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aww-canon-no · 1 year

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Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary: And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah. Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him. It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice? Im crying? This fandom is so soft. Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight. This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

***

The train is quiet. In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud. And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that. Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it. When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice. They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train. The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him. It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit. He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it. It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down. And Eddie does feel sympathy for him. Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time. And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate. He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.

But he’s not a monster. He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better. That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down. It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day. Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though. He’s not quite there yet. At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him. After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch. Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry. It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand—a small and subtle thing. ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts. ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand. Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed. Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend. He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs. ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him. ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students. It’s not your average ASL class. It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something. It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist. ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. ‘What’s your stop?’ He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand. Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb. ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch. Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him. ‘Sleep,’ he tells him. They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s. But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes. He’s asleep before stop four. He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is. Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs. His fingers are nice. Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin. Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him. Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from. But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better. A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either. He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts. ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise. That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf. At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five. Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it. His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine. ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods. That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly. ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head. ‘Nineteen STITCHES. CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces. He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have. Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs. ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk. Tried everything. Fail.’

Eddie winces again. ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs. ‘They removed tumors. Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense. And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it. As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek. Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back. He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye. ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs. Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever. It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train. Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah. Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down. Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class. And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie. He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it. He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back. His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful. Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again. ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes. Hard. So hard he gets a little dizzy. ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard. ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public. Like, hearing public. Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath. ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously. ‘I was tired,’ he repeats. His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall. Stalks a step closer. Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye. ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts. Stops. His hand hovers in the air. His shoulder. His own Eddie? ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him. It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again. ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats. He needs Steve to get it.

And oh. Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now. Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it. He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah. Yep.

Yes.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs. ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

#Steve Harrington #Deaf Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Deaf Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #steve x eddie

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secretagentsociety · 1 year

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yandere monster x willing reader

warning : yandere and monster put together isn't rlly a safe space per say,so um continue with cautious

Sumary : the village people believed that the monster is out to destroy them if they didn't sacrifice a young virgin and you being at a marriageable and is still unwedded have become the sacrifice,oh but by the end of it you got yourself an all powerful monster boyfriend that bend at your every will (in Sumary he's a simp)

Imagine

It was a nice and sunny day,normally everyone in the village would love this type of days but the barren market place and untilled farms said otherwise,why is everything being abandoned? Well because people were scared of 'the monster'

rumours starts circulating the entire town,it got so big even the king had sent official trained knights to 'protect' the village,when in actuality he just want to capture and exploit the monster

But nothing worked,this morning a villager was found dead along with huge clawmarks near the trees where he's found,scared the people starts going to the church believing it is some sort of demon

The church then adviced to 'sacrifice a virgin blood' they didn't say to sacrifice anyone's life,fk they didn't even say that it HAD to be human,but alas your village is stupid and is superstitious and so it brings us here

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• At first he was curious as to why the humans we're abandoning another human,but he'd travel across the continent enough to know you must've been some sort of thief being punished,but he couldn't help but inspect closer

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• with your eyes closed shut you didn't realise how close you were to the 'monster' his eyes stared directly at your fluttering eyelash as you tried your best to keep your eyes close,he found your trembling lips cute very kissable,and so that's what he did,he is a creature of instinct,and when he did something clicked.

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•now you can forget ever being released back to those nasty villager ever again,forget your past life forget how you're living before and forget every acquaintance you've ever made,because he's not letting you go,no no no,he can't do that! you're his beloved little mate

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• he gives 10 / 10 cuddles,will hug your protectively and sometime refused to sleep until you're in his arm,he never knew he needed a cuddle buddy but here we are with you stuck in one position because if you were so to TRY to pry him off oh boy I wouldn't do that if I were you

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• very extremely protective,possessive,jealous all the glorious toxic traits of a yandere,this man got it all, it's like Pokémon except the thing he catch is how many time you can count him eating a human male/female whatever human that DAREE to even touch you

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• he TOWERS over you,no it doesn't matter how tall you're how many high heels you wore he's taller, he's bigger, and he's better and that's a facts!,no but fr he is a monster even if you're like 6'9 ;) he's still taller by like a whole foot maybe two....

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• If one day he find you gone for whatever reason,the village is the first to feel his wrath,now he's not some weakling who couldn't even protect their own mate,no no no,if he wants to he could cause HAVOC I tell you HAVOC that will effect the future generations to come,he is afterall what his kind considered an elder,wise knowledgeable and is extremely petty

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• for the many years he had lived yes he knows how to communicate with humans and yes he have human form and yes his dck is huge let us move on now

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• now then back to you being gone,if you appeared unharmed congrats to the entire empire they won't be meeting their ruin anytime soon,BUT if you did come back....lets say barely alive,he will kidnap every single 'physicians' there is in the empire,even the royal physician's and if they can't make you feel better then off with their head!,and body and legs he just straight up nom them

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• now the situation got so bad the king had to put out a rolling stating you're not to be disturbed and or made upset for the safety of the people,yes you have become a royalty indirectly

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• now then if you were to ask for a hug he would be DELIGHTED he even shed some happy tears but nevertheless would cuddle immediately,like he drops whatever it is he's doing and cuddle you

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• does he have tails and ears? Yes. Are they soft? Hell yes. Are they sensitive?duh,wink wink nudge nudge ;) . Would is potentially lead to spicy scene if you were to 'accidentally touched' them? Yes 100%

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•now then if you were for some reason decides to run away no one would assist, you're essentially stuck with him,why?because even if you did ask for knights to help they wouldn't, you'd be tied up and safely returned in his arm where you rightfully belong,and with that followed by punishment that I would not be writing out

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• stamina level : dude...hes a monster he can travel from one empire to another in a matter of hour when it usually take months!,he can easily stayed up for WEEKS on end and STILL can run from one empire to another within one hour,what do you think?!

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• but it's fine he don't play rough,unless you ask him too :D

#male yandere #yandere monster #yandere x you #yandere x reader smut #yandere x willing reader #monster fic #monster boyfriend

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etherati · 10 months

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Belmont crest and colorrrrssss

I have a lot of thoughts and feels about the colors used in various versions of the Belmont crest in the netflix show, and how it fits into traditional heraldry. I have decided to make that everyone else's problem. So.

In Leon's portrait, we see him in a surcoat of white with the Belmont crest rendered in azure blue.

In traditional heraldry the "white" component of this would be synonymous with the metal silver/argent, as matte white was not a meaningful color choice and all colors had to be combined with a metal (silver or gold) rather than another color. Now, I know that in the Doylesian sense, this color choice was made because of Leon's original character design, which utilized different tradition imagery and had nothing to do with the Belmonts specifically:

But the text is what it is and the show gave us the first Belmont in an azure and argent version of the Belmon crest. Color meanings vary depending on your source, but azure typically referred to truth, loyalty, and unwavering morality. Morality is, of course, a construct--you can imagine that for the rebellious ex-church-knight Belmont it probably had some input from the bible but moreso was informed by his own oath--to "battle the night". Yeah, this gets made fun of--he's the dumbass who wants to fight an entire time of day--but we know what he means, ok. He's swearing to defend the daylight world against the things in the night that would harm it. He is defining his moral position going forward very specifically--he will uphold humanity and destroy that which would cause it harm. In a fic of mine he described it as representing the daylight sky, which given that he's a vampire in that fic carries even more poignancy, but even in the canon version it works, because that is the moral field he is aligning with.

Meanwhile argent/silver generally refers to purity, sincerity, and faith, which yeah, this is definitely a character who has purity of purpose. This combination of colors suits a vision of the Belmonts that served humanity unerringly, who had faith even when the church itself seemed flawed, who defined their morality by the divide between daylight and night and executed it with sincerity and dedication.

Fast forward to Trevor's time. The family has risen and fallen. At its height it was considered a great noble family--a warrior dynasty, as Alucard put it. Trevor's tunic and his armor both bear the crest in gold; once we're in the hold, we see that it's set against a deep burgundy in the official banners and standards.

Why the change? What does it mean? Red is obvious--it's the warrior side of them, the military might, the weight of generations of fighters and all the blood they've spilt. It's the most common color in heraldry because conflict and war were themselves so common, but the Belmonts (to our knowledge) weren't besieging neighboring Lords' territories. They defined themselves by their fight against the creatures of the night, defined themselves to the point that they became The Fight. The warrior is the largest part of their identity. In the same fic I had Trevor say that the red represented family to him, like bloodlines, which is not the traditional meaning--but given that nothing defined his family or his relationship with them as much as The Fight, I still think he was onto something. Additionally, red can carry the meaning of sacrifice and martyrdom, which also fucking fits, unfortunately.

As for the gold, usually this refers to faithfulness, nobility, constancy, and glory. On its own, it's a statement of those qualities--particularly nobility and faithfulness. Combined with warrior's red, the glory piece of it starts to assert itself. A family of martyrs and warriors, noble and glorious--that's how they saw themselves, anyway. The family had gotten so far up its own ass that it cared more about perpetuating those ideals and standards than it necessarily did about the original purpose and duty of its existence! Eventually Trevor re-finds that purpose, when he drops the cloak in Gresit and re-dedicates himself to protecting the people--but it's worth noting that the crest he displays in that moment is gold alone, without a specific colored field. The version of the Belmonts that defined themselves by the amount of blood they'd shed are dead and buried, their flags tattered; the one who survived has taken their steadfastness, their faithfulness and constancy and nobility, and managed to reconnect it to what they always should have been.

Which brings us full circle, back to Leon's portrait--because there's another crest, there.

Azure and gold. All the steady dedication of a long standing nobility--much less fragile than one man's personal purity of purpose--applied to moral defense of humanity and the daylight world, rather than simply to fighting and glory for its own sake. There's a reason this is the color scheme I plan for Leon to end up in, in my fic-verse, and is the one that I think may have been in between the other two, chronologically. It conveys all the Belmonts are meant to be and do, without reducing them to simply violence. They fight, not for the fight's sake, but to protect the people they've sworn to protect.

Anyway. Yeah. Uh, colors!

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #belmont stuff #trevor belmont #leon belmont #CoLoR tHeOrY~~~#heraldry #meta #eth blathers and everyone else suffers

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reallyromealone · 2 years

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Warning: male reader NSFW pet names (bunny, baby boy, baby, good boy, darling) virginity loss

KAEYA X BARBARAS OLDER BROTHER READER

Kaeya was absolutely smitten with the older brother of Barbara, soft gentle smiles as he helped Lisa around her Library when he wasn't at the church with his sister.

He was just so perfect and innocent.

"My my, If it isn't the church's prettiest deacon" Kaeya said smoothly as (name) stepped into the knights building, dressed in the male counterpart clothing of his sister albeit less idol themed "ah! Mr Kaeya it's a pleasure to see you again!" (Name) said with a slight blush as the handsome man sauntered over to (name), eyes doing filthy things to the poor man "what are you doing here though, Lisa is gone book collecting with the traveller"

"Well you see, I actually came to see you!" (Name) said cheerfully much to the blue haired man's surprise"really and why is that?"

"I...wanted to see if you possibly wanted to get lunch with me" (name) was a mess at this point as Kaeya took a moment to process this saint like creatures words but apparently he took too long because (name) looked a little heartbroken "O-oh I must have misread the signals, I'm very sorry Mr. Kaeya, L-lets forget I said anything..." (Name) said chuckling nervously as he turned to walk away only to be pulled back by Kaeya "now now, I never said no did I? Who could deny such a request"

(Name) was a goner at this point, his sister's didn't tell him what to do if he said yes!

"O-ok!"

The two went out and soon the day became more than just lunch, somehow (name) ended up pinned between the wall and Kaeya as the tanned man ravished his neck and hands slowly took apart his clothes while his leg rubbed against (name)s crotch "so fuckin' pretty, the prettiest little thing in the country" Kaeya said deeply as he let (name) tug at his hair, the sweet angel was most definitely a virgin.

"You want me to take you? Ruin you for anyone else?"

"I-I...please Kaeya...."

That was the first time he heard (name) say his name without 'mr' stamped infront of it and Kaeya would be a dirty liar if he said it didn't go straight to his cock "lemme take you home, your first time shouldn't be in a grimy alleyway"

(Name) let himself be led to kaeyas home and let the blue eyed man strip him down on Kaeyas bed "god, I might just keep you here... Serve my cock and be my little fuck bunny" Kaeya said almost thoughtfully as he imagined (name) in bunny ears and a cotton tail and groaned.

Another time.

He needed to focus on the shy baby boy before him, a red blush looking away with a painfully hard cock he tried to hide.

All for the taking.

