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muiitoloko · 1 day

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hii really sorry for bothering 💙

I'm kind of dying with period cramps, could I ask for a little pov with Eli where he comforts you?😭💙 I don't mean a whole fic, just like a little imagine or something, but like five lines and that's it, I really don't want to bother you 😭💙🫶🏻 I love your writing style btw 😭😭😭😭

Title: care

Summary: He takes care of you.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warning: none.

Author's Notes: Hey, you're not bothering at all! I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling well. Here's a quick POV with Eli comforting you:

Eli entered the apartment, his exhaustion evident in the way he dragged his feet across the floor. But as he turned the corner into the living room, his tired demeanor quickly shifted to one of concern when he saw you curled up on the couch, a pained expression etched across your face.

"Darling, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice softening slightly as he approached you, his usual arrogance momentarily set aside.

You winced, clutching your stomach as another wave of cramps washed over you. "It's my period," you mumbled, your voice strained with discomfort, "the cramps are killing me today."

Eli's brow furrowed with empathy as he knelt beside you, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair. "I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured, his tone surprisingly tender, "I can only imagine how painful it must be for you."

Despite his usual pompous demeanor, there was a sincerity in Eli's voice that took you by surprise. In that moment, you saw a glimpse of the caring, compassionate side of him that he rarely showed to anyone else.

As the minutes passed, Eli remained by your side, offering words of comfort and support as you endured the worst of your menstrual pain. He fetched a heating pad and a glass of water, doing his best to ease your discomfort in any way he could.

And though he still retained traces of his usual arrogance, there was a warmth in his gestures that spoke volumes. It was as if, in caring for you, Eli was allowing himself to be vulnerable, to show a side of himself that few ever got to see.

As Eli set the heating pad gently against your lower abdomen, he couldn't help but maintain a semblance of his usual arrogance, even in the midst of his caring gestures.

"There, that should help alleviate some of the pain," he remarked, his tone still carrying a hint of superiority, "though I must say, you seem rather fragile for someone who claims to be independent."

You rolled your eyes, both amused and exasperated by his comment. "Thanks, Eli," you replied sarcastically, "I'll be sure to remember that next time I'm bench-pressing my own weight."

Eli chuckled softly at your retort, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah yes, your unparalleled strength never ceases to amaze me," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Despite his arrogant demeanor, there was a warmth in Eli's eyes as he looked at you, a flicker of genuine concern shining through his usual facade of superiority.

As you settled back against the couch, Eli rose from his kneeling position and made his way to the kitchen, his movements confident and purposeful. Moments later, he returned with a steaming cup of tea, the fragrant aroma wafting through the air.

"Here," he said, extending the cup towards you with a slight flourish, "a humble offering to soothe your delicate constitution."

You accepted the tea with a grateful smile, taking a sip and relishing in the comforting warmth that spread through your body. Despite his continued arrogance, there was a kindness in Eli's actions that you couldn't help but appreciate.

"Thank you, Eli," you said sincerely, meeting his gaze with genuine gratitude, "for taking care of me."

Eli waved off your thanks with a dismissive gesture, though the hint of a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Consider it a momentary lapse in my otherwise impeccable facade," he replied, his tone light but tinged with affection.

And as you sat together in comfortable silence, sharing the quiet intimacy of the moment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the complex, multifaceted man beside you. Despite his flaws and imperfections, there was something undeniably captivating about Eli Michaelson, a complexity that both frustrated and fascinated you in equal measure.

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

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muiitoloko · 9 hours

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New beginning

Summary: It's a new beginning.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warning: Illness.

Author's Notes: Is it wrong that I'm sad this story is ending? I think I got more attached to this story than I should have. 😅

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth part here.

As the days turned into months and then years, William grew up quickly, his laughter filling the halls of your grand mansion. You marveled at how time seemed to fly by, cherishing every moment spent watching your son grow and thrive.

But as William grew, so did your family. Soon, you found yourself pregnant again, the news of twins filling you with both excitement and trepidation. Turpin, though initially taken aback by the prospect of expanding your family, soon embraced the idea with his usual stoic resolve.

