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geeks-universe · 1 day

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Cooper Howard x F!Reader (not to spoil it, but you know I love my crossovers so…)

The Fallen

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Once, when the world was younger and you were still naive enough to believe in fate, you asked your father about love.

He’d laughed then- a deep, cheery kind, that spoke of a wisdom you could never hope to achieve.

“In time,” he’d promised, taking your hands into his, “You’ll learn that love comes in many forms, and the love you choose will always be the greatest.”

Even after everything, after years and years of disappointment, of cruelty and emptiness, you couldn’t forget his words.

So, in an act of rebellion, you chose love.

You chose the love of your brother, the brother who would lose everything, who would fall from Grace, just for defying fate.

You chose the human race, who turned their back on you, who hurt you over and over again.

You chose a better life, that seemed impossible most days- but sometimes, just sometimes, everybody lives.

And you chose wrong.

The world tore itself apart, and just when you wanted to believe it could find itself again, it would fall into the greatest trap in human history: greed.

The love in your soul turned to dust, like the cities you’d once roamed, crumbling until all that remained was an empty space and broken dreams. You’d held onto what you could of yourself, desperate to piece together the fragments into something that resembled the person you’d been, but there was no hope. The spark of hope you’d once kindled and raised to an inferno was doused, nothing but ashes in the ocean of your disappointment.

There were still a few things you couldn’t abide by, however, and Cooper Howard dragging an innocent woman through the desolate Wastelands was one of them.

You’d happened upon the scene by accident, just passing through, but the familiarity of the figure had you lurking longer than what was normally deemed safe.

“Coop?”

Your voice was gentle, like the beginning strums of a sweet song. Cooper wasn’t sure how the harshness that had etched itself into your demeanor never invaded your speech, but he would be eternally grateful. It was a goddamn godsend he didn’t believe he ever deserved.

“Well, now,” he drawled, careful to keep the smile that threatened to peek through hidden. “Last I heard, you were headed East.”

You had no such reservations, and even the years of guilt and pain couldn’t wipe away the upturn of your lips. For an action so small, it sure did radiate in a way the sun never could.

“I did, but it didn’t stick,” you shrugged, grabbing the straps of your backpack. Never one for subtlety, you gestured at the vault-dweller, who had been eyeing you with a keen interest.

She had been quiet, obviously, for the sake of herself and how Cooper might react to her asking for help. Now that you’d acknowledged her, though, she started speaking up, much to Cooper’s chagrin.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, tugging harshly at the restraints around her neck. “I’m looking for my father.”

You nodded, and the fluttering in Lucy’s heart slowed, fear mixing with her initial curiosity. You knew the ghoul holding her captive, the chances of you helping her were slim to none, but she tried to remain optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a good person on the surface.

“Might be hard to do with that,” your eyes flicked from her neck to Cooper, with a pointed raise of one brow.

He let out a low whistle, leaning back with the confidence of a man who’d lived long enough to not be afraid of shit. If it were anyone else, friend or not, he would’ve shot them dead and been done with it. He didn’t need to answer to anyone, but something deep in his chest forced his hands steady.

“She broke my vials,” he explained, cautiously avoiding your gaze. “Seems only fair she gets me more.”

“He used me as bait!” Lucy argued indignantly, trying to take a step towards you only to be tugged back by Cooper. “I had to do something.”

“Your father,” the word is strained, a haunting in your eyes Lucy can’t place, “Where is he?”

Lucy tried, once again, to walk to you. Coop, however, was keeping her on a tight leash, refusing to let her near you. It’s for his benefit, he tells himself, even if some small part of him does it for your protection.

Over the years, he’s run into you many, many times. No matter how hard he’s tried, it’s like fate keeps bringing him back to you. At first, he’d been downright horrible to you, terrified to admit that there was something in your eyes that made him feel human again. Slowly, ever slowly, like a stubborn weed you grew on him, and it’s been impossible for him to deny the way his body reacts to you.

“Coop,” you chide, your voice like velvet, enveloping his skin in a soft warmth. Fuck, he did love it when you used his name.

You gave Lucy a half smile, and the growl that threatened to leave Cooper’s mouth got caught in his throat as he realized you weren’t walking to her, but to him.

“I’ll get you the vials, just let her find her dad.”

He stood a little taller as you approached, planting his hands on his belt as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Darlin’, I ain’t doing this for the hell of it,” he replied, and then paused. “Mostly.”

You reached your hands out, carefully enveloping them around where he was grasping the rope. In all his years, he hadn’t recalled a single touch ever stirring his stomach the way yours did. You’d only ever touched him once before, and it was a brief graze of his cheek. This was intentful, and it felt a hell of a lot more intimate than it had any right to be.

“Please,” you breathed, and he could see the despair in your eyes - eyes that were far too old for someone who looked so young. He could never quite piece together how you fit in this world, or how you managed to look as if you’d stepped right out of the past just to have this moment with him.

He sighed, maintaining a scowl for all he was worth. Cooper Howard would not let you see the effect you had on him.

“Thank you, Coop.”

His stubborn heart skipped a beat as he clenched his jaw, his expression emanating annoyance. You weren’t perturbed, however, turning away to free Lucy.

“I’m (Y/N),” you introduced yourself, careful not to irritate the marks on her neck further. Cooper was rough around the edges, you knew that, but you saw the man beneath the armor in the little moments, the times he couldn’t quite hide who he was.

It intrigued you, made you think about yourself and the person you’d become. Perhaps, you had been too hasty in throwing that person away. Maybe, that part of yourself was still alive too, buried underneath layers of armor.

“Thank you,” she was sincere in her gratitude, and that tiny piece of yourself flared, begging to be remembered.

“I could help you too, you know,” you offered after a delayed pause, chasing the optimism she held tightly onto.

No matter how hard you tried, your soul fought back, demanded to be whole again.

“Really?” Her surprise morphed to joy, and you found it contagious.

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Cooper interrupted, not pleased with that development. “Your services are required elsewhere.”

“I’m capable of servicing more than just you.”

His leg twitched at the insinuation, at the way you looked at him from beneath your lashes with an innocence he doubted you possessed.

“But, since you asked so nicely cowboy,” your smile was devious, your tone far too sultry for the sweltering heat of the desert. “You first.”

Lucy’s brows were to her hairline, unsure what to make of the dynamic between the two of you. Her entertainment, however, was cut blissfully short when you threw a canteen towards her, which she caught instinctually.

“Now you’re coddling her, sweetheart?”

You took a moment to wrap the lasso Cooper carried around into a neat loop, your gaze locked with his as you approached once more. Lucy was too preoccupied with her water to notice the two of you sizing one another up.

“Don’t be jealous, Coop,” you grabbed the front of his belt roughly, forcing him a step closer to you.

He fell into the motion, tracing his eyes dangerously slow from where you gripped his belt to the soft curve of your lips.

“You’re still my favorite,” you promised on a breath as you tucked his lasso securely into his waist.

His hands snatched your wrists before you pulled away, and for a brief moment, the intermingling of your breath was all that interrupted the silence. His gaze was a challenge, and yours was far too playful.

It was damn near unfair how you could walk through the apocalypse and still look like you belonged on a fucking billboard. There was an unnatural allure around you, and he wasn’t sure if it was the twinkle in your eyes, or the smoothness of your skin, or the gentle bur of your voice- but holy fuck you looked like an angel that’d accidentally stumbled into hell.

The silence was interrupted by Lucy clearing her throat, an awkward smile as she caught your attention.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her, grazing your fingers along Cooper’s palms as you step from his proximity.

“Vials first, daddy dearest after,” you reminded them, taking the lead.

Lucy was more than happy to walk beside you, while Cooper trailed a small distance behind. Where Lucy was insistent on speaking, keeping up a steady conversation through the long trek, Cooper preferred to observe.

First, he focused on the way your black jumpsuit hugged all the right areas, tight enough it could be considered a damn sin. That train of thought was dangerous though, and left him with an ache he knew he couldn’t satisfy on his own.

So, he instead focused on the way you effortlessly dodged Lucy’s line of questions, and redirected the questions to learn about her. It was curious, that. As much of a tight lipped bastard that Cooper was, you were doubly so. Through the years and the friendly encounters, he’d let some of his life slip in conversation. Nothing substantial, but you certainly knew more tidbits than anyone else.

He, however, didn’t know anything about you. He knew what he observed, but you never told him anything about your past.

It helped pass the time, sifting through your noncommittal answers to make assumptions about the life you lived.

It was difficult though.

Sometimes, you talked about things like you’d witnessed them, even though it would’ve been impossible. He didn’t know your age exactly, but if he had to guess, he’d put you at maybe mid-twenties, and that’s at the oldest. It was damn near a miracle you didn’t have any missing limbs or obvious scarring. You looked as unmarked as a damn vault dweller, and he was starting to think that perhaps you had been one.

“Have you always lived on the surface?”

He never thought he’d be thankful for the damn vault dweller, but it was nice having someone try to pry some answers out of you.

“That’s a harder question to answer than you’d think,” you laughed a little coyly, like there was a joke that only you were privy to.

When it was obvious you weren’t going to continue speaking, and Lucy had far too many manners to push any further on the subject, she asked another question.

“Why’d you help me?“

Your gaze turned toward the setting sun. It had been over half the day since you’d decided to help them both, and the sun was just now slipping below the horizon. The three of you would have to rest soon.

“It’s hard to forget the person I was,” you admitted lowly.

The symphony that was your voice turned decidedly melancholy, unnaturally so. Normally, it sounded more like a romantic string of tunes that captured the essence of life. This, however, was sad, dead.

“Maybe the world needs more people like that,” Lucy provided, and Cooper didn’t miss the flash of guilt that devastated your expression.

Curious, indeed.

“I’d reckon that’s the last place we’ll find ‘fore the sun disappears,” Coop states, pointing to a rickety, old house, somehow still standing against the desert in defiance.

“It’s as good a place as any for the night,” you shrugged, leading the small group to the rest spot.