Keaya stripped down and watched (name) carefully as the sweet Deacon gave into temptation "touch yourself for me" Kaeya commanded and (name) blushed heavily as he looked at the other "don't you want to be my good boy?"

That seemed to do something, Kaeya keeping that in his memory for later as he watched (name) shyly nice his hand down and stroke his cock, letting out soft moans as he looked away and his his mouth behind his hand.

He wanted to be a good boy for Kaeya so badly.

He like Kaeya so much it hurt, the thought of being bad for him oh (name) wouldn't allow it.

"Don't cum yet bunny" Kaeya said as he moved his hand the the base of (name)s cock "you only get to cum on my cock alright?"

"O-ok..." (Name) said obediently as he let Kaeya manhandle him, every touch seemed to unlock more and more of (name)s inner slut as he was settlled ass up as Kaeya licked his virgin hole "ah! No! That's dirty!" (Name) said panicked and kaeya just pulled his ass closer to his face "looks good to me" he mumbled before eating (name) out, keeping a tight grip on the beautiful shaking man's cock to keep him from cumming.

He'd cum on Kaeyas cock and it alone.

Using his spare hand he fondled (name)s glorious ass and spread it for better access as he continued his meal, the sound of (name)s beautiful melodic moans sent shivers down his spine.

They were so needy

So desperate

Like the call of a siren

And he was a foolish sailor

(Name)s ass had loosened enough for Kaeya to introduce his fingers and God he could tell already that even with prep his bunny was gonna be tight.

Three fingers and he still felt like a tight fuck toy.

"You sure you want this, you can always back down" Kaeya said softly to his bunny as he turned him over, (name) teary eyed and looking at him so desperately "p-please be gentle"

"Of course baby, don't wanna tear this cute little ass"

Kaeya grabbed some oil beside his bed and rubbed it on his cock, smiling all cocky as he guided his cock inside the others messy little hole.

He was right.

Even with prep his ass was still tight as hell "f-fuck!" (Name) squeaked out and Kaeya felt his brain short circuit as he took in (name), the sweetest and most innocent man in all of mondstadt just swore.

He didn't even think that was possible honestly.

"God you're so fucking hot"

Kaeya slowly pulled his cock out to the tip before thrusting harshly in, creating a slow deep and rough pace as (name) quickly came undone, already fucked out and begging for more.

Who knew he would be such a little cock whore?

"God baby, you're so good" Kaeya said pulling (name) into a soft kiss, continuing his thrusts as he slowly heated the kiss up, swallowing all those cute noises he produced as Kaeya dominated the kiss and (name)s mouth as he explored his newly conqored territory.

"P-please..." (Name) begged as he clung helplessly to Kaeya "please what? I'm no mind reader" Kaeya said as his hips snapped slow and hard, taking his time to make (name) his hungry little cock whore line he was destined to be. "F-faster..." He mumbled looking away with a heavy blush only to make a choked sound when Kaeya gripped his waist and began absolutely pounding into him "see? That's not so hard is it baby?"

(Name) couldn't even reply as his world was rocked, Kaeya taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking and biting roughly, before moving and leaving Hickeys wherever he so desired.

(Name) was his, he could do whatever he wanted with his slutty body.

(Name) was completely cock drunk as he let Kaeya take what he desired and in return he took what Kaeya gave him.

"Fuck baby, I'm close you gonna cum for me? Gonna be a good boy and cum for your Kaeya?"

(Name) could only nod as Kaeya continued his work, strong grip bruising his pretty skin as he felt himself draw close.

Kaeyas hips stuttered as he climaxed into (name), pulling out and watching his cum leak out "messy boy"

"'m sorry..." (Name) mumbled as his body vibrated and tingled, coming down from his high as his body was covered in sticky cum "my, even after sex you're still such a polite boy"

"I-is this--- are we--" (name) struggled to find words as Kaeya chuckled and kissed him sweetly "I don't think I could ever let something so wonderful like you go, are you alright with that?"

"I like that..." (Name) smiled softly as they began softly kissing "sleep now darling, I will be here when you awake"

#genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #x male reader #kaeya x male reader #kaeya x reader #smut

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pumpkinbxtch · 1 day

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hello baby!!! congrats and im so proud of ya, u deserve all of it fr fr 🤍🤍🤍

i wanted to request SOME OF DAYDREAMING for your event, about percy and obviously, daughter of hera reader. love love love you! do your magic sweetie 😚🫶🏻

hiiii, omg. thank youuuu! 🥹 and yeeeeah. so here we goooooo

✧⁠*⁠。SOME OF DAYDREAMING w' percy jackson and daughter of hera reader

Percy never knew he could find that kind of glorious and definitely heavenly love. He never knew it until he met you and nobody could take him away from you. Not even Hera, your mother. He didn't care much, to tell the truth.

For Percy you were his only church, the sacred place where he placed his faith and loyalty; the same that you lovingly guarded and faithfully respected. Both were perfect and just what Hera never found in Zeus: a loving and reciprocated relationship. You were crazy about each other that probably could dying in peace looking into each other's eyes.

The kind of love that usually takes most of your life to find. That luck had been given to you and Percy thought that he couldn't wait any longer to turning it into something serious.

When you finished dinner at the restaurant, he was amazed by the beauty of your simple person and you smiled with reddened cheeks. He intertwined your hand with his and huffed dramatically, making the hair that fell across his forehead flutter.

“please be mine” he dreamily begged and you raised your eyebrow clearly confused.

"but I'm yours, percy" you said and he kissed your hand with fervor. not needing anything else to take the little box out of his pocket and opening it before your eyes. You knew exactly what it was and you knew very well how he had come up with the idea of giving you a promise ring.

"My mother," you said, shaking your head in amusement as he slid the ring onto your finger.

"Well, Lady Hera may have had the best idea in her eons of life. And one we can finally agree on."

“Pers…” He denied and interrupted you as politely as he could.

"Please" His eyes spoke for themselves and you laughed.

"I'm not saying no. I'm saying that rings I think we've been wearing for quite some time." He didn't seem surprised, in fact he acted as if you had only confirmed his thoughts.

He leaned over the table and with a charming smile reminded you for the thousandth time why you would never let him go.

"Oh, honey. I know. I just like the things that shine on you."

#maria's 730 follower event!#some of daydreaming #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #Percy Jackson x daughter of hera!reader #percy jackson blurb

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threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat · 4 months

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All the non-human self-references Hozier makes, especially as animals and death: a list.

Take Me To Church: "I'll worship like a dog," "Only then am I human"

Angel of Small Death & The Codeine Scene: "Heat of her breath in my mouth I'm alive"

Jackie and Wilson: "No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight," "Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside," "I start digging up the yard for what's left of me in our little vignette"

To Be Alone: "I feel like a person for a moment of my life"

From Eden: "I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door"

In A Week: the whole thing - "Two corpses we were"

Work Song: "No grave can hold my body down // I'll crawl home to her"

Like Real People Do: the whole thing - "We should just kiss like real people do"

It Will Come Back: the whole thing - "You'll hear me howling outside your door"

Foreigner's God: "Wondering who I copy"

My Love Will Never Die: "Flowers grow where I'm laid to rest"

Almost (Sweet Music): "I'm almost me again // She's almost you," "I laugh like me again // She laughs like you"

As It Was: "Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was"

Shrike: the whole thing - "Remember me love // When I am reborn // As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn"

Sunlight: "And flew like a moth to you, sunlight"

First Time: the whole thing - "And the first time that you kissed me // I drank dry the river Lethe"

Unreal Unearth uses The Divine Comedy in structure.

Conclusions:

He's becoming much less animal and slightly less dead per album.

No one should be surprised how many lesbians imprinted on the man.

#hozier #analyzing the themes #unreal unearth #wasteland baby #nothing like vibing with an artist in their yearning to feel more human then coming back a few years later and hearing them succeeding

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mollysunder · 2 months

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Remember how during Progress Day we saw some Zaunites giving away eyeballs to a giant turtle vastaya?

Based on the vastaya's eye tattoo, I assumed this had to do with Silco (Eye of Zaun blah blah blah). After I read more League stories, I came to realize this might be an early iteration of the Church of the Gloriously Evolved. In Camille's story, The Weakest Heart, we learn of the First Assemblage of the Gloriously Evolved. On Progress Day, members of the Church, following an old Zaunite tradition, sacrifice something personal in the hope that something better will come to them. In Gloriously Evolved fashion that usually means removing diseased (bordering necrotic) body parts. One of the more commonly preserved organ in the church were eyes, jarred like pickled eggs.

Obviously, you'd assume that the Church of the Gloriously Evolved can't exist without Viktor's Glorious Evolution. That's doesn't seem to be the case in League though, because the Church more draws inspiration from Viktor's ideology and does its own thing with Zaunite traditions. They even have a whole patron saint separate from Viktor, the Gray Lady. It seems more like that instead of Viktor's ideology amassing a cult following from scratch, he and this organization's ideology built up separately and managed to converge.

Thus is just me spit'ballin tho. It could still be a cult related to Silco, to Void worship, who knows.

#arcane #arcane meta #church of the gloriously evolved #machine herald #viktor arcane #zaun #zaun is the kind of place ripe for cults to form #for viktor for jinx and a bad end for ekko would have his Fireflies commune turn into a cult

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the-art-of-ancunin · 3 months

Text

Sweetest Sin [Part Two]

Pairing: Priest!Astarion x Female!Reader

Content Warning(s): SMUT, P-in-V, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Slight Corruption/Religion Kink, Slight Angst, Oral Sex (Both Female and Male Receiving), Blood drinking

Word Count: 8.1K

I did not proofread this, so hopefully it's not absolute trash. An effort was made - I hope you like it!

The forest hummed with the nocturnal symphony of crickets, owls, and other far-off, nameless creatures of the night, the gentle flow of a nearby stream blending seamlessly into the serene melody of twilight. It would not be long before those last, lingering flecks of sunlight would fade away, disappearing beyond the horizon until a new day was to be born. What light remained barely managed to pierce through the thick canopy of the trees, casting scant, dappled shadows against the forest floor where Astarion was doing his best to tread softly. After a rather long and unforgiving dry spell, the Almighty had at last seen it fit to bless these lands with much needed rains, though the precipitation and the violent winds that accompanied it had made a bit of a mess of his hunting grounds. The pale elf’s garnet eyes practically glowed in the darkness, though not quite as brilliantly as usual. He inhaled deeply as he moved carefully through the dampened terrain, mindful of the numerous twigs and branches that had been displaced during the storm. The cool air carried the pleasant, earthy scent of petrichor to the man’s attention and for a moment he felt a sense of guilt for not feeling quite as grateful as he should for this glorious blessing - he should be praising the Lord for answering the prayers of his congregation, for granting them this gift. He should have felt certain that this was some kind of divine providence and yet, standing there amidst the chorus of the night, Astarion felt only the discord within.

“Should it not be simple?” He murmured into the dark, his voice barely rising above the rustling leaves. “To rejoice with the others and praise the Lord for the mercy he’s bestowed upon us?”

But no answer came from the heavens - only the indifferent chirping of insects and the steady trickling of water. Still, he pressed onward, eyes searching while he desperately tried to ignore the incredible weight of the hot sin that had been bearing down on him for the past few nights. The knowledge that the sanctity of his vows had been so quickly torn asunder by a moment of carnal weakness had him reeling even now. After everything that he had been through, after all of the horrific things that Astarion had done, he hadn’t truly known peace until he had found his faith. He had never thought himself deserving of it, to be honest, but he had found acceptance among the faithful and after a while, he felt that the church had given him a much needed sense of purpose. He hadn’t thought twice about taking his vows at the time - hells, he welcomed the idea of having the perfect “out” should anyone try to coax him into their bed. It had taken centuries for him to work through what had been done to him, to feel comfortable in his own body once more…to believe that his body was HIS, even, and not just something for others to use as they please. But then, he had been called upon to shepherd the fine, faithful citizens of Emberwood…where he had met you. You, who were so unapologetically yourself. You, who were so unbelievably gorgeous that Astarion couldn’t decide whether you were sculpted by the hand of the Creator himself or if the Hells had sent you to test him. You lit up every room you entered, your smile and laughter were infectious. You were a bit…unpolished, certainly, and you had no qualms with voicing your skepticism when it came to matters of the divine and “other such nonsense”, as you had so delicately put it on more than one occasion…but oddly enough, both the former rogue and the priest within seemed to enjoy this about you in equal measure. His attraction to you had been immediate - the moment he had put eyes on you, he had felt it like a bolt of electricity weaving through his chest and spreading across every inch of his body. As time had gone on and you’d become familiar with one another, he had irritatingly found that your intelligence and personality had done nothing to defuse that initial spark. You had unknowingly become an almost immediate source of distress to the outwardly well-poised and soft spoken clergyman.

