altar when someone screams "PHAINON CHEATED ON YOU". they run away but then they come back when we try kissing again and scream "HE SLEPT WITH YOUR SISTER!!" ik this is super random but i just want to know how you think phainon would react in this situation

The priest’s words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. You stood at the altar, heart pounding, gazing into Phainon’s piercing blue eyes. His grip on your hands was firm, nothing else matters at such moment.

“PRINCE PHAINON CHEATED ON YOU!!”

A shriek cut through the silence. Gasps rippled through the wedding hall.

You barely had time to register the words before the accuser, a wild-eyed stranger, turned and bolted out the doors. Murmurs erupted among the guests.

Phainon’s grip on your hands didn’t falter. Instead, his lips curled into a lazy smile.

“Ignore them” he murmured, his thumb stroking your wrist. “Jealousy makes people desperate.”

The priest, though rattled, cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?”

Phainon smirked. “Please.”

The tension in the hall faded as the ceremony resumed. The priest lifted his hands once more.

“You may now—”

“HE SLEPT WITH YOUR SISTER!!”

The doors slammed open again. The same person, panting, face red.

A stunned silence followed.

Something flickered in Phainon's gaze. A memory.

—Flashback—

They have no idea…

How hard it was to gain your trust.

How long he waited.

Phainon hadn’t been looking for love that day.

He was just passing through, watching people the way he always did—silent, calculating, disinterested. Until he saw you.

You were reaching for a fruit, balancing on the tips of your toes, fingers just barely grazing the branch. The sunlight made your hair glow, sweat beading on your skin from effort.

He had seen beautiful people before. Had taken lovers. Had discarded them.

But something about you made him took a step forward, about to offer help.

Then—

The branch snapped. You yelped as you lost your footing, tumbling down- Right into his arms.

He caught you with ease, strong hands gripping your waist. You gasped, wide-eyed, staring up at him. Phainon felt your warmth, your racing heartbeat. He could smell the faint sweetness of fruit on your skin.

Then, as if sensing danger, you scrambled out of his grasp. Your feet hit the ground, and before he could say a word, you turned.

“Come on!” you yelled, grabbing your sister’s hand.

And just like that, you ran.

Phainon stood there, watching your retreating figure.

He touched his fingers to his chest—his heart was pounding.

---

Phainon hadn’t forgotten you.

Days passed, then weeks, but the memory of your warmth, the startled look in your eyes, the way you ran from him lingered. So he searched. And when he finally learned where you lived—a quiet, unassuming estate on the edge of the city—he didn’t hesitate.

The library was modest but well-kept. Books lined the walls, the scent of parchment and ink filling the air. Phainon sat with perfect ease, sipping tea as your parents—clearly nervous—hosted him with shaky politeness.

“A prince in our humble home..” your father murmured in awe.

Phainon only smiled. “I was looking for someone.”

Your mother straightened. “Oh? Who might that be, Your Highness?”

He set his cup down, glancing at the door expectantly.

“Your child,” he said smoothly. “The one who sneaks into the royal garden to steal fruit.”

A gasp. Your parents exchanged alarmed glances.

“Surely there’s been some mistake—”

“Oh, there’s no mistake,” Phainon cut in, his voice still pleasant. “I caught them myself.”

A shuffle outside the room.

There you are

You stepped into the library, eyes wary. He saw the flicker of recognition, the brief hesitation before you masked it.

“You went through all this trouble,” you said dryly. “Just to scold me over some fruit?”

Phainon tilted his head, watching you. “I wouldn’t call it trouble.”

Your expression darkened slightly. You studied him for a long moment, then—without another word—you turned and walked away.

His smile faltered.

But he didn’t give up.

---

You hadn’t expected to see him again.

After that strange visit to the library, you assumed the prince would lose interest. Noblemen didn’t linger in places like yours—not for long, at least.

But then, one afternoon, you heard your sister shouting.

“Whoa—whoa! Stop—stop!”

Your heart leapt into your throat as you ran outside. Your sister was struggling with the reins of a restless horse, its hooves stomping nervously. She barely managed to keep her balance, her face pale with panic.

You took a step forward, ready to help, but Phainon got there first.

He moved with effortless grace, his strong hands closing around the bridle. The horse stilled instantly, as if sensing the power behind his touch.

“You’re pulling too tight,” Phainon said, his tone calm, guiding her hands with his own. “See? You need to give it room to move.”

Your sister blinked, looking up at him in awe. “Like this?”

“Exactly.”

You watched as he guided her through the motions—how to hold the reins properly, how to keep her posture balanced. He was patient, his voice smooth and encouraging.

Your sister beamed, clearly delighted to be learning from someone like him.

And, despite yourself, you felt your guard loosen—just a little.

He wasn’t mocking her. He wasn’t looking down on her in that smug, noble way. He was helping.

For the first time, you looked at him without suspicion.

---

The kitchen smelled sweet, the warm scent of baked goods filling the air as you carefully placed another tray of cookies onto the counter. You hadn’t made them for anyone in particular—you just felt like it.

Rolling up your sleeves, you reached for one to taste only for a hand to swipe it before you could.

“Not bad.”

You turned to see Phainon stood beside you, casually chewing on the stolen cookie, his blue eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t look the slightest bit sorry.

“What are you doing here?”

He leaned against the counter, “I smelled something good and followed it. Imagine my surprise when I found you here, working so hard.”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t make them for you.”

“But I ate them anyway.” His lips curled into a teasing smile. “If you become my spouse, I’ll let you cook as much as you want.”

You scoffed. “Oh, how generous, Your Highness. Now shoo.”

You pushed him lightly, trying to guide him out of the kitchen, but he barely moved.

Instead, he grinned and leaned closer, clearly enjoying your frustration.

“You really want me gone?” he mused.

“Yes” you deadpanned.

With an exaggerated sigh, he relented, stepping back. “Fine, fine. But only because you asked so sweetly.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away.

Then you noticed—crumbs clinging to the fabric of his coat.

Without thinking, you reached out and brushed them off, fingers grazing his chest lightly.

When you looked up, Phainon was watching you. Realizing what you’d done, you quickly pulled back.

“Go” you muttered.

For once, he obeyed.

----

It hadn’t been easy.

There were fights. Doubts. Moments when you swore you’d never accept him.

Phainon had tested your patience, pushed boundaries, and yet—he had always been there. He never wavered. When you were uncertain, he was steadfast. When you fell, he picked you up. When the world conspired against you, he cut through it with ruthless efficiency.

Somewhere along the way, you stopped resisting.

And when he knelt before you, offering not just his hand but his loyalty, his devotion, his everything, you finally said yes.

—Reality—

“HE SLEPT WITH YOUR SISTER!!”

The words rang through the wedding hall once more.

But before anyone could react, Phainon moved.

His fingers closed around the first thing he could grab—a golden goblet.

With terrifying precision, he hurled it. The metal clashed against the doors, slamming them shut just as the accuser tried to flee.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Then, in one fluid motion, Phainon seized a sword from a nearby knight. The blade gleamed under the chapel’s light as he strode forward, eyes cold.

The accuser trembled, trapped.

Phainon’s voice was calm, but it carried a sharp, dangerous edge.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?”

He took another step.

“You dirtied my name on my wedding day.”

The person fell to their knees, shaking. “P-please, I was just—”

“You were just what?” Phainon tilted his head, almost amused. “A fool? A pawn? Or merely suicidal?”

The room held its breath.

The accuser sobbed, words crumbling into incoherent pleas.

Then—

You laughed.

The crowd looked at you in shock. Then, as if your amusement was contagious, the guests joined in—chuckling at first, then outright laughing.

The accuser looked around in confusion, face pale.

Phainon exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if the outburst had been nothing but an inconvenience.

“You heard them,” he said, turning away, sword still in hand. “Give them their punishment.”

The guards wasted no time dragging the culprit out.

The doors shut once more. The disturbance had passed.

Phainon turned back to you, his expression smoothing into something warm, almost fond.

“As I was saying,” the priest stammered, composing himself. “You may now—”

Phainon didn’t wait.

His lips were on yours before the words were even finished.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #phainon x you #yandere phainon #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #phainon x reader #phainon

761 notes · View notes

toiletclown · 3 months ago

Text

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.

spencer agnew x f!reader

fluff <3 word count: 6354

summary: being best friends with spencer agnew was the greatest gift the universe ever gave you. you don't have anyone else in your life who keeps up with you like he does. which is why the flirty banter between you two is so fun, right? it's silly. it doesn't mean anything. right??

(basically the you wanna kiss me so bad x that's so gross get tf away from me freak bestie to lovers trope. or whatever. i don't know. love u.)

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

“Spencer, ew!” You yelled from across the Board AF table. You were in the middle of a Moose Master shoot, and it had very quickly turned to chaos – as usual. Luckily, Moose Master shoot days meant a long, long lunch after wrap to recuperate the massive amount of energy you lost after screaming and laughing like a banshee for an hour.

“What, you don't think that’s funny?” Spencer shot back. He was using his freshly-pulled Echo Master card on you, because of course he was. “I'm the one in charge here! You're my echo and you have to say baaaabe if I say it.” He dragged out the word, a whiny cadence, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. Cute, he was attempting to put his foot down.

“I’m not doing that, Spencer!” You crossed your arms right back. Two could play at this game.

Being best friends with Spencer Agnew was the greatest gift the universe ever gave you.

Courtney, Chanse, and Angela were just whipping their heads back and forth, following the banter from each side of the table.

“Alex!” Spencer called out, a last ditch effort.

Alex laughed from off-camera. “Sorry, Y/N. He has the card, he makes the rule.”

“Judas!” You hissed.

Everyone was laughing at this point, and despite your bickering, you were over the moon. You loved your job, and all your friends.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He winked at you, and you pretended to gag.

“Babe, nothing is wrong,” You deadpanned. You didn't use the same inflection as Spencer, wondering if he would try to argue that that counted as a penalty.

“Penalty card! Pull a penalty card!” Spencer’s face was filled with childlike glee. Bastard, of course he would pull that shit. Although, you selfishly loved seeing his face light up like this. You loved seeing him happy.

“For what?” Courtney asked, no malice in her voice – they were enjoying the show.

“No answering questions!” Spencer yelled, thinking he pulled one over on you.

But really, Courtney pulled one over on him. “Penalty card, pull a penalty card, Spence!” You mocked him, rubbing it in his face.

“Bro, you want to kiss me so bad right now,” Spencer made several kissy noises at you.

“Do we still have a yeet bucket available?” You begged, tipping your head back and rolling your eyes.

“Do we?” Spencer asked you, remembering the rule that got him yet another “bummer, this is your penalty card to keep!” card. It was first to seven, and he was at six. You, however, were at four.

The game went on and on, you echoing Spencer’s babe, incessantly. You finally missed one and took your penalty card, but you had lasted several rounds of play and were still proud of yourself. However, if this was a bummer card, you would lose.

You hold the penalty card face down, attempting to build suspense. “Can I have a drumroll?”

Spencer immediately began tapping his fingers on the table.

You squealed. “Lucky day! Hmm, who shall I give this to…” You held the card up to your face, tapping it against your chin as though in deep thought.

Everyone started shouting names. Courtney called for Spencer. Spencer called for Angela. Angela called for Chanse. Chanse called for Spencer, too.

You shot the card across the table to Spencer, and it hit him in the face. “Oops! Sorry, I’m a bad shot,” you shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t actually care.

“I gave you a drumroll!” He yelped, incensed that you would do this to him, knowing he was one card away from being out.

“Sorry, babe, it wasn’t the right tempo.”

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You and Spencer decided on Homestate for lunch, sitting in your car in the Smoffice parking lot, bent every which way to be comfy and facing each other in the small car.

You loved having time alone with Spencer, and you refused to think deeper into why. You weren’t that extroverted in your real life. It was easy to be extroverted on camera, especially when your best friends in the entire universe are there with you, making you double over in laughter, egging you on to take a joke further.

The past few times you’ve been one-on-one with Spencer, you had gotten a bit nervous right beforehand. You’ve never, in all your years of friendship with Spencer, felt nervous before seeing him. And you were choosing to blame one Courtney Ruth Miller for this.

“Spencer’s thirst trap edits on TikTok,” Courtney giggled.

Shayne breaks into that high-pitched laughter that only Courtney brought out of him, and Amanda was laughing in either disbelief or agreement. Actually, it was probably both.

“No, I don’t save them,” Courtney clarified. “But I send–I send them to him.”

“Check this out, dude,” Shayne said in his frat bro voice.

“And also me, why don’t I check it out again?” Courtney laughed again.

“Also, where did I save that? Hmm…” Amanda added.

The room devolved into a fit of giggles.

Courtney left out a small part of the story. You were usually the one that sent the edits to her.

You wouldn’t say that you had a crush on Spencer. Or that you even had feelings for him that weren't platonic. But sometimes, late in bed, scrolling on TikTok, your for you page would really be for you and put a thirst trap edit of your best friend on your feed. Sometimes, once you sent a video to Court, your algorithm would pick up on it and put a bunch of edits in a row. You’d watch them all, sending half of them to Courtney, fawning over how pretty he was.

You didn’t have feelings for Spencer, you just had eyes that worked. You knew he was beautiful, with his wild, curly hair, his glasses, his humor. Everything about him was attractive to you. He was extremely funny, never took a joke too far, and respected your boundaries. These were all desirable traits, normal things to find attractive in another person.

But, when you watched that Smosh Mouth episode, and dared to look at the comments, your stomach started burning.

The spencer thirst edits is so real, courtney

I also send my friends spencer thirst edits <3

Spencer thirst trap enjoyers rise up !!

You couldn’t place the emotion that was rising inside you, swallowing you. You weren’t dumb, you knew that other people saw those edits. You once saw one with over 20k likes, clearly Spencer being attractive wasn’t a hot take. And it wasn’t – he was objectively hot in looks alone, right? But knowing him personally, well, that only endeared you to him more.

Jealousy. You felt… jealous. You had pinpointed the emotion that was skyrocketing your body temperature, but you needed to pinpoint the reason now. Why do you feel jealous? What is there to be jealous of? He’s not yours.

You had had a bit of an anxiety attack over it all when you woke up this morning. You let it all fade away once you got to the office, but sitting in your tiny car, cramped up next to Spencer… the confusion, the jealousy, it was all rearing its head once more.

“You good, babe?” Spencer asked, followed by a large bite of quesadilla.

For some reason, the pet name – despite its frequency in conservation with Spencer – burned you just a little more.

You moved your food to the side, no longer hungry. “Yeah, Spence. I’m okay.” But your voice was tight, and you knew it gave you away. Spencer always knew.

“Y/N, you know you’re a shit liar.” He tossed a crumpled up napkin at you, his way of encouraging you to open up.

You let out a laugh, weakly. “Shut up.”

Spencer tapped your leg, prompting you to meet his eyes. “Hey. Please? Let me help my best friend,” he said, and the platonic tone he used made you want to shrivel up and pass away. His best friend. That was all you were, all you would ever be. You thought you had made peace with this sentiment, years and years ago. You thought this was a thing you understood, a thing that was an unspoken agreement.

But maybe it wasn’t. “I don’t think I want to talk about it just yet. Let me process a bit more, and you’ll be the first one to know.” You held out your right pinky, silently asking for a pinky swear.

Spencer smiled, a beautiful sight in the afternoon sun, and linked his pinky with yours. You both leaned in, kissing your respective thumbs to signify the pinky swear was official. It was something you had done for so many years at this point, that the motion was entirely subconscious.

You pulled away with more force than was necessary, but if Spencer noticed, he took mercy and he didn’t question you. “Let’s talk about you!” You blurted out, desperately trying to redirect the conversation. “How are the apps treating you?” You said ‘apps’ with a certain sense of disdain, meant to come off as a joke but coming out more truthful than you meant.