Where Cooper was cautious, weapon drawn, you were careless, opening the door like you knew nothing was in there that could hurt you. He felt a twinge of annoyance that you would be that reckless, knowing the dangers of the Wasteland. He was many things, but a protector was certainly not one of them.

“Here,” Lucy tried to hand you back the canteen you’d gifted her earlier as you settled yourself down in a corner.

The building was definitely empty, and provided some amount of protection from both the elements and any creatures lurking about, but there wasn’t any intact furniture. You’d found a relatively comfortable pile of sand and laid your pack down, as if it were a pillow.

“Keep it,” you refused to take the offering. You were honestly a bit surprised she had even saved some for you.

“But you haven’t had anything to drink all day.”

It was an oddity that Cooper had noticed too. While both he and the vault-dweller had taken an occasional sip of water or a bite to eat, you hadn’t done either, and the brutal pace you’d set hadn’t reflected that.

“Believe me, “ you said, turning your back to your two traveling companions. “I’m okay.”

Obviously unsatisfied with leaving the conversation, Lucy frowned, but obeyed. Her probing look to the ghoul warranted no answers, and eventually she found her own patch of sand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed along in a similar manner, and the more of you that the two observed, the more confused they became. They didn’t voice their concerns, however, far more focused on the destination you had in mind.

“It’s…”

Lucy trailed off, side eyeing you with a questioning look.

“A lab,” you supplied.

“Right, a lab!” She echoed enthusiastically, deciding it best not to point out that it was very much in a state of disrepair and the likelihood of anything surviving the looting prevalent throughout the Wastelands was little to none.

“Sugar, I don’t have the time to be fucking around right now.”

It was the closest tone to anger that Cooper had spoken to you since his first year of knowing you. In the past two days specifically his coughing had grown more severe and more often.

You’d explained a generalized version of what would happen without help to Lucy after the first night, and since then she’d been a bit more apologetic to the ghoul, even if he was a dick.

“Stay out here,” you ordered, not waiting for their inevitable protest as you slipped into the decrepit building with a loud screech of the door.

At the very least, your traveling companions didn’t follow you into the descending hallway, which was more than you expected.

Whatever source had powered the underground facility had died years ago, leaving the bulk of the supplies sealed tight behind an impenetrable door. The bunker was lined with 2 feet of lead, and a door weighing many tons. It was nigh impossible to get in, and if you were anyone else, you would’ve considered it a lost cause.

Instead, you cast a glance back towards the faded light where the entrance was, ensuring that you were not followed while you grabbed hold of the door handle.

You sighed, yanking with a great deal of force until the door made a loud pop, coming unhinged and falling to the ground with a deafening thud. There was a hushed murmur from where Lucy had yelled down to you, but you didn’t bother replying, instead focused on the rows and rows of vials.

Most of the initial testing sites were still secret, a forgotten part of history that, despite their usefulness in the current state of the world, had fallen into the cracks of negligence. Luckily for you, and by extension Cooper, there was enough supply to last him damn near a year if he could ration and store it properly.

Just as you dropped the first vial into your backpack, which was in a convenient metal container, you heard a distinct whooshing noise. You didn’t need to look at the falling object to know who had decided to drop by, and with an exasperated sigh, you tilted your head toward the ceiling of the very dark, very cold bunker.

“Brother…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think we should check on her?” Lucy was having trouble keeping still, straining her eyes down the dark hallway. “What if she’s hurt?“

“She ain’t hurt,” Cooper shot back, leaning back against the dingy building and crossing his arms over his chest.

“She could be de-“

“Finish that sentence and you might find yourself there, sweetheart,” He threatened, his fingers reaching down toward his holstered gun.

Maybe it’d be better to keep her mouth shut, but after a tense silence, and quite literally nothing better to do, Lucy couldn’t help herself.

“So, you and (Y/N)-“

“Do you like breathin’? ‘Cause I’m getting the distinct feeling that you certainly do not.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you look at her with this-“

“I have no qualms with blasting a hole through your head ‘nd tellin’ her you decided to run off.”

“And then there’s the way she talks to you-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there, sweetheart. If one more word comes out of your mouth, it’ll be the last.”

The two met stare for stare, the threat lingering in the hot breeze between them. Lucy had no doubt she was beginning to grate on the ghoul’s nerves, but she also didn’t really think he’d harm her, not when it was obvious you’d know it was him that did so.

He wouldn’t risk you being upset with him.

Probably.

And because Lucy really didn’t know when to stop talking, she spoke one more time.

“I know that you think I’m naive, and maybe I am, but I do know that life is unexpected and people die, like, a lot.” She dragged in a breath, envisioning her last, and only, memory with her mother, surprised that Cooper had actually let her speak for this long without interrupting.

“Especially up here, so maybe, just… keep that in mind.”

The silence stretched, and for a long moment, Lucy was sure he was going to shoot her. Or at the very least, not answer.

Ever so quietly, however, in a low grumble she heard him mutter, “I know.”

The air felt significantly less murderous after that, and she left the ghoul to contemplate his complex feelings on the subject. She might not fully understand the extent of your connection, or even why you felt that way towards him, but she could appreciate the raw emotion that sparked in the conversation between you both.

If anything good came out of her coming to the surface, besides bringing her dad home, she hopes it would be them realizing the gift they have. Idly, she thought about the knight she’d met back at Filly. That was the first real connection she’d had with anyone, as silly as it was to think about.

“I’m glad nobody’s shot,” you interrupted the quiet contemplation, the smile on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

Whatever happened in the mysterious lab couldn’t have been good, but you seemed entirely unscathed outside the haunted, nervous look in your eyes.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Cooper greeted, tipping his hat back a titch so he could inspect your person. If he took a little extra time to appreciate the curves of your body- well, who could blame him?

“It’s cleared out,” you rattled your pack in the air before you, nearly dropping some of the overstuffed vials.

Coop let out a low whistle, and Lucy commented, “That’s enough for a lifetime.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, passing along the top one to Cooper. “But it will certainly last a while.”

While the ghoul tended to his needs, Lucy and you wandered further into the Wasteland, eyeing the pipboy on her wrist with the directions to the head.

“So the head for your dad?”

There it was again. The sourness in your voice at the word “dad”. Lucy wanted to ask without being too terribly intrusive, but let the subject drop.

“Did anything happen in the lab?”

You bummed, shaking your head. It was clearly a lie, further proven by the frown that settled on your lips. There wasn’t a lot of yourself you trusted other people with, especially not when it came to your family, but your soul was burning with the desire to shed your armor.

“My brother’s name is Lucy,” you said suddenly, unprompted. “Well, his nickname.”

Lucy, at the very least knowing where the boundary was, decided not to press her luck. Despite seeming to be such a small piece of information, she could see the effort you put into sharing it nonetheless.

“Lucy?” Cooper echoed, having snuck up at some point to follow you.

You weren’t bothered that he’d overheard though. On more than one occasion you’d wanted to share pieces of yourself with Cooper.

“Lucifer,” you provided his full name, a twinge at the top of your shoulder blade, where your battered, broken wings began, ran down the length of your spine.

“Like the devil?” Lucy inquired cautiously.

A laugh crawled up your throat, and before you could stop it, you were giggling heartily, nodding your head.

“That’d be the one, yeah.”

She didn’t understand the truth you were telling her. You knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly fathom the implications that ensued with that knowledge either.

Lucy casted one quick glance at Cooper, then cleared her throat and claimed she was going off the path to use the bathroom quick.

There was a tense silence that permeated the hot, desert air when she left, a new development that neither occupant knew how to navigate. Finally, Coop broke it.

“Ya know, you’ve never actually talked about… all o’ that.”

Your family.

He didn’t say it in so many words, but you could fill in the unspoken topic without much thought. You hummed, acknowledging your own secrecy regarding your past.

“Sometimes it’s better to leave the past buried.”

Coop breathed out a laugh.

“Don’t I know it.”

The smile you gave him was genuine, albeit small. Hesitantly, you reached out towards his gloved hand, grasping it lightly between your own. You didn’t have anything you really wanted to say, didn’t need to, actually. He could see it in your eyes, the gratefulness shining in your bright gaze, clearing some of the guilt that stayed stagnant on your person.

“The vaultie reminded me today,” he drawled, his voice even lower than normal. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he was almost flustered.

“People die.”

You waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, you raised a brow in question.

Cooper felt his heart jump to his throat. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bare himself- not now, maybe not ever. The world felt like it started spinning around him, and he pulled his hand from yours, cradling it to your chest.

“Just hope you’re not one of ‘em, darlin’,” he finished lamely.

You swallowed, deciding it was better not to push. Not today.

“You too, Coop.”

Words simmered between you. Dangerous, terrifying words. But Cooper couldn’t get them out, couldn’t get past the panic that played his heart like a damn fiddle.

And you, well you couldn’t let go of your guilt, couldn’t see past the pain of watching the world go to shit and not doing anything to stop it.

So those words stayed unspoke, utterances of the heart, but not of the lips. Maybe, if they were never voiced, they could freeze, and eventually crumble, like time did to all.

Lucy returned then, and the unlikely group continued on as before, leaving the forgotten words to decay away in the dry sand of the Wasteland

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard insert #i love him #i warned y’all #anyways #bye I have no regrets

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kika-writes · 3 days

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the end - l.n

Warnings: DEATH (Lando dies), suicide mentions, sad Lando, angst

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Based off my life (some of it) 👍

“I can’t do this anymore, Alex,” you said simply as she clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Y/N, girl,” Lily said, making you look at her, “don’t be ridiculous,”. You raised an eyebrow, you thought you were being perfectly reasonable at the moment. “She’s right, Y/N. It’s so fucking obvious how much he likes you,” Carmen added, making Lily look up. “Some harsh phrasing from Carmen, but look. Ask Oscar if you want, Lando never shuts about you,” she said, opening her phone. You were sure he never even mentioned you.

Besides, Lando, he was so different to you. Like…red to blue. Or cats to dogs. Or the sun to the moon. Like an early bird to a night owl.