“Not even these beasts live in such torment,” He muttered to himself, his gaze piercing through the tall grass and thick trees, peering into the depths of the forest in search of prey.

Astarion continued onward, his movements graceful and silent as though he were but a phantom weaving its way through the darkness. How he was managing to carry himself with such finesse in his current state was honestly a mystery to him, but he was thankful for it all the same. He could certainly feel the toll that his fasting had taken on his body; his once vibrant appearance had begun to wane, leaving him a mere shadow of the dignified and well-composed preacher that he presented to the world. Three days had come and gone since that night, and he had remained locked away in the depths of his cathedral, deep in prayer and seeking forgiveness and guidance from the Almighty during that time. He had not risen from his knees until this night, the eve of the Lord’s day of rest. He would have to face his flock in the morning and he could not do so without sustenance - his eyes had noticeably dulled, the pallor of his skin had become so great that he looked every bit the walking corpse that, technically, he was…but they needn’t see him that way. They couldn’t…he simply would not allow it.

“Where are you?” He growled softly, eyes darting to examine every rustle, every slight shift within the underbrush. “Come on, show yourself…”

Tonight the pale elf was but a hunter - his status within the community temporarily set aside as he tended to his own needs, but even as he slinked through the night, every bit the predator stalking its prey, he found that no matter how he tried, you were never far from his mind. Images of you flashed behind his eyes - the way your soft, almost angelic face had gazed upon him pleadingly, your perfect breasts rising and falling with each labored breath as he claimed your body, robbing you of your virtue. He’d told himself countless times that he hadn’t known that you were still pure - and this was true, of course. It wasn’t as though it had ever come up in conversation, and from the confident way in which you held yourself, the comfortability that you seemed to possess in your own skin, it was easy to make the assumption that you had likely known the touch of another once or twice. Still, the act alone was damning in and of itself, but the added layer of knowing that he had taken your maidenhood added substantially more weight to his misdeed.

Astarion’s senses sharpened as a gentle rustling whispered through the tall grass, his pointed ears twitching softly as the sound reached him. The vampire’s ever vigilant gaze swept across the land and quickly pinpointed the source of movement. With preternatural swiftness, he lashed out and wrenched the unsuspecting creature from its hiding place. He wasted no time burying his elongated fangs into the badger’s flesh, pulling the animal’s blood into his mouth greedily and with greater force than necessary. The creature’s feeble struggle ceased almost immediately as the elf quickly drained it of every sip he could wring from the poor thing before allowing its lifeless body to fall unceremoniously to the ground. As the last drops slithered down his throat, Astarion's chest heaved with a weighted sigh. The small amount of blood that had smeared across his lips and chin was meticulously collected by his long, elegant finger, unwilling to forsake even that scant amount of sustenance. It was not enough, however - hunger still clawed at his insides, demanding more.

Determined, he moved on, each step carrying him further and further from the village. The forest seemed to breathe around him, alive with secrets and shadows, and then—he saw it. A stag, magnificent and robust, grazing in a moonlit clearing. Silent as the grave, he inched closer, eyes locked on his prize. He recalled countless nights like this since he had been freed from Cazador’s grasp. No more bugs or rats, and luckily he’d become quite a skilled hunter, which meant it was not terribly often that he went hungry. Tonight was different, however - he had neglected himself for far too long and as such the stakes of this hunt felt infinitely higher. As he approached, desire warred with desperation, and for one fateful moment, his discipline wavered. A foot misplaced, a twig snapped—a sound so minor yet thunderous in the stillness of the night.

“Godsdamnit!”

The stag’s head snapped to attention before it bolted, its powerful muscles propelling it towards salvation. But before Astarion could even attempt to give chase, the air sang with the deadly whistle of an arrow. It struck true, embedding itself directly into the stag's heart.

"Who’s there?!" Astarion called out, his voice firm and resonant as it sliced through the nocturnal symphony of the forest.

From the shadows, you stepped forth - a petite silhouette materializing with an ease that belied your lethal proficiency. The short bow at your hip seemed an extension of your being, as much a part of you as the determined set to your jaw. Your gaze swept over Astarion, taking in his pallor heightened by the moon's caress, his eyes a smoldering ember in the night.

"What are you doing out here so late?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the quiver that threatened to betray him, “It’s unsafe.”

"Seems I'm doing much the same as you," You replied, your tone matter-of-fact as you turned your eyes towards the carcass at the elf’s feet.

A tension, thick as the earthy scent of the rain-soaked foliage, hung between you before you gestured towards the stag. "Go ahead, feed from it if you want. It’ll make my job a tad less messy."

A soft chuckle escaped Astarion's lips. "Alive would have been preferable, but waste not, want not, I suppose," he murmured, almost to himself.

"That’s a bit fucked up, don't you think?" You prodded, your head tilting slightly, "Preferring to have your meals still squirming?"

"Perhaps…but blood is far from an invariable form of sustenance," he explained, his voice low and intimate with knowledge borne from centuries of necessity. "The blood of larger creatures is richer, more sustaining and the fresher the blood, the better, of course. But this is…fresh enough, I suppose."

"What about human blood?" Your question came softly, carried on by the breeze, “Is that any different or is it all more or less the same so long as it’s fresh?”

Astarion hesitated, his throat working a silent swallow. "To drink from a sentient being," He confessed, "is a vastly different affair. It is profoundly satisfying." His words were laden with a truth he seldom acknowledged. "Every individual's essence is unique, as if flavored by what lies within their soul," he continued, his gaze lifting to meet hers, searching for understanding.

You hummed in acknowledgement but pressed no further, knowing full well that there were certainly some things about his condition he’d rather not speak on and although conceptually you could understand his words, you were hesitant to pull that thread too much in fear he might get the wrong idea about your curiosity. You were not some lustful teenage girl reading filthy stories about sexy, mysterious, vampires taking young maidens in the night and ravishing them like beasts - no, you would not have him think that your interest for him began and ended with the effect he had on that most intimate part of your body. His voice cut through the quiet, breaking you free from your thoughts.

"Y/N, dear…perhaps you'd rather not witness this," he suggested, a subtle strain in his voice as you found him now kneeling before the deceased creature, the pale elf’s shirt removed and folded neatly beside him.

"Please," you retorted, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree. "And let some other beast come and snatch my kill? I think not."

Acknowledging your resolve with a nod, Astarion turned his attention back to the stag. His fangs found purchase in the creature's flesh, piercing deeply. The rush of warm blood filled his mouth, a vital tide that ebbed away the pangs of hunger with each greedy pull. He drank with a fervor that belied his usual composure, the primal act raw and unshielded under your watchful eye. The last of the stag's essence slipped down his throat as he detached, a visceral connection severed. He leaned back, neck arched in a silent reverie, blood painting a stark contrast on his alabaster skin. His chest heaved, a rhythm returning to his breath, as if life itself was restored with each rise and fall.

You watched in hushed awe, your eyes tracing the lines of his chiseled physique. Silence reigned but for the night's chorus and Astarion's steady breaths. Then, your voice sliced through the quiet, "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Astarion's grimace was hidden in shadow, his inner turmoil betraying him for a brief moment. As his eyes opened, they found you, crouched and busying yourself with rope and tools. "You know why," came his whisper, heavy like the moisture in the air.

You nodded, methodically uncoiling the rope as you pressed on, "Are you ashamed?" Your voice barely rose above the rustling leaves.

"Yes," he admitted, the word floating to you on the cool breeze. He watched your movements pause, your lips pressing into a line so firm it threatened to break. "I was weak," he continued, the confession scraping against his conscience. "It should not have happened. I'm sorry for any confusion. It was just…just sex. Nothing more."

The lie hung between you, thick and choking. It clawed at his insides, a vile betrayal of his true feelings.

The rope thudded softly on the damp earth as you dropped it. Fists balled at your side, you sucked in a shaky breath, your head bowed as if to gather strength from the ground itself. When your gaze lifted, the quicksilver flash of anger struck him harder than any physical blow.

"Well, that clears things up, doesn't it? Should I thank you for such a deep and thorough first fuck, then, Father?" Your words were venom-tipped arrows, and they had found their mark.

Astarion's throat tightened around a swallow, the sting of your words igniting something within him that he had no right to feel. His body reacted, traitorous and yearning. With a swift movement, you collected your belongings, standing tall despite the tremor in your stance.

"Y/N, wait!" Astarion's voice clung to the night air as he watched your retreating form, his damp shirt a shapeless mass in the grass behind him. You didn't halt your stride, merely tossed over your shoulder a reply that held a hint of disdain. "You can keep the meat - surely it’s tainted now."

A frustrated growl rumbled from within his chest, aggravation clawing at his composure. With sinewy grace, he vaulted over the stag's remains and closed the distance between you with determined strides. His hand closed around your arm, halting your escape. As he spun you, the soft press of your back against the tree's bark seemed to be the only sound in the otherwise quiet forest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes searching yours in the moonlight. "I never meant to cause you pain."

"Physically or emotionally?" Your words were sharp, probing.

"Either… both." His voice was a murmur steeped in regret.

"Well, you’ve failed spectacularly," you spat, your voice dancing around a bitter laugh. "I’m sure my heart will mend quickly enough, but my body…well, that’s been sullied forever, hasn’t it? Not that I believe in your almighty God and his ridiculous notions of chastity, but you could have been a bit softer with me, Father. I’ve been sore between the legs since last we saw one another.”

Astarion swallowed the low groan that threatened to escape him, a sound that would have certainly been laced with that forbidden edge of desire. He swept a hand through his silver-white hair, the internal battle evident on his features. Sin wrapped its tendrils around his thoughts, but doctrine echoed loudly in the hollows of his mind.

"Still," you eyed him, the concern in your eyes shining clear as day in spite of your furrowed brow, "you look like absolute shit."

He couldn't help the brief chuckle that broke free, raw and real. "I've been without for too long," he admitted. "I need more blood, but it would seem that the beasts that roam this land have caught onto me, I’m afraid."

"Mm, I see," You acknowledged, "You’ve never struck me as a master huntsman, but you’re right - I imagine the storms have many of the animals seeking shelter…hiding. But, if it’s blood you need…I suppose I probably have some to spare." The offer hung between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken tension.

Silence enveloped you, time stretching on for what felt like an eternity. He shouldn't; the very notion was madness. Yet, the temptation…

"Is that what you want?" His voice was barely audible, the weight of his yearning pressing down upon him.

You met his query with a soft nod. "As much as I’d like to punch you in that perfect fucking face of yours right now…you can't stand in front of everyone tomorrow looking like that."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile, appreciating your attempt to lighten the gravity of the situation. "If you’re certain, then let us find somewhere a bit more…comfortable, shall we?"

The forest floor squelched under your hurried footsteps, the air thick with the scent of petrichor as the evening shadows stretched like dark fingers through the trees. You shivered slightly, pulling your cloak tightly around your shoulders, but Father Astarion, shirtless as he was, seemed impervious to the chill.

"Quickly," He urged softly, his voice a low rumble that resonated within his chest. His vermillion eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, flickering with urgency as thunder rumbled off in the distance, the ominous prelude of yet another incoming deluge of rain.

You had almost arrived at the church when the sky broke open once more. Heavy raindrops fell, drenching you both within seconds. Your hair was instantly plastered to your skin and your clothes soaked through, leaving them clinging uncomfortably to your body.

"Shit," Astarion cursed softly, grasping your hand to pull you under the scant shelter of the church's rear doorway. He fumbled with the lock for a moment before you both managed to slip inside, narrowly avoiding as the downpour intensified into a torrential onslaught against the stained glass windows.

"Stay here," The elf instructed, the silver curls of his hair now heavy with rainwater. "I'll find something dry for you to wear."

You watched him stride away, his form a ghostly blur against the backdrop of flickering candlelight. You couldn't help the sarcastic quip that tumbled from your lips. "Oh? Do you just so happen to have a stash of women's clothing lying around, Father?"

His glance back was sharp, those intense eyes narrowing before he vanished into the vestry. Alone, you took a moment to admire the cathedral's grandeur: vaulted ceilings soared above, while Gothic arches whispered tales of reverence.

It wasn't long before Astarion returned, now clad in simple sleepwear that did little to disguise the contours of his body. He extended a folded shirt to you, his gaze carefully neutral. "I believe this should suffice."

"Thank you," you murmured, accepting the garment. It would indeed serve almost as a dress given how it would hang on your much smaller frame. You retreated into a side room to change, peeling off the wet layers with relief. Slipping into Astarion's shirt was like being enveloped in his essence—rosemary, bergamot, and the rich, heady undertone of brandy.