You’re not sure why this was your best choice for “redirecting the conversation”. Because whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to be any easier to hear.

“Oh, I deleted ‘em.”

Eyes wide, you leaned forward again, your body constantly stuck in a gravitational pull towards him. “What? When? Why?”

“Who, what, when, where, why, and how?” He mocked you, and you made a big show of rolling your eyes.

“You’re so dramatic, Y/N. I love it.” He said.

So, you did what you always did. “I might be dramatic but I’m always right.” You loved your friendship with Spencer, because he was the only one that pushed you hard enough. You loved to volley insults back and forth, and to have someone keep up with you when you’re really in the groove. Here you were, starting up your game. A back and forth of barbs with frightening frequency, always on the same page. Spencer never had a problem keeping that insane pace with you. It almost seemed like you were the one running, and he was on a leisurely stroll right behind you, never struggling to keep up with you. Always right there.

“Best friend my ass, why didn’t you tell me!” It was a rhetorical question, and you didn’t need or want an answer to it. You were afraid of what his reasoning would be.

What if he met someone?

He didn’t seem to pick up on your internal battle. “I don’t know, we haven’t really hung out lately.” His voice was suddenly a lot lower, an air of sadness in his tone. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve had you to myself in a month.”

Your heart skipped a beat, just for a moment, at that. You decided to push your luck.

“Had me to yourself, eh?” You winked at him, “And you say that I want to kiss you so bad.” You leaned back again, letting the space between you and Spencer return to a normal, friendly, platonic amount.

To his credit, Spencer was usually the one that made the suggestive jokes. Then, you would shut him down immediately. You would call him disgusting, say he could only have you in his dreams, make a small dick joke, something. That was how the bit went. But you were surprised to see how dumbfounded he looked.

“Sorry I stole your bit,” you exhaled, a bit breathless at the way he was looking at you. Like you were always surprising him, and that he loved it. Like he could maybe love you.

Your phone’s alarm went off, signaling it was time to go back inside. You didn’t have another shoot today, but Spencer had a livestream. Maybe you’d sit in, but you’d more than likely go for a walk to try and get rid of this negative, nervous, jealous energy.

Spencer groaned, and you laughed. “What?”

“I just wanted more time with you is all,” he started, measuring your reaction. When you raised an eyebrow, he pushed his luck. He leaned over the console, right up to your face. Your lips were merely an inch apart, a soft, warm kiss just a small distance away. You stayed silent, and you stayed still.

A beat.

He looked down at your lips.

Another beat.

“Wanted to see how bothered I could get you,” he whispers, and as he speaks he loses his balance for a second. Your lips brush for the quickest moment. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, just a slight touch. Lips to lips, but no pressure. No romance.

Somehow, you both managed to keep your faces straight.

Then, Spencer pulled away, agonizingly slow, tantalizingly slow. You didn’t breathe for a moment. It felt like recess again, like you had just run around too hard for too long and now your little lungs couldn’t fill up all the way.

You forced yourself to stay silent. He smiled again, a wickedly beautiful thing. Then he left you in your car, a raging fire fueled further with every one of his antics.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

After three full minutes of deep breathing exercises, you finally reentered the office. As soon as the door came to a close behind you, Alex came sprinting up to you, scaring you a little with their sense of urgency.

They came to a stop right in front of you, and after doubling over trying to catch his breath, he finally spoke. “Angela got sick after lunch,” Another quick breath, “can you come do the livestream with Spencer in her place?”

All that fucking nervous energy came flooding back in, thousandfold. Those deep breathing exercises were useless. All for naught.

Alex was desperate, and despite your current problem, you loved him. And Spencer. And Smosh. Fuck it.

“Yeah, of course I can. Is there anything planned?” You said, following behind them when they rejoiced and started heading for the stage.

They laugh, which makes you laugh, only his was genuine and yours was nervous and obvious.

“Oh, no, what?” You asked, another nervous chuckle coming out of you.

You had reached the door to the stage, and when you walked in you watched as Spencer rattled on about – you listened a bit closer – Family Guy? What the hell, sure. Alex probably told him to start the stream and keep it going while they grabbed someone to cover.

You’d like to think you were Alex’s first choice. You knew that you and Spencer had incredible chemistry on camera, which was only because you had incredible chemistry for real. There was a not insignificant amount of the fanbase that shipped you two. Sometimes, if your TikTok FYP didn’t serve you Spencer thirst traps, it served you edits of the two of you flirting. Compilation videos of moments you shared on camera would come up in your YouTube suggestions. And you watched them all. All the way to the end.

And that never really made much sense, now did it? Why watch these videos speculating on the romantic nature of the friendship you cherished so dearly? You wanted it to be just friendship. That’s what you’ve wanted for nearly ten years now.

And now, all of the sudden, it really was starting to feel like ‘friends’ wasn’t enough. Like you wanted more, and you wanted it bad.

Shit.

You walked over to the livestream setup, making a loud whooping noise to announce your arrival. “Big dick daddy’s back in town baby!” You said, for some fucking reason. While you were doing your breathing exercises in your car, you were also on Twitter. Clearly the brain rot was influencing you. Or it was the gas leak.

You went with that.

“Whoa, coming in hot, eh?” Spencer said, looking up at you while you fiddled with the headphones before sitting in the comfy little swivel chair next to him.

His eyes were full of love, but you knew that was just because you were saving his ass right now.

That was all. You couldn’t indulge yourself in the possibility of it being more.

You just realized, as you nestled into the chair next to him, that you and Spencer hadn’t done a solo stream together yet. You were in a few of the group livestreams together, when there were four or five cast members involved. But you had yet to do one this… intimate. You shuddered mentally at that word.

“I’m here with Mr. Spencer Agnew, sir, can you tell us what we’ll be doing today?” You asked Spencer, holding your fist up like you had a microphone in. You leaned closer and shoved your hand in his face.

He laughed, and if you actually did have a mic in your hands, the audio would have peaked from the sheer sound of it. You didn’t think your bit was that funny, but you appreciated his enthusiasm.

Spencer played into all your bits. You were always thankful for that. You were never made to feel like your joke was going to bomb. He put his mouth right up close to the ‘mic’ you were holding, and he wrapped his hand around yours like he was trying to steady the ‘microphone’ himself. You threw your head back, giddy.

“Well, Mr. Big Dick Daddy, today we have a FNAF livestream! Super excited to be here, super excited that you are here, because I know how much you hate jumpscares.”

“Alex! You fuck!” You screamed in his general direction. That was why they had laughed when you asked them what was planned.

Spencer snickered, then added a dramatic gasp. “Hey! I was the one who decided that we were playing FNAF, don’t give them all the credit!”

“The only thing I’m going to give you credit for is giving me a heart murmur at such a young age, dickwad.” You crossed your arms in defiance, then bumped shoulders with Spencer to make sure he knew you were okay. “You play, please?” You asked, timid, picking up the controller. “I’ll watch. Please?”

Spencer couldn’t deny you much. He’d proven time and again that despite the way you both spoke to each other, your best friend had a soft spot for you. He gave you a reassuring smile, grabbing the controller from your hands. Just out of frame, one of his hands landed on your knee, a sign of safety, a hint of comfort. You instantly found yourself calming down, despite knowing you were about to get wrecked in the chat for your reactions to the jumpscares.

You looked over at chat for the first time since you sat down, and a blush started forming. The monitor displaying the chat was just off to your left side, and you were able to eye it surreptitiously.

fuck they are SO cute

shayne and courtney truthers turned to spencer and y/n truthers WAKE UP!! it’s our time!!

the way she’s leaning into him goddddddddd ME AND WHO?

between the shourtney lore we’ve been getting and now these two, i’m going to explode

they act just how me and my now wife acted before we made the leap from friends to lovers. i have faith !!

The last comment stood out to you the most. So much so, that you didn’t realize you didn't answer Spencer’s question. The chat was flying, the comment you committed to memory long gone.

“Sorry, I zoned out. That Homestate was so good, I think I need a nap now.” You decided to acknowledge it while still deflecting.

Spencer chuckled. He was swapping through the cameras in the game at warp speed, click, click, click. Click, click, click. You didn’t know how he even processed what he was looking at, or for. “You didn’t even finish it, how are you this tired?”

“If I remember correctly, I was interrupted.” You shot a fiery look at him, pushing him. This was a livestream, nothing could just be cut out of it. He had to be careful. You wanted to see if he would be.

“You want to kiss me soooooo bad, Y/N.” To anyone else, that retort was normal. He’d said it to you on camera about a hundred times. Hell, he said it a few hours ago. But he was pushing back. Teetering dangerously on the line of caution.

You were trying to figure out if you should just push both of you over the edge, sending each other tumbling into madness. But you also wondered if you should pull him back by the sleeve of his stupid hoodie. “Maybe, maybe not,” was what you settled on.

Chat exploded again, you could see the feed rapidly updating in your periphery. For your own sanity, you decided not to actually try and read anything being said.

“Oh, ew!” Spencer shouted. Your look of confusion, borderline a look of hurt, sends him spiraling and he hurries to explain. “You always say something mean to me when I flirt with you, I figured I’d return the favor this time.” He ended his declaration with a wink. Spencer wasn’t being mean, he was giving you a dose of your own medicine.

Fuck the cliff, fuck any sort of ground you’ve ever stood on. You were free falling, hurtling at record speed, mere moments away from going splat! all over the comically large bullseye painted below. It was the best adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. All-encompassing, consuming, hungry.

“Ohhhh,” you said, like you just got the joke. “Okay, let’s go again. I’m ready this time!”

Spencer continued playing the game, focus never breaking because this was everyday for you. Neither of you had an on-camera persona when you were next to each other. It was just your friendship. The things you said off-camera, you said just as loud on-camera.

You watched as his thumbs flew around on the controller, flipping through the cameras, shutting the doors. No major jumpscares yet, but the knowledge that they would come was still in the back of your mind.

His hands were nice. Not too big, his fingers stopping not far above the tips of yours when you would hold your hands up to each other’s. You were both big on physical affection, so that was often. They were extremely dextrous, watching him type on a mechanical keyboard felt near-religious. The way they sped around, key-to-key, no effort needed, no concentration, no looking at the keyboard.

He finally spoke again. “I’m waiting for you to do your line, babe.”

Spencer was on the brink of the danger zone. He didn’t call you babe on camera that often, as though he wanted to keep that for just the two of you, as often as possible. When he did, it was either a whisper – low enough the editor would have to add in an on-screen caption – or in a mocking manner like today’s Moose Master.

“Shit, sorry. Okay.” You did a few speech and breathing exercises, rapidly moving from noise to noise, just to make him laugh. “If I remember correctly, I was interrupted.”

“You want to kiss me so bad, babe. You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Your head turned to him at Mach 1. Not necessarily because of his words, but because of how nonchalantly he spoke them. Like you didn’t have at least 5,000 eyes on you right now. Like you weren’t livestreaming, on the internet, for everyone and their fucking mother to see.

Like you weren’t having your heart ripped out on a live feed.

The universe decided to throw you a bone, but it was unfortunately in the form of a jumpscare. It had you screeching, knees pulled up to your chest in your chair, both hands suddenly gripping Spencer’s hoodie. Your heart rate was through the roof, and anything you felt a minute ago was gone, replaced only with this new strain of adrenaline and a little bit of fear.

“Fuck!” You yelled one last time, your string of expletives sure to get clipped and bleeped to death for TikTok. “Sometimes I try to play this game and I remember that literal children can play this. This shit scares me at my big age, and my little cousins are telling me all about the fucking lore like it’s fun!”

“It is fun!” Spencer cut in, defending Scott Cawthon’s honor. The game was still on the ‘game over’ screen, and he was making no moves to jump back in. He wanted to make sure you were okay to continue, and you loved him more for it. He was so thoughtful, you wanted to throw up.

“No, no, the game is fun, please don’t attack me, chat!” You said through a fit of laughter. “I like the game, I promise. I can watch Spence play it, but I can’t ever play it myself because I simply freak out at everything. It’s embarrassing!”

“It’s cute.” Spencer restarted the night, since you had lightly tapped his knee to let him know you were okay to keep going. But now that he said that, you weren’t as sure. He was going to be the death of you, and he was likely going to enjoy it. Sadist.

After a few small jumpscares, another big one came in the form of Foxy. You yelped, again, shutting your eyes and grabbing onto Spencer’s hoodie for the second time in less than twenty minutes. “I told you that you would give me an irregular heart beat, but I think you just want me to die on camera.”

“Hey,” Spencer said, voice soft and serious while not being too vulnerable. You were being watched after all. “Don’t say that.”

You kissed his cheek, deciding that nothing fucking mattered anymore. So what, you were in love with your best friend. It’s okay that he doesn’t think of you that way, because at least he’s in your life. You might as well do some fan service. Have some fun.

“Sorry, babe.” Your head found his shoulder, curled up into him. Far too intimate for a Five Nights at Freddy’s let’s play livestream, far too intimate for ‘friends’. But Spencer just readjusted to wrap his arm around you, reuniting his hand with the controller once you wiggled around a little to get comfortable. It was a tight fit, but it wasn’t a bad one. It was comfy. You’d played video games like this with Spencer before, though usually you were in a dark living room, illuminated only by the TV screen as you watched him play Fortnite or Resident Evil or as you played Stardew co-op together. Never like this, cameras and microphones and viewers. But it felt nice, that he wanted to love you so loudly, despite you just being friends.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Ian called you into a meeting room two minutes after the livestream ended. Both of you, actually.

“Ian? What’s going on?” You asked, feeling panicked.

Ian sat down and let out a breath, contemplating his word choice. “Okay, so,” he paused, once again trying to figure out his wording. “So, I just have to ask, because I’m your boss, and because this is unfortunately a ‘business’ –” he added air quotes around the word ‘business’, which made you and Spencer chuckle, “Are the two of you in a relationship?”

You were genuinely too stunned to speak. You looked at Spencer, who was already looking at you. Because of course he was. Because of course Ian’s asking this question. Because why aren’t you dating? Why have you been wasting all these years as ‘just friends’ when you’ve both clearly been in love with each other this whole time? You finally broke the silence.

“Not that I’m aware of?” It was a cop out, but you needed to talk to Spencer one-on-one. This wasn’t a conversation to have in front of your boss. “You?”

Spencer slowly shook his head before looking at Ian once more. “Yeah, no, not as far as I know.”

Ian sighed. “And you would be one hundred percent honest if this changed?”

“Yes, Dad. If me and Spencer decide to start making out, we will ask for your consent first. Sorry, Dad.” You said, trying to ease the tension in the room. It was making you claustrophobic.

Thankfully, Ian and Spencer laughed. “Yeah, sorry Y/N’s Dad. We promise to ask you first. Please make sure you do not have Slack alerts silenced at any time.”

After some laughs, Ian stood back up and wrapped you and Spencer in a hug. Once he pulled back, he whispered, “Please tell me first so I can win the office bet.” And then, he was gone.

“Office bet?” You asked, turning to Spencer in confusion.

He shrugged, “I’m not sure.”

“Okay. Well, can you come over tonight? I think I want to talk to you about that thing from earlier. I think I’ve processed enough.” You smiled at him, baiting him in.

“Well, I was supposed to hang with Alex tonight, but they’ll understand.” Spencer grabbed your hand, linking your fingers loosely. “I’ll see you tonight, babe.”

And then you were alone.

With a lot of thinking to do.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You had agreed that Spencer would be at your place at 9pm. It was currently 8:45pm and you were on the verge of passing out from stress. You’d been doing laps around your apartment for an hour, and you’d never been so happy to be on the bottom floor. You cannot imagine being someone’s upstair’s neighbor right now.

You paced once more, repeating the cycle. Kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, on and on forever. Luckily, Spencer was always a little early. He knocked on your door at 8:50pm.