‘It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word’

“Hey, Lils, what’s up?” Oscar’s Aussie accent came through the phone as she handed it to you. “Hey Y/N,” he said, slightly confused, he was busy in his room, sorting things out. “Can you tell Y/N about Lando?” she said, pointedly emphasising your name. “Oh jeez,” he laughed, “that dude never shuts about you,”. You still didn’t believe him. There was no way Lando Norris - multimillionaire, someone who thousands of girls had a crush on - wanted anything to do with you. Sighing, you ended the call. Did Lando even realise what he did to you? How could he sleep at night knowing the torture he put you through?

‘Baby I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?’

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, making you look up. Lily opened the door, revealing Lando, his cheeks red and panting, as if he had run here. Probably did. “Oh, hi,” he said awkwardly looking at Alex’s girlfriend. “Is Y/N here?” he asked, making your eyes go wide. “Say no,” you hissed, just enough for him not to hear. “Yes, she is,” she ignored you, opening the door wide so he could see you. Oh Lando. You’d do anything to be with this man for the rest of eternity. But life wasn’t like that. But you were being too cautious with this.

‘I know nobody wants to live forever baby. You treat your life as if it’s heaven’s gaze’

Gulping, you waved silently to him as he nodded once. “I-Can I speak to you?” he asked, voice raised an octave higher with nervousness. You nodded slowly, standing up reluctantly and following the Brit out the room. Your didn’t want to send the wrong message, you mort definitely liked Lando, absolutely. He was amazing in so many ways. Like, don’t get the wrong idea. He was…gorgeous, and nice, and talented and funny and everything you wanted. No, needed.

‘Don’t get me wrong, you know you’re bright and the morning, soft as the rain. Pretty as a vine, soft as a grape’

He smelled amazing. So fresh and a scent that you’d often smelled on him. It was wonderful to be around. You loved being around him. And you wish he felt the same, not knowing that he did.

‘Don’t you wanna wake, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze’

But he wasn’t the one for you. All these thoughts flooded your head as you followed him out Alex’s driver room, down the paddock as he said not a word, cheeks flushed red. You didn’t attempt a conversation, too caught up in your thoughts. You wanted him so much, but you just…couldn’t have him. Forbidden.

‘You can sit in a barrel, maybe I’ll wait’

“Y/N, I need you to know this,” he stopped, shutting the door of his room as you gulped. “I love you so much, and I can’t just hide it anymore, please, just tell me, do you feel the same?” he asked. You didn’t say anything , letting him take your hand as he sat on the edge of his bed, leading you in front of him. He released your hand as you looked down, not making eye contact. “Y/N,” he said again, regaining your attention. Bringing your face down, you brought your lips to his, except you didn’t. You stopped mere inches away from him, the words coming out your mouth as you blinked back the tears.

‘I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three. You’re too sweet for me’

His eyes shot open, lips parting slightly in shock as his brow furrowed, confused at your reaction. “W-what?” he asked, worried he’d misheard. “Come again,” he said, eyes wide as he looked from your lips and met your eyes. “You’re too sweet for me,” you repeated, stepping back. “Y/N…” his voice trailed off, he sounded pathetic, watching you walk away.

That night in Vegas, Lando Norris crashed. His thoughts were rushing from the afternoon. He didn’t see the turn of the corner. He went straight in at 200mph. That night in Vegas, Lando Norris did not step out the car and smile at you in parc fermé. That night in Vegas, Lando Norris did not kiss your cheek and call you his good luck charm after the race. That night in Vegas, Lando Norris did not finish the race. That night in Vegas was Lando Norris’ last night. Ever.

A/N - today’s a very sad day for me so I’ve rewritten one of my experiences with someone I loved and put Lando instead of him. First dark fic of mine ig 👍

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #f1 #lando x reader

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wholoveseggs · 9 hours

Note

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed, biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse.

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe ♡ @witch-of-letters ♡ @elijahmikaelsonsboy ♡ @rosecentury ♡

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pinknipszz · 6 hours

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heian era sukuna

(a/n: takes place in the same universe as this post; yet another thinly veiled uraume/reader imagine)

on the first day of spring—your favorite of all seasons—you awake to a pleasant surprise in the horigotatsu of your room: a big basket of flowers, all fresh and neatly trimmed. you struggle to swallow the squeal that’s bubbling in your throat.

when uraume comes to style your hair (a morning habit of theirs), they find you cradling it close to your chest as you would a baby. “come and look at what my husband left me,” you say, beckoning them over with a flick of your wrist. they settle their boxwood comb on the edge of your vanity and approach to take hold of your basket.

they squint, turning it this way and that (for a little longer than necessary, just to humor you), before nodding firmly in approval. “the flowers are beautiful this year,” they say. “as expected of lord sukuna.” your face beams with delight, like a rose in full bloom, as you stroke each petal with delicate fingers.

with infectious charm, you swoon, “he gives me the prettiest flowers!” in between your sweet babbles, uraume ushers you to sit near the vanity so they can detangle any knots that accumulated overnight. as they brush through your hair, they remain silent, but you know that these things will eventually reach your husband.

for now, though, they focus on the task at hand. you like it when uraume fixes your hair. there’s a kindness in their movements that’s nearly unbefitting of their disposition, warm enough to melt any leftover frost. it almost reminds you of spring. perhaps the resemblance is why he orders them to keep you company.

with cherry dusted cheeks, you look down at the arrangement in your arms. there’s simply no other answer. no room for doubt in your husband’s impeccable judgment. for a creature living by a standard so unattainable to any man, there’s something so achingly mortal in the way that love oozes from every crack in his soul.

uraume is like the flowers that he leaves on the first day of spring, except they last for eternity.

(masterlist) | (a/n: third part might actually have sukuna dialogue w talks of pregnancy bc i want to try a thing)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #uraume

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cerise-on-top · 3 days

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heyhey!! just wanted to say your works are amazing and i love them so so so SO much aagghhh!!

now onto the request— what if,, what if reader knew a ton of languages like nikolai does, and they call their s/o pet names in those languages. an example would be,, maybe if they knew french they would say 'mon chéri' or perhaps they picked up romanian at some point and would call them 'dragă'

the characters i have in mind are price, nik, alejandro, & rudy, if that's okay !! (´▽`)

sorry for the super long ask, lol :')

Hey there! Thank you, that makes me really happy to hear :D And don't worry about sending longer asks, I really don't mind ^^ Also, that request is really cute! I love reader speaking several languages and being a sweetheart in all of them :D

Price, Alejandro, Rodolfo and Nikolai with an S/O who Knows Many Languages

Price: I think he knows quite a few languages himself, being a captain in the SAS and all. Not nearly as many as Nikolai, but he probably knows a good three to four languages, so he likely wouldn’t be entirely clueless when you call him something along the lines of mon petit chou fleur. While he won’t understand every term of endearment you call him, it does warm his heart to hear you speak a language he doesn’t know. It flows off your tongue very nicely and he just loves listening to you. Depending on what kind of language it may be, even the profanities sound nice. Although whenever you want to get his attention, just to call him something in a language he doesn’t understand, he sort of expects it to be some cute pet name. Will always smile at you, even if you were to call him your albernes kleines Kaninchen. Retorts with a pet name in one of the languages he speaks. Sometimes he does feel the urge to learn a new language, just for you. Or maybe you could learn a new language together? Practice with each other and just have a good time overall? He might bring up the idea at some point.

Alejandro: Like Price, he probably knows a few languages himself. More than the average person, but not nearly as many as Nikolai. So probably three to four as well. However, because he knows Spanish there’s a good chance he can derive most words in a Romance language. Call him something along the lines of giliw and he’ll always retort with some embarrassing pet name in Spanish. Yes, he knows several languages himself, but that doesn’t mean he won’t almost always revert to Spanish anyway. Pretends that you’re using your languages against him and calls you a traitor. And, as is the rule in your household when you’ve betrayed him, you will be held accountable. Lots of chasing through the house. Will “interrogate” you to get you to tell him what you said. Call him a term of endearment in Spanish and you won’t ever hear the end of it. No matter how many times he hears you call him guapo, he always gets that goofy grin on his face. Might research embarrassing terms of endearment to use on you in any other language. And yes, his goal is to find a language you don’t speak. Once he’s found one? He’s not gonna let you live it down. He’s bested you, and that’s all he wanted.

Rodolfo: You’d actually have to call him by his name if you want his reaction since he usually just tends to block out people speaking a language he doesn’t know. Why bother trying to understand someone like that? It’s not like he’ll learn the language overnight anyway. Rodolfo knows about three languages, so not as many as Alejandro. But he knows English and Spanish, which means he can communicate in most places anyway. He thinks he knows enough languages since learning one takes roughly an eternity and he doesn’t have the time for that anyway. Call him Cục vàng and he’ll just look at you as though you’ve grown a second head. You’d have to tell him what it means and then he’ll smile. While he will always appreciate a good Hartlam, he might look at you confused until you tell him you love him. Might not always retort with a pet name of his own, but will mix it up among the languages he does know since he doesn’t wanna seem too stupid next to you. Will also sometimes look up new terms of endearment in languages he doesn’t know so he can surprise you, but might get a bit shy since he might botch the pronunciation a bit. But he tries, and that’s all that matters.