When you stepped out, the change in your appearance arrested the vampire’s restless fidgeting. His thumbs ceased their twirling, and his stare became fixated, drinking in the sight of you draped in his shirt. The fabric outlined your shape, hinting at the curves beneath, and you felt a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with finally being somewhat dry.

"Does it fit well enough?" He asked, his voice betraying a rough edge.

"Quite well, thank you. In fact, I’m rather convinced I wear it better," You teased, striking a playful pose that made Astarion's lips curve slightly.

"Undoubtedly," he breathed out, but there was a palpable tension between the two of you that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" He questioned, his voice low, brimming with concern.

"I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t," You reassured, your gaze steady as you took in his visage. "Seems the Stag’s beginning to breathe some life into you…your color is looking a bit closer to normal, but you’re still a bit hollow around the eyes and I fear you might cut someone on those cheekbones lest we find a way to fill out that face of yours."

A smirk played on his lips, a flash of vanity piercing through his usual stoic facade. "I've always had marvelous cheekbones, thank you. And the shadows beneath my eyes are nothing that a touch of powder can’t fix, certainly."

Your laughter, soft and melodic, filled the quiet space between you. "I think you’ve a touch too much faith in the capabilities of common cosmetics - we’ve nothing here remotely close to the manner of things available back in the city, sorry to say," you teased gently, brushing a finger along the stark line of his jaw.

"True…Very well, I suppose I shall just have to trust your judgment," he replied, inclining his head in mock defeat.

He guided you up a narrow staircase, the loft opening before you like a secret kept within the church's ancient walls. It was surprisingly homely—a single-room apartment with modest furnishings. His bed lay in the center, a pillowy island of solitude.

"Perhaps it would be best if you lay down," He suggested, gesturing toward the bed with a hand that held a tremor only he might notice.

You nodded, acquiescing, and positioned yourself on the mattress, lying with your back propped up atop the pillows. The linen was cool beneath you, lightly caressing your flesh as you watched Astarion circle around to the other side of the bed; you managed a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes…and the hesitation.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” You spoke softly, a nagging worry having crept in from the recesses of your mind, questioning whether or not he was comfortable with this arrangement, “If you don’t want to, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t. I just…I want you to be well.”

You regarded him closely, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he climbed into bed beside you. You’d never seen him look so…soft, so vulnerable - your words clearly had a much more profound impact on him than you’d anticipated. His eyes appeared round and misty, he refused to meet your gaze as he struggled to formulate a response.

“I do…want this,” He answered after a long moment of silence, “Quite badly, if I’m to be completely honest, I just…,” His words trailed off, quiet reclaiming the room before he forced himself to look you in the eyes.

“I know that I shouldn’t,” Astarion continued, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he spoke, “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t crave you the way that I do. Certainly, I shouldn’t indulge these feelings and I just know that…given every way in which I’ve failed you already, that if I were to take of your blood as well…it’s simply not fair of me to take so much of you when I cannot offer you anything in return.”

You bobbed your head softly, acknowledging his words though they stung at your heart. Reaching out, you brushed a loose curl from the man’s forehead and offered a small, warm smile.

“I’m not asking for anything in return, sweet man. But I can see you warring within yourself over it and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any torment…I hope you know that. I can be on my way if it will help.”

Astarion simply reached up and took your hand in his before guiding in down to cup the side of his face. “No, please..,” He murmured, planting a small kiss to the inside of your wrist “Stay with me. I…I’d rather enjoy the company.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at his request, the affection you held for him blooming like a flower within your chest. "Of course," you replied gently.

As you both settled into a comfortable embrace, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting presence of one another. You nestled together closely, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle as you found solace in the simple act of being near.

Wrapped in the priest’s arms, you delighted in this quiet intimacy, the soft rhythm of your breaths slowly lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

The room was cloaked in the stillness of the night, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing as you lay cradled in his arms. You, so tranquil and still in your rest, were a stark contrast to the insatiable hunger that once again clawed at Astarion’s insides.

As a sudden spike of pain tore through his stomach, the vampire broke from his trance, his senses assaulted by the familiar pang that twisted in his gut. He had prayed that he’d had enough…that what he had been able to consume would suffice, but in the back of his mind, he knew better. And he could not ignore the need any longer; the ravenous beast within him demanded more.

Gently, he brushed a lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet tinged with urgency. "Darling," he whispered, his voice betraying the desperation he felt. "I-I’m so sorry…I need to feed. Please."

You stirred at his words, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. Concern danced in your eyes as the hunger that gripped him was palpable.

"Where?," you inquired softly.

A look of worry crossed his features momentarily as he considered your question. "We must be careful," he cautioned, his voice tinged with apprehension. "The townsfolk cannot see."

You nodded in agreement, your mind racing as you searched for a solution. And then his gaze met yours with a sheepish look.

"I’ve an idea, if you’d be willing to indulge me," he spoke, his voice low and oddly strained.

You felt your skin flush…if you hadn’t already suspected that his suggestion would be less than gentlemanly, the way his eyes crawled down your body and settled near where your legs joined left little doubt.

After a moment of silent deliberation, you simply nodded in agreement.

Astarion's movements were calculated as he positioned himself on the firm mattress, settling on his stomach between your parted legs. His arms, lean yet powerful, slid beneath your knees and against the softness of the bed, securing you in place with a tenderness that stood at odds with his overpowering need.

"Are you absolutely certain?" His voice, usually commanding and confident during his sermons, now quivered with desire and concern

Your unwavering gaze met his as you nodded—a silent agreement sealed with the pounding of your heart against your chest, a rhythm that Astarion could feel echoing through his own being. With reverence and longing, his hands traveled up your thighs, inch by inch pulling up the fabric of your shirt until it bunched just below the curve of your navel.

He paused, inhaling sharply at the sight revealed to him.

“I’m sorry -they were soaked through from the rain. I didn’t think…”

You didn’t think you’d find herself so exposed with his silver-tongue a mere whisper away from your bare heat. Astarion was quiet for a long moment, completely enraptured by your glistening pink slit, the warmth that radiated from your core beckoning him closer. Your body sang of readiness, and the air around him thickened with the scent of your arousal.

"Forgive me," he murmured, not for what he had done, but for the hunger that clawed within him at the sight. Lowering his head, his cheek brushed against the silk of your inner thigh, a wordless vow made against your skin. His groan vibrated through the room as he inhaled deeply, reveling in the intoxicating fragrance of your sex.

"May I?" he asked in hushed tones, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he sought permission one final time.

Your response came not in words, but in a gentle caress, your fingers gliding through his hair, granting consent laced with a plea for moderation. "Only what you need…"

"Not one drop more," Astarion promised. With a tenderness that belied the ferocity of his yearning, he pressed his mouth to your skin in a gentle kiss before sinking his fangs into the delicate flesh. A small, muffled yelp escaped you at the initial sting, your fingers tangling in his curls a little more tightly until the pain faded into a strange, throbbing numbness. He drank deeply, each pull of your essence a sacrament, a communion of bodies and souls entwined in a sacred, profane rite.

Your heart pounded as you felt Astarion's lips on your skin, the sensation both arousing and terrifying. You trusted him - or at least, you thought you did - but the act you were engaging in was taboo, dangerous, and yet it felt necessary. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure that washed over you as Astarion's tongue danced across your sensitive skin. Soon - too soon, it felt - he pulled from you and gently lapped up the remnants of blood that oozed from the twin wounds that now marred your perfect skin. Astarion was thorough, not allowing a single drop of blood to go to waste.

Once again, his cheek pressed tenderly against the softness of your inner thigh, his breath a quiet rhythm against your fevered skin. The room was hushed, save for the intimate rustle of bodies shifting and the gentle beat of your heart. His hand, with reverent touches, drew nonsensical patterns upon your flesh, mapping out a wordless apology.

"How do you feel?" he murmured, his vermilion gaze lifting to meet yours. There was concern etched into the fine lines of his face, a vulnerability that belied his usual composure.

"Strange," you admitted, "but fine." Your voice wavered like a candle flame caught in a draft. You weren't sure if it was from the slight puncture where he had tasted you or from the memory of your bodies joining with sinful urgency.

The pale elf nodded, his eyes betraying him as they dipped lower, settling on your bare sex with an intensity that sent a tremor through your core.

"I hope it didn't hurt too much," he said softly, "I tried to be gentle."

Whether he was referring to the bite or the roughness with which he had claimed your maidenhood was difficult to decipher.

You reached out, threading your fingers through his silver-white curls, letting your touch linger by the shell of his ear, grounding yourself in the sensation. "I'll live," you quipped, attempting to chase away the weight of their transgressions with humor.

His laugh was but a ghost of a sound, a puff of cool air that danced across your heated sex, eliciting an involuntary whimper from your lips. He noticed the shiver that coursed through your body, and his expression softened.

"Would you allow me to kiss it better for you, sweet girl?" Astarion's request rolled off of his tongue with just a hint hesitancy, as if he feared overstepping bounds yet again.

Your breath caught in your throat, desire mingling with doubt. "Not if it's just sex," you whispered, unable to bear the thought of your connection being reduced to mere physicality once more.

In answer, he leaned forward and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your aching center. The contrast of his cool lips against your warmth was a mercy you hadn't known you needed.

"Please forgive me, Y/N," he murmured, his lips grazing your tender flesh with each word, "I am a miserable liar. What I said in the forest… it was cruel and it was false and I am so sorry."

"How do I know that you’re not lying to me now?" Your heart fluttered against your ribs like a caged bird, desperate for the sincerity in his words.

"Let me show you," he urged, his breath brushing against you as he placed another lingering kiss upon your cunt, tongue flicking out to trace your folds with languid tenderness. When he at last he turned his attention to your sensitive nub, he teased it gently, coaxing forth a rush of pleasure that made your toes curl.

"Will you let me show you, darling? Please." His plea vibrated against you, his voice thick with something that sounded achingly close to devotion.

"Yes," you breathed, surrendering to the promise in his eyes and the worshipful caress of his mouth.

The priest's groan vibrated against the sacred silence of the church, a sinful symphony that danced upon the expanse of your bare skin. Spread beneath him like an offering, you felt his hands coax your legs wider apart, his touch reverent and unhurried. The cool air of the hallowed space contrasted with the heat of his mouth as he lavished wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, inching ever closer back to the epicenter of your longing.

"Ah," you stifled a moan, your voice a ghostly whisper among the pews and stained glass.

His tongue found you then, a slow drag through slick folds that had you clenching the sheets beneath you. Each lap was a testament to the hunger that had driven you both here, to this sacrilege. He closed his mouth around you, his lips working your warmth, each pull drawing forth more of your essence which he seemed to worship with every fiber of his being.

"Please, Astarion," you gasped, your plea threaded with desperation.

"Let me hear you," he murmured against you, his breath hot on your skin. "I want to hear everything.”

You nodded, giving yourself over to the sensations he invoked, panting as he dragged his tongue along your slit once more. The tip of his tongue teased the pulsing button of your sex, teasing with a precision that sent sparks shooting through your veins. And then, without warning, he sucked it into his mouth, drawing forth a small cry that echoed through the cavernous church.

"Shhh," he soothed, releasing your clit with a wet pop, his vermillion gaze locked onto you. "Don't hold back, love. Please.."

"Gods, Astarion..," you breathed, your body trembling.

He resumed his ministrations, the skilled play of his tongue ebbing and flowing like a tide over your flesh. With one hand, the elf tenderly parted your lips, revealing the glistening promise of your entrance. He paused, pulling back just enough to meet yours eyes.

"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress.

"Of course," you assured him, your hips canting toward him in silent supplication.

Lowering his mouth to you once more, he placed a chaste kiss upon your mound, before his tongue ventured past the threshold of your body. Slowly, gently, he breached your entrance, each movement a delicate exploration that beckoned you closer to the precipice of rapture.

"Fuck, Astarion! P-please don't stop," you cursed through clenched teeth, your fingers weaving into the silky tresses of his hair, holding him as if he were your anchor to this realm. His tongue danced and plunged with an expertise that belied his vows of celibacy, and each stroke sent ripples of pleasure cascading through you. You arched your back, moaning unabashedly, your hips grinding against the warmth of his face, seeking more of that divine sensation he so skillfully bestowed.

"Ah, yes… just like that," He murmured between lavish laps, his voice vibrating against your flesh. His hand, broad and strong, cupped your ass, pulling you closer, while the other drew lazy, tantalizing circles around your clit, pushing you rapidly towards the edge of ecstasy.