Months passed, and eventually, the day arrived when you welcomed your twin babies into the world. Turpin stood by your side, his expression a mixture of awe and apprehension as he witnessed the miracle of birth once again. Despite his typically stern demeanor, his heart melted at the sight of his newborn children, and he vowed to protect and cherish them with all his being.

As the years went by, Turpin's health began to decline, his once formidable strength weakened by illness. Forced to retire from his prestigious position as a judge, Turpin struggled to come to terms with his newfound vulnerability. You, ever the devoted wife, remained by his side, offering comfort and support as he navigated this challenging chapter of his life.

With Turpin's health deteriorating, you made the difficult decision to leave London behind and move to the farm you had always dreamed of. Turpin, though initially resistant to the idea, eventually acquiesced, recognizing the benefits of the fresh air and tranquility for his recovery.

The transition to farm life was not without its challenges, but together, you and Turpin faced them head-on, drawing strength from each other and the love that bound your family together. Turpin, though laid up since his illness, found solace in the simple pleasures of country living, while you reveled in the opportunity to nurture your growing family in the serene countryside.

As the years passed, the farm became a sanctuary for your family, a place where Turpin could find peace amidst the turmoil of his declining health. Surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love of his family, Turpin rediscovered a sense of purpose and contentment that he had long thought lost.

Though Turpin's illness presented its share of challenges, it also brought you closer together as a family, strengthening the bonds that held you all together. As you watched your children grow and thrive in the idyllic countryside, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the life you had built together, far away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays over the sprawling fields surrounding your farm, you and Turpin sat together on a sturdy wooden chair placed in the entrance of your cozy farmhouse. The gentle breeze carried the sound of laughter and playful shouts from your children, William, Sophia, and Belladonna, who were engrossed in a game of tag in the yard.

Turpin, his once formidable frame now softened by age and illness, leaned back in his chair, a faint smile gracing his lips as he watched his children at play. His hooked nose and baritone voice still commanded authority, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he observed their antics.

His recently acquired cane rested on the arm of his chair, a symbol of his newfound reliance on assistance. Yet, despite his physical limitations, Turpin radiated a sense of contentment and pride as he basked in the joy of fatherhood.

You, seated beside him, couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold before you. William, now a strapping young lad of ten, took on the role of protector, keeping a watchful eye on his younger sisters as they darted around the yard with reckless abandon.

But it was Sophia and Belladonna, aged seven, who truly stole the show. With their wild curls bouncing in the breeze and laughter bubbling from their lips, they embodied the innocence and exuberance of youth.

Suddenly, Sophia and Belladonna broke away from their game, sprinting towards you and Turpin with reckless abandon. "Father! Father!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices echoing with excitement.

You couldn't help but scold the girls gently for their lack of decorum, reminding them to behave like proper young ladies. Turpin, however, merely chuckled indulgently, his stern gaze softening as he watched his daughters clamor for his attention.

"Sophia, Belladonna, mind your manners," you chided gently, though there was a fondness in your tone. "You mustn't pester your father so."

Turpin's smile widened as he reached out to ruffle Sophia's hair affectionately, his touch gentle despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Indeed, my dears," he added with mock severity. "You must learn to comport yourselves with the dignity befitting young ladies of your station."

But the girls paid his admonishments no heed, too caught up in the excitement of the moment to care about propriety. They threw themselves at Turpin with abandon, their laughter filling the air as they clamored for his attention.

Turpin, unable to resist their infectious energy, wrapped his arms around his daughters, pulling them close in a tight embrace. "Very well, my little rascals," he conceded with a chuckle. "But remember, you mustn't forget your manners in the future."

You shook your head in amusement, unable to suppress a smile at the sight of Turpin indulging his daughters' antics. Despite his stern demeanor, there was a tenderness in his interactions with them that spoke volumes about the depth of his love for his children.

"Richard, are you alright?" you asked, your voice filled with worry as you gently supported him.