Nikolai: He canonically knows eight languages, so there’s a good chance he knows what you’re saying. Even when you’re saying something in a language he might not entirely know, he might be able to derive the word from a language he does know. Although he may love any pet name you give him, he especially loves any Russian ones since he’s very attached to his country and his native tongue. Goes absolutely wild whenever you call him radnoy. There’s just something so sweet about you calling him something nice in Russian, doesn’t even matter if you botch the pronunciation. Will always give you a hug and a kiss to your forehead since he will always be reminded of how much he loves you. But even a simple min søde skat will get him to smile, even if he has no idea what it means this time. Because of you he might be inspired to pick up some new languages along the way, maybe even ones you don’t know so you can get the same treatment he does with you. Whenever you speak a language he doesn’t know he gets heart eyes for you. You’re just so gorgeous, you’re just so very smart. However, at some point he will just start speaking Russian to you, even if you don’t know the language. He won’t say anything mean, he’ll just tell you how precious you are and how much he loves you.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #cod nikolai #nikolai x reader #I wish I knew more languages than I actually do #I'd love to be at least trilingual. I suppose one of these days I shall learn another language #I've already started the same one twice but I never got too far since something always came inbetween #Oh what I'd give to be lovey dovey with someone in three languages #I wish I still knew Italian. I learned it in school but I never needed it again #I also had Latin. If you give me a dictionary and some time I could probably translate some sentences still #or maybe not. it's been three years now #but I suppose being cringe in German and my own dialect is just fine #I've always loved speaking my dialect to my best friend who only knows English #I've also always loved texting him in said dialect #“Your impossible to Google translate German” I love that guy so much he's so silly #I will never cease my silly dialect!! that's why there will be plenty of König to go around :-) I don't care. he speaks my dialect #gonna hit y'all with a good old Servas griaß di #König is my little Barbie doll: I make him do whatever I want #sorry this derailed into König again. I just love shaking and rotating him violently in my head ^^

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myteavsricochet · 2 days

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Latest fanfics read (firstprince edition) part 5:

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

When David, Henry's introverted beagle is scared of everyone, finding a new roommate becomes a challenge for Henry. But when David's obsession with a potential roommate, the charming Alex comes to light, their living arrangement becomes set in stone. As Alex and Henry navigate their living arrangement, a unique bond forms between them, sparking a journey of heartwarming friendship and eventually, love.

David doesn’t like anyone but Henry because everyone Henry’s around before he moved to the US is awful, except Bea. So Henry’s having trouble finding a roommate. During their roommate interview, David curls up in Alex’s lap and goes to sleep.

When Alex and Henry move in together, David becomes strangely obsessed with Alex. When Alex leaves for school/work, he remembers Henry exists too.

make me your god

There’s no such thing as soulmates. Not for gods.

But then Henry meets Alex, and everything changes.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, gods and mortals, Soulmates, Immortality

starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

Any time, son.”

This time, Alex knows it’s not a nickname.

Or, 5 times Arthur and Catherine act like Alex's family and 1 time they become one.

Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Coming Out, Alex has ADHD, Found Family, Pining, but very little, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers, Ellen is kind of an asshole

in other words, until eternity (baby, i'm yours)

Henry reaches up and traces Alex’s cheek. Alex closes his eyes at his touch and lets Henry map his face with the pads of his fingers. He brushes over the curve of Alex’s ear, thumbs at the cut of his jaw and the indent of his chin dimple. Alex feels himself practically trembling, half in anticipation and half in response to the tenderness of the moment. His nose is next, then the line of his brows before Henry finally, finally traces the shape of his lips.

---

or: domestic bliss, firstprince edition

speak now (or forever hold your peace)

Then the preacher is saying, speak now or forever hold your peace…

This is his last chance. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, pounding in his ears, he gulps…

A second later, Henry is on his feet, standing tall.

*****

Alex left Kensington when Henry told him. And now, five years since then, Henry is invited to Alex’s wedding.

And you know how the saying goes, “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never meant to be.”

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-The Storming of Kensington Palace (Red White & Royal Blue), Pining, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Exes to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

be my mistake

“So, like, I don’t usually do this.”

Henry raises an eyebrow. He knows Alex’s reputation across campus. Everyone does.

“I mean with guys.”

Oh. Right.

Henry nods. “I won’t say anything.”

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Frat Parties, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Sex, Fuckbuddies, Casual Sex, Sex Without Feelings, Fuckboi Alex Claremont-Diaz

King of My Heart

Alex, as always, is utterly captivating.

He accepts his crown with grace and a crooked grin; it’s a duality that only he can pull off. Alex’s megawatt smile is brighter than the hundreds of multicolored shards of light reflecting off the mirrorball in the center of the room. Henry knows that Alex looks good on stage, he knows that Alex knows that he looks good on stage, and apparently, everyone else knows it as well. Henry thinks he sees a girl faint at the sight out of the corner of his eye.

And yet, no one knows about Alex and him. Everyone in the crowd wants Alex, but it’s a losing battle — Henry already won that fight a couple of weeks ago.

Or, When Alex wins Prom King, Henry sneaks him away for a moment alone and realizes that his feelings may run deeper than their clandestine hookups suggest

The Weight of Confession

The careful balance of his time was tipping. He was supposed to be 33.3% Lawyer, 33.3% Spider-Man, and 33.3% Alex... Not always in the order. But yeah, okay, often in that order.

But, that balance had been tipping too far towards Alex time for a few weeks. Which, took away from time as Spider-Man. Then, work got busy, which meant there was less time for Alex to catch up with June... It never ends.

There aren’t enough hours in the day for Alex to feel satisfied in every role. And, June paid the price.

Or: The point in time where a housewarming party and an origin story converge.

part 2 of What's up, danger?

solace in my star(s)

thinking that maybe henry likes being an insomniac because without the darkness of the night you wouldn't see the stars and that's his way of connecting with arthur and then eventually he has alex and he finds the same solace and love in alex

Additional tags: henry fox-mountchristen-windsor needs a hug, depression, stargazing, insomnia, established relationship

i scratch your head, you fall asleep

“Long day?” Henry asked quietly and carded his fingers through Alex’s curls. The other man relaxed heavily into him with another sigh and Henry felt him nod against his leg.

“Long month, really,” Alex murmured. “But we finished prep for a case early today and Marge said I can’t come back until I’ve slept for at least twelve consecutive hours, so. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Henry echoed fondly.

or, alex really, really needs a nap and henry really, really loves him

you don't know the answer (til someone's on their knees and asks you)

“This might be the best one yet,” Henry comments, picking up another forkful of cheesecake and holding it out toward Alex. “Cheers to another successful con.”

They clink their forks, sharing small secret smiles over their free dessert before exiting the restaurant with their fingers interlocked and thanking the hostess, while all the servers watch them leave with hearts in their eyes.

Exactly the way they’d fucking planned it.

---

Best friends Alex and Henry pretending to get engaged every week to get free dessert, until those pesky feelings get in the way.

falling in love (every time i see you)

“Henry, I love you.” He says it without knowing what it means, just that it feels right on his tongue, and Henry’s eyes go wide like he can’t believe anyone would say that to him. Alex would say it a thousand times. He’s just waiting for Henry to say it back.

(or, five times alex tells henry he loves him, one time henry finally says it back)

with all these nights we're spending (my broken bones are mending)

It’s unexpected, and the softness that Prince Henry maintains is a shock to his system.

It makes him want to say something, even if it’s only to ask how his day was or to request an explanation for why he spent nearly fifteen fucking minutes looking at Cupid and Psyche with a forlorn look in his eyes. When he moves on, Alex gazes up at the sculpture and tries to discern the magic that must have captured the prince’s attention, but he comes up with no answers.

Which makes him want to ask more.

But he isn’t supposed to.

----

Or, Alex is the new V&A night guard and Henry is the prince that Alex has been explicitly instructed to leave alone.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fics

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youryurigoddess · 1 day

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The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

#bible fanfiction #actually quoting bible #cup of suffering #give me coffee or give me death #the small back room #hour of glory #good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #final fifteen #crowley #crowley is a superhero #aziraphale #supreme archangel aziraphale #ineffable husbands #yuri is doing her thing #drinking coffee #an oat milk latte with a dash of almond syrup

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queenmelancholy · 1 day

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So… I want to talk about this scene and what it means to me:

Despite what happened in the last season, I think Thomas is actually a very pro-life person deep down.

When he held his lighter above the trenches at night, it formed an image like lighting a candle in the dark. However weak the light was, it was the only light in that war zone. In that moment, he was holding onto the little hope that is left.

“There must be more to life than this.”

To him, what brought him to despair years later was never the hatred he received as a gay man, he’s been facing it for such a long time after all. But it was the lost of hope for any chance of living a fulfilling life - a sense of purpose. “I have never felt such a lack of reason. Why am I here? What am I doing?” He asked. The fact that his profession was losing its significance, his teaching was deemed unorthodox, and even an aristocratic gay man can only seek temporary pleasure in a remote place but finally also resorted to an eternal escape… all these had finally led him to realise anything he had dreamt of was only a false hope.

Did he really want life to end? No, I don’t think so. He wanted life to be. He wanted to live - for once, for real. He has tried and tried for so many times over the years, even if it takes to hurt himself so badly. But still he couldn’t. So lastly he took his life with him, hopefully this time to a better place where it can truly be one that’s worth living. It has been a really sad but powerful story.

Now, after all the hard times, I can only hope that his dream has finally come true. True to the end.

#if anyone ever wondered about my profile picture #yes I was reminded of how important this scene is when I made the poll #this was a character defining moment for me #from s2 onwards Thomas is just not the same anymore #thomas barrow #downton abbey #s2e1 #s6e8 #rob james-collier #robert james collier

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eepyuii · 7 hours

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frostbite — pt. 14

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn

cw ; mentions of scars (edit: im a fucking idiot i forgot they talk abt scars at the start of the chapter) and like… brief dottore mention, so u know it’s icky. also u guys will be mad at me.

notes ; AHHH!!!!! I LIVE!!!!! oh gosh so many hectic life events lately….. i hadnt been able to get my hands on this dang chapter for so long

anyhow, i was planning to publish this one early like a day or two ago with a reference to an arlecchino voiceline that was THEN a leak and not out yet, so i’m glad i waited and developed this one just a little more LOL

also good luck with everyone’s arle pulls!!! (better luck than mine i hope ;w;) just like childe and the reader at some point, WANTERS WILL BE HAVERS ‼️

previous | next | masterlist

“agh— be more gentle!”

“i’ll be more gentle if you stop flinching away. you’re a war machine who can turn into an abyssal beast, withstand how draining it is to use it, hold your ground against a champion duelist but you can’t handle a little cotton ball soaked in alcohol?”