"More, please… I'm—" The plea was cut short as your climax shuddered through you, swift and powerful, leaving you breathless and quivering.

As you lay panting, trying to gather scattered senses, Astarion rose to his knees, discarding his shirt with a flick of his wrist. Your gaze, heavy-lidded with satisfaction, couldn't miss the pronounced bulge straining against his pajama pants—a large, wet stain darkening the fabric. Confusion fluttered in your chest; had he truly found such pleasure in tasting you?

He winced, a soft hiss escaping his lips as he peeled the fabric down, revealing the imposing thickness of his erection. It stood proud and flushed, veins pulsating with the lifeblood you both shared, precum glistening at its tip. You sucked in a breath, your own arousal reigniting at the sight of his need.

"Come, lie down," you whispered, coaxing him onto the bed.

He obliged, stretching out on his back, his hand already traveling along his length, gripping himself with a desperation that bordered on agony. Furrows of pleasure etched his brow, and his moans, strained and urgent, filled the room. Your shirt joined his on the floor, and you moved to kneel between his legs, your naked form on display for his hungry eyes.

Your gaze traveled from his face down to the heavy weight of his balls, full and tight. Tentatively, you leaned forward and let your tongue trace along the seam, feeling him twitch beneath your touch. More precum wept from his slit, a silent testament to his prolonged abstinence.

"Gods, you're so full… so ready," you mused aloud, your breath hot against his skin.

Eager to taste him, you ran your tongue up the underside of his shaft, savoring the saltiness of his skin before swirling around the head of his cock and enveloping it with your mouth. The heat, the weight, the sheer intensity of him made your head spin.

Astarion groaned as your mouth enveloped him, his hips bucking involuntarily in search of relief. But your ministrations kept him anchored in place, your mouth dutifully coaxing his pleasure to the surface. His fingers tangled in the silkiness of your hair, pulling you closer.

As he neared his peak, Astarion's eyes screwed shut, his mind reeling with the realization that you were doing this, that you were once again bringing him to completion. He could feel the tingling sensation start at the base of his cock and rush upwards in waves of ecstasy, his body trembling with each surge of pleasure.

"Darling, I…" He gasped, his voice a strained whimper as the intensity of his orgasm washed over him. But you didn't stop, your mouth never losing its hold on him, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head as he spurted his release into your mouth with a primal groan.

You pulled back, licking the remainder of his spend from your lips. His eyes burned with a hunger that was neither sinful nor divine, but simply human. They were the eyes of a man who had just experienced one of the most exquisite of sins. Yet even as the taste of him lingered on your lips, his manhood remained hard and ready.

The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air as you gently crawled atop and straddled Astarion, his hard length still pulsing from the warmth of your mouth. You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that mingled the taste of your shared ecstasy. Your moans vibrated against one another's tongues, a delicious symphony to their heightened senses.

"Gods," Astarion breathed out as you teased him further, your slick warmth sliding tantalizingly along his bare erection. It was an exquisite torture, the friction sending shivers racing up his spine.

"Keep going," he growled, his voice a husky whisper laden with lust. "You feel incredible."

His hands found your hips, fingers pressing deeply into your flesh to guide your movements. Together, you found a rhythm, your hips rolling in an intoxicating dance atop him.

"F-fuck...more, sweet girl - I need more," The elf groaned, his eyes burning into yours as you shifted your position. The head of his cock nudged at your entrance, a silent plea for the union you both craved.

Locking eyes with him, you felt the ache between your legs intensify, a sweet pain that begged for relief. With breathless anticipation, you began lowering yourself, enveloping him slowly, torturously. Inch by inch, you took him inside, until at last you were fully seated in his lap, the crown of his cock pressed intimately against your cervix.

"Ah…Astarion," you panted, your voice a throaty cascade of need.

"Fuckkk….darling," he rasped, his gaze holding yours captive. "You are perfection."

His breath hitched as you withdrew until only his tip remained nestled in your heat only to sink back down onto him, your velvet walls gripping him like a vice. The sheer intensity of the moment had him gasping for air as if he actually needed it. His hands roamed over your hips, his mind enraptured with the image of his throbbing cock disappearing into the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

You rocked yourself harder, driving him deeper inside, and Astarion's eyes widened in awe.

He couldn't help but marvel at the way your curves seemed to be made for him, your body arching perfectly as you gently bounced on top of him. The incredible wetness of your arousal coated his shaft, the excess sliding even further onto his balls. He moaned quietly as you began to move faster, your hips undulating in a maddening rhythm that left him panting for more.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to drive himself into you from below, his hips finding a punishing rhythm that matched the ferocity of your lust. Sweat dripped from both of your bodies, mingling with the heat of your union.

"So good…so good," he whimpered, his hands pulling you closer, deeper.

You arched your back, head thrown back in a silent cry.

"Harder," you begged, your voice laced with desperation.

Astarion's hips surged forward, rutting into your cervix with a force that had your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You cursed softly as the walls of your pussy tightened around him, clenching as if to pull him in deeper, and the ragged cry that escaped you could surely be heard beyond the walls of the Cathedral.

It wasn’t long before you felt your entire body tighten like a coil, your climax rapidly approaching with each drag of his cock against your walls. Astarion's eyes locked onto you, and a knowing smirk spread across his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was reveling in the knowledge that it was he who was causing you to come apart so beautifully.

Bracing yourself on Astarion's chest, your nails dug into his skin, and your moans grew louder and more fervent. Your body began to shake, and your muscles tensed as your climax coursed through you. He continued to thrust into you, matching the rhythm of your orgasm until your body finally calmed to a quivering, your breath coming in soft pants.

"Astarion, I…"

But he didn't let you finish. He leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues tangling together. His hips continued to move, his pace having slowed slightly as you recovered.

The feeling of him inside of you - stretching you open around him- was indescribable, and still you craved nothing more than to feel him deeper, to have him claim you completely.

With a growl, he pulled back, his aching cock slipping out of your core with a wet pop. You whimpered at the loss, but he quickly wrapped his arms around your middle and flipped you. He now hovered above you, your legs resting atop his broad shoulders as he reached down and teased your entrance with the blunt head of his cock. With a single, powerful thrust, he surged back into your heat, driving himself into your center hard and deep. You cried out, your head thrown back as he claimed you entirely. Your cunt clenched around him, spasming in response to his aggressive invasion.

Astarion's eyes were fixed on where the two of you met for a moment, watching as he split you open…listening to the delicious sounds that fell from your lips as you took every single inch of him, before he returned his attention to you - watching as your face contorted with pleasure. The sight of you, lost in his grasp, was almost too much for him to bear.

"So good," he groaned.

Each thrust sent another wave of electricity coursing through him, that primitive desire to claim you fully taking over. His hands gripped your ass, lifting you and pulling you closer to meet each punishing stroke of his cock. He was close.

Pressing small kisses to his neck and face, you pulled back just slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored his own. "I want to feel you cum inside of me again," she panted. "I want to fill me - over and over- until you take root."

Astarion's eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this was wrong, knew that he was risking so much, but he couldn’t stop himself. More than that, he didn’t want to. He could feel the weight of so many years of unspent seed inside of him, begging to be released.

With a low growl, he plunged into you, his hips pounding against you with such force you were certain there would be bruises. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound lost in the passionate cries that filled the room. The muscles of his thighs strained as he pushed himself deeper into your wrecked little hole, his eyes never leaving yours.

His lips crashed against yours with a fervor that spoke of more than just lust as his movements became more urgent, each thrust pushing him to the brink of his own undoing. The sound of your union filled the room, an erotic symphony that grew with every gasp and moan.

"Ah..f-fuck," he whimpered between kisses, his voice vibrating through you. His hips drove forward one final time, burying himself deep within your warmth. The hot rush of his release flooded your tight channel, his seed spilling into you, claiming your flesh in the most primal way. Even as some of his cum seeped from where you were still joined, tracing a warm path down your thighs, you remained acutely aware of his pulsing presence still locked inside of you.

"Tell me," Astarion whispered hoarsely against your lips, his breath hitched with the aftershocks of his orgasm, "do you truly wish for this? To carry my children?" His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Your response came not in words but in action—a timid nod, an admission so genuine it burned. Embarrassment tinged your features, but the earnestness of your desire was unmistakable.

With a tenderness that belied the fervency of moments ago, Astarion began to rock, a gentle rhythm that massaged his essence deeper into your womb.

"And would you be mine…forever? My precious wife, sitting all prim and proper in the church, listening as I recite scripture and the teachings of our Lord?”

You could almost see yourself there, among the faithful, a serene smile masking the vivid memories of the carnal ways in which the two of you would worship one another after the pews had emptied.

You nodded again, carding your fingers gently through his curls. “I’d love nothing more.”

His smile was a rare gift, a gleam of shared secrets and unspoken promises.

"Then it shall be so," he purred, an oath that echoed in the very depths of your soul. And with that, Astarion pressed a gentle kiss to you lips, another to your forehead, and continued to hold you close, never withdrawing, as you both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion smut

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coentinim · 17 days

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okay okay just hear me out…being in kai’s cult and being a genuine dedicated member. i’m talking your family fully believes he is the final prophet. he is god to you. but imagine him taking advantage of that. getting all close and creepy with you but reassuring you god told him it was okay

and then obviously he makes you his divine bride but that’s for a different day.

just thought id share, PLEASE tell me ur thoughts

Sorry for the wait!! Exam stress caused the biggest block everrrrr lol

Cw: short lol, religion, techniques used in irl cults, manipulation, sexual content, virginity loss

My first time writing for Kai so ofc it's a first time sex fic

MDNI! Minors go away!!

He made the group repeat mantras often. Loyalty is absolute. Obedience is virtue. Fear is truth. I trust my Savior. I belong to the Ruler. It all felt so familiar, so safe, since some of your family were involved in the cult as well. Kai made you feel safe, protected, and like you didn't have to think at all, ever. Like you were a true lamb.

Even though Kai's political group evolved further and further into a classic cult, you were getting more and more hooked ever since you started doubting your church's doctrine - FIT filled the gaping hole in your heart that used to be God's home. Kai appeared in your life suddenly and abruptly, as if he knew you had just hit rock bottom - you realized your local priest was a corrupt liar which lead to a faith crisis, and your family's business had just gone bankrupt mysteriously, as if someone set your father up for failure?... You were a sheltered young little thing, as if molded into a perfect lamb for him. And that's what he called you - a lamb, his lamb.

So every time you got your Savior's undivided attention, you were ecstatic. His doctrine did not forbid sex with the leader, as he said it helped form a good spiritual connection, especially in women. And he was incredibly interested in your spirit, or so you believed.

It wasn't uncommon for the Divine Ruler to make love to his followers, female and male alike. You knew it was his right as the leader, yet... you couldn't help but feel that stinging jealousy whenever he picked someone other than you.

You were raised by a certain type of people - conservative, religious, puritanical parents, who saw premarital sex as something disgusting, especially for young women. But how could Kai's divine touch ever disgust you? He took away your secrets during the pinky truth ritual, one by precious one, and as such he peeled off the layers of you, your essence and your being. With every evening at his side, every night staining your hands with blood for him, every soft touch and rough strike, you were eaten and absorbed by him, your personhood and humanity slowly dissipating, leaving you a mere vessel for his will. Yet you never seemed to notice.

The first time felt the most intense. It was your very first time, after all. Something you'll never forget.

It was probably the most common night for him, but for you, it was a ritual. And he knew it, so he set it up like a ritual. He made you walk into the basement while it was empty and didn't just get straight to the point. Oh no, he took his time convincing you it's okay through every step. Solidifying your loyalty and relishing in it. He said he was chosen for the mission, that being with him was an honor, that he's like a father to you all so he can touch you freely - and you stopped questioning him, after some time. He appeared so honest, so geniuine.

The whole ordeal was glorious, like a biblical psalm, like a song of the angels.

You, laying down in a white dress, your hair loose (your mother never allowed it loose), you looked like a lamb ready for slaughter, for sacrifice.

"Are you ready to accept me as your Divine Ruler?", he asked, caressing your face with one rough yet gentle hand, his other one on your shoulder. You were cold in the night air, and his touch was so warm, so inviting, so... godly. You could really accept him as inspired by the Lord, as deranged as it would have sounded to you a few months back. You nodded shyly, not knowing what to do exactly.

The Divine Ruler pulled out a knife. You wanted to protest, but you didn't, as he cut the white dress open, revealing your bare body and supple skin. You've never felt this bare before.

His hand slid up your untouched skin, from abdomen to breast, touching the delicate flesh gently. It was the last gentle touch you'd get from him that night.