You rushed over, but waited a second before opening the door. You didn’t want to seem too eager. This likely was going to be an extremely emotional conversation. What if you came off desperate?

Once you had paused for what felt like a normal amount of time, you opened the door to Spencer’s beautiful smile. “Hey, babe,” he greeted.

“Hi.”

He nodded towards the entrance, “Can I… come in?”

Oh, right. You were still fully blocking the way. “Oh, sorry, of course!” You laughed, stepping to the side. “Entrée!” You were acting like a fool, but you were nervous as hell. You deserved some slack.

As he entered, you could tell he showered before coming over. You could smell his body wash and his cologne. And it… excited you. You loved the way he smelled, which is why you were constantly stealing his hoodies.

You followed him through your kitchen and into your living room, sitting down next to him on the sofa. Instinctively, you curled right up to him. Though, as soon as you actually noticed this, you pulled back and put a bit of space between the two of you. You can’t be cuddling him when you’re planning to have a heavy conversation about feelings.

Spencer cleared his throat, and you finally met his eyes. “Is everything okay?” He reached a hand out, and you graciously accepted it. You needed a little grounding right now.

Without your consent, tears started pouring out of you, but you did your best to get your words out. “Yeah. Yeah, Spence, everything is okay,” you let out a laugh, and even though it sounded sad due to your state, it was a happy laugh. “Everything is great. I just, um, I just have a question. And it might be silly, but I want you to be honest.” You were thanking the universe that you got everything out without choking. Your tears were still falling, but luckily they were mostly silent.

“Of course, Y/N. What’s up? You’re starting to scare me a bit.” His thumb was rubbing at your hand, a featherlight touch that was so comforting, you could start sobbing all over again.

“Um, Spencer, are we in love?” You were sheepish, admittedly. It was a strange question to ask, and you were terrified at what his answer could be. It seemed like any answer was going to hurt, whether it was a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

Spencer started blushing, and sputtered a bit before saying, “Uh, are we in love? Like you and me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re saying it like it’s impossible!” Even though that thought should hurt, a stab wound with the knife ripped out to make sure you keep bleeding, it didn’t. Because it wasn’t impossible, it was the reality, and you knew that.

“I-I mean, fuck, Y/N. Yeah, I’m definitely in love with you. I just didn’t know it was a mutual thing.” Spencer was getting teary-eyed now, and you just wanted to hold him.

So you did. You climbed into his lap, straddling him. Not in a sexual way, in a, I-need-to-be-close-to-you-right-now way. In a way that brought both of you comfort and peace. You hugged him as tight as you could. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I’m sorry it took me so long to understand.”

Spencer was hugging you just as hard, and when he laughed you felt the vibrations blossom in your chest, too. What a beautiful thing, physical touch.

“It’s okay, babe. I was okay with waiting,” Spencer was softing running his hands through your hair now. “I knew I was going to have to wait – you’re fucking oblivious.”

You pulled back with a gasp, “Hey!”

“Baby, it’s been nearly ten years. I’ve been flirting with you excessively and loudly in videos with millions of views for years.” Spencer’s eyes were shining again, and you let yourself get lost in them for a moment.

“I watch YouTube compilations of us flirting!” You blurted out, again, for some fucking reason. What the hell was going on with you today?

Spencer’s laugh was boisterous, and it shook both of you. You were laughing just as hard. “Hey, I do, too. One time someone on Twitter caught me liking a fancam of us. I’m secretly very happy likes are private now.”

“Wait, am I your girlfriend now?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend now?”

You shook your head, “That is not how you’re asking me out, Spencer Agnew.”

He laughed, “My bad, let me start over. Y/N, baaaabe? Will you be my girlfriend? FInally? After ten agonizing years? Please?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer, that one was bad, too!” Your laughs were slightly betraying you, however.

“Baby, please, be my girl. Please?”

You broke out in a feverish blush, and put your head on his shoulder. “Yeah,” you laughed, “Yeah, I will.”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your head. “Sorry, what was that?”

You pulled back to look him in the eyes. You grabbed his chin with both of your hands so you could really drive your point home. “Yes, Spencer. I’ll be your girl.”

“Thank fucking god, can I kiss you now?” He was borderline panting now.

“Anytime, babe.”

And he did. He kissed you hard, and he kissed you soft. He was rough, and he was slow. He was everything, all at once, and it was dizzying and intoxicating in the best fucking way.

You weren’t sure how long you both sat there kissing, but it was well into the morning. You woke up in the middle of night, legs tangled with Spencer’s. You had both fallen asleep on your couch, and you were sprawled out across Spencer’s sleeping body. He was snoring very faintly, which was fucking adorable.

You fumbled around in the low light for your phone, checking the time. It was 2:04am. You also had a message from Ian.

I’ll have the HR forms on your desk in the morning. Love you both <3

Damn him.

You woke Spencer up after you had gotten up to pee. After a few minutes of attempting to get him to stand up, you both migrated to the bedroom. Under the covers, you both cuddled up to each other instantly. He sleepily kissed your forehead and wished you a good night. It was the most peaceful sleep of your life.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

When your alarm went off a mere four hours later, you both were tempted to ignore it. Unfortunately, you both had extremely busy days to tend to. You showed Spencer Ian’s text, which he laughed at. “I hate him.”

You snorted, “Same.” Despite this, you shot him a text.

I’ll bring my favorite pen to sign them with. We’ll be a little late this morning. Busy night :)

“Oh, don’t tell Ian that, please.” Spencer laid back against the pillow with his arm over his eyes, always the drama queen.

Ian’s reply came in, Please respect my boundaries of not discussing my employee’s sex lives. Love you both.

You laughed at his semi-contradiction. You won’t talk to your employees about personal shit but you’ll tell them you love them. Okay, Dad.

You then sat your phone down, and cuddled back up with Spencer. Just for another quick moment. “Five more minutes of this? Then we can get ready.”

“Yeah, I’ll steal something from cast wardrobe today. And I’m sure one of my hoodies is in your car.”

You gaped at the accusation, “Ugh! You don’t know that.”

“Y/N, I saw my grey Legacy hoodie in there yesterday.” He smiled at you, and you loved that he paid attention to you like this. You knew that that hoodie was in there. But it was in the backseat under a number of random items, because you were trying to conceal it. But he saw it anyway, because he sees you. And you were beyond thankful for that.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You both laid in silence, just breathing each other in. This was nice. You could get used to this. You were excited to have this part of Spencer, this side of him that’s just for you. The one that’s extremely soft and caring, but still extremely hilarious. The side that’s so understanding, so observant, so loving.

Maybe loving Spencer Agnew was the greatest gift the universe ever gave you.

#richie txt #richie writes #smosh x reader #spencer agnew x reader

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jingyuans-precious · 5 months ago

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the moon was still out, getting ready to greet the morning sun in a bit. your lover came home not too long ago, finding you fast asleep in your shared bed. even though he was tired, he did not want to miss out on an opportunity to admire your beauty, tracing your delicate face with his precious fingers. gentle enough not to wake you up, yet so loving that even in your sleep you managed to nuzzle into his touch.

“my beloved, you’re so incredibly beautiful” he whispers quietly as he continued to caress your face slowly.

“you know.. i would give you everything you would ever want and more… but you always say you only want me” he muses to himself quietly, reminiscing to the times where you said you only wanted him and his love and affection.

“but even then, i will still give you the entire world, just because you deserve that and more. even if you insist you only want me and my love, i will work endlessly to give you everything you deserve. my beloved, i hope you won’t scold me too hard for that when we wake up together in a few hours.” your lover says quietly with a grin on his face, blinking slowly, like a feline.

“though i know i may not always be the best at showing you affection, i hope you will let me make it up to you tomorrow, darling mine. we do have some lost time to make up for after all. but for now i shall rest”

as your lover dozes off, he imagines what romantic activities he will do with you when you two are awake. though not before pulling you against his chest, just so you could hear how his heart beats for you only, even in your sleep.

— ALHAITHAM, NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY, AYATO, Diluc, Sylus, Jing Yuan, Zhongli, Kaeya, Aventurine, Zayne + your faves ♡

a/n: wrote this while dozing off yesterday, don’t know if i like it :]

#hsr jing yuan #genshin x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #ayato x reader #diluc x reader #sylus x reader #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #aventurine x reader #zayne x reader #lnds x reader #hsr fluff #genshin fluff

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enchantressiren · 5 months ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.. 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭.. 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮.❞

Which sex position is your future lover’s favorite and why? (Detailed)

Masterlist

Author's note,

It's been a while since I last posted, hi everyone. I hope you enjoy your Christmas coming up!

Divider

Pile I.

“I want to devour the sweet nectar of the sin that lies beneath me. To feel it dripping on the sin of my fingertips, the graze that will melt us into ecstasy burning in the brain of our subconscious, such a beauty that I only get to see—for how lucky I am.. a lucky bastard.. that I am.”

Your future lover’s energy puts me in a calm trance, the calmest one could be. I feel like I am sleeping or walking on a path of water that will lead me to paradise. They are so soft with you, their love, or shall I say devotion, to you is something they cherished tremendously, and they could not bear losing that with you. To lose you would simply be their death, and they cannot have that done, and that is why their favorite sex position is all over the place. They do not have one and could never dare; they want to feel you everywhere, in every position, and want to see your beautiful face move and show pure pleasure as they please you with the utmost respect. “That is something you deserve, you deserve the utmost respect one could bear, and that is the one thing you never have to ask or prove with me—it will be with you the minute you are my lover, though I am sorry it was not done when we were fighting.”

Enemies to lovers, or rivals to lovers, is your trope with them. You honestly made them want to fall in love, and made them understand what it was to actually love. Their ex, (or multiple, energies are flying around like crazy), were nasty. That’s really it, so awful, but they used that to improve on what they wanted, which was building walls around until you had the audacity to break them and make them fall for you, “shame on you!’’

(I can feel them next to me, they are so animated, so damn loving, it’s like they want to grab you right here and right now and pull you to their future).

Aside from your “audacity,” they are very happy that you did because they were spiraling into something darker and started to use something dangerous, not illegal or self-harming (it’s not my place to tell you), as a coping mechanism, yet now.. you are their drug. Not literally, but you basically saved them from this impending doom of shame and guilt. I believe you should get ready to heal your inner child (even if you have) with them because they will be spoiling you .. like crazy, maybe a bit too much? I see a vision with an insane amount of gifts, teddy bears, jewelry, sports gear, food, or something to do with your religion. Also art supplies or crystals that are insanely expensive, but if it is for you, then “fuck it, right?” That is how their attitude is with you.

Ten of wands.

I took a break because something was missing from them, and they could not tell me. Meaning they kept focusing on the positive aspects when it comes to your relationship and sex with you. However, with the ten of wands, they actually do not know how to have a favorite sexual position. In a way, they thought it was off-putting that others always picked a favorite; if you picked a favorite, then you lost the chance to explore around and make your lover feel sexual pleasure. So, intuition tells me they feel overburdened and overwhelmed picking a favorite, but at the same time, they feel pressured to pick one.

They know that you would not give a damn whether or not they had one, but their colleagues, co-workers, a boss, or some type of group pops up with how they think about sex, and it is affecting your future lover right now, and when you meet; they will feel insecure throughout your sexual journey with you thus why the relationship with them will be enemies or rivals to lovers. I believe it's peer pressure with them. My intuition tells me this is the reason why you saved them and why they would do anything for you.

I feel a lot of anxious energy with them, a part of me wants to hug them and tell them they are okay, okay to love and show their pleasure in their own way, but I already know this is how you feel with them and what you will tell them. And when you do, they will confess you saved them.

As I was editing, I had to give you a message and also saw 777. Listen here. You are absolutely allowed to love whoever you want, you are allowed to be spoiled and pampered, you are allowed to be kissed in the most romantic ways, and you are allowed to have someone help you take showers. No, this person will not treat you in a bad way because you struggle with mental health problems. And no, they will not let anyone laugh at you even when you guys are not together because you do not deserve that, and they also think someone who does that is a "fucking asshole.'' You are so so so .. and many so worthy of love and I hope each day you tell yourself that, because it is true or else I would not have said it nor left this message, understood? Allow yourself to have the happiness you deserve and stop being your own blockage because, at the end of the day, it is not worth it, and seeing you struggle to have your happiness, do you think your kid self would like that? Would that be okay with them or is that okay—to have yourself struggling to make amends with your past, forcefully giving yourself guilt for something that should have been forgiven a long time ago? Let it go, it is seriously okay, let it go. Yes, what you did was awful, and should not have happened with them, but let it go and do and become better for the mistakes you caused and for yourself so it does not happen again. So as I said before, if I didn't mean it, I would not have mentioned it in your pile, so let it go.

Masterlist

Pile II.

Your future lover's favorite sex position is face sitting. They love, and I mean this very heavily, love eating you out, giving you oral, sucking you off, whatever the case is, they are very addicted to your private parts. “All you, all you, and .. all you, you are so fucking delicious baby, fuckkkkk.” I see a scene where they are covered in your juices, your cum, everything about you, and they are still eating you out as you grab their arms, body parts, or hair. Gripping for dear life, begging for relief, but nothing happens other than using their tongue in or on you faster, swirling it until it hits that sensitive spot of yours and, as well, as they are filled to the brim with your essence. The whole idea of eating dessert does not appeal to them UNTIL it is yours.

I hope you are ready for a very smutty scene since I cannot channel anymore other than their fantasies.. for you. I will address you as Y/N (your name), and them as F/L (future lover).

Scene A)

Your F/L will grab your leg and flip you over as they crawl towards your body, grabbing your skin to feel your skin. To feel the heat of your body because of how aroused you are. They will crawl towards your lips and greedily suck your top lips, nibbling the bottom to feel the taste from the last meal you ate, and chew softly. Then they will roughly thrust their tongue into your lips, sucking and grazing their tongue on yours and your teeth; they want to feel everything about you. Then they will pull out, grope your jaw and spit into your mouth as they crawl down and then sensually drag their tongue down to your chest area, sucking on them, and then to your private part as they blow air on it, seeing you twitch, whimper, groan, moan, etc. They will lean down and then give you oral.

Scene B)

Y/N is focused on doing their work, finishing up a coming project, and their deadline is coming within a week or two. F/L comes waltzing in as if they own the place and gazes at Y/N, smirking at their inconvenience. Though it would have been better if they could have helped Y/N, but no, it did not fit their shenanigans or their agenda. They stride over to Y/N as they massaged Y/N's shoulder, building trust with them. Once gaining their trust, they forcefully kiss Y/N, tasting their sweet nectar and feeling their tension dropping down until they remember their work as they push away F/L. But no, you would assume F/L will hold back and respect that push, yet they will not (still consent here). F/L will pick Y/N over their shoulder despite the weight of Y/N, and walk towards a countertop or over a table and bend them over. F/L will look at Y/N, and undress them as they crouch down and tease Y/N’s undergarment until they see a wet spot and then take it off only to tease Y/N with a toy, waiting for them to release but not cum since it is not allowed.

It will last for 2 hours straight, and once Y/N has had enough, they will face Y/N over their shoulders, similar to someone sitting on someone’s shoulder, only in this case, Y/N is sitting in front of F/L. F/L will suck or eat out Y/N until they are cumming over.. and over again and sobbing for F/L to stop. But it will not happen until Y/N uses their safe word(s) and once that does happen, pampering aftercare will erupt and leave Y/N comforted to the highest degree possible. With an insane amount of kisses, "because you deserve that and you deserve me to eat you out more!''