“well there’s no adrenaline anymore to remedy this sting, now, is there?”

it’s almost comically reminiscent of your meeting with childe back in zapolyarny palace, where he got himself hurt just to come tell you that he was to leave for liyue— feels like it was ages ago. childe leans against the elegant marble counter of your hotel room’s bathroom, pile of bloodied cottons and tissues piling by his hands, while you clean the fresh wounds he’s just acquired from clorinde.

from how much he flinches and hisses, the wounds almost seem grave… but they’re no more than a few scratches, slashes and bruises. after his witty remark, you can only attribute his absurd resilience during battle to the mentioned adrenaline— otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as he has with those reactions of his.

“so did you get what you wanted from that spar? how was it in comparison to your other tries?”

childe pauses thoughtfully and proceeds to pout.

“…i think she was still holding back. i need another spar.”

“gh-! are you kidding?! childe tartaglia ajax, i am not letting you resplit the forehead i just fixed up anytime soon.”

he sighs melancholy like a grounded child, but nods in agreement anyhow. childe’s eyes remain downward, he mindlessly fiddles with the hem of your shirt as he awaits patiently for you to finish tending to his wounds. once you finish, you scan him up and down to certify that you’ve taken care of everything, until your gaze is caught by his scars.

his war medals.

he’s got an insurmountable amount of them scattered all over his body and not one is like the other— some are large lashes most likely caused by weapons like axes or claymores; some are finer lines caused by swords or daggers; a few of them even look like different types of burns, likely the work of varied elemental catalysts; and some look like small stars or circles, probably the result of arrows or the tips of polearms.

the inches of his skin that his scars don’t cover are littered with the tiniest specs of freckles… ones you’ve barely had the privilege to see over the years as a result of living in eternally cold lands. it’s only been since you’ve both been to warmer regions like liyue, inazuma and now fontaine that you’ve began to notice them.

and you’ve found that the intricate, graceful tapestry that childe’s scars and freckles weave is… gorgeous.

it’s so uniquely mesmerizing that you nearly struggle to find a worthy comparison within words or the world around you. the closest one would be to a starry sky— you imagine that his freckles become the stars that remain stationary and furthest away in the night sky, small and bountiful, while his scars are the shooting stars that flash by in a vivid explosion of light.

it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

you’ve realized that you’re less afraid to admit this to yourself now. perhaps spending so much constant time with childe after such a while of misencounters and diverging schedules, has made you become more comfortable around him— to the point where you barely minded him childishly playing with the hem of your shirt. it feels fine, domestic even… almost in the same way that a coup—

“hey, why’re you staring so hard? am i not gonna make it, doc?”

you flinch as you’re snapped away from your train of thought, taking in how childe’s eyes flicker worriedly over your face. unfortunately, your mind isn’t freed from the grasp of your thoughts of… admiration and your gaze quickly flies over his scars once again. the delicacy of the moment, unexpectedly, fuels you with enough confidence to raise forward a hand that lightly grazes a particularly eye-catching gash on childe’s neck— the stretched healed skin ever so slightly bumping against your digits.

“nothing… j’st looking at your scars.” you answer absentmindedly.

beneath your hand, you feel his adam’s apple raise in a hearty gulp. next, childe inhales deeply and exhales a shuddered breath, as if an attempt to ground himself.

“what about ‘em?” he whispers expectantly.

“i like them.”

it’s as if you’ve gotten the liquid courage of a drink while being entirely sober, you’re surprised that you’ve done so much as let yourself say that out loud. though perhaps… that bewilderment might just be your downfall— within the thought, you notice just how close you and childe stand before each other. he leans against the bathroom counter in only the deep red undershirt of his uniform, eyes laser-guided onto your every move while you’re only a hair’s length away from him. his absurd height doesn’t help the moment either, as he’s forced to hunch over and his figure arches forward into you— it’s suffocating.

you can’t allow yourself to crumble and panic right now, it would absolutely destroy you for the rest of your life, so you opt to breathe deeply. childe watches intently as you do and returns it with his own deep sigh, one that you feel hit your face warmly the moment it leaves his lips and so it further capitalizes on just how obscenely close the two of you are— to the point where you breathe each other’s air.

childe’s piercing azure eyes move from matching your own to slightly further down on your face…

to your lips.

“yeah?” he mumbles in the most delicate tone possible, it’s not like you’re too far to hear anyway.

it’s an inexplicable magnetic pull that brings you the smidgenmost closer to him, it has to be so. it must be that same pull that brings you to look at his mouth— plump and pink, likely still store from the split at the corner of his bottom lip. and there’s no other possibility other than that damned magnet as to why your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, childe’s shyly snaking around your waist in response.

you don’t feel like you’re in a bathroom in a hotel room in fontaine anymore, you don’t feel like the seconds pass anymore. it’s a pocket between space and time that has enveloped the two of you, away from everything else.

and there’s nothing in this world left to do other than to lean just a breath closer to each other… just a little more and—

knock knock knock knock!

you flinch away faster than lightning, heart thudding ironically like thunder. childe also seems to have been entirely spooked by the knocks on the bedroom door and he pretends to bring his hand up to scratch something on his face, but you know very well he means to hide his glaringly flushed face— you know that because you do the very same, only you briskly step away to open the door instead.

outside the room, two fontainian officers greet you, though they seemingly go wide eyed for just a brief second as if you’re not who they expect to answer.

“forgive me, friend, this is… mr. tartaglia’s room, is it not?” one inquires.

you frown in suspicion, and you plan to not directly confirm the question as to pry exactly what business two policemen would have with childe. unfortunately, the devil decides to announce it himself by coming up behind you, arms crossed defensively.

“and what might be the problem, officer?” childe asks pointedly.

both officers simultaneously eye the two of you, the blushing idiots opening the door together, and proceed to share a knowing look. the first officer sighs while the second clears his throat awkwardly.

“we apologize for… intruding so abruptly but— mr. tartaglia, you are currently being suspected of being the culprit behind the serial disappearances of young women case. for the time being, you are under arrest and must face trial at the opera epiclese to make your case.”

…what.

“what?”

coincidentally, both you and childe exclaim at the same time— though, childe’s tone is rather condescendingly skeptical while yours is laced with pure, unadulterated shock.

the harbinger scoffs. “well, i can very confidently tell you right now that i didn’t do it.”

yeah, great way to clear any and all suspicion, man.

frustratedly pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to help you process the last five seconds, you sigh.

“i-i think what he means to say, officer, is that it’s not plausible for him to even be a suspect in this case. i mean— if i remember correctly, doesn’t that case extend for over twenty years? we’ve only been in fontaine for a few weeks! you can check our travel tickets, they’re dated. plus, we haven’t done anything even remotely disruptive while we’ve been here, both of us have multiple reliable alibi’s regarding our whereabouts over the past few days, and—“

the officer puts up a dismissive hand, effectively interrupting you. “please, leave this for the iudex to hear.”

a metallic jingling catches your attention and you see that the second policeman wordlessly produces handcuffs from his tool belt, the panic bubbles in your throat even further. childe’s shoulders visibly tense and it’s clear that he’s intent on fighting back— with once again lighting fast reflexes, you put a hand on his shoulder and throw him a warning look as a means to discreetly impede him. childe sighs frustratedly but ceases anyhow, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. out of pure illogical desperation, you chase after.

“don’t say anything hostile or stupid until we find you a lawyer! i promise you i’ll be right behind!” you call out as the three are at the other end of the hallway and catch a final look from childe, the emotion behind it is indescribable.

your chest feels overwhelmingly tight.

—

who knew such a resplendent room could be so suffocating.

it feels as though you’ve been waiting for an eternity and the intended comfort of the opera eplicese’s waiting room only serves to unnerve you more. the most important person in your life has just been abruptly accused of being a serial kidnapper and you’re supposed to indulge in sickeningly sweet pastries and tasteless tea? it’s almost derogatory.

your leg has become sore from how much it bounces restlessly, your nail plates scratchy from how much you fidget with them, all the paper napkins on the table sloppily folded into failed paper stars. none of it helps.

you can’t even decide what to worry about, all of it swirls and spirals in your head like a rumbling tornado. is he okay? are the officers treating him well? who will defend him? will he go to prison? for how long? when in the tsaritsa’s name will arlecchino retur—

the door slams open and you jump, partially with the abruptness of it and out of sheer panic to get some news on the situation. your heart starts palpitating again and it takes everything within your willpower to seem more put together in front of the knave.

“s-so?” you ask with an uncontrollable shake in voice.

“it’s invariable, childe must face trial and defend himself. we can only count on the factuality that he is innocent and the oratrice will say accordingly.”

you sigh, at least… whatever in the archons’ name constitutes that machine is infallible.

“the trial starts in five minutes.” arlecchino adds curtly.

you nod and allow yourself to take a deep, grounding breathe before standing up to leave the waiting room. as your hand reaches out to the doorknob, there is a firm grip on your shoulder. you turn ever so slightly to find a pointy-nailed, stark black hand holding you back— another moment to analyze the hand reveals to you that… that’s her skin. black.

a chill runs down your spine.

“allow me, for a moment, to ask a selfish question in exchange for a selfish answer, sargeant.” she stands, voice dark and menacing. “as an asset of the doctor’s… do you share his ideals?”

the question takes you off-guard but it also… doesn’t. you’re not an idiot— you’ve heard of dottore’s letters to the house of the hearth suggesting the, err.. ‘rejects’ be sent to his custody so he can further his experiments. you remember how utterly appalled you were when you first came across the information. if the knave truly cares about the children in her orphanage, it’s no wonder how tightly she grips your shoulder, sharp nails just a breath away from breaking skin.

and so she asks you selfishly, a question not of loyalty but of morality.

dottore’s face flashes before your eyes and your hand subconsciously tightens into a fist, expression hardening.

“if his life were in my hands, i’d crush it in a heartbeat.” you whisper bitterly.

the grip releases you and it’s as if air is easier to breathe after that. arlecchino wordlessly steps ahead to open the door for you and gestures for you to leave first, expression neutral as if nothing had happened.

the courtroom looks like no courtroom at all, rather you feel as though you’re about to watch an opera in a grand theater— the rumors about fontaine seem to be true after all. in the rows of cushy seats, people whisper and gossip endlessly until you find yourself a seat and the booming sound of a gavel being struck echoes through the court, all sound ceases.