Kai could be patient for a long time, but this, the sight of you being just there for the taking, the thought of you never having been touched by another man, the thought of deflowering you... it made something snap in his calculating, cold mind. He gripped your thighs and slid you near the edge of the bed, his fingers finding your pussy just as his other hand fought against his trousers and pulled them down. He rubbed you crudely, much rougher than you ever did to yourself, and it felt godly. He fingered you briefly, relishing your wet, unused cunt before you felt something much, much larger at your entrance. You had no chance of knowing this, but he was bigger than average, and every inch of him sliding in was exquisitely painful. He was impatient and quick, bottoming out in a few seconds and holding you down by your shoulder and thigh. You cried slightly - look at you, crying just from his dick bottoming out in you? He just had to soil you so much more, to ruin you for any man who could ever have you. With a groan, he started fucking you at a truly desecrating pace.

You gripped the sheets, staring at his strong body standing above your feeble one, and in that moment, you truly believed you've been closer to God than ever before. Because Kai was inside you, dragging you down on his cock by your thighs, staining the torn dress under you with precum and blood.

You'd give yourself to him a thousand times more, all day, every day. You were his.

"Who do you belong to?"

Oh, that was easy.

"You! You, Divine Ruler!"

Taglist: @fear-is-truth @lacucarachapisser @nahoyasboyfriend @briaroftheroses @marchsfreakshow @carniv0reev @bluerthanvelvet444 @slvt4jamesmarch @kaiandersonsdevotedwife

#kai anderson #ahs #ahs cult #american horror story cult #american horror story #kai anderson x reader #james march #kit walker #tate langdon #coentiwrites #mine☆

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queerprayers · 8 months

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update <3

I've been procrastinating this (as if that could make it all less real), but so many people have sent prayers and well wishes that I wouldn't feel right not letting you know how grateful I am for your words and also letting you know this: My beloved grandfather died last week.

I honor the faithful service he gave to countless churches and communities, the children he helped raise, the grandchildren he sang to, the children he baptized, the couples (including my parents) he married, the people he buried, the music and faith that never left him even when so much of him did.

I will pass on the last thing he ever said to me, in July, after a busy and joyful weekend celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary, as he got in bed for his nap, taking seconds in between words to think: "It's not all hard. Not all the time." This is so hard. But it's also part of loving someone: promising to mourn them when the time comes. Promising to keep going. Love is hard, but it's not all hard. Not all the time.

His funeral will be Catholic, but he used to be a Lutheran, and he presided over many funerals from the worship book I still use, so here are some words I've been saying from there:

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you today our brother. We thank you for giving him to us to know and to love as a companion in our pilgrimage on earth. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us your aid, so we may see in death the gate to eternal life, that we may continue our course on earth in confidence until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before us; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.

The generations rise and pass away before you. You are the strength of those who labor; you are the rest of the blessed dead. We rejoice in the company of your saints. We remember all who have lived in faith, all who have peacefully died, and especially those most dear to us who rest in you. Give us in time our portion with those who have trusted in you and have striven to do your holy will. To your name, with the Church on earth and the Church in heaven, we ascribe all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory? The strife is o'er, the battle done. Love will come again like wheat arising green. The Lord bless and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and grant him peace.

I'm not a Catholic, and was never really taught to pray for souls, but I think I get it a bit now. He was, though, and if that's something you do, I'm sure he would have welcomed that. (And if you know any good saints to throw in the mix, go for it.) My grandmother could also use your prayers.

Thank you for reading this, and holding for a moment the love I have for him. It's heavy right now, and easier to carry with others' prayers beside me. I am praying beside you as well, especially with the many people who have sent me asks that have gone unanswered for ages now. And God holds all of us, more than we could ever imagine. I don't claim to understand death, but I am in the palm of the universe's hand, and my granddad is too, reunited with all that left him in his sickness, and united with a God who knows death intimately. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, love to love.

<3 Johanna

#death mention

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bakuhoewriting · 11 months

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CLASS 1B HEADCANNONS THAT MAKE SENSE

☰ NOTES⋮ reader! is in Class 1-A ; gn!reader x Class 1-B; some mildly suggestive themes

𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐄 tends to weld himself onto your side whenever he’s exhausted from training. It may earn him a scolding from Vlad-sensei or even Shiozaki-san, but you never complain and if Yosetsu gets to fall asleep cuddled in your warmth, that’s his prerogative.

𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 carries a polaroid of you in his wallet. It’s frayed at the edges from time, but it’s the first polaroid you ever took together. He keeps it alongside his provisional hero license because it’s the best motivation he has for the future.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈 has a pet Rhinoceros Beetle he keeps in his dorm room. You caught the little guy when he took you bug-catching for your first date to the local park. It wasn’t until you compared him to the little guy with pink cheeks and a wide smile that Togaru just had to have him.

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐑𝐎 hosts a seánce in your room every month. He would do it in his room, but Shiozaki’s room is close to his and he’d rather not be accused of sinful behaviour (as if your other activities aren’t sinful, but Shiozaki-san doesn’t need to know that).

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎 often plans informal joint class outings with Yaoyorozu so your classes can bond. It doesn’t always work—Mineta, Monoma and Bakugo are banned for the next three activites—but she’s just glad to see you mingle with her classmates.

𝐊𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐈 is a frequent vistitor of UA’s communal garden. In fact, she recently signed up to have her own plot so she can grow tomatoes and cucumbers—both for her and for you.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐈 was in her churchs’ choir. She doesn’t do it often, but if you’re especially tired than she’ll sing you to sleep. It works everytime.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐀 has an Uncle in France that he’s really close to. His Uncle is the person who told him the story of the Beast of Gevaudan, and the first person Jurota confided in about his crush on you. If you ever get married, his Uncle Daichi has offered his estate for the wedding.

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐃𝐀 always wanted to give Boxing a go, but didn’t have the courage to visit a gym (largely due to his size) until you offered to join him. It’s one of the many things he’s grateful to you for and now something of a couples’ activity for the weekends.

𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 didn’t know you could speak English until you laughed at her insulting Monoma during a joint training session. Now, she begs you to talk in English whenever you’re together because she finds your accent really cute.

𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐀 definitely fainted the first time you agreed to study with him in his room. Bleeding nose and all. The same thing happened when you proposed to study in your own room so now you just work together in the common room. It’s better for his health that way.

𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔 will deny it for as long as he can, but sometimes he does provoke you into a senseless argument. Namely because you have an adorable pouty face and his heart is reduced to a pandrum whenever you kabedon him to tell him off. It’s glorious.

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 has a dinosaur onsie that she wears whenever she misses you. It’s not her colour, but it’s the same colour as your eyes so it’s automatically her favourite. She’s also got a matching pair for you in green, one that she’s planning to give you for your birthday.

𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 has an all year-round pass to the Manga Museum in Kyoto. It’s become a post-exam tradition to visit the Museum everytime you want a celebrate, because in addition to reading some of his favourite manga, you often stop for ramen on your way back to UA.

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐊𝐈 tends to smell like jasmine and sweet orange with how often he lathers his hands in massaging oil. It earns him some light ribbing from the boys at first, but that ends as soon as you show up smelling the exact same from massaging Juzo in return.

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎 practiced his confession to you for two weeks because he didn’t want to stammer mid-confession. It didn’t work, but it turned out that you liked him with his stammer anyway; in fact, you have a nervous tic of over gesticulating which he soon found was endearing all the same.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀 has a growing pile of Franco-Belgian comics in your room. 9/10 times his comics lead to an argument between him and your classmates whenever he comes over to take one back. Bakugo’s now petitioning to have him banned.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 is an avid fan of Kabuki theatre; in particular, the popular horror classic Yotsuya Kaidan. For your first Halloween as a couple, you dress as Tamiya Lemon and Oiwa. Not a conventional couple by any means, but it makes Reiko glow in a way you’ve never seen before so it’s worth it.

𝐑𝐈𝐍 read that couples who watch the first snowfall are destined to stay together forever so he plans your first date for late-Autum. He’s shivering for most of your time together, but there are two highlights by the end of the night: when you worriedly draped your scarf around his neck and when a snowflake landed on his cheek in the middle of a spontaneous kiss.

– 2023 ©️ credit to bakuhoewriting ; soon to be crossposted on all my other accounts under the same name!

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rinbowaman · 2 months

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T̴̶̨̨̢̛͇̱̙̭̳͚̼͍̪̮͔̯͍͎͔͔̽̿͊ͥͨ͗ͬͧ͑̓̌̓ͫ͋̇̂̈́̀͘͠͞͠ḩ̵̶̧͈̜͇͖̮͚̟͉̝̤̘̹̬̎̍͊͑̋͌͂̏͒̾̇̌ͩ́͂͛͊̾̂ͩ̀͆̓ͮ̚̚͢͢͠ë͍́̾ͭ O̶̼͚͐̌́ͦ́͆͋̌͡t̷̴̴̩͓͍͔̣͖̟͈͕̰̱ͨ́͛̾̎͐̽͐͑͒̏ͮ̃̀͂ͧ̔̾̚͘͘͢͠͝͡͡ͅh̥͉͂ę̜̮̱͕̟̘ͧ̄̃ͣ̋ŗ̢͔̖͎̪͚͇͕̩͖̹͒ͮͬ̎̃̽͆ͫ̏ͩ̀͆̇ͬͣ̃̄̚͟s̸̴̶̨͇̣͈̪͕̯̺̮͇ͦ̏̓ͤ͛ͥ͑̆̋̏ͦ̀̊̃͢_̢̛͍̖̩̞̬ͨj͇͓͚̝͑̇̊̒͐ͥ́̚͞ḍ̵̵̸̡̨̧̢̛͉̣̜̗̦̫̮̪̰͂̌̃̌̽̀̌́͑̏̑̂̊ͯͩ̀̊͌͆ͬ͛ͧ̑ͦ̉̕͟͝͝ẽ̸̸̢̖͕͙̦̄ͭͪ̈̊̈͐̂͝

CHAPTER FIVE

The Otherside Chapter 5 here!!!! If you wish to be added to the Taglist, please let me know. If you’ve already asked and are not on it, please give me a reminder, it’s been a while since I’ve posted the previous chapter.

Warnings: reader gets attacked, attempted r@pe, stalking, mentions of death through torturous acts, rough home life, parental neglect, sibling rivalry, death threats, some cursing, and I think that’s it.

The park looked too enticing to merely walk pass. With the full moon peeling in between the trees, you just had to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the brightened night sky. A lonesome bench offers the perfect view of the scenery and so, you rest your gift bag to the side as you perch yourself and sit nearly over the curved edge and admire the glorious pearl in the sky.

Not long after you sat down, your mind drifts away as you are reminded of the harsh reality of coming home to an ignorant mother and shameful father. As a daughter, you loved them and hoped they would become better, but as fate would have it, they would continue to let you down as you witnessed the constant habit of them choosing to be better parents for your elder brother. Some days, you really try to see it from their perspective, yet at the end of the day, the chapters in your story end the same. Your brother got away with everything….everything. He abused the trust and goodliest trait of all around him. There were countless times when you came to witness his terrible deeds or capture sustained evidence of his unlawful ways; whether it be theft, fibbing, or drug use, yet due to the persona he portrayed in front of open eyes, no one would ever believe you whenever you presented the proof. Nobody could ever believe that the local church boy preparing for college would ever do such terrible deeds. So much for knowing “thy neighbor”. The worst was when your mother responded so carelessly as you displayed the video evidence of him stealing money from your wallet, no doubt to pay for his drug habits. Despite the act being caught in plain sight, her unusual response of “I will talk to him, and the Lord will take care of the rest.” Was the most disappointing thing you ever did hear. Then of course there was your father who claimed that his son would never do such a thing, and even dared to accuse you of conspiring against his only son. That’s right, “his only son”, the ultimate statement that gave constant reminder that in your dads eyes, his son wasn’t your brother, how could he be if you were never accepted as a daughter?

Maybe the troubling home life is a blessing. After all, it was all that motivates you to earn decent grades, and apply to numerous universities; you should be hearing back from one of them any day now, and once you do, you’ll take your packed bags and hike your way into adulthood. You’ll get a part time job to pay for your living expenses and continue to study hard and get through this life, while never looking back. Since you had come to accept that the family you were born with could never find love in their hearts for you, you reserved all of your heart for yourself. Perhaps someday you’ll find someone who is worthy of it.