Masterlist

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pascaloverx · 5 months ago

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STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

one three

TWO

Days, perhaps more, have passed. You and Hanno have been meeting in secret, seizing moments when there was no sign of General Acacius. All that you were permitted to know was that he was recovering in the company of his beloved wife, Lucilla, who made it clear she wanted no trace of your presence near her husband. The absence of Acacius weighed upon you more than you cared to admit. To be denied access to him felt akin to holding your breath for far too long. Yet, your clandestine encounters with Hanno had proven to be a welcome distraction, enough to keep your mind from lingering too deeply on what you could not change.

"Your gladiator is requesting your care, Y/N. And while we are on the subject, your encounters under the pretext of physical care will soon spark rumors," Ravi remarks as he steps into the chamber where he keeps his healing tools. "General Acacius will be the first to rage if he learns of your escapades. Should Emperors Geta and Caracalla grow suspicious, they may presume you are seeking a new lover. Not to mention the possibility of Macrinus taking offense at your growing closeness with his gladiator." You remain crouched, organizing a collection of herbs, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Hanno needs you—or rather, he has summoned you for yet another session of personal defense training.

"Ravi, believe me, I am well aware of the risks I take in daring to draw close to Hanno. Yet, I choose to take them—something no one of sound mind would do. General Acacius will not always be there to save me in the future. Lucilla has made her stance on my involvement with him abundantly clear. You do not see him here, concerned for me, do you? Precisely for that reason, I must think of the future." You speak as you search for the garment General Acacius once left at your disposal, should you ever need to fight.

"Since you are so determined to take such risks, be cautious. The guards will bring Hanno to be treated, and you will have only that time to practice—whatever it is you two practice," Ravi warns, much as he does each time you and Hanno meet, repeating the same cautions.

"I shall change my attire. If you would, dear friend, make Hanno comfortable until I return," you say, rising and moving toward the exit of the space where you and Ravi have tended to countless gladiators. "If all goes well today, I shall be one step closer to becoming more than a healer or a lover. I shall be the closest thing to a warrior I can aspire to be." Ravi nods, though a hint of worry lingers in his expression. He is the closest thing to an ally you have.

Time rushes by when one is on the brink of doing something forbidden, but you no longer concern yourself with the consequences. You are resolute to take control of your destiny, even if that control is but a sliver. Once dressed, you secure the dagger Acacius once gifted you in a hidden compartment of your attire. It is your small but vital secret, and you are steadily improving in its use.

With purpose in your stride, you make your way swiftly to where Hanno is awaiting you. When you arrive, his eyes brighten at the sight of you. "I see your delay is justified; you look prepared for battle. Let us see if you can land a blow," Hanno says, advancing toward you with a predatory gait meant to intimidate.

You meet his gaze with an unflinching smile. "Save your words for when we’re truly facing off, gladiator," you reply, following him to the familiar training grounds. It is the very arena where countless gladiators sharpen their skills, preparing for the moment they will stand before the emperors in the grand coliseum.

As soon as you step into the center of the training grounds, Hanno strikes without warning. His sword arcs toward you, narrowly missing as you instinctively step back. At the start of this combat practice, both of you wield swords, though your grasp on its use remains novice.

"Have you lost your sanity, Hanno? I wasn’t ready," you exclaim, fixing him with a glare of irritation. He advances on you again, silent and relentless, as if transformed into a stranger intent on attack. His gaze is unwavering, his resolve sharp.

"When you’re defending yourself, no one will wait for you to be ready, nor will they show you mercy. I want you to see me as you would see any foe who dares strike at you," Hanno declares, his sword slashing toward you again. You react, relying on your defensive maneuvers, retreating step by step until a strategy for counterattack begins to form in your mind.

"I’m not so sure; you seem to be enjoying this far too much," you retort, timing your movements before landing your first offensive strike. It catches him off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. The gap between you narrows, charged with the thrill of the fight and something deeper, more electrifying.

"I am enjoying it just as much as you enjoy patching me up with that brute strength of yours, healer. Now, focus," Hanno says, parrying your blow with unnerving precision. It’s like a dance—each movement perfectly countering the other. You attack; he defends. He strikes; you block. The rhythm between you is almost hypnotic, an eerie harmony born of tension and skill. But then, in a risky maneuver, Hanno manages to disarm you. Your sword flies from your grasp, landing far out of reach. Now standing mere steps apart, your eyes meet, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like the end for you, so why not take a chance?

With a surge of reckless determination, you rush toward him, channeling all your strength into an attempt to topple him. In your mind, it isn’t Hanno you’re facing—it’s an enemy, someone who would do you harm. Your unexpected move catches him off guard, and he falls to the ground. By sheer luck or fate, his sword slips from his grip as well. Now, you find yourself on top of him, both of you unarmed. The air between you is charged, your breaths mingling as silence envelops the space.

"It seems I have bested the great gladiator of Macrinus," you say, pressing your body lightly against his, a triumphant smile on your lips. Hanno smirks, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he swiftly reverses your positions, pinning you beneath him with effortless strength.

"Do not be deceived, healer," he murmurs, his piercing gaze locking with yours. But you are not so easily subdued. With a practiced movement, you draw the hidden dagger from your vestments and press it against his neck, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Your presumption is touching, gladiator," you retort, your tone both teasing and sharp.

"What will you do next, healer?" Hanno asks, his breath warm against your face. The tension between you ignites instantly, palpable and undeniable. Before you can respond, he pulls your face closer to his, his lips capturing yours with a fervent intensity, as though he means to consume you entirely. At first, you almost resist Hanno’s kiss—it feels forbidden, a boundary you should not cross. Since your husband’s passing, Acacius was the only man you had kissed. Yet, as Hanno’s tongue ventures into your mouth, you find yourself surrendering, the kiss quickly becoming mutual.

In truth, Hanno is devouring you, but you refuse to let him take the upper hand so easily. You tug at his hair with force, pulling him closer, demanding his full attention. The kiss deepens, its intensity increasing to the point of no return. You want him to feel your hunger, to know that you wish to consume him just as much. For all its forbidden allure, you crave this moment—not because of duty or obligation, but because you want it. You want to know what it feels like to kiss someone you shouldn't, to rebel against every expectation tethering you. Your husband was not forced upon you, but your marriage had been a safeguard. Becoming Acacius’ lover served a similar purpose. But with Hanno, nothing feels safe. And perhaps that is why you let this moment unfold. There is no security here, no veil of protection. If you and Hanno are caught, Acacius could kill him, both the Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla could execute you, and the repercussions would be endless. Yet, none of that matters as your lips clash with his in this reckless, intoxicating dance of defiance.

The kiss is all-consuming, so intense that, for a moment, it steals your breath. You pause, pulling away to recover the air you desperately need. Yet Hanno seems unsatisfied, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that threatens to unravel your resolve.

His hand cups your face, fingers tracing over every detail as if committing you to memory. When his thumb brushes over your lips, he murmurs softly, "Your lips remind me of hers, my beautiful Arishat." Reality strikes like a sharp blade. He is with you, yet his mind lingers on his late wife. The weight of that truth is unbearable. As he leans forward, seeking your lips once more, you push him away, creating the distance you now desperately need.

"I will not be her replacement," you think, your resolve firm. "Nor Lucilla’s substitute." Avoiding his gaze, your shame and frustration burn within you. Rising quickly, you make your way toward your quarters. You and Ravi must always be prepared to tend to the wounded, so your rooms are close to where the gladiators train and where Ravi keeps his healing tools.

"Healer," Hanno calls out behind you, his voice firm yet laced with something softer. He follows after you, refusing to let the moment end so abruptly.

"Gladiator," you say, turning to face Hanno. Your body nearly collides with his, but you take a step back, halting the chase that had ensued. "Our training is done. I think it would be wise for us to part ways now, so as not to confuse..." You pause, searching for the right word to define what you might be confusing, only for Hanno to step abruptly closer, almost closing the space entirely.

"I am not confused about anything, healer," he says, his tone firm yet sincere. "I was lost momentarily in a memory, but I assure you, I knew exactly who I was kissing." He takes another step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"The act itself is already a problem, gladiator," you reply, struggling to maintain composure under his intense gaze. "We should not have kissed." Before he can respond, both of you hear footsteps approaching. In an instant, Hanno’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you behind him as though to shield you from whatever danger may come. Ravi appears, nearly running toward you, his face etched with worry.

"General Acacius has been seen heading this way," Ravi announces, his voice hurried and panicked. "The guards are murmuring that he’s coming to see you, Y/N. I suggest we get Hanno out of here immediately, and you prepare yourself to receive him."

The mention of Acacius sends a cold dread through you. Him encountering Hanno now would spell disaster. "Tell the guards who brought Hanno to retrieve him from here," you instruct, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Hanno and I will change out of these combat garments, and I’ll distract Acacius while the guards take Hanno back to his cell. Ravi, I’ll need your speed."

Without hesitation, Ravi nods and rushes off to summon the guards. You, in turn, push Hanno toward a secluded area where he can change out of his training gear. "Change in there and wait for me," you instruct firmly. Noticing the swords in his hands, you swiftly take them from him despite his protests. With no time to spare, you carry the weapons back to your quarters while Hanno remains in the area where you and Ravi usually tend to injured gladiators. In the quiet urgency of your chambers, you hastily change your attire, your mind racing with the precariousness of the situation. Hanno waits silently, the gravity of the moment clear to both of you.

"Do you fear what might happen should General Acacius discover your association with the gladiator who recently sought his life?" Hanno asks as you enter the room where he waits patiently to be taken back to his cell.

"I do not fear for myself," you reply, adjusting your tunic with calm precision. "I fear that if you and he meet, there will be unnecessary bloodshed. As I’ve told you before, if you wish to kill him, do so in a duel—before the people of Rome. Sate the appetite of Emperors Geta and Caracalla as they watch you strike at each other in a frenzied battle for glory in the name of the gods."

Hanno listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he steps closer. Without a word, he helps you smooth the folds of your tunic, his touch deliberate yet gentle. "Will you tell him of our association, then?" he asks, finishing his adjustments and letting his hand linger briefly as it grazes your cheek.

"What is there to tell?" you counter, meeting his gaze with resolve. "Our association is no one’s concern." A smile spreads across Hanno’s face, slow and satisfied, as if your answer pleased him greatly.

Moments later, Ravi appears, his expression tense. "The guards are near," he informs, his tone clipped. His gaze shifts between you and Hanno, briefly noting the closeness between you, though he chooses to remain silent. With a small nod, Ravi turns to Hanno, gesturing for him to follow. Hanno casts you a lingering look before allowing Ravi to lead him toward the guards, leaving you behind with the weight of the encounter still pressing on your chest.

You wait patiently for General Acacius to arrive, though his delay stretches longer than anticipated. The thought suddenly strikes you—he might already be in your quarters, as he has been on previous occasions.

"Would you care to explain," his voice calls out, smooth and laced with quiet reproach, "what reasons led my beloved healer, whom I hold in such high regard, to abandon me to the care of Ravi instead of tending to me herself?" Turning toward the source, you find him stepping into view, pulling back the mantle that had concealed his face and form. His approach is measured, deliberate, and his gaze briefly flickers to the swords you had left behind without considering they might draw his notice.

"You should have sought explanations from your wife, General Acacius," you reply, your tone calm but firm, though the effort to keep it so is greater than it seems. "It was she who instructed me, in the presence of the guards no less, to withdraw from tending to your care." His footsteps pause near the swords, his attention drawn to their gleaming edges. The air between you grows heavier as his eyes shift back to yours, narrowing slightly as he regards you. You remain steadfast, though the distance you keep from him feels tenuous, as if he could close it with the simplest of steps.

"I was not informed of such a decision; I would never have allowed my care to pass from your hands to another's," General Acacius speaks softly, his tone a mixture of calm and yearning as he moves toward you with deliberate caution, yet there is a palpable hunger in his eyes.

"General, whether you authorized it or not is irrelevant," you reply, holding your ground though the weight of his presence begins to press upon you. "Lucilla no longer wishes for us to remain close. Surely, you remember that when all this began, you told me that if your wife were ever to object to our association, even if it was merely for appearances, it would end."

Your words are firm, yet the truth they carry sinks heavily into your own heart. You know now, with certainty, that the chapter of your life entwined with Acacius is nearing its inevitable conclusion.

"Those words were spoken before we became what we are today," Acacius responds, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet intensity. "Surely you know I have no intention of abandoning you." He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, his nearness suffocating in its allure.

"Do not worry for me. Your pity is no longer necessary, Acacius," you say, though the ache in your chest betrays the pain these words bring. Deep down, you have long feared that what he felt for you stemmed from nothing but pity.

"I have never pitied you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Perhaps I felt empathy for your pain in the beginning, but after that—everything was real. Your presence makes me a better man." His hand reaches up to touch your face, tenderly tracing its contours as if to soften your resolve. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, an intimate gesture meant to draw you back to him, to coax you into his embrace once more.

"You owe your loyalty to your wife, not to me," you say, your voice faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. "We must no longer allow ourselves to feel anything beyond what is proper, Acacius." Even as you speak, your resolve weakens beneath his touch, his words a balm and a temptation all at once. He seems heedless of your protest, intent only on closing the distance between you.

"Lucilla has my loyalty, but you... you have my protection. I will not leave you unguarded," Acacius says, his lips almost brushing against yours, his voice weighted with emotion.

"Then you should know that my loyalty is no longer yours exclusively," you reply, steadying yourself as you deliver the words. You feel the sharp recoil in Acacius as he steps back, his expression hardening, though disbelief flickers in his eyes.

"I am involved with another," you continue, forcing the lie to your lips with a strength you did not know you possessed. "It may mean that I will no longer require your protection in the future." Your words are a dagger you wield with precision, for you know that to continue as his lover would jeopardize his marriage—a risk you cannot allow, no matter the desires that linger within you.

"Who would dare attempt to claim you, knowing that you are mine?" General Acacius demands, his voice edged with irritation that betrays a rare crack in his calm demeanor. His gaze narrows, his presence no less imposing, but the fury brewing beneath his words sends a shiver through you. You realize the fire you have kindled within him may burn brighter than you anticipated.

"Someone who does not fear the wrath of General Acacius," you say, your voice steady despite the undeniable pull of his proximity. You desire him, undeniably so, but you know you must not have him.

"It is clear that our involvement must end—now. Before it concludes in disaster," you declare, watching as Acacius processes your words, his gaze shadowed with an intensity that seems both pained and unyielding.

"Then let it be clear to you," Acacius responds, his tone laced with an unwavering authority, though no threat lies in his words. "Whoever dares to encroach upon what is mine will meet the edge of my sword without delay. Our bond will not be severed while either of us draws breath, Y/N. Keep that in mind." His declaration is resolute, not spoken as a plea but as a statement of his immutable commitment to you. It leaves you breathless, the weight of his words pressing against the fortress of your resolve.

"You cannot protect me forever, Acacius. Just as I cannot heal you forever," you murmur, stepping closer, your desperation palpable as though silently begging him to release you—to let you go before you both reach a precipice from which there is no return.

"Mea domina," he whispers reverently, stepping closer and pulling down the fabric covering your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips press softly against the exposed skin, lingering as if to seal a silent vow. The tenderness in his touch conveys more devotion than desire, a gesture that leaves you caught between longing and regret.

"I would die if necessary, but I will not abandon those I hold in the highest esteem. You and Lucilla are my priorities, and I will relinquish neither of you. If you place so much faith in this new interest of yours, let him come to me bearing a sword, and he shall find his end," he declares, his voice unwavering and resolute, his words resonating like a solemn oath.

Acacius lifts his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his lips trace a path of soft kisses along your temple, down to the curve of your jaw, and finally your forehead. His lips linger as if memorizing each contour of your face, avoiding your mouth deliberately—a clear boundary, or perhaps his way of expressing silent reproach for the words you have spoken. The kisses feel like a claim, yet also a farewell—his way of both cherishing and punishing, of reminding you of his commitment while withholding the one intimacy he knows you yearn for. The intensity in his gaze as he pulls back speaks volumes, as though he is willing you to see the depths of his resolve. "At times, it feels as though battle is all you truly understand, Acacius," you say, holding his gaze with a penetrating look, as if unraveling the depths of his thoughts.

"I am a man of honor," he replies, his tone firm yet measured. "I will not seek out the man who dares to involve himself with you, but neither will I stand idle should he attempt to take what is rightfully mine." His presence remains close, commanding and resolute, as though he seeks to claim not just the space but the moment itself. With deliberate care, Acacius reaches out, his hand brushing your face in a touch that is at once gentle and laden with unspoken meaning. It lingers, as if he wishes to commit every contour of your features to memory.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating from your chambers with the disciplined stride of a general accustomed to carrying the weight of empires. His departure leaves the room heavy with unresolved tension, the air thick with the echoes of what cannot be spoken. Alone, you are left to ponder the tangled web of emotions and loyalties binding you to both Acacius and Hanno. The weight of your entanglement bears down upon you, as inevitable as the arena’s call to blood and glory.

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mydadleft471 · 10 months ago

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A Trip Down Memory Lane

Summary: Messmer decides to surprise you in more ways than one.

Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings tho, just me loving my fiery redhead.

MESSMER LOVERS COME EAT!

I finally got the courage to upload the fic I was working on! Everyone was so nice (and starving for Messmer content) so I folded lmao. Please enjoy and understand that I have never written anything like this, especially with ye olde English. It's a pain.

“I have something I wish to show thee.” Messmer’s low voice cut through the silence reverberating in his chamber.

“What is it?” You look up from patching a hole in one of his cloaks.

“I cannot say. It is a surprise.” His eye twinkled with something akin to mischief. You put down your needle and gently fold his cloak, putting it on your chair to finish later.

“A surprise for me? Are you feeling alright, My Lord?” You smile at him from where he towers above you.

“Shush. Wilt thou follow?”

“Always,” you say.

He leads you down countless flights of stairs and through the castle’s corridors. Down a hallway, you follow him as he steps into a lift that takes you to a part of the castle that is unfamiliar to you. You assumed you had explored everything by now, but it seems you were wrong. Messmer had given you permission to freely roam the castle, and you had spent a lot of time exploring the various rooms. You had gotten lost many times within the many twisting and confusing hallways, but the castle staff always led you back to your quarters.

The path from the lift leads out to a part of the castle almost entirely flooded. This seems like a place that hasn’t been occupied in many years. Some of the buildings you can see appear to be collapsing and debris litters the area. The water churns uneasily below you, as if something lurks in the depths. Taking a few steps away from the ledge, you stare out into the water that swallows surrounding buildings.

“What is it?” Messmer asks. He senses your trepidation in going any further, though you don’t think you have much to worry about with a powerful demigod at your side. Still, this place sets your nerves alight and has you on high alert.

“I’ve never seen this place before. Where are we?”

He speaks as if it’s common knowledge. “The Church District.”

“What happened here?”

He takes a second before he responds in a flat tone. “It does not matter.” Noticing your face falling slightly, he gives you a small smile. “Thy surprise is near. Come.”

You continue to follow him, your footfalls mere echoes of his much heavier ones. You wonder where he is taking you, and why he decided to surprise you. Though you have gotten much closer to him throughout your time in the Realm of Shadow, you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he wants to show you something himself. So many unanswered questions, though Messmer brings about many of those. Still, you cannot complain about how well he treats you now after you’ve earned some of his trust. You are safe within his walls, and you are welcome.

Though you wish he’d let you into his heart and mind more often, you take what you can get.

Finally, he stops in a room with a large, and complete, statue of Queen Marika. Many throughout the Realm of Shadow have been beheaded, sending icy chills through you when you first arrived, but this one is intact. The only signs of damage have been from the apparent age of the statue.

“Dost thou trust me?”

His question catches you off guard. Looking up at him, he looks vulnerable and almost uncomfortable.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have followed if I didn’t.” You smile at him to ease his tension.

He relaxes slightly. “Of course. I will ask thee to trust me again.”

You shoot him a puzzled look. How could you trust him any more than you already have?

“Close thine eyes. I shall lead thee, hand in hand.”

The prospect of him holding your hand makes heat rush to your cheeks, but you comply. Closing your eyes, you hold out your hands, and a few seconds later, he grabs them in his much larger ones. He holds them delicately, as if you might break if he dares to squeeze your hands. His skin is surprisingly smooth and warm.

“I will ensure thou dost not fall and injure thyself..”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He chuckles at your comment, a sound so rare and pleasant you want to hear it again and again. He begins walking, gently guiding you down a hill and you soon feel sunlight on your skin. The air feels lighter and there is a pleasant smell of lavender and fresh grass in the air. You wonder where you could possibly be. You haven’t seen much greenery in the Realm of Shadow.

After a few minutes he stops and lets go of your hands. You instantly miss his warmth, but you soon feel the heat of him behind you. You keep your eyes closed out of obedience and trust; you know he would not harm you.

His hands gently find your waist and he moves you a few steps to the left. Satisfied, he lowers a hand over your eyes to ensure you will not open them prematurely.

“This place is sacred. Inviting thee here was not a spontaneous act.” His voice is a mere whisper in your ear. You can’t tell whether to be scared or excited for what he will soon allow you to see.

He moves his hand away from your eyes, but they remain closed. You will not sully his trust.

You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s pleased by your obedience.

“Open thine eyes.”

You do, and you are immediately greeted with a grassy field speckled with vibrant flowers. You’ve never seen so many in one place. You think it would take all day to identify them. Trickles of gold sit suspended in the air like shattered stained glass and the sunlight kisses your skin sweetly. Not far up a hill is a small village made up of a few wooden houses. They look old and mostly abandoned. You take in the beauty before you. Not even Leyendell was this spectacular.

“Thou’rt pleased, I take it?” His voice wavers slightly with uncertainty.

“This is a most wonderful surprise, My Lord. Thank you for bringing me here.” You look up at Messmer, whose golden eye seems to shine brighter in the sanctity of this place.

“Forget formalities here.” He sits down in the soft grass and you are soon to join him. He looks relaxed, even happy, here.

“May I ask where we are now?” You idly skim your fingertips over the silky petals of the flowers swaying in the breeze around your skirt.

“Mother’s home. Her village before she became a God.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. It takes you a few moments to gather yourself enough to speak. “Queen Marika lived here?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Long ago.”

You wonder if Marika wanted Messmer to guard her old home, or if he does it out of love for her. You’ve seen the state of other Shamans within his infirmary, his medics working day and night to try and reverse the torture they’d went through. You knew Marika was a Shaman herself, but you’d never realized this place was originally her home. Your heart hurts for the God-Queen. Behind all her power was a girl who wanted her people safe.

You sigh, and Messmer shoots you a curious look. “This is the first time I’ve seen Marika as a person. Knowing she lived here, knowing she suffered… I understand now.”

Messmer reaches up and takes his helmet off, gently placing it to his side. “Mother desired revenge for her peoples’ suffering, and I became her instrument to do so here, in the Land of Shadow.”

“Did you want this?”

He closes his eye. “Mother has endured what a thousand people could not. I will ensure she receives her long-awaited deliverance.” He dodged the question. He does not want this, but he desires to avenge Marika.

“I know you won’t answer me truthfully, and we don’t have to talk about this anymore. But know this: you are not ‘The Impaler’ to me.”

“Thank you.” His response is so quiet you almost can’t hear it, despite being right next to him.

As promised, you change the subject. “Have you brought others here?”

He looks away and you can see a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I have not. The first to lay eyes on this place is thee.” He admits.

“Why?”

“I-“ he begins. “Surely thou must know thy importance to me, yes?”

The realization hits you.

This is his way of saying he loves you.

You scoot closer to him and lay your head against his arm. You feel him tense, then slowly begin to relax. One of his snakes gently perches itself on your shoulder. You smile.

“You can touch me, you know.” You reassure him. “You won’t break me.”

Silence hangs in the breeze as you wait for him to respond.

“Dost thou understand my reason for bringing thee here?”

You nod against him. “I think so.”

He moves away from you, earning himself a confused look, then he slowly grabs your hands and pulls you closer until you are comfortably sitting between his legs. You look up at him and see that his face is almost as red as his hair. He is adorable when he blushes.

You could get used to this.

“You will forgive me if I am too presumptuous. I am… not accustomed to touch, yet I want thee closer.” His soft, silky voice makes your heart melt.

“I want you closer too. It’s okay.” You cup his face with both hands, and though it’s a simple gesture, he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. His eye closes and you try to memorize the look of peace etched on his face.

“With thee, I am content.” He whispers to you.

“Then I’ll see to it that we’re never separated.”

His eye flutters open and he hazily looks down at your lips. His hand engulfs your cheek and you feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

So many have met their demise from the man sitting in front of you now, content and complacent, and that thought sends shivers down your spine.

“No man nor God could tear thee away from me. That is a promise.”

He leans forward and kisses you. His lips are soft and he pulls you closer to him and his hands are splayed possessively over your face and back. You don’t want to pull away, and you get the feeling he doesn’t want to either.

You are his as he is yours.

#messmer the impaler #messmer x tarnished #messmer the impaler x reader #messmer x reader #elden ring x reader #i love him your honor #he's so pookie

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wordsofwhimsy · 1 day ago

Text

⏱︎ 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 ⏱︎

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x fem best friend!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Friends to lovers, Mark’s spittin mad game, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,822

Synopsis: Mark comforts you after being stood up on a date.

a/n: i have it listed as a fem reader but i really did try to keep this more gender neutral!! i also have an idea for a 2nd part to this but idk i might just make that it’s own separate thing. we shall see

You used to joke that Mark Grayson was like gravity. Always nearby, always familiar. Something you didn’t have to think about.

He was your best friend.

The kind of best friend who sat on the floor of your bedroom, eating Hot Cheetos and watching you panic over homework. The kind who’d text you stupid memes at 3 a.m. just to make you laugh. The kind who, every now and then, looked at you like he wanted something more.

And before everything changed, maybe you would’ve let him have it.

Maybe you wanted to.

It was starting, back then. The soft kind of beginning. Lingering hands, long glances. You don’t remember who initiated the shift—but it was there. One of those stupid liminal phases, stuck between friendship and something else.

And then he got his powers, and the shift stopped all together.

He stopped being just Mark.

One day he was your dumbass best friend. The next, he was Invincible.

Suddenly he was gone half the time. Bleeding from places you couldn’t see. Showing up at your door with bruises he didn’t explain. Disappearing in the middle of conversations. Swallowing emotions like if he just didn’t talk about them, they weren’t actually real.

And still, he showed up.

Every single day.

He found you in parking lots. At work. On your stoop with takeout. Orbiting you like the earth was just a little too far and you were the only thing steady enough to keep him tethered.

He never said it. Not directly. But you could see it in his eyes—every time he showed up late with a smile, like he’d been lost but now finally found his way home.

But you wouldn’t let it breathe. Stepped on it before it could bloom. Told him he was sweet. That you loved him—just not like that.

Said things like, “We don’t make sense. You’re out saving the world. I’m… folding laundry and deciding if I’m ready to learn how to use a propane grill. I’m just not the kind of person that fits into a life like yours—not in that role.”

He’d just stand there. Quiet. Hurt. Letting you talk.

Letting you lie.

Because he knew the truth. He always had. You were the only person who could fill that role, and it would always stay an open position until the day you decided you were ready.

—

You hadn’t been on a date since... well, ever. Not really.

There was just Mark, and that almost-what-if stage that promptly collapsed under the weight of reality.

So when you finally downloaded the app, picked a stranger, and said yes to dinner, you told yourself it was progress.

You even styled your hair in a way that was new. Just for this moment.

You sat at the restaurant in an outfit that you swore felt like too much but talked yourself into anyways. Checked your phone a hundred times. Ordered a drink. Then another. Then realized slowly that you definitely had been stood up. This guy wasn’t coming.

No call. No message. Hell, you would’ve taken a messenger pigeon at that point. Some type of acknowledgement would’ve made it all feel just a little bit less… embarrassing.

You paid for your drinks and walked home in silence, feeling stupidly overdressed and like every person you passed knew about the wordless rejection you’d just faced.

Mark was already waiting on your stoop.

He didn’t ask where you’d been. Just handed you a bag of takeout and scooted over to make room.

You didn’t speak for a while. Just sat with your knees touching, paper bag warm between you, the hum of the streetlight buzzing faintly overhead.

“Am I that bad?” you said abruptly without thinking.

Mark paused mid-chew, a fry half in his mouth. “Huh?” he mumbled, clearly confused.

You shook your head, eyes on the sidewalk. “Nothing. Just... I don’t know why I even tried.”

Mark swallowed. “Tried what?”

You gave a soft, bitter laugh. “The date.” His face changed instantly.

“Wait—you were on a date tonight?”

You scoffed, ripping the fry in your fingers in half. “If you could call it that. The guy didn’t even show up.”

You took the tiniest bite off one of the torn pieces, more so for the act of busying yourself than actually wanting to eat. “Guess I needed the reminder though. Like, of course he didn’t. Why would he?”

“Whoa, hey—” Mark leaned in, brows furrowed. “That’s not on you. That guy’s an idiot.”

You shrugged, but it was too stiff. “Or maybe he just looked at my picture a little too long and was like, y’know what, on second thought—”

“C’mon, don’t do that,” he said, voice low, sincere. “That’s not fair.”

You laughed, like it was really starting to become funny (even though it wasn’t at all). “No no, seriously. The guy was probably showing his buddies my profile and they were all oof, you bagged a DOG—”

“Alright—unless the rest of that sentence is ‘a doggone beautiful creature’ I don’t wanna hear it.”

You choked back a laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. “God you’re so corny.”

Mark gave you a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes before his lips fell back into a harder line. “I’m serious. You’re not a dog. You’re not—whatever it is you’re trying to say right now.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to reach back into the bag for more fries—for another physical means of distraction. But his grasp closed around the greasy brown paper, around your wrist, locking you finger-deep in the takeout.

“I fight bad guys for a living, [y/n]. It’s literally my job to like, curb stomp your inner demons.”

You couldn’t help the pfft that sputtered past your lips. “You might need to clock in for overtime ‘cause they’re kicking my ass tonight.”

Mark grinned, just a little too much mischief sparking behind his eyes. “I’m always in overtime. Job never ends.” He finally pulled your hand free of the bag. “Now let a man work.”

You were fighting back a smile of your own as he turned your wrist in his hand, eyes tracing every line like he was inspecting rare art. “These hands?” he said, tone suddenly reverent. “Adorable. Perfect. Nails always going crazy.”

You snorted an embarrassing sound, but he’d heard it a hundred times before. “They’re literally just French tips...”

He grinned wider, ignoring you completely as he kept going. His fingers found a lock of your [hair color] tresses, twirling it around his knuckle. “This hair? Should be in a Pantene commercial. Smells like a teenage boy’s dream.”

You laughed again, softer this time, trying to pull away—but he held on, gently. Then he leaned back just slightly, eyes raking over you with a grin that slowly began to fade as his gaze caught on everything else.

“I mean, you’re dropping jaws just walking around in jeans,” he murmured. “But this?” He gestured vaguely to your still-sorta-date-night look. “The man should be thanking God he didn’t show. ‘Cause I promise you would’ve ended his whole life.”

Your face went warm, lips furling inward in your nervous habit. You tried to play it off, bury your smile in another shake of your head, but it was already happening. The racing of your heart. The stuttering of your breaths.

And then his hand came up, brushing your cheek so soft and careful. “These lips…?” he whispered.

You were still as stone, eyes wide as you watched him. “What about them…?”

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, so gentle it made your chest ache. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, then back down again, like he couldn’t keep his stare away for longer than a moment. “If God ever needed to talk, I’m pretty sure your lips would be the vessel.”

You didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t.

The words had dried up somewhere between your lungs and your throat, stuck there trembling while your lips—those stupid, supposedly divine lips—parted just slightly under the pad of his thumb.

And then he was leaning in, chocolate eyes never leaving your mouth as if he was following them to his destiny. Maybe in another lifetime you would’ve stopped him. Told him again that this didn’t make sense, that you two could never work. Maybe in another dimension. Another version of reality. But there, in that moment, it was inevitable.

It was barely a touch at first. His lips ghosting over yours like he knew what you were thinking, knew that you were probably begging internally for him not to take it here. But you didn’t push him away, didn’t pull back, and he felt like he’d been gifted a second chance at life.

The kiss lasted only a second before he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as eyes fluttered shut, stomachs tied tight in knots. “Tell me you felt that too,” he breathed, thumb stroking mindlessly over your jaw. You still couldn’t find your voice to answer, and instead tilted your head just enough to press another kiss to his lips. Then another. And by the third, it all began to unravel.

His hand slid to cup the back of your neck, locking you in as his free hand trembled against your hip. The manicured nails he just was praising now scratched lightly up his back, sending chills over his skin until one palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades and the other tangled in his hair.

Your mouth opened without thinking, and his tongue slipped in – no hesitation. You couldn’t believe you were tasting him like this. Couldn’t believe he was holding you like a lover, and not a friend. Couldn’t believe how utterly right it all felt.

What had you been denying yourself this whole time? How many other things in your life had you been so stupid over? Your thoughts could only spiral for so long before he broke away again, breathing hard – and not from lack of oxygen (the man could hold his breath for hours) – but from the sheer heat of it all.

“We should go inside,” he exhaled, his eyes glancing to a woman walking her dog past your front steps. Your pink cheeks burned cherry red, and all you could do was nod.

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #invincible fluff #mark grayson fluff

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randomgurl2326 · 11 months ago

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the love of a blackwood is meant only for a bracken

benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken!reader

warnings: angst at the beginning, major fluff, overall happiness

summary: the love of a bracken is meant only for a blackwood part 2

the wound of heartbreak still fresh in your heart as you lay in the pillowy mattress of your bed. you haven’t left in days. aeron not having come to see you, your father refusing to look at you, cousins having shunned you; the only ones to see you in two weeks were your handmaidens. even then only speaking when absolutely necessary.

your eyes have dried of tears but your eyes still sting at the thought of your past lover. the rift only growing everyday as the blackwood boy’s raven being ignored as sent back each day as it comes.

a hesitant knock sounds through your chambers. you turn over at the noise “go away.” you sniffled as you heard a sigh. aeron speaks to you through the door “y/n… listen, I’m sorry. but you have to understand-“

at the sound of aeron’s voice you’re quick out of bed and open the door. the splotches of red on your face haven’t dimmed in days, your eyes sad and full of lost love. “what, aeron? what do I have to understand?” exasperation clear in your voice as it croaks out the words. he looks down at you with guilt in his eyes. you can still see the remnants of bruises that benjicot left in your honor “you know the history, y/n. after everything we’ve told you, you still go behind our house’s back”

“do you even understand the feud in between our families. do you even know what our family did to the balckwoods? do you?” tears are no longer able to sting your eyes with how much you have cried in the past weeks.

aeron’s sad eyes look into yours as he speaks “sister, I didn’t come here to fight. father wants to see you, says he needs to speak about something important with you.”

your heart rate rises as he says those words, worry quickly befalling you “do-do you know what he needs to speak to me about?”

“you know as much as I. but I could only think—“ I nod “the blackwoods” aeron nods and turn to leave. you grab his shoulder before he’s out of reach “I never meant to hurt you when it happened. you know that, right?”

“I know, sister. I-i overreacted, I know that. you’re my sister. I protect you. you know that.” his words calm your heart and smile for the first time in weeks. the smile sending too many words in a small action. the bracken boy smiles back at you and pats your shoulder “you should probably get dressed. father’a expecting you soon.”

with those last words he leaves and sends your handmaidens in. the girls raid your closet as you turn at your door. “my lady, are you alright?” the sweet girl named stellane. “of course, stellane. let’s get me dressed, shall we?” as she brings out yellow and brown dresses for you to choose from you smile as you realize your brother has forgiven you.

once stellane is finished dressing you you head to your father’s meeting room for his bannermen. as you reach the cracked door your knees start to wobble and breath shortens at the thought of what he wants to say to you. finally, you gather your temporarily lost bearings and enter “father, you wanted to see me?”

as you enter you look down and see two pairs of feet. confused, you look up. as your eyes slowly trail up the figures of your father and the mystery person you recognize who it is. your breaths start to quicken, your bosom rising and falling with your heart beat. benjicot blackwood on bracken land inside the bracken house. no wounds touched him, no bruises darkened him.

you turn to your lord father quickly, eyes wide “father?”

“daughter, come” lord bracken beckons you over to him and the young lord blackwood. as you walk up to the men yours and benji’s eyes meet. two weeks. no returned ravens. two weeks of complete silence and he still looks at you as if you hung the stars and the moon.

the six feet it took to walk towards your father and lost love felt like years when only it took mere seconds. as you reach your father and the unexpected guest your look lord bracken in the eye and take a deep wavering breath. your lord father speaks with a low baritone “y/n, my only daughter. I know of your transgressions and false loyalty of the bracken name…”

“father—“

“you will let me finish… you have forsaken our house and tainted your body with the likes of a blackwood…” you see benjicot’s jaw lock as he takes a deep breath “…however, I have come to the realization that even with your… crooked actions you have given an opportunity to fix the centuries long rift of our houses.”

your eyes widen and look to benjicot. the implications of your father’s words swim through your mind. the dark gray eyes of your lover’s eyes give you all the confirmation you need. “father, surely you don’t mean…”

he raises a hand to silence you, “yes, daughter. the deal is in place and lord blackwood has accepted.” his next words mumbled as he spoke, “no surprise as he’s already defiled you.”

at his words ben clicks his tongue and his hand clenches and unclenches; clearly trying to compose his temper.

your reaction different. your heart stopping. marriage. to benjicot blackwood. an end to the suffrage of your families. two lovers returned to one another. a realization hits you as you stand there. your lover willing to fight for you, move mountains for you, end a war for you just to see you again. no matter whether you wanted to see him again. bwnjicot blackwood, lord of raventree hall, and the man who you wanted to kiss fucking stupid right now.

as your heart returns to its natural rate your father speaks “I believe you two would like to speak about our decision.” as he leaves you look back at him and he squeezes your shoulder. an action that wouldn’t mean much to others, but as heartfelt as a stark oath.

benjicot speaks first, “y/n—“ you interrupt him with a searing kiss as you pull his tunic down. the passion the same if not stronger as the last time you met. tongues dancing like dragons in the sky, and sparks running through your veins as he cups your face. as you two part he rests his forehead on yours. as you catch your breath you speak “I love you. I was stupid, a-and I want thinking. I didn’t mean it, I swear it. I love you.”

your betrothed interrupts you with another searing kiss “shut up. you weren’t stupid. you may have broken my heart but you weren’t stupid…” his stupid huff of a laugh escapes him as he says those words “…you had every right—“

“but I was wrong. I shouldn’t have told you to go away. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve—“

“you should’ve done exactly what you did. I was wrong for what I did, but I don’t regret it.”

you rub your noses together and play with his collar “you shouldn’t. I was mean…”

“I like it when your mean,” you smack him at his jests.

“I was mean and selfish… so selfish,” your confession hitting his ears with a ping to his heart. ben moves his hand from your jaw to your cheek as his other hand plays with your hair “you were allowed to be selfish. I should’ve brought it up differently o-or just left. but I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. I couldn’t keep letting gmy love be torn from me because of some stupid war that no one knows what it’s for anymore. I needed you then and I need you now. I came to your father because I needed to see you, whether you wanted to see me or not. I needed to hear your saccharine voice because I need you just to continue living. to continue breathing. and I love you, and I would keep loving you even if you didn’t love me.”

tears brim your eyes at your blackwood boy’s words. and they fall as you store his words into your heart. he wipes your tears as they fall. “I do not deserve you, benjicot blackwood. how could I when you love me so and I couldn’t even bring my self to return your ravens?”

“you didn’t need to because I knew. I knew even if you wouldn’t see me because I can feel it” he takes your hand into his and bring it to his heart. his throat tightening as he speaks “I feel it.”

you rest your forehead against his chest and you feel the rise and fall of it. finding comfort in your lover’s slow heaves of his chest. you raise your head to look into his stormy eyes, your voice hoarse “I love you, benjicot blackwood. from the walls of stone hedge to the snow of castle black, I love you.”

the blackwood boy steals your lips in a passionately slow kiss. the salt of your tears mix together. when he pulls back he murmurs against your pillowy lips “i am going to marry you, y/n bracken. you will be mine, and i yours forever. mind and soul, I belong to you. if you will have me.”

your smile as wide as the seas in essos as you laugh “you, lord blackwood are a fool if you think I would ever refuse you.” your hands thread through his coarse, black hair.

his eyes trail down to your lips “it’s a good thing I secured a betrothal with your father then.” his jest rings through the room as it mixes with your laugh. “yes, lord blackwood, it is” you lean up to kiss your love again, this time harder than the ones before. this kiss solidifying your love for one another. lips meld together, teeth clash, and tongues dance as you express your love for one another. as the kiss come to an end he rests his nose on your cheek as you pant.

“I should go tell oscar and kermit” you pull back and slap him up the head. “is that really what your daft head is thinking about right now? after we pour our hearts and souls out to one another?”

benjicot pulls you by the waist to bring you back to him “only a jest, my love”

“not a funny one” you murmur. the boy leans his head down as he speaks “I believe you used to quite like my jests.” “only the funny ones—“

your quips were cut off at the sound of the door creaking, revealing your brother. aeron’s eyes trail down to benji’s hands on your waist and rolls his eyes. nonetheless he keeps his composure and clears his throat “I hear a congratulations are in order.” your brother’s eyes still focused on where your betrothed’s hands are placed and he finally takes a hint as he removes them.

“aeron, if you’re going to start something—“

“relax, sister. I mean it. I’m… happy for you” he looks you straight in the eye to convey that he only means the best. aeron moves his eyes from you to benji “and I guess you’re marrying my sister…”

benjicot nods sternly, still not used to your brother being nice. they stare at each other for who knows how long before you pipe up “should I leave?”

“no” the word said by both boys at the same time and they clear their throats. after your brother’s embarrassment he speaks “i have to go.” he leaves the room before any more embarrassment can reach him.

your lover turns to you “I still don’t like him.” you pat his cheek “I know, my love.” you turn to leave and he still stands there and calls out to you “don’t think I’ll ever be friends with him!”

once you’re out of earshot he lets out a little ‘shit’ knowing that once you’re married you’ll try to make them befriend one another. once benji realizes that he’s alone in the bracken’s fortress—stone hedge—he runs out to try and find you.

“y/n!”

a/n: here’s part two to the love of a bracken meant only for a blackwood. I didn’t expect so many people to like the last part, however I do have a part three in store. It may or may not be smutty😏 and it totally doesn’t haven’t simp benjicot. No way. No siree

anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it, love you💚💜

|| series taglist ||

@minaxcarter @whiteoakoak

@cypherpt5fttaehyung @rebeccawinters

*bold means I couldn’t tag you*

#x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #bloody ben #bloody ben x reader #benji blackwood #ben blackwood #ben blackwood x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd spoilers #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon

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tender-rosiey · 2 years ago

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off-guard — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: what happens when the trio follow their teacher once again? will they end in another maid cafe or find some very worthy tea? 👀

“okay, this is the plan: we will follow gojo-sensei to see just what the hell is up with that guy.”

megumi sighs, “last time we did that—the results weren’t exactly ‘pleasing’, itadori.”

yuuji huffs, “I beg to differ!”

“paintbrush is moving! I repeat! paintbrush is moving!” they hear nobara say through the walkie talkie.

yuji and megumi look at each other before nodding and stealthy following their teacher. each one is wearing his respective disguise of wigs and huge glasses.

meanwhile nobara, with a disguise of her own, is following gojo closely, who seems to be going into a certain café. she grumbles before whisper-yelling into the walkie-talkie, “where are you guys?!”

“we’re here, calm down!” megumi huffs.

itadori nods, “yeah! we’re going to get our cover blown like this.”

the three glare at each other before focusing once again on the moving paintbrush. the moment he opens the door, they notice his gaze searching for someone specific.

nobara covers her mouth so she doesn’t audibly gasp. does he perhaps have a lover? if so then she shall welcome the tea with open arms.

nobara, itadori, and megumi are lined outside the window of the café which makes them, undoubtedly, look suspicious. so, to save grace, megumi drags them inside into a table far from gojo who seems to have sat alone.

there is a hint of melancholy yet excitement in his eyes. each of the three prop up the menus to conceal their faces further.

nobara eyes gojo before speaking up, “who do you think he is waiting for?”

“maybe a lover?”

“or a friend,” megumi mumbles, but he rules out that possibility quickly. gojo looks nervous or at least as nervous as he could.

there is the light tapping of his feet and the way his eyes snap to the door every time the bell rings only for his eyes to brim with disappointment when it isn’t the person he is waiting for.

barely a minute passes by, but nobara and yuuji are getting impatient and nobara snaps—as quietly as she can— “where is that person?!”

“just when are they going to arrive?!” itadori joins in.

megumi sighs in the background, “we’ve been here for 2 minutes guys, please.”

their wait ends fairly quickly when they hear the excited gasp of their teacher, who stands up abruptly before eagerly waving at someone, “y/n! sweets! I am here!”

they look towards the door at the same time and they are met with a sight to be seen.

you, someone that was so pretty that yuuji passed out, are waving back at satoru before skipping over to him.

he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and peppering your face with kisses, “you look as pretty as ever!”

“and you’re as flirty as ever, satoru,” you pet his hair softly, “how have you been?”

he sighs, happily, before responding, “I’ve been fine, but I feel even better after I saw you,” he slowly pulls back so he can pull your chair out, “have a seat, m’lady,” he winks, “we have a date to go through.”

you roll your eyes before sitting, “isn’t chivalry dead, satoru?”

“then I must be a ghost,” he hums before sitting down as well.

“I would believe that, honestly,” you chuckle at his offended face before pointing at the top of his head, “you have the white hair and everything.”

the two of you soon get lost in your bickering and conversation. meanwhile, megumi is smacking the shit out of itadori so he wakes up and nobara is gaping at how pretty you look, “how is she even real?!”

megumi spares poor itadori, who finally woke up, before looking nobara, “I really don’t know why she would settle down for someone like him.”

itadori nods, “literally, out of everyone.”

but nobara sighs with a smile which gets the two boys’ attention.

she looks up at her teacher conversing with you, “but they look pretty in love; I mean look at the way they’re looking at each other.”

the boys turn their heads to look at the both you and they have to admit: nobara’s right. both of your eyes speak a magnitude of feelings and all of them are as gentle as a cloud.

it seems that you’re both so preoccupied by the other that you forgot everyone around you.

there is also the way gojo is holding your hand and rubbing circles on it as you talk. he is smiling so contently and so quietly like the only thing he wants to hear is you.

no wonder he didn’t notice them. he is so absorbed in you.

and the way the feeling is mutual just makes them feel very happy for their teacher even if he is annoying as hell sometimes. it’s nice how the both of you are so openly infatuated with the other.

megumi stands up before pulling itadori by the scruff, “let’s go, they need some privacy.”

Itadori struggles as he is dragged away, “why am I always treated like this?! what about nobara?!”

nobara glares at itadori before megumi stops to look at her.

she raises her fists, “don’t you even dare—“

a loud screech is heard from her as megumi drags her and itadori back to jujutsu high. a lot of passersby are staring, but megumi has seen way too much in his life to care at this point.

on the other hand, satoru is sipping his drink as you watch the kids getting dragged away, “these are your students?”

he nods excitedly before grinning, “yup! so, what do you think about them?”

“they certainly take after you,” you snicker and he narrows his eyes at you, leaning forward so his face is directly in front of your own.

“and what’s that supposed to mean?”

you shrug pushing him away with your index finger to his forehead, “it means whatever you think it means; you’re a smart guy.”

he tilts his head, a smirk instantly plastered on his face, “oh, two can play this game.”

meanwhile, in jujutsu high, the first years are sitting in their beloved classroom.

itadori pulls out the camera, “I got pictures!”

nobara snatches it, “great job itadori!” and megumi gives the boy a small thumbs up.

they browse through the many pictures he had taken and the one that catches their attention the most is a photo of you two smiling at each other, so lost in the other’s eyes, so in love.

but nobara quickly gets over it and continues browsing through the photos.

“itadori, did you get the picture?” nobara whispers to itadori and he nods eagerly.

she takes a hold of the new obtained treasure, a photo of gojo beaming without being a smug bastard, and smirks, “we’re going to get so rich after we sell this.”

“I also got this,” megumi says as he shows off a photo of gojo, somehow, getting attacked by a squirrel with you trying to help him despite laughing your ass off.

nobara gasps, “when did you even get this?!”

“a couple of moments after we left? squirrels hate him for some reason.”

nobara cackles, an evil glint in her eyes, “blackmail, baby!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @jisbizarre @kunikida-simp @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send the trio after you

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gguk-n · 9 months ago

Text

Lights, Camera, Stroll (Lance Stroll x Youtuber!Reader)

All the pictures are from Pinterest or Nessa Barrett.

bloggingmylife

Liked by lance_stroll and 234,768 others

bloggingmylife Decided to have a chill day at home!! New video up!!

user5 I love your vlogging style♥️♥️ user6 teach me your ways🥹🥹 user7 is it just me or did I hear a guy in the background?!🤔🤔 user8 why is Lance Stroll in the likes?? Since when did they follow each other??🤔😣

user2 that one user on twitter did say you were dating user3 so happy for you!! can't wait to see him in your videos

bloggingmylife

Liked by lance_stroll, astonmartinf1 and 1,869,953 others tagged lance_stroll

bloggingmylife Got invited to the Canadian GP!! Had so much fun!! Love you Lancey!!😘😘

user1 OMG!! Is she dating Lance Stroll???😭😭 user4 f1 wag🥹🫣😭 user5 so pretty in green💚💚 lance_stroll love you too baby♥️♥️Liked by Author astonmartinf1 Please come back Y/N😭😭 bloggingmylife astonmartinf1 I'll be back as much as you want admin😘😘

lance_stroll

Liked by bloggingmylife, astonmartinf1 and 2,768,980 others tagged bloggingmylife

lance_stroll Home🇨🇦

user6 Lover boy Lance was not on my 2024 bingo😳😳 user7 they are so cute😚😚 user8 he called her his home🥹🥹 astonmartinf1 good weekend👍 bloggingmylife I wish you didn't travel so much😤😤 lance_stroll bloggingmylife what's stopping you from following me around?🫢🫢 bloggingmylife lance_stroll actually you are right🙄🙄.

Y/N- Hi guys!! Y/N here. Today I am joined by my lovely boyfriend!! Lance- Hi Y/N's subscribers Y/N- We're playing Most Likely too today!! Shall we start?? Lance- Sure, babe Y/N- Who is most likely to plan a spontaneous trip? Lance- *points to himself* she stress's too much and needs days to plan stuff out. Y/N- hey!! I just like being in control of things *pouts* (Lance pecks her lips.) Y/N- Who is most likely to forget important dates like anniversaries or birthdays? Lance Lance- when did I do that?? Y/N- my birthday, this year. Lance- in my defence it was on a Monday after the race *raises hands up to surrender* Y/N- fine, I'll cut you some slack. Who is most likely to win a cooking competition? Lance- Y/N. She cooks the most delicious food. My trainer hates her. Y/N- I try to make healthy and tasty food. I call bs on your trainer. He just hates not being able to eat my cooking. *Lance laughs* Y/N- Who is most likely to start a new hobby or interest? Lance- Y/N!! We have so many of her hobbies lying around, half done. Y/N- Listen, they seem like good ideas at 3 in the morning and I order them on Amazon. Lance- I love your neurodivergent self!! Y/N- Who is most likely to handle a surprise party for the other? Lance- Me. Y/N- Who is most likely to stay up all night binge-watching a new series? Lance- Y/N, she spent the last night binge watching Lady Jane. Y/N- The show is great and I would like to tell the audience; he watched it too!! Who is most likely to initiate a major life change, like moving to a new city? Me, since I literally move for you. *pecks Lance on the lips* Lance- Thank you, I love having you home. Now you can start travelling with me too. Y/N- Who is most likely to take on a new fitness challenge or goal? Lance- me. She barely goes to the gym. Y/N- don't expose me like this!!! Who is most likely to surprise the other with a thoughtful gift? Lance- Y/N. I have so many gifts and for the randomest occasions. Y/N- You get me flowers all the time. I have to return the favour. Who is most likely to get lost while driving to a familiar place? Lance- She got lost in her home city *shakes his head* Y/N- I'm bad with navigation. Lance- That's why I drive you around, I'm scared I'll lose you. Y/N- Aww, Lancey!! I love you Lance- I love you too!! Y/N- That's it for today!! Hope you guys had fun. I had a lot of fun. *the video ends with both of them kissing*

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xichilie · 2 months ago

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hiii!! i love all your Brant fics so much omg thank you for feeding my brainrot, i literally check back for updates almost every day YOU FEED ALL THE BRANT LOVERS SO WELL AHHH i come with a request!! so, troupe of fools! reader and Brant, they've been pining each other for awhile, like the tension is crazyyy, anyways they have to perform a dance/duet together. basically think of the scene with Rover and Carlotta dancing at the troupes base in the story while Brant was narrating, the romantic undertones and everything!! except in this scenario Brant and reader are dancing while another troupe member is narrating it, and doing the same thing Brant did in the story quest and like seeing their chemistry they decide to take creative liberty and take a more romantic approach hehe i leave the rest to your creative powers on how it'll end (and of course feel free to tweak things around too)!! thank you again for all your fics i love them dearly <3

I'm happy you enjoy my fics♡, I will keep feeding you 🤭

I hope everyone got lucky on his banner, I still have to wait. it's not out yet for EU servers 🤍

Brant x (fem)reader

The Dance of Fools

Fool’s Elysium was alive with sound, the cavern filled with the rhythmic beat of drums, the lively chatter of performers, and the flickering warmth of countless lanterns strung along the rocky ceiling. The stage—an aged but beloved wooden platform—stood at the heart of it all, surrounded by the eager eyes of the Troupe of Fools.

Tonight was not yet the Carnevale itself, but rehearsals always carried their own magic. The air was thick with anticipation, buzzing with energy as the Troupe prepared for their grand performance. It was a ritual, a tradition, a spectacle that bound them all together.

Brant had always thrived in moments like these.

Yet, tonight, something was different.

Tonight, his confidence felt stretched thin, barely concealing the turmoil beneath.

And the cause of it?

Y/N.

She stood just beyond the stage, adjusting the delicate ribbons of her costume, the crimson fabric flowing over her form like liquid fire. The candlelight played along her features, accentuating every graceful movement, and Brant had to force himself to breathe.

They had been dancing around each other for months now, skirting the edge of something unspoken. A lingering glance here, a brush of fingers there, laughter that lasted just a beat too long. It was a game neither of them dared to acknowledge, yet neither of them could stop playing.

But now, there was no room for pretense. No stolen moments hidden in the background.

Tonight, they would dance together.

Brant had danced with countless partners before, had commanded the stage with effortless charm and practiced ease. But this? This was different.

Because it wasn’t just a dance.

It was her.

And that changed everything.

“Alright, you two ready?”

Brant barely registered Riff’s voice, though the other Fool was lounging comfortably atop a pile of cushions, script in hand, preparing to narrate the scene.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting the cuffs of his embroidered coat, forcing an easy smirk onto his lips. “Born ready.”

Then Y/N turned to him, her eyes catching his, and for a split second, the world shrank to just the two of them.

A challenge. A question.

And something deeper. Something that sent heat curling low in his stomach.

The music began, slow and intoxicating.

Brant extended his hand. “Shall we?”

She hesitated—just for a breath—before slipping her fingers into his.

The moment they touched, he felt it.

A spark, a pull—something dangerous.

Riff’s voice rose above the melody, slipping into that same poetic cadence Brant himself had once used.

“Once upon a time, in the shadows of a fallen kingdom, two souls danced upon the edge of fate… A Fool, ever laughing, ever free, and a Wanderer, searching for something lost…”

Brant stepped forward, guiding her into the first movement. Their steps were smooth, effortless—muscle memory taking over as they moved in perfect harmony.

But it was the way they moved that made the air thick.

Every turn brought them closer.

Every touch lingered a second too long.

Brant’s hand found the curve of her waist, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of her costume, grounding himself in the warmth of her. Her palm settled over his chest—right over his Tacet mark—and a thrill shot through him at the thought that she might feel the wild rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

But gods, it did.

“They danced not as strangers, nor as mere performers, but as something more—tangled in a story neither dared to name…”

Brant spun her beneath his arm, only to pull her back flush against him. Their bodies fit together too well, moving with a synchronicity that couldn’t be rehearsed. His breath hitched—he could smell the faintest trace of something sweet on her skin, could feel the warmth of her against him.

And then—

Her fingers brushed against his jaw.

Brant stopped breathing.

The touch was light, barely there, but it burned like wildfire.

For the first time in his life, his mind went blank.

She was touching him.

Looking at him like she knew.

Like she had always known.

The music swelled. The final movement approached.

Brant knew what was supposed to happen next—

He was meant to dip her, hold her there for a beat, and then spin her away in a grand flourish. A show-stopping moment, nothing more.

But when the time came—

He didn’t let her go.

Instead, he held her there, dipped low in his arms, her body molded against his. Their noses brushed, their breath mingling, and the cavern fell into absolute silence.

The music had faded, the performance had ended—

But he couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

The only thing anchoring him to reality was her.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Well… I think we just found our new finale.”

Scattered laughter, a few teasing whistles—

But Brant barely heard them.

Because Y/N was still in his arms, looking up at him with something raw and unguarded in her expression.

This wasn’t just a performance.

This had never been just a performance.

And judging by the way she was staring at him—

She knew it too.

Brant wasn’t sure how he made it through the next few minutes.

There was applause, murmurs of praise, playful nudges from the others—none of it registered.

His body was moving on autopilot, smiling where he needed to, nodding when expected, but his mind was still caught in that final moment.

That final touch.

By the time he realized she was no longer in the room, she was already gone.

His heart stuttered.

Without hesitation, he followed.

The deeper caverns of Fool’s Elysium were quieter, the echoes of music and laughter fading into the distance. He found her by the water’s edge, lanterns casting golden ripples across the surface.

She didn’t turn when he approached.

“Running away?” His voice was light, teasing—his usual mask.

She exhaled a soft laugh. “I could say the same about you.”

Brant hesitated.

Then—softer—

“You felt it too.”

It wasn’t a question.

A pause.

Then, finally—

“Yes.”

Brant closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily.

When he opened them, she was watching him, expression unreadable.

Brant swallowed, taking a step closer.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to reach for her, to close the impossible distance still between them.

“We can’t keep dancing around this,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, rougher.

Y/N smiled, small but real.

And then—

“What if I don’t want to?”

Brant’s heart stopped.

The weight of those words, the meaning behind them—

His usual charm, his quick wit—gone.

All he could do was stare.

At her.

At the way her lips curved in amusement, waiting for him to say something, anything.

But he couldn’t.

Because for the first time in his life—

Brant had no words.

He had always been quick with words. A charmer, a performer, a master of knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

But now?

Now he stood before her, utterly speechless.

Because Y/N was still looking at him like that—like she knew. Like she had always known.

And she had just given him permission to stop pretending.

The silence stretched between them, thick with something that made the air feel heavier, warmer.

Brant could hear the faint sounds of the others celebrating deeper in the cavern, but here, at the water’s edge, it was just the two of them.

Waiting.

The golden glow of lanterns flickered against her skin, reflecting in her eyes, and damn, she was beautiful. He had always known it—always been drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain. But now, there was no audience, no music, no script.

Just them.

And Brant had never been more terrified in his life.

His fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to move, to do something—say something—but all the usual bravado, all the witty lines he might have used, failed him.

Because this was real.

And he had never been very good at real.

Y/N tilted her head, a slow, knowing smile playing on her lips. “No clever remark?”

Brant exhaled a short, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Not this time.”

Her smile widened. “That’s a first.”

And then—before he could second-guess himself—Brant moved.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing along her jaw, light as a whisper. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into the touch, her breath hitching just enough for him to hear it.

That sound—soft, vulnerable—nearly unraveled him.

Brant swallowed hard. His thumb traced over her cheekbone, memorizing the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. His heart was a wild drumbeat in his chest, but for once, he didn’t care if she felt it.

He wanted her to.

His voice was lower when he spoke, rough with something unsteady.

“Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she reached up, fingers curling around his coat, pulling him closer.

Brant barely had time to register the movement before she closed the remaining distance between them.

Her lips met his—soft, warm, real—and for a moment, his mind went completely blank.

Then—

Everything exploded.

The tension that had been building between them for months snapped like a taut string, and Brant melted into her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he deepened the kiss.

She made a quiet sound against his lips, something like a sigh, and gods, that was enough to set him on fire.

This was the breaking of a dam, the answer to a question neither of them had dared to ask.

His fingers tangled in her hair, his other hand pressing firmly against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. She was warm, intoxicating, and Brant was drowning—willingly.

By the time they broke apart, both of them were breathless.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, searching his, her lips still parted, her breath mingling with his.

Brant grinned.

“Now that,” he murmured, voice husky, “was a finale.”

She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Brant smirked. “Not when it comes to you.”

Her smile softened, her fingers tracing absent patterns over the fabric of his coat. “Good.”

Brant’s heart stuttered.

There was no teasing in her tone. No hesitation.

Just certainty.

And that—more than anything—was what undid him.

For the first time in his life, Brant wasn’t just playing a role.

This wasn’t a performance.

This was real.

And damn, he was all in.

#x reader #wuwa brant #brant wuwa #brant x reader #wuthering waves brant #brant #wuwa art #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #brant wuthering waves #x y/n #x you #love

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osmanthus-wine-addiction · 4 months ago

Text

18 Evil Twin

Zhongli x Reader / SFW / established relationship / Zhongli has an evil twin and he's a yandere / canon was hijacked again for plot purposes / this was supposed to be sexy, I don't know why he turned out so babygirl, like poor thing just needs a hug and some good loving

"Zhongli…"

The name slid off his tongue like some sort of titillating joke. The velvety quality of his voice and the deep timbre was so eerily familiar, it was hard to imagine that it did not belong to your lover.

"So he's given himself yet another name." The man remarks.

"Who are you?" You ask warily.

Your captor's gaze returned to your face, a curl tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Morax, or if you prefer to call me by the new name, I suppose I can be Zhongli as well."

"You're not him." You dared to point out.

His eyes might be the same striking amber, but something was missing. Perhaps it was the gentleness and affection that always seemed to spill over whenever your lover's gaze falls on you.

At first, you wondered if Zhongli had succumbed to erosion like his old friend Azhdaha. Perhaps he had lost a chunk of his memories. It would explain the jarring differences in his demeanor. However, you simply couldn't accept the possibility of this person being who your lover used to be before you had met him.

Zhongli had always been the kind and patient man you had met all those years ago and even if he had lost his memories of you and held no love for you in his heart, you'd have no trouble falling for him all over again. This only left you with one explanation, the person standing in front of you could not be the same person.

"I'm every bit him as he is me, sweetheart." The imposter chuckles. "But since you find that hard to believe, why don't I make the truth easier for you to swallow?"

The ground beneath your feet began to tremble. Your eyes darted around in apprehension. Once the shaking was over, the two of you were surrounded by a ring of stone pillars. Elemental energy resonated between them, forming a rippling wall. He had just formed a seal, something you had witnessed Zhongli do on multiple occasions.

So this imposter was capable of the things your lover is capable of doing. That does not make him the same person. The more this person revealed about himself, the more uneasy you became. There was now a seal around you and despite making his point already, the pillars were still standing.

"What do you want with me?" You asked.

"What do I want with you…" He mused, as if he himself had no idea what had compelled him to kidnap you and bring you here to this mysterious place.

Amusement glinted in his eyes. He took a step towards you, then another. You had no choice but to back up, right into one of his pillars. With your back pressed up against the pulsating construct, the vibrations rippled through your body with mind-numbing intensity. Your body began to tremble and your knees involuntarily buckled as you struggled to stay standing.

"Don't touch me." You swatted away his hand which had instinctively reached out to steady you.

He places his hand against the pillar behind you instead. Despite the lack of physical contact, his looming presence threatened to crush you like a mountain, an impression your lover never once gave you.

"I appologize for the forwardness. It appears there are certain inclinations I cannot hold back in regards to you."

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" You ignored his apology and demanded answers to the two questions you had been asking ever since he appeared.

"I believe we've already had this conversation, dear. Whichever name you prefer to call me by is irrelevant."

"You're not him!" You shouted as you attempted to push him away.

He caught your hands and pinned them against your body, rendering you immobile with little effort.

"How shall I prove it to you then, hmm?" He hummed, amusement returning to his tone. "The person you call Zhongli, he and I are simply two faces of the same coin. For every moment of unfettered peace he reaps, who do you think pays the unsung price?"

"Let go of me!" You hiss as you struggled against his bruising hold.

"Have you never once questioned why the Geo Archon is immune to karmic debt despite slaying countless gods and bloodying his hands during the Archon war?"

Your eyes widened as the words hit your eardrums.

"Do you not find it unusual how he is able to resist abyssal corruption, despite clearly having encountered it multiple times as recorded in Liyue's past?"

"He must've had his ways…" The sound of your voice fell to a wisp.

"Have you never wondered how he deals with erosion, which indiscriminately affects every living being on Teyvat?"

Once again, you could only succumb to speechlessness.

"How well do you think you actually know your past archon, the god you've been calling Rex Lapis for the last three millenias?"

"I…" You started, but the words wouldn't come to your lips.

"You know nothing of his cruelty, his deceptions, or his hypocrisy and yet you claim to love him." His words bleed into your mind like murky ink as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. "Everything he does not wish for you to see, he simply siphons off, seals it away so that you may be blissfully ignorant."

You shutter as his breath fans over your skin.

"Everything that he knows, I know." The corner of his lips curl as he says this. "Everything that he feels, I feel too."

You stared at him, blinking so innocently.

"You do not understand." He sighs at your lack of response. "We are one in the same, yet I have been sealed away in this godforsaken place ever since the day he carved me out of him, left here to fester in perpetual solitude. Do you not find that insidious?"

Although his tone did not reflect his bitterness, his words were clearly spoken with the intent to garner sympathy from you. He was no longer sealed, which you were only now beginning to weave into your understanding of the situation you were in. The implications were many and none of them were good.

"So you're lonely?" You raised a brow. "That's why you kidnapped me? Because you need someone to vent to?"

He shook his head, a gentle but unsettling smile playing on his lips. "While I appreciate a good listener, that is not why you're here, dear."

"I'm bait then." You voiced your other suspicion.

His grin widened. "I can see why he fancies you."

"He'll just seal you away again." You said with as much confidence as you could muster.

"Not if I have you in my hands." He reminds you of your place by wrapping his fingers around your neck. "You make quite the lovely hostage."

"I'm just one of his many lovers." You bluffed. "He's not going to fling himself into your trap for me."

"Do not underestimate yourself, darling. He chuckled. "I hear his thoughts. They are inescapable, just as are his emotions. I know exactly how valuable you are to him."

You sucked in a breath. He had a point. Your relationship with the Wangsheng funeral consultant wasn't exactly a secret. His affections could be visible even to a stranger with the way he looks at you and holds your hand every time the two of you take a stroll through the bustling streets. It'd be a lost cause to try and convince him otherwise when Zhongli's thoughts are filled with adoration for you. As soon as you let go of that notion, another alarming one emerged in its place.

If Zhongli was that in love with you, could there be a tiny sliver of a possibility that his evil twin was susceptible to your charms as well? Just now, he couldn't help but reach out and hold you when it looked like you might fall.

"If you and him are so connected, then…" Your eyes rake his face, so reminiscent of the man that you're in love with.

If he says he's every bit as Zhongli as the Zhongli you know, then he can't exactly use you to gain any leverage. Zhongli's weakness would be his as well. You just had to confirm it. How would you go about that?

You gestured for him to lean in closer with a curl of your finger. Surprisingly, he followed your beck. It was almost as if his body was subconsciously accustomed to respond in this manner. You swallowed, still a bit unsure about what you were about to do.

The theory was, if he is affected by Zhongli's feelings for you, then he's pretty much wrapped around your finger. He'd react to you exactly the way his counterpart would if you make a move on him. He might be surprised and flustered because he doesn't see it coming, but once the initial shock fades away, you'll have him eating out of the palm of your hands. In your right mind, you'd never do this to a complete stranger. He was the one who claimed he was the same person as your lover, so naturally, it's his burden to prove it. You were simply conducting an experiment!

Without warning, you pressed your lips against his. As expected, he immediately tried to withdraw out of pure alarm, but as soon as your hand reached up to stroke his face, it was like something inside him recognized your touch. Your fingers threaded through his hair as if you were kissing your lover. He even sighs the way Zhongli does, readily melting into your kiss like his body was responding on its very own, chasing the fleeting intimacy like a beast starved.

A mere few seconds was all you needed to coax this hunger out of him, but once it had surfaced, stuffing it back into him was another matter. You gasped as the kiss took an unexpected turn. His hand cradled the back of your head against the stone pillar behind you as he kissed you back with a fervor you never anticipated. Pent up desire and desperation possessed him. His lips were already against your neck and his hands glided along your waist as he sought further closeness to you. You had thrown yourself at your captor to see if he'd give chase and he didn't disappoint. As indulgent as this experiment was, it had served its purpose.

"I— I believe you now." You panted after pushing him away.

"So you needed a kiss to be convinced that I was telling the truth." He remarked with muted disdain. "I am glad you got the result you seek, however," he paused to catch his breath, "I do not appreciate being subjected to an undisclosed trial."

"What are you going to do once he comes running? Are you going to seal him down here or something? You know, he's retired and is working at a funeral parlor right now. Are you going to go to work in his place?" In order to distract him from the kiss, you could only throw a pile of questions at him.

"I may kill him, but that must've crossed your mind already."

"If you and him are the same person, then it's obviously not going to be that simple."

Your captor narrowed his eyes at you, slightly perturbed that you were taking it so lightly.

"Like you said, you hear his thoughts and feel everything he feels. Can I assume that if he gets hurt, you also bleed?"

"That could be possible."

"You're not denying it, so I'm not far from the truth." You smirked. "It's not that you don't want to kill him. You can't, because you'll die too."

The amusement on his face melted away when you finished speaking. It must be unsettling to him how easily you figured him out, but that was a given. If he was Zhongli, then you also knew him well enough to hear what he was not putting into words. Your lover has always been a long-winded man, but even he clams up once in a while when it comes to information he doesn't wish to disclose. Rather than wring it out of him, you had learned the art of picking up on his subtle cues and body language in order to piece together a vague idea of what he was not telling you. This was how you had gotten him to admit his identity as the supposedly dead Geo Archon. You had gotten so exasperatingly good at peeling back his layers, both metaphorically and literally speaking, Zhongli now hardly has anymore secrets, save for this one standing in front of you.

"You can kill me out of spite, but you won't, because all that pain and grief is just going to get funneled into you. Am I right?"

Instead of yielding to you immediately like your lover so habitually does, this person grins even wider. A trace of unhinged excitement flashes in his eyes.

"Kill you?" He finds the thought entertaining, but abandons it without hesitation. "I would much rather propose a contract to have you imprisoned with me instead."

Your heart leapt in panic. "I'll take death over getting locked up in this hell hole with you."

A hint of genuine sadness rippled underneath his mirth. Being the perceptive person you were, you caught it before it disappeared.

As soon as the contradicting emotions sprouted up inside you, you had to stomp them out. You weren't about to get yourself emotionally attached to your kidnapper and you can't let him manipulate you into taking pity on him. Unfortunately for you, the brief waver in your gaze also didn't escape his eyes.

"It wouldn't be completely unfair as he has me imprisoned for much of my existence." He reminded you.

The distance between you shrunk once again as he leaned in. You already had your back against his pillar, with nowhere to escape, confined in this little play pen comprised of elemental constructs.

"Eleven months in a year."

You made an odd face. Was he trying to negotiate with you?

"I'm not staying with you."

"You can name your terms now or you can be my unwilling companion." He whispered against your ear. "I don't mind keeping you here against your will, as long as it makes losing my mind a little less unbearable."

"So choice is just an illusion?"

"I would prefer you to offer your freedom and company to me as opposed to having no say at all." He smiles.

"In other words, you get what you want either way."

"Precisely." He replied. "Ten months. I can spare you two months to finish whatever unfinished business you have."

You ignored his disingenuous offer. "How exactly will you keep me against my will if Zhongli can just march in here, reseal you, and take me back?"

"He will not take you if you agree to a contract before he gets here." He reminds you. "Must you keep testing my patience in this way?"

"I'll just wait until he gets here." You shrug.

"Nine months." He demands, slight irritation in his tone.

As if to demonstrate his irrefutable mastery over the environment, the ground beneath your feet began to shake again.

"Surely eight months in a year is not too much to ask." He says after your silence.

The entire subspace pulsated with Geo and began to churn as if a giant wheel were being turned in the distance.

"You don't frighten me, if that's what you're trying to do."

After that little test, you were certain that even if he had the power to end your life right here and now, he could never actually pull through with it. This was a beast with all his claws and teeth intact that could not lay a single finger on you.

"Are you truly so unwilling?" He brushes the back of a finger against your cheek.

"It's not like I'll get compensated for the time I'm going to be kept here against my will."

"I did not say you will receive nothing in return." A knowing smile crept into his lips. "You would consider it if I compensated you in some way?"

You should've kept your mouth shut. Now this bastard was onto you like a beast hooked on the scent of fresh blood. You wondered if Zhongli had already discovered your absence. How long would it take for him to find you?

"I'm not for sale." You crossed your arm. "You can haggle all you want, but I'm not selling myself to you."

"Anything can be bought, my dear."

"You don't have anything to offer that I'd want." You retorted. "At least nothing that Zhongli wouldn't be able to give me."

"I loathe the thought of harming you, truly…" The corner of his lips curled ever so slightly. "It's a pity that this affection does not extend to those around you."

"You're resorting to threatening me now?"

"If I must." He grins. The fingernails ghosting over your neck elongated into sharp claws. "Am I finally detecting a sway in your resolution?"

"Once he finds me, you won't have the chance." You huff, trying to keep up an unbothered front.

"Oh, I have quite the time to persuade you, darling. You can rest assured that he will not find you so easily. While I can hear his thoughts, he cannot access my mind. Such is the nature of our bond, so that what I carry on his behalf does not find its way back to him. While he can sense that my seal is broken, it will take him some effort to uncover this location."

Your lips parted in shock as his words dawned on you. This entity in front of you was at one point a part of the man you call Zhongli, your lover. The reason the person you met was such a selfless, considerate, and pleasant presence was because his darker, more troubled side had been literally cut away and sealed off from the rest of Teyvat so aa to not disturb the peaceful harbor he had painstakingly raised along the baron cliffs.

"Those things he'd never do…" The words drifted from your lips as they formed in your mind, slow and unsure. "They don't extend to you, do they?"

"You may consider my very existence an intentional loophole." He supplied.

You swallowed nervously. "What about the contracts he makes?"

He raises a hand to stroke his chin in thought. "I have been sealed away for as long as I could remember. When I had gone to fetch you, it hadn't occurred to me to challenge any of the contracts that he had bound himself to. Perhaps I can slaughter a few of his subjects to see if—"

"No! Absolutely not!" In a fit of panic, you pressed the palm of your hand against his lips to stop the rest of his sentence from spilling out. "You will not be killing any innocent people!"

He chuckled, but the sound was muffled underneath your hands. The warmth of his breath caused your skin to tingle so you quickly removed your hand from his face.

"How exactly do you intend to stop me if you are trapped here?"

A pair of stone cuffs emerged from the stone pillar behind you, molding around your wrists. Another pair wrapped around your ankles, effectively restricting your movements. His question had effectively shut you up as well.

"Precisely. You cannot." He smiled ominously at you.

"Wait!" You shouted after him as he walked off.

He stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around, waiting for your explanation.

"Did he split you off before or after he became the Geo Archon?"

"After." Came his reply.

"Then that means you're still bound by his contract to protect Liyue. You can't hurt anyone even if you wanted to."

He turned around to face you, walking back at a leisurely pace. Once he was close enough, he reached up to stroke your face, a doting gesture, but it sent shivers up your spine.

"I'm afraid you are misinterpreting what a contract is and what it is not. A contract simply ensures that the party who chooses to dishonor an agreement faces the stipulated repercussions. It does not prevent one from breaching it if they wish to do so."

"Oh." You gave a dejected sigh.

"Not to worry. As long as you give me your word to keep me company for eight months out of the year, I will promise you that no harm shall come to the people of Liyue."

"Eight months is too long."

"Very well, then. Seven months."

"Six."

"I accept your terms. You may back out of this contract now, but this would be your last chance."

"Half a year." You muttered under your breath. "As long as you keep your end of the agreement."

A part of you still hoped Zhongli would barge in at any moment and put an end to this ridiculous hostage situation. Would he really let you be sealed away with his evil twin for six months in a year? You didn't even want to imagine what life would become for you during those six months of involuntary confinement. Was Zhongli really that inflexible when it comes to contracts?

"Why do you even want to keep me here in the first place?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Why would I not?" He simply laughed.

There was nothing sinister about the sound this time. He looked so harmless, innocent even. For a moment, you could not tell the difference between this individual and the retired archon you so adored.

"You seem rather confused still as to why I have gone out of my way to bring you here, my dearest. To say that I am simply fond of you is putting it lightly…" His tone softened as he neared. He leaned in, brushing his lips against the sensitive rim of your ear.

You drew in a shallow breath as his words simultaneously tickled your mind and your senses.

"There is no need to overthink it. Now that you've agreed to give me your precious time, I promise that your stay would be most fruitful."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. A tingling sensation bloomed underneath your skin, spreading throughout your body. Suddenly, a chill shot up your spine. Your head was stark clear. You fell forward, right into his waiting arms as the stone cuffs released their hold on your limbs.

With the contract a reality, you were now only able to spend six months of the year with Zhongli. The other half of it, you were bound to his twin. It can't be that bad, since he proved he was just as fond of you as his more level-headed counterpart. How would your lover take the news of having to share you?

#zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #zhongli x you #kinktober 2024 #yandere zhongli

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