“court is now in session for the case of serial disappearances of young women, today we will hear both the prosecution and defense’s arguments regarding mr. tartaglia of the fatui’s alleged involvement.”

a baritone voice echoes through the silent courtroom, the direction it rings out from reveals a white-haired man in proper blue robes, sitting in a balcony that floats above the courtroom’s stage. you recognize him as the iudex, the chief justice, monsieur neuvillette. his tone is elegant and intellectual, with complete considerate professionalism—- its cadence almost reminds you of zhongli in a sense. but that’s not all that reminds you of zhongli… you can’t quite put your finger on it though.

what follows is merely formal introductions from the prosecution and the defense and you take the opportunity to become distracted and ponder over just how catastrophic your morning had turned out. it all happened so quickly too— one second you were… ah… canoodling with childe and the next he was being escorted out the room by law enforcement. had you been cursed by the gods? would they be so cruel as to make every peaceful moment in your life just merely bedding for the next major inconvenience? would they be so frustratingly taunting as to let you get that close to the one you have feelings for only to rip you two away from each other right afterwards?

“it would appear i must repeat my question, mr. tartaglia.” neuvillette says firmly, catch your attention and breaking you from your daze.

“do you accept the charge that you are the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case?”

“to be perfectly honest, i don’t understand your country’s complicated court systems, or the reason why i’m being charged with something i’ve never even heard of.” the harbinger answers bluntly.

“however, i did hear that people who have been charged can choose to participate in a duel to clear their name— is that right? in that case, as long as i accept the charge, i can have an all out fight with that champion duelist clorinde, right?”

…

how can the supposed love of your life be this stupid?

“when i privately sparred with her last time, she was obviously holding back… real disappointing.”

“hey, don’t you understand? you’re currently the prime suspect for a major case! this isn’t the place for you to be looking for fights.” a female voice calls out from the balcony directly above where you seat— while you can’t see who it is, you can only assume from the bossiness of her tone that it’s lady furina herself, the hydro archon.

“oh? sounds like the hydro archon wants to lecture me on the ways of the opera house…” childe taunts. “then why don’t you duel me too? i’m the kind of students that learns best in the heat of battle.”

you’ll kill him, oh you’ll kill this idiot one day… does he want to rot in prison for the rest of his days? this time you truly cannot hold yourself back from subconsciously standing up in panic, limbs urging to get up there and try to amend the situation yourself by arguing like a normal, sane person— but the judging stares of the other spectators hinder you glued to your seat out of sheer embarrassment.

“alas, it would appear that communication with the defendant is going poorly, and we have made very little progress.” neuvillette intervenes. “in that case, let me explain everything from the very beginning again. the goal of this trial is to determine the culprit behind the serial disappearances case—“

“that case had nothing to do with him! you’ve got the wrong man!”

huh? …who said that? did that not come out of your own mouth? seems like something you’d blur out… instead it comes from a flamboyantly dressed blonde woman who bursts into the courtroom at that very second. to you, she nearly seemed angelic in the moment.

“miss navia, this is the second time you’ve interrupted the court proceedings. i only tolerated your behavior last time because you were able to provide the court with a key eyewitness. but that was exception rather than standard court protocol— i can very well charge you with contempt of court for your interjections.”

“oh please, did you ever think i had any respect for this place’s pointless theatrics?” navia scoffs.

“we can put aside that discussion for now, i’m not here to argue with you. i’m here to charge the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case. and if my charges prove true, the tartaglia here will be proven innocent by default, correct?”

neuvillette proceeds to dismiss childe from the stand to make way for navia and allows him to seat in the audience and you feel like you should owe this lady your life. childe’s eyes scan through the seats and when he spots you, he visibly lights up and beelines to the seat next to yours.

“challenging the hydro archon? really?” you whisper playfully.

childe contains himself not to laugh loudly. “can’t say it wasn’t worth the shot.”

it’s as if a wordless conversation settles between the two of you, silent glances and deep sighs that express the mutual hopefulness for a good outcome of this trial. after a solid few seconds of staring at each other like fools, childe’s gaze drops down, you follow it to see his gloved palm sat in the armrest between the two of you— it faces outward in an invitation. your hand joins his without thought and the second your skin registers the warmth that radiates from his hold, it’s like an electric shock runs through your veins. one so buzzing that makes you two simultaneously face away from each other to hide your burning cheeks.

you’d like to pretend that you’re paying attention to the trial, but the ever so gentle squeezes childe hand gives yours periodically seem to take up all of your focus and cause it to short circuit. suddenly, there’s another burst of the courtroom’s doors and there stand the traveler and paimon, because of course they’re somehow also involved in this.

“naviaaa, we’re back!” paimon calls out.

“as expected of my partner! i just knew you’d come back in the nick of time!”

“just how often do you intend to flout the rules of this court…” neuvillette mutters disappointedly.

the traveler’s appearance contributes new evidence towards navia’s favor, who expertly disperses all of the oppositions statements. the culprit is revealed to be a man by the name of vacher, who was intent on bringing back his dear vigneire to the point where he began dissolving innocent young women with primordial seawater. as overtly ridiculous as fontaine’s spectacle culture seemed to be, you couldn’t say that watching this trial play out wasn’t extremely entertaining.

but speaking of innocent…

“at this point, the verdict of this trial is clear. with mr. marcel’s conviction, the charges against mr. tartaglia no longer hold any basis.”

you giddily look over at childe, who seems as aloof as someone who didn’t worry for a second. your fingertips tingle with excitement and you can feel the stress evaporate off your shoulders in real time. neuvillette summarizes the entire case once more and submits the verdict to the oratrice— the machine hums loudly and flashes a blinding blue, producing an envelope finally confirming his guilty status. much to unspoken disappointment, childe lets go of your hand to stand with his chest proudly puffed up.

“well now, hasn’t this been the most delicious piece of drama? the villain has been caught, justice has been served, pas wrongs have been righted and it’s a bit ol happy ending… since it’s been such a great show, i’ll just let the false accusations against me slide. either way, i’ve still got some business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me—“

the harbinger looks back to offer you his hand once more and you happily take it before childe begins to lead you two out of the room. unfortunately, the guards at the doors of the courtroom remain unmoving as they block the doors and you frown in confusion.

“please wait just one moment, mr. tartaglia.” says the iudex.

“oh, what now? none of this has anything to do with me.” childe groans.

“according to court protocol, since this trial was initiated due to a charge against you, a verdict must also be made regarding the initial charge before the trial can conclude.”

you sigh out of selfish frustration, but opt to respect the proceedings anyhow— it’s not like the verdict will change now. childe, on the other hand, voices his annoyance like a petulant kid.

“please respect the laws of fontaine. this has always been the rule.”

“it’s fine, we’ll just have to wait here a few little seconds more.” you whisper to childe coaxingly.

he sighs. “alright alright, but this has been a lot of hassle. all i need is to stand over there, right? let’s just get this over with…”

“through evidence presented in the public trial that was just held, it has been established that mr. tartaglia has no direct connection to the serial disappearances case. the guilty party has been established and thus, it is logical to suppose mr. tartaglia is innocent of the charges.”

the machine whirrs once more, stirring some curiosity within you as to what exactly makes it tick or give accurate verdicts at all. as the envelope reaches the chief justice’s hands, he seems to stutter for a moment as he reads it. neuvillette’s ever so stoic face falls slightly into a vexed frown and he hums in confusion.

“according to the judgment of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, mr. tartaglia is— guilty.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

#genshin impact fic #childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe fic #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe tartaglia ajax #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia x reader

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only10th · 2 days

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Thoughts of wwx in eternal limbo after the First Siege, just letting himself get lost in the screaming souls and the pain. Pain it’s all he knows now, it’s all he is. He stares blankly at the bloodstained ground, skeletons and corpses attempting to grasp his tethered robes. And he lets them. He lets them get a piece of him, tearing him over and over. They want something that resembles warmth, even if he himself is beyond a warm being.

Once in a while, he can hear them, when his mind happens to mend itself to pay attention other than the death clawing at his feet.

“Wei Wuxian, show yourself!”

“Yiling Laozu, I command your soul to return!”

“Wei Ying… are you there? Are you resting? Wei Ying, please… give me a sign. Anything—“

“I won’t let you rest, Wei Wuxian! I’ll bring you back and kill you a thousand times over!”

It was always the same… when will they leave him alone?

“Yiling Laozu… I summon you back to the living, please consider this poor soul’s request. Let my sacrifice be useful and give this lowly one at least a final purpose…”

Out of all the times he’s heard voices calling, demanding him to show himself, this one was gentle and frail, yet loud enough to get his attention. Bleak, silver eyes finally lift from the ground. The light above him is almost blinding, he shrinks back in search of the darkness he had grown used to, but no matter how much he tried to stay put, the bright light just pulled him harder. He doesnt want to go. Let him be one with the pain and agony, let him be…

“Please, Yiling Laozu, you’re my only hope…”

The voice sounds so scared… So frail. His heart aches for it, for the person that it belongs to. The world still so cruel towards those with kind hearts, enough to drive them into asking for the infamous Yiling Laozu. But it’s enough to make him open his eyes once more, and for the fist time in this eternal punishment, he moved towards that voice. “Okay…” His voice rasps from the lack of use, “Okay… Don’t be sacred, okay? Wei Wuxian will take care of it.”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei ying #wei wuxian #yllz #yiling laozu #yiling patriarch #my writing #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

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herbeloved82 · 21 hours

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A God Offered Love

Written with @complicitsacrilege for the event, this is also a gift for @shittyravencarcosa. Happy Birthday dear.

“We are not Gods.”

A voice raised above those of beings as ancient as time itself, and silence fell among them.

“We are not Gods,” the same voice repeated now that he had their full attention. “And we better stop behaving like their rules apply to us.”