Lost in your thoughts, you remained distracted under the stressful circumstances of your family life, so much that you failed to hear the unknown man sneaking up behind. Your view of the moon is suddenly enclosed by complete darkness as you feel a pair of strong hands covering them and blocking your screams. You kick and attempt to peel his fingers off as he lifts you from the bench and rams you into the grassy ground. The person was not gentle, you felt your knees, shoulders, elbows, and back being scrape as you roughed you up and straddled atop your frame. You struggled as you found it hard to breathe with his hands blocking your airways. Finally he exposes his voice as he leans in and through a clenched jaw, he grits out his warning. “Stop moving or I’ll fucking slit your throat.” With a cold metal edge of what you suspected to be a knife, he presses it against your delicate skin, just underneath your jaw.

You refrained from making any sudden movements, only admitting a gentle nod as you complied with his order. “Good. Now stay still.” He demands as he begins to unbutton your blouse. You panicked internally but calmed yourself as you wait for the perfect moment to make a striking move that would allow you to get away. Said opportunity presents itself as you felt him ease his grip over your mouth just as he was placing his disgusting mouth over your exposed chest. With a swift knee to his shaft, you rammed the bone edge of your joint as hard as you could, rendering him to toss over and groan in agonizing pain.

Quickly, you turn over and lift yourself from the ground as you stumble for balance. Lightheaded and dizzy, the limited air flow had caused you to nearly pass out. Had you not made your move in time, you surely would have passed out. As you level your feet, you lean forward and prepared for take off as your body develops a swift running stance, when you felt the man’s hands grab on to your ankle. With a harsh pull towards his chest, your body’s momentum fails you as your chest falls to the ground, knocking the breath out of your chest. He roughly turns you over and once again, straddles your waist line as he pinches his knees to close you in. You watched as he raised the knife above head, ready to strike down and deliver a finishing blow. Your breathing escalates as your eyes frown fearfully. With his words, you scream out as you’re about to meet your demise. “Stupid little bitch!”

You wince your eyes shut and turn to face away. The sudden burst of stingy tears squeezed out from the corners of your eyes drip along the contour of your cheek, providing the only warmth you could possibly feel at that moment.

The sounds of choked up gasps caused you to slowly open your eyes and face forward. You could feel your brows raise in confusion, but migrate to sudden shock as you witness a clear view of the man’s throat. It was all you could see and yet you were able to ascertain that something was pulling the man’s head back, far back.

“W-w-wha-at….the fffuck!” The man was barely able to spew out as he struggled to speak and breathe. Inch by inch, you saw his head being peeled back. Whoever it was that had a hold on him definitely had the intention of snapping his neck in half.

With the man struggling for release, you felt his hand gripped around your neck tightening. You wiggle around, attempting to remove his hand while the other still grips the blade above your face. Suddenly, a deep voice comes from behind your would be killer. It was calm and flared a peculiar accent. “Let go of her neck, otherwise I’ll break yours.”

Another man? And he came to save you? How lucky for you! Though it was too soon to act joyful as you felt the grip around your throat pinching tightly. You felt your throat closing inward as you found yourself unable to breathe. Pounding against the man’s chest, your eyes develop tunnel vision when finally, the weight of his body is drastically lifted from you. Laying in a dazed and confused state, your narrowed vision allows you to look at your savior. He wore a mask, with a jean jacket under a black vest. A black cap covered most of his hair, with only the wispy ends peeking from underneath. He throws the man off to the side. The heaving rise and fall of his chest tells you of his immaculate strength as he resorted to using his upper body weight to lift the other man and toss him over as if he was nothing. For one second, his face turns down over to you, where your eyes meet briefly.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Is all he tells you before he takes his step and disappears from your view. You barely had any strength to move as your body recovers from the fatigue from the loss of oxygen. Your hearing on the other hand seemed to work fine as you listened in on the muffled screams of your attacker. It all faded as you finally succumbed and drift off to a state of unconsciousness.

You awoke in a darkened room, enclosed by silk and warmth, a total contrast from the environment you were in earlier. Despite not being able to see, you were able to ascertain that you were on a pillow top bed in what appeared to be a sky rise apartment, as deduced by the massive window view of the bustling streets and flashy media billboards on the neighboring towers. Whoever it was that saved and brought you back certainly was a person with great affluence. The comfort of the room enticed you to remain however, you knew you had to get up and grasp some answers.

Getting up, you realize that your phone was missing. More than likely it fell out of your pocket at the park during the struggle. Maybe your rescuer will take you back and help you find it.

You open the door and admire the main living room. Just like the bedroom, it has an impressive row of large windows that view the entire city.

“Wow…” you breathed out as you witnessed the apartment being lit up by the outside lights. What a fabulous place to live in.

Tip toeing into the main area, you looked around trying to find your shoes, but no luck. You peeked into all the bathrooms, guest bedrooms, and even inside the kitchen cabinets but to no avail were you able to find them. Strange.

The night view of the city captured your attention as you pondered the whereabouts of your shoes. The beauty of the starry sky hovering over bright city lights seized your attention for much longer than what you had anticipated. You lightly jump as you hear quiet footsteps from behind.

Snapping around, your eyes meet him once again. “It’s you…” you quietly murmured as he stepped into the light.

“Yeah…it’s me.” He responds back while licking his lip.

“You’re the one that…well, you saved me from that man earlier.”

He chuckles at your prospective point as his hands remain tucked into his jean pockets, causing for her his shoulders to shrug slightly. “Heh…yeah.”

His voice was so deep and alluring.

“Well…thank you.” You lightly chuckled. Without his mask you were able to see just how handsome he was. He appeared to be Asian, perhaps Japanese? Chinese? Or maybe Korean. Either way, he was perfectly sculpted and well built. “What was your name?” You ask shyly as you took notice of his intense eye contact.

“Jake. Aaaand you?” The way he drew out his tone and playfully pushed out his request caused you to melt. You’ve never seen anyone with such intense sex appeal. “It’s…y/n.”

“Huh…I dig the name.” His tongue rolls offensively in his mouth as his lips part open, allowing you to view the act.

“Could I ask you a question?” You propel shyly once again. “Sure.”

You take up on his answer and politely asked him about a stumbling thought that suddenly hit you. “Can I ask how you knew I was in trouble? The park was large and it was so empty. Did you know that man that attacked me?”

Your question was out of pure curiosity, not at all suspicious. It’s not uncommon for a person to walk alone at the park, even at night. But you had a gut feeling that it wasn’t just pure luck that your savior happened to be at the exact location at the right time. You smiled lightly as you felt yourself being quite smitten with the man before you.

“I didn’t know him…but I knew of his intentions.” He calmly breathes out. You nod lightly as you chuckled. “Oh so you must be a detective or something.” You playfully pushed out, yet the sincerity was genuine as you really had thought that the man was investigating the attacker. It wasn’t until he shook his head, your brows furrowed in slight confusion. “Oh…well how did you know then?” You asked, formulating a slight smile as you yearned to hear out the explanation.

“The look in his eye.”

You shift your gaze from left to right before making it back to center. You were so confused by his vague statement, you urged him to elaborate. “The look?”

“Yeah, the look.”

He remained evasive to give closure, which caused you to feel a little uneasy as you noticed his steps forward. “That same one that I get…from time to time.”

You piece the code of his wordings all too quickly, yet you felt frozen as he closes the distance. With a terrible feeling in your gut, you listen as he continues to enlighten you with his shuttering voice.

“As many times as I get that feeling…that look in my eye…it always came with the intention of taking something valuable away. I violate and plunge to destroy their minds endlessly…but with you-“

He pauses as he reaches up and softly punches your hair, rubbing them together. “This is the first time I’ve wanted to give…and build something beautiful.”

His hazy look showed you that the man seemed to be in lust or smitten. But it was also dangerous, and the meaning of his words told you of his intentions. You backed away, trying to figure out your next move as you find it impossible to believe that you went from one attacker to seemingly another. “D-don’t…wait…just-“ you stutter out as Jake predicted your movements. With force and strength, he grips your arms and levitates your entire weight in mid air as he lays you down on the couch. His movements were much more gentle than the previous attackers. He even went so far as to gently trail his fingertips along your scrapes, which he had cleaned while you were unconscious.

“Poor babygirl…he hurt you, huh?”

You wiggled and tried to break free as he hovered above. Leaning into your ear, he whispers a deadly conclusion of the other man’s end. “He‘s never going to hurt you again, Princess.”

Your movements come to a pause as you look at him confused and shocked. Watching as Jake bit down on his lip, he smiles deviously as he proceeds to fill you in.

“I made him promise not to.”

You breathed cautiously as you eagerly asked. “…what…did you do?”

Unexpectedly, his words told you of a different ending than what the previous has led you to believe.

“I killed him anyway. You can’t trust a man like that, believe me.”

Burrowing his head into your neck, you felt the sweet kisses of his lips as you screamed out, trying to break free from the developing grasp he formed around your wrists. He continued on as you squirmed from under him. “I tore his mouth apart, and pissed in it. I did it for what he was trying to do to you…babygirl…”

You panic as you kick into open air, he was so much more strategic with his hold and movements that he left no part of him vulnerable to your creativity. “No one is ever going to hurt you. You’re safe. You’ll always be safe. I’m going to keep you. I’ll make you happy….as long as you make me happy.”

You felt his tongue trailing over your collarbone as his large hand took hold on both of yours. Pinning them over your head, he unbuttons your blouse and unzips your jeans. “Stop!” You cry out.

“You belong to me. I'm never going to let anyone touch you like that…the way you have me feeling right now…you wicked girl.”

Raising his head, he pinches your chin with his two fingers as he levels your vision with his. A dangerous smirk on his face tells you of a heated passion, lust, desire and even love…but not the type that you read in romance stories or saw in movies. No. This was a type of sentiment that was full of conflict, chaos, and poison…coming from him, it was going to be deadly.

With a few strokes of his thumb, he softly tells you…

“Just relax baby…I’m not going to treat you like the others. You deserve better…you deserve the world, and I’m about to give it to you.”

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo@nikstrange@heeshees@moonmoongi@heesitation@heeseung-min @nctsslut @heeseung-min @addictedtohobi

#jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake sim #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha hard hours #enha angst #enha scenarios

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the-curator1 · 11 months

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Oceans of Time

Vampire!Cardinal Copia x Female Reader

Author's note: This story was inspired by the amazing fic At The Mercy of Time(And Fragmented Memories of you) by @piaart. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend doing so! Additionally, this is the first fic that I am publishing on my blog, so it may have some flaws. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out to me.

AO3 Link

Summary: Copia and you love each other deeply, unconditionally. But cruel Fate decides to pull you apart from his grasp again and again. The story of two star-crossed lovers always reaching out to each other through the endless ocean of time. (≈6300 words)

Tags: Angst, so much angst, I put our poor Cardinal through hell, but I swear there is a happy ending (kind of), catholicism, Copia is originally a Catholic Cardinal, death, grief, loss of faith, implied smut, some depiction of graphic violence, vampirism, blood-drinking, some bits of unhinged and feral Copia, revenge, romance, some fluff, mostly Copia's POV, Shamelessly inspired by 1992 Dracula (the title ofc, a dialogue and a few elements in the story)

Vatican City, Italy, August 1677

“You cannot do such a thing.”

The Camerlengo looked up at the Cardinal with a stern expression. His bushy eyebrows were so furrowed that they almost hid his dark eyes. The corners of his thin lips were turned up in a sneer of disgust and anger. The man had the appearance of a hawk, with his long, pointed nose and vicious, sharp gaze.

“Well, of course, I can, Cardinal. Not only can I do it, but I must." growled the Camerlengo.

Copia felt a shiver run down his spine and looked down again at his hands clasped in his lap. Shame. Anger. Fear. Worry. All these insidious feelings swirled in his mind as in a demonic waltz. But at that moment, all his thoughts were focused on you...

Oh dolcezza… Forgive me.

“You have broken your vows, Cardinal, " continued the camerlengo in a chilling tone, "Consider yourself lucky that I am not asking His Holiness to dismiss you immediately. Despite your lamentable mistake, you are still a good asset to our Church. Besides, the family of your... lover has urged us not to cause a scandal. Let's hope that this mission will help you think straight again. May God guide you back to the right path.”

Copia shot his head back towards his superior. His throat was knotted, and his heart seemed to hiccup in his chest as if it was shaking with sobs.

No. No...

They couldn't...

They had no right to keep you apart like that!

The Cardinal's hands tightened violently on his knees. He wished it was not his kneecaps he was squeezing between his fingers, but the neck of that old disgusting vulture. But he repressed these violent urges as well as he could. Without a word, Copia rose from his chair. Like an automaton, he bowed his head and walked towards the door.

Italy, Rome, August 1677

You looked out of your bedroom window, your hand resting against the cold glass. Mother had carefully locked the door to your balcony... she was probably afraid you would run away or jump to embrace the pavement two floors below.