In that moment, surrounded by the ones you loved most in the world, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the life you had built together. As the laughter of your children echoed through the evening air, Turpin suddenly doubled over, a violent coughing fit seizing him. Concern etched across your features, you quickly rose from your seat and moved to his side.

Turpin waved off your concern with a dismissive gesture, though his coughs continued to wrack his frail frame. "I'm fine," he rasped between coughs, his baritone voice strained with effort, "just a minor inconvenience."

But you knew better than to ignore the signs of his declining health. With a firm hand, you helped him to his feet, guiding him back towards the house with gentle insistence.

"Let's get you back to the bedroom," you said firmly, your tone brooking no argument, "you need to rest."

Surprisingly, Turpin didn't protest, instead grasping his cane tightly as he leaned on you for support. Together, you made your way back into the house, calling out to the children as you passed through the doorway.

"William, Sophia, Belladonna," you called out, your voice carrying through the halls, "time to wash up for dinner."

The children, obedient as always, responded promptly, their footsteps echoing as they made their way inside. As they passed Turpin, who was already halfway up the stairs, he couldn't help but scold them for their reckless behavior.

"Mind your manners on the stairs, children," he admonished sternly, though the trio paid his warnings little heed as they dashed past him, eager to wash up before dinner.

Turpin sighed wearily as you reached his side, helping him up the stairs with careful steps. Once in the bedroom, you assisted him in laying down on the bed, his coughs gradually subsiding as he settled into a more comfortable position.

Watching him closely, you began to undress him, your hands moving with practiced ease as you removed his formal attire. Turpin watched you silently, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes.

"You're still so young," he commented softly, his voice tinged with regret, "you shouldn't have to take care of an old man like me."

You didn't respond to his words, instead focusing on the task at hand as you dressed him in comfortable clothes. With gentle hands, you tucked him in, ensuring he was warm and comfortable before turning to leave the room.

But Turpin's sudden grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Startled, you met his gaze, only to find his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve.

"Do you remember the sentence I gave you years ago?" he whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

You nodded slowly, the memory of his possessive decree resurfacing with painful clarity. "Yes," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of his words, "I remember."

Turpin's nose twitched slightly as he studied your face, his expression pained. "Forget that sentence," he said abruptly, surprising you with the suddenness of his request.

Confusion clouded your features as you looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. "What?" you asked incredulously, unable to comprehend his sudden change of heart.

"You are still young," Turpin continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "you deserve a man who will take care of you, who will love you as I never could."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, a mixture of sadness and disbelief washing over you. Turpin had always been possessive, demanding your unwavering loyalty with cruel insistence. And yet, here he was, urging you to forget his decree, to seek happiness beyond the confines of your marriage.

"You're crazy," you whispered hoarsely, your voice thick with emotion, "if you think I'll ever look for another man."

Turpin reached out to brush away your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle against your skin. "You deserve to live, to find happiness," he insisted, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, "even if it's not with me."

But you shook your head, unable to accept his words, unable to fathom a life without him by your side. "Shut up," you whispered brokenly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Just shut up."

For the first time in your life, you defied Turpin's orders, your heart rebelling against the notion of a future without him. Despite his cruelty, despite his flaws, you loved him with a fierceness that defied reason, that defied logic.

Turpin's expression softened momentarily, his gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "You silly, stupid woman," he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice tinged with anguish.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words heavy on your heart. With a trembling hand, you attempted to pull away from him, to distance yourself from the pain of his rejection.

But Turpin refused to let you go, his grip on your wrist tightening with unexpected strength. "No," he said firmly, his voice commanding despite its tremulous quality, "You will listen to me, damn it!"

Startled by the sudden change in his demeanor, you turned back to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. Turpin's hooked nose twitched slightly as he studied your face, his expression torn between anger and desperation.

"I may be cruel, I may be a monster," he began, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "but I cannot bear the thought of you suffering because of me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the layers of resentment and anger that had built up between you. Despite his flaws, despite his cruelty, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man before you.

Turpin reached out to brush away your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle against your skin. "Listen to me," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion, "if there are other lives, if there is a chance for redemption, I will find you."