There was bitterness in his voice, and he had the eyes of someone who had seen too much. It was like a veil of resentment and regret clouded them and yet they were as clear as the sea or the sky on a beautiful winter morning.

“You should stop fighting this, Marius.”

Someone else spoke and addressed him with familiarity and a compassionate smile on his ageless face. As beautiful as the others, his skin showed the same quality as the purest marble.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Then you should learn to listen.” The same man spoke again. “You fight something that you couldn’t accept when you were a mortal, and you are still fighting it. After so long, we are all worried about you.”

The one called Marius looked around and for the first time he realized all the attention was on him, but not for what he said. No, there was something else, something that they were keeping hidden behind the walls in their minds. Marius didn’t like this.

The silence where usually were words and colors and emotions was a clear indication that this wasn’t a casual meeting. This had been planned and Marius fell in their trap. He didn’t even know there was one and now it was too late.

“Your care touches my undead heart, Khayman, but you shouldn’t worry.” He tried to say, but Khayman shook his head.

“You have been alone too long, Marius. Eternity shouldn’t be spent alone.”

Marius shook his head, tired. How many times did he listen to the same words? How many times have they been spoken by people who couldn’t even imagine the true meaning of loneliness?

Once again he let his eyes wander and he saw the reason why they couldn’t understand.

In a corner, away from the others, lost in each other’s eyes stood Seth and Fareed. So close no one could really say where one ended and the other began. They overcame the silence of their minds by talking to each other, always. The Gods of medicine they were called, and to them people prayed in hope to be healed.

Then there were Teshkhamen and Mael. So different and yet close, they weren’t together like Seth and Fareed who were married in front of the Queen and King, bound together by choice and love, and yet they were close. Together they were venerated as those who brought harvest after the harshest winters.

Then Maharet and Mekare, the sisters who dared to stand to Enkil and Akasha and who paid the highest price. Their names were called by those who wanted to know magic and see the future, without understanding what their true power really was and that there was a price to pay to know thighs that were beyond human’s comprehension.

Today even Rhoshamandes and Benedict, the youngest of them all, turned for his beauty and beloved by many, were there. Marius should have known something was going on when he saw them there.

They lived apart from them all. Gentle Benedict was worshiped as God of music as Rhoshamandes was called upon when peace was needed above everything else. For them to be there, whatever it was that the others planned, it had to be big.

Marius was the one always alone. A guardian, a mentor, a scholar but not a creator anymore, not since the moment he had lost Pandora and Bianca, who walked away from him when he had failed to give them what they wanted the most.

He couldn’t open his heart to them, couldn’t allow them to see the darkness that dwelled in his soul. That led them to believe he didn’t trust them. Resentments grew inside them and so they left without looking behind. Truth was, they were right. He hadn’t trusted them with his secrets and they walked away before he could cause even more damage with his actions than what was already there.

“What is this all about?” He finally asked, when his eyes dropped on the ground and he felt the long years of his immortality fall upon his shoulders. He was tired, oh so tired.

“Your name has been called.” The sisters spoke at once. The echo of their power filling the room.

“The wisdom of war, when peace is not an option, has been summoned.” Rhoshamandes carried on.

“The hope to save lives of innocents by punishing the guilty had been requested.” Even Seth and Fareed spoke this time, and Marius knew he couldn’t deny the call.

“Someone had been offered to you, already.” Teshkhamen finished for them.

His maker, the one lover who helped him to understand his true nature, his friend, the one he couldn’t deny.

“Will you answer the call?” The sisters asked, like there was any other answer than yes. Of course he would. It was his obligation, after all, even if his rebellious nature, for just a second, had wanted to say no, to walk away and never care again about what humans did to each other.

“I will answer the call.” Marius said, for they all demanded a vocal answer from him.

Their words bound them to actions.

///

The temple was dark and it deeply smelled of incense and beeswax. It was comforting, like something familiar that one forgot for too long, and yet it was always there, in the back of your mind. His light steps didn’t make any sound as his presence didn’t disturb the quiet of the place.

The young man there, his offering, dressed in the finest garments of his people, lay on the softest furs that smelled of smoke and pine. A night in winter and a feast only for Marius to devour.

Did he know what his fate was? Marius wondered. Did his people tell him what was supposed to happen tonight? Was he here willingly or was he forced to accept to be a sacrifice to someone who wasn’t a God but a Monster walking among humans?

Benedict had been willing. Only those among them who were luckiest met their eternal mates when they offered themselves by choices that weren’t forced or extorted with manipulation. What would be his story? Would Marius find someone he could be himself be, or would their tale be a tragedy?

Those were the questions that swirled in his mind as he approached the one who was given to him, and he still didn’t realize Marius was even there, covered by the shadows and protected by his own powers.

Marius took his time to watch the offering. So beautiful, like one of those angels painters loved to represent, with his curly and auburn hair surrounding his face like a halo. Divine, Marius thought, and for the first time he allowed hope to enter his heart.

“I know you are there, my lord.”

His voice was like a balm on a wound that Marius didn’t know he carried. The moment the young man spoke, Marius felt the spell of his presence call to him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, in all the long years of his life.

“I hope I satisfy you, my numen. I am yours for you to do with as you will.”

How could this man, this human, know he was there?

Feeling exposed and not seeing reasons to hide any longer Marius stepped into the ring of light created by the burning candles that surrounded the furs where his offering was. The man smelled like expensive fragrances and oils that made his hair shine like they were kissed by the moonlight.

“My name is Marius, young one. I’m no God, or numen. All I am is a monster in disguise.” He stopped before he could start with one of his long tirades, controlling himself for the first time since he could remember his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “What is your name, beautiful one?”

The young man looked shocked for only a moment, before his piercing eyes locked to Marius’ and a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“My name is Andrei, my Lord, and you are the beautiful one.” The flirtatious smile that curved the corners of his plump lips spoke volumes of how used Andrei was to seduce with his mere presence. Marius was smitten by him, so deeply he was already affecting him that Marius struggled to recognize himself.

Marius chose to ignore that for now at least. It would be so easy to fall for the siren before him, but something told him that to wait would be the key in this strange chess game he found himself forced to play.

“And tell me, Andrei, what do you know about what will happen tonight?”

Andrei replied without missing a beat, “You will make me yours in whatever way pleases you.” He shifted in the furs to expose more of his body. Though he was covered head to toe in traditional garments made of the finest embroidered silk, he had been trained well enough to seduce that he may as well be wearing nothing at all.

“You will be mine, yes, for I am too weak to resist you, and yet I wonder if you really know what will happen after. What do you know of us so-called Gods?”

Marius moved a few more steps, enough to tower over Andrei, close and yet too distant.

Even his smell was made to lure Marius in. It was like Andrei was created for him and him alone.

Under the delicate scents of woods and flowers, Marius could recognize something that was unique. A mixture of cinnamon and copper. It was his blood that called to Marius, and that blood he would have.

It was strange for Marius to admit weakness, however he knew he couldn’t hide himself from Andrei, not if he wanted a chance at what Seth and Fareed shared. Jealousy was never a part of him, and yet those two awoke inside him a beast he wasn’t sure he could tame.

For a brief second the memory of Bianca and Pandora, walking away from him, their backs turned for the last time, entered his mind.

He couldn’t make the same mistakes, no matter how high the price to pay, and yes, his pride was the biggest of his sins.

“I know that the only others who have been offered and accepted by the gods have ascended beyond what this world has to offer.” His eyes glinted in the firelight, fearless, yet in his mind the knowledge that he would die was clear. He was offering his body so that his soul could be accepted by a god.

Marius never heard such magnificent words used to describe something that was impossible to understand.

Andrei was a true believer and that worried Marius, for he knew how easy it was to destroy someone who believed in the idea of them but didn’t know about their true nature.

Marius had known someone, a long time ago, before he was casted away, forced to live as a renegade by his own kind, who had taken advantage of those who really believed.

Santino was someone he tried not to think about, and yet now, in this sacred place, made stronger by the people’s prayers, he could feel his foul influence. Marius hated it like he had hated him when they first met. His maker had even ended himself when he realized what he had created, however Santino lived and he became the first opposition their kind ever had. As Seth and Fareed were Gods of medicine and healing, Santino became God of illness and destruction.

If Marius had to be honest with himself, he would have loved to destroy Santino once and for all. But their laws stood, the ones created by the sisters, and so Santino was untouchable, until the moment he posed a real threat to them. Only then his fate would be fulfilled.

However, something in those words pushed him to come even closer and he sat on the edge of the furs without touching that tempting body that was his for the taking.

Marius would have loved to be stronger, or even just wiser. He knew he should find the words to make Andrei really understand that the ascension he was talking about was in truth death. It wasn’t a reward, but it could turn into a punishment.

Then Fareed and his dark eyes came to his mind, and the moment he had joined them by Seth’s side.

He had been the same as Andrei. Sure of what he thought he knew, strong in his belief that this life, the eternity his mate gave him, was what he was born to embrace. Fareed was happy and he made Seth happy. Could it be possible for Marius to find the same in Andrei, and for him to make Andrei feel the same?

Andrei leaned in closer, hesitant to close the distance between them completely - to touch a god without permission surely was a sin. He lifted his trembling fingers to reach out to touch the soft fabric of Marius’ tunic.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers down the unfamiliar texture, captivated by it momentarily. The touch was so featherlight, it was barely noticeable.

Marius watched, intrigued, as Armand moved his fingers upon his clothes. So normal it was for him to wear them, that he forgot how foreign they could look in the eyes of someone who came from a different land.

There was hesitation in his movements, but also bravado. Marius didn’t give him permission to touch and yet the young man did, because he wanted to.

If there was something he loved in another man was the fire burning in their veins. Untamed and wild. That was why he could never love Pandora and Bianca like they deserved.

“Can I touch you?” He asked when Andrei stopped, unable to let this moment go. He wanted, no, he needed for this to never end.