Rome had never looked so foul and so fair, bathed in the glorious light of the evening. The sun cast its golden rays on the facades of the buildings bearing their bold fronts. Everything here was pompous, grandiose. Everything was too much. There was no questioning the beauty and majesty of the city... but how you hated it at that very moment. In your eyes, it was the monster of stone, marble and cobblestone that held the man you loved in its horrible clawed hands. It symbolized everything that was keeping you apart. You could have run away together… But where to go? Your family would not let you run away… never.

Oh, if he had not been a Cardinal...

The foolishness of your inner reflection struck you at once. If he had not been Cardinal... his beautiful green eyes would never have met yours in the first place. Your beautiful, sweet Cardinal Copia. Why did you have to be discovered? Why had Father decided to cancel his meeting and return home so soon? Why did he have to catch you and the man he had hired to be your preceptor in a passionate embrace?

"It was bound to happen one day, amore..." whispered your Cardinal when he had come to visit you after the incident under cover of darkness. You had been able to escape the confinement of your room with the complicity of one of your maids.

"And now, Copia? What are we going to do now?" you had asked, your eyes brimming with tears. Your forehead rested gently against that of your lover. His gloved hands rested on your face, his thumbs drawing delicate circles on your skin.

"I don't know, my love. I don't know. But I want you to know one thing: Nothing can keep me away from you. Not even the Almighty, not even Satan below... I will always come back to you."

You had not been able to find the words... they were stuck in your throat. You had kissed your lover fervently, pouring all the love you felt for him into that kiss. The streets were quiet around you, there was only the distant shouting of drunkards mingled with the ringing of the church bells. But you could almost hear the wild beating of your broken heart.

Always. Always.

Your time had almost run out. You had untied your favourite silk scarf off your neck and slipped it into his hands. You had carefully infused the scarf with your perfume. Copia had studied your gift with his wide bright eyes. There was a consuming devotion in his eyes as if he were holding Christ's shroud in his hands.

Your Cardinal had kissed your forehead one last time. In the darkness of the street where your secret meeting took place, you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes. He had not said anything after that. Maybe the words were stuck in his throat too. Maybe he was afraid he could not say goodbye anymore if he had said something more.

Copia had taken a few steps back… and almost as quickly as he had arrived, Copia turned on his heels and let himself be swallowed up by the darkness of the streets.

When you heard the stairs creak at the end of the corridor, you snapped out of your thoughts... It was them. You saw them arrive in the courtyard of your house in their austere carriage. You were not surprised. You were fully aware that, regardless of being the daughter of a powerful family, there remained only one destination to seek solace following such disgrace.

September 1677, somewhere off the coast of Italy...

Copia watched the coast disappear in the distance. The sea was calm this morning. But the gentle sound of the waves did not soothe him at all. Copia was well aware of what they must have done to you... and if he had not been so devastated he would have laughed at the irony of the situation. You, who had committed a sacrilege with a member of the clergy, were now compelled to join their ranks for the rest of your life.

He hated every moment he spent away from you and your arms. He hated every breath he took without feeling your skin against his. He hated the people who took him away from you.

Oh, how he missed you...

How he missed your touch, how he missed burying his face into your hair, how he missed the sound of your voice. He felt like a part of him was missing, he felt like they tore a whole limb from him, he felt like they pulled his heart off his chest.

Copia hated the boat that carried him away from the Italian coast. Away from you.

Copia hated the red cassock he wore, it looked like it weighed thousands of pounds. The cross he wore around his neck felt like the chains of a slave

Copia hated the Church.

Copia hated the God that separated him from the love of his life.

But in this whirlwind of hatred and resentment, Copia did not forget the promise he had made. He held the scarf up to his face to breathe in your perfect scent; it was his greatest treasure. Then he held it to his heart...

I'll be back, amore...

Italy, from Genoa to Rome, 16 February 1681

His heart was pounding in his ribcage. It was beating faster and faster as the city of Genoa loomed on the horizon. All those years away from you had been torture. Those years spent in that alien land had been particularly trying for Copia. He had never been able to get used to India and to his mission there. How could he have preached the word of God when he no longer believed in it?

The Camerlengo had been wrong about everything. This mission had not put him back on the right track. On the contrary, all that time spent away from you had only increased his longing for you, his burning desire to be close to you.

All the thoughts that should have been for the Lord were for you. And, God, some of them were anything but righteous. He had not forgotten you, of course. The Cardinal had thought of you every minute of every day. How could he have forgotten your smile? The softness of your hair? The opal of your eyes? The melody of your voice?

He had held your precious scarf to his face every night, breathing in your scent. Sometimes, as his mind lingered on you, he had let his hands roam over his own body. And he had felt no shame for it. Eventually, the scent of you on the scarf began to fade. It broke his heart when he noticed it. But the token was still something that had belonged to you. It had been wrapped around your neck. It had touched the skin of this part of your cherished body, a place where he liked to kiss you... and in the Cardinal’s love-struck mind, it was more than enough.

The Cardinal now had only one thing to look forward to: seeing you again, holding you in his arms and never letting go again.

It hadn't been very difficult to find out which convent your dear parents had sent you to. They were zealous and wealthy Catholics who were graciously giving money to the abbeys and convents of Rome. Especially that one.

He hoped that his authority as Cardinal would give him the right to see you, for even five minutes. His heart had not calmed down since he had got off the boat in Genoa.

Upon returning to Rome, his heart continued to beat furiously in his chest. He did not care to go to Vatican City to announce his return first. The urge to see you was too strong. Standing before the convent gates where you had spent the past four years did little to alleviate his condition. It felt as though his heart longed to escape its confines.

As he had hoped, his red cassock had a great effect on the Mother Superior. She didn't seem suspicious when Copia told her his name. She seemed too focused on this habit to remember that it was the name of the Cardinal at the heart of a scandal within the Church a few years earlier. Even if the scandal did not blow in the eyes of the world, surely she would know about it. There were whispers, even amongst the clergy. But when he mentioned your name and asked to see you, the old woman's eyes darkened

The Cardinal's eyes were still dry when he placed his gloved hand on the tombstone engraved with your name. But he felt as if his whole being was shaking. He felt as if everything he was had been torn to shreds.

He had not been there.

He knelt down on the grass. The cold winter wind was biting at his skin but he did not care. He removed his gloves. His fingers delicately traced the outline of your name in the stone, but they tensed when they reached the dates engraved underneath. Your life was so short... You were too young. Far too young. And good. Far too good. Your family did not even retrieve your body. You were buried in the graveyard of the convent.

He had not been there.

Copia felt an awful pain searing behind his eyes as scorching tears attempted to break through his tightly closed eyelids. It seemed like the rapid beating of his heart, once intense on the boat's deck, had ceased entirely the instant the Mother Superior uttered the words.

Illness. Death.

He could not remember exactly what the old woman had said after "She is gone, Cardinal." He just remembered the feeling of a hot knife through his heart, followed by a dreadful sense of hollowness.

He pulled your scarf out of his pocket and brought it to his face. He knew that he never would be able to breathe in your scent anymore… and it killed him inside.

He had not been there. Copia leaned his forehead on the cold stone as he used to do with you. The realization that you were gone was slowly settling in. It was clawing at what remained of his heart, it was tearing his wretched soul apart.

You were gone and he had not been there for you.

Did you think about him when you realized what was happening to you?

When you had become too weak to do anything but lay in bed, did you hope for him to come back before it was too late? He promised after all…

Did you call out for him when the cold hands of Death seized you?

Still leaning on your tombstone, the Cardinal began to weep. The howling of the wind blended with the sound of his sobs. After a while, Copia stopped crying. He felt like he had no tears left to cry. His sadness had faded. Now he felt a burning anger. A hot anger blazing like the fiery pit of hell. It was their fault.

Those who sent him away. Those who sent you in this wretched place. It was His fault!

The God who had torn you away from his embrace. The God who was doing nothing but taking.

With an almost animalist cry, Copia tore the cross pendant from his neck and threw it away with force. At once, the wind gave a sharp howl, blowing its cold breath in Copia’s face.

“Damn you” the Cardinal snarled, looking up at the sky. “I will avenge her. And not even you will be able to stop me. You will see. You will see”

With that he turned away, not sparing a glance at your tombstone.

The night had thrown its dark cloak upon Rome and the convent. Copia had left earlier without a word, storming out of the convent like a gust of wind. But his madness and desperation led him back there. He had removed his cassock to climb the closed gates of the convent but he had carefully put your scarf into the pocket of his trousers. He had almost impaled himself on the pickets of the fence. But that did not stop him.

The Cardinal was now standing in front of the small chapel, his chest was bare, exposed to the vicious assault of the chilling wind that was howling louder than ever. His chestnut hair was dishevelled. He looked like a madman. Maybe he was a madman. He tried to open the door of the chapel but it was locked. With a growl of rage and frustration, Copia slammed his fists against the wooden door.

Damn it.

The garden that surrounded the chapel and the abbay was plunged into darkness. But the full moon was casting a pale glow, it was enough for Copia to see around. He squinted his eyes. In the dim light cast by the moon above, he saw an axe stuck in a log of wood. The winter was cold, the nuns surely needed some wood to light their fireplace. Copia blessed the cold of winter and the nun who carelessly left this axe here. The Cardinal pulled out the axe of the log and then walked back to the chapel. Without a second thought, he lifted the sharp object in the air and struck the old wooden door with force. He struck again.

Again.

He was breathing heavily. His mind was blank. It was his purpose. It was his design.

He did not care if the sound of the blade hitting the door might awaken the whole convent. Eventually, the door gave in under the Cardinal’s assault. Copia pushed the door roughly and entered the quiet chapel. He walked to the altar, still holding the sharp axe in his hand.

"What are you going to do now?!" Copia shouted in the silence of the chapel. "I told you that I would avenge her! You took her away from me. What do you have to say for yourself?"

His shaky voice echoed in the empty chapel, but there was no answer, no sign. The silence was deafening.

"Well, of course," Copia huffed.

His eyes were wide, his pupils fully blown, as an insane grin curled his lips. Hysterical laughter escaped his mouth.

"You know what, Lord?" he hissed. "I renounce you. You took away my chance to be with her... I know someone who will give me the power to avenge her."

With that, he plunged the axe into the large cross that hovered over the altar. The force of his own strength surprised him as the axe sank into the stone. Suddenly, a crack appeared, and the stone split open. A tiny carmine stream escaped the crack, swiftly rushing down the cross, growing larger and larger by seconds until it transformed into a monstrous red cascade.

The Cardinal instinctively took a step back, yet curiously, he felt no fear. His insane grin spread wider across his face as a strong metallic scent filled his nostrils. Darkness enveloped him like a cloak, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Finally, someone answered his call.

When he opened his eyes again, he witnessed the stream of blood pouring onto the marble floor of the chapel, a sight that ignited an intense sense of thirst as if he had not drunk in ages. He licked his lips. In that instant, the carmine liquid appeared to him like the finest wine. Without hesitation, Copia lunged forward, consumed by greed, and drank voraciously.

Rome, May 1677

You erupted into laughter as your lover pressed himself against you, peppering your neck with a multitude of feather-light kisses. His moustache playfully tickled your skin, sending delightful shivers down your spine. He gently pushed you on the bed.

"Copia!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your laughter, as you wriggled beneath him. "Stop, you are tickling me!"

The Cardinal hummed on your skin, pressing you further on the bed as a low laughter rumbled in his chest. “What if that is my purpose, amore?” he purred in your ear as he planted more kisses on your neck. His teeth were gently nibbling at your delicate skin. His voice was husky and filled with desire. “I love to make you squirm”

Your laughter dissolved into soft moans as Copia tugged the hum of your low cut to press open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. He was not playing innocently anymore, his playful innocence had subsided with a burning desire for you. His warm lips seemed to leave your skin burning and aching for more. The Cardinal pressed his body up against yours, making you gasp.

“Oh amore, you smell so good, your skin is so soft… you feel so good” he whispered as he kissed your neck and your collaborate with increasing fervor You blushed profusely, running your hands across his back. If this was so wrong, why did he feel so right? "Copia," you murmured, worry piercing in your voice, "My maid is in the next room... what if she hears us?"

Undeterred by your concerns, the Cardinal continued his delightful ministrations, his touch growing bolder as he gently lifted your dress, causing your blush to deepen.

"She will not hear us, amore... she never hears us," he murmured against your skin, his voice was carrying a playful smile. "She thinks I am a righteous Cardinal who teaches you about Roman theatre. How boring…"

You chuckled softly, throwing