You blinked in disbelief, unable to comprehend the magnitude of his promise. "What do you mean?" you whispered hoarsely, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Turpin's gaze bore into yours, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "If one day I am reborn, if one day I have the chance to make amends for my sins," he said solemnly, "I will look for you. In every life, in every world, I will look for you."

A sob caught in your throat as you listened to his words, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy blanket. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, you couldn't deny the truth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice.

With a groan, Lionel reached over and disarmed the alarm at the head of his bed, silencing its incessant beeping. Damn these crazy dreams, he thought to himself, shaking his head in frustration.

"Because you are mine," Turpin continued, his voice filled with a quiet intensity, "and I am yours. And nothing, not even death itself, can change that."

"Richard..."

Suddenly, Lionel jolted awake from his bed, disoriented and slightly bewildered by the vividness of his dream. Running his hands through his hair, he looked around the dimly lit bedroom, the remnants of the dream still lingering in his mind.

As he undressed and stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his tired body, Lionel tried to remember the details of the dream. It was always the same, a smile, but the specifics eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Furrowing his brow in concentration, Lionel scrubbed at his skin, hoping to shake off the remnants of the dream that clung to him like a stubborn shadow. He had better things to think about, like the party he was hosting today and the Monet he planned to purchase.

But try as he might, the memory of the dream persisted, taunting him with its elusive details. Frustrated, Lionel leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, closing his eyes and willing the images to fade away.

As the steam filled the air around him, Lionel took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the water soothe his tired muscles. He had a busy day ahead of him, and he couldn't afford to dwell on a mere dream.

With renewed determination, Lionel finished his shower and stepped out into the cool air of the bathroom, the memory of the dream still lingering at the edges of his mind. But as he dried himself off and got dressed, he pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the tasks that lay ahead.

There would be time to ponder the meaning of his dreams later. For now, Lionel had a party to host and a painting to acquire, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Lionel's brow furrowed in frustration as he examined the counterfeit Monet in front of him, the queen's face mocking him from the canvas. He sighed heavily as Harry Deane and PJ Puznowski walked away, his heart still racing with the realization of how close he had come to being tricked.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief at his own gullibility. He had almost fallen for their scheme, but he refused to let himself dwell on it any longer. There were more pressing matters at hand, and Lionel couldn't afford to waste time regretting his near-miss.

Straightening his bow tie with a determined gesture, Lionel plastered a smile on his face and made his way back to the party. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, and he couldn't let a little setback ruin his evening.

As he mingled with the guests, exchanging pleasantries and discussing business deals, Lionel couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered at the back of his mind. It was as if something was tugging at his subconscious, pulling him towards a truth he couldn't quite grasp.

And then, he saw her.

She was standing across the room, surrounded by two other women, her sweet smile lighting up her face. Lionel felt his heart skip a beat as their eyes met, a sense of déjà vu washing over him like a tidal wave.

For a few precious seconds, the world seemed to fade away as he stared at her, captivated by the warmth and kindness in her eyes. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a feeling that defied explanation.

But before he could dwell on it any longer, she looked away, turning back to her friends and resuming her conversation. Lionel watched her with a mixture of longing and confusion, his mind racing with questions he couldn't begin to answer.

Who was she? And why did she stir something within him that he couldn't quite define?

And as he watched her move gracefully through the crowd, laughter dancing in her eyes, Lionel couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stir within him.

With a shake of his head, Lionel forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He had a party to host and guests to entertain, and he couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander.

But as the evening wore on, he found himself stealing glances in her direction, unable to shake the feeling that he had found something he never knew he was searching for.

It was then that he noticed her uniform, the realization dawning on him with a sense of disbelief. She was a waitress, just another face in the crowd, and yet... there was something about her that stirred a sense of familiarity within him.

With a rueful laugh, Lionel shook his head, dismissing the notion as absurd. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had found something important, something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of his extravagant life.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally found what he had been looking for all along.

#alan rickman #judge turpin x reader #judge turpin #sweeney todd #oc #lionel shabandar

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