Andrei’s deep brown eyes gazed up at Marius from under his lashes, seeming to draw him in. Without answer, the boy’s hand reached for Marius’. His fingers were hot when they brushed the back of his hand, and he allowed Andrei to lift it to his own cheek.

He only broke their gaze to press his forehead to Marius’ knuckles as though in praise.

Marius once again allowed his eyes to follow every of his movements. Curious and yet somehow distant. He couldn’t remember when it had been the last time he had touched a mortal. Marius knew of his strength, passed to him through the blood of his maker and trained on the battlefield when the war came and almost destroyed them all. Andrei was so fragile, so delicate in many ways and Marius’ heart broke thinking he would have to cause pain to such a divine creature.

Following Andrei’s example, he took Andrei’s hand in his own, marveling about their difference in size. Andrei was compact and solid, but his frame was so much smaller than his own. Strength and delicacy in the same, tempting body, a jubilation of opposite attributes that made a perfect whole.

Andrei’s heart raced in his chest, the blood pumping hard, even in his fingertips. His breath seemed to have caught in his chest, as though he’d forgotten how to breathe the moment their skin touched.

Marius was assaulted by the most alluring scent he ever smelled before.

He could hear Andrei’s heart, echoing in his ears as the sound of drums of war, calling to Marius on his more basic instincts.

To conquer and take. To make him his. To satisfy the hunger that his mere presence awoke inside the deepest part of his dark soul.

Copper and cinnamon. Fresh and metallic at the same time. Like an animal Marius scented his prey and decided there was nothing else he could do, but to devour him.

Marius moved and Andrei’s human eyes had no chance to see what he was doing, until he found himself on his lap, his mouth covered by Marius’ lips. Ice and fire brought together by passion.

Marius’ mouth was hard as it pressed against Andrei’s lips in a demanding kiss, and the boy yielded under him.

His sharp fangs pierced the plump flesh and Marius tasted his blood for the first time.

It was like the most expensive ambrosia, clouding his senses, enslaving him to Andrei’s pleasure when the boy gasped in surprise.

One of his hands traveled along one of his legs and when the delicate silk covering him became an obstacle, Marius used his sharp claws to tear through it. Then, with the garments laid around their bodies, a ruined offering on the altar of lust, Marius once again moved Andrei like his body weighed nothing, until the boy was on his back and Marius’ hands on his now naked thighs.

With just an ounce of his true strength Marius grazed his claws along Andrei’s thighs, creating patterns of ruby red blood against the paleness of his skin. Andrei cried out at the sharp pain, trying to writhe away from it.

Marius could hear the shock and fear racing through the boy’s mind, yet he held him in place and only stopped when he reached the delicate skin of his inner thighs, close to his manhood, now half hard.

Merely a moment was allowed to Andrei to recover from the shock before Marius bent over him, like an eagle would do with his chosen prey.

With his cold tongue he began to lap at every drop of blood he caused to spill. Andrei tasted as delicious as he smelled and Marius wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible that this creature was born to be his. Then any thought was erased from his mind and his senses focused only on Andrei.

His taste. His scent. Even his fear called to Marius and Marius couldn’t ignore the call.

For every red line he left behind, his tongue bathed him clean, until pink lines remained behind to indicate what his flesh endured.

“We take pleasure in different ways, you and I, beautiful one.” Marius said, his lips stained by Andrei’s blood.

There were tears in Andrei’s eyes, yet he didn’t dare to deny Marius what he knew was rightfully his. He didn’t seem to be able to answer, however, as he writhed in Marius’ grip.

“I can give pleasure to your human body, and when all will be done, you’ll learn of the highest pleasure you ever felt.”

Finally, Andrei’s eyes, pupils blown wide with fear and adrenaline, met Marius’. His mind was in chaos, having had every preconception of what it meant to be an offering broken in mere seconds. Yet, instead of backing down from what he believed to be his sacred duty, Andrei seemed to steel himself to nod.

“Yes, my lord, I am yours. I will take what you are willing to give me.”

Everything, Marius’ thought. Everything Andrei could ever want or need. He only had to say the word and Marius would do everything in his power to make it happen.

But those words never reached his mouth. They were spoken aloud, for they were for Marius to know and for Andrei to learn, with time, of the power he had over him.

Instead he licked his right hand and used it to wrap around Andrei’s cock and the boy arched into his hand. He seemed hesitant to take his eyes off of Marius, but when he began to move his hand, stroking his thumb over the tip, Andrei’s head tipped back into the furs under him.

The boy’s skin flushed with arousal as Marius’ hand began to move with a slow rhythm, as though to draw out as much of Andrei’s pleasure as he could with each stroke.

It was a curious thing to see the human’s pleasure building in him. The way his small hands fisted in the furs, knuckles going white as he bit his lip to restrain himself.

A soft sound of pleasure escaped Andrei’s lips as Marius twisted his hand to spread a drop of precum from the tip.

Marius drank in every noise Andrei made, never allowing the boy a moment to control himself. He wanted to see him falling apart, to reach highs he never met before. He wanted everything he had to offer and more.

The night, so quiet before, echoed with this siren song of his all too human heart. Marius couldn’t resist and the scent of arousal only grew as Andrei’s breath came in short gasps and he bucked his hips under Marius’ hand.

Marius’ rhythm became more broken as he had to make sure not to hurt Andrei when the first drops of cum fell on his hand.

To watch his pleasure to find relief, knowing it was him who gave this to Andrei was enough to break what little resolve he still had.

If things were different and Andrei wasn’t his offering, Marius would love to think he would have given Andrei the choice, or at least time to know what was waiting for him. Now, both of them were powerless in front of what was to come.

Andrei was a sacrifice, Marius was the God that had to accept it in front of his kin, there was nothing in between. No choice offered or taken, no way for this to end in any other way but with Marius offering him the dark gift and eternity by his side.

Lost in those dark thoughts of regret and longing, Marius felt more than heard, the moment Andrei reached pleasure. The hoarse cry that echoed in the silence of the temple turned into pain when Marius held Andrei’s body to his chest and sank his fangs in the delicate skin covering the veins of his throat.

Then he drank, and with every mouthful of the precious nectar, he brought Andrei closer and closer to death, only to offer him something else, something more. Vaguely, he was aware of Andrei’s fingers grasping at his back, but he only drank more deeply.

When his heart was weak but still beating, Marius let him go for just a moment, long enough to slash the side of his own neck open with one of his claws. Then, gently, like he was holding the most precious of all treasure in the world, he guided Andrei closer with one hand cupping the back of his head.

His ancient blood, for the first time shared out of a love so great Marius could feel it blossoming in his soul, touched the pale lips, but for a moment nothing happened.

“Drink, beautiful one, and become one with me.”

A prayer from a God to a sacrifice, something that was never heard before in the walls of this temple. It was enough to move Andrei’s heart into accepting what Marius was freely offering.

Oh how easily did their roles turn, Marius thought as Andrei latched onto his neck, as though he knew the blood was the one thing that would give him a new life. A new beginning they could share.

The God and the offer.

The Sacrifice and the acceptance.

One like never before.

One for eternity and beyond.

Away from prying eyes the sacred rite was performed and Andrei’s fear seemed to burn away with every mouthful of the blood that passed his lips. He gripped Marius tighter, pressing himself as close as he could, as though the blood he drank could make them become one being.

It was when their hearts beat as one that Marius felt the swoon hit him. It burned through his veins, as Andrei drank mouthful after mouthful, making Marius’ heart pound in his chest.

The sensation was one Marius rarely ever felt from sharing his own blood with another, and though he was loath to do so, he pulled Andrei back, tugging him away to break the connection with a gasp.

The boy’s eyes were dazed, and his lips coated in blood, which Marius couldn’t resist to kiss away. The taste of himself on Andrei’s lips only drove his hunger as he kissed Andrei deeply.

The moment the kiss was broken, Marius pressed his lips to the unbitten side of Andrei’s throat, leaving a smear of blood on his pale skin. Without hesitation, he bit down once more, and the boy whined as blood was drawn from him once again.

Their pleasure only seemed to grow with each exchange of blood that followed, until finally Andrei’s body had given in to the blood and he began to die in Marius’ arms, unable to drink anymore.

He gasped softly, and Marius could hear his heart slowing as he shifted to carry the weight of Andrei’s body as he died. The boy’s thoughts were confused and frightened, but Marius only stroked his hair.

“Let it go, beautiful Andrei. Give yourself to me, as I gave myself to you. Come to me in your new life.”

Andrei was unable to speak as finally, his heart failed to beat again, but he gave one final gasp before going limp in Marius’ arms.

It didn’t take long for life to return to him, however, and as his body changed, Andrei woke once more, digging sharpening nails into Marius’ back.

Marius laughed softly, fears evaporating with every breath Andrei took.

“You are a feisty one.” He said and his voice was light and harmonious, so different from the usually composed and cold tone he had with others.

Andrei finally lifted his head as Marius spoke, raising curious eyes to take in the sight of his sire, and Marius couldn’t help but kiss his soft lips once more. His lips were pricked by the growing fangs in Andrei’s mouth as the boy kissed him back in return, as though to chase the taste of blood on his tongue.

Only when the sun grew too close to the horizon were they forced to interrupt the intimacies of kisses and whispered words shared between them as Marius took Andrei in his arms once more.

“Do you trust me,” he asked, and waited for Andrei’s answer, fighting his own instincts that were screaming at him to take his precious Andrei away from harm, where the sun couldn’t reach them.

Tiredly, as though the weight of the sun were the weight of the world upon his eyelids, Andrei nodded, nestling closer to Marius’ chest.

Only then did Marius use his powers to lift them up into the clouds, towards the villa he owned nearby.

There he took Andrei, now almost unconscious, to the one secret room he never shared before, where his coffin was hidden, to keep him safe.

Today it had another task - to keep Andrei safe from the world itself, if necessary.

Marius never learned how to share and he wasn’t going to start now, not with Andrei.

And once they were safely inside their coffin, Marius allowed himself to relax into sleep, with his fledgling in his arms.

END

#Spring event #de romanus coven #marius/armand #the vampire chronicles #de romanus coven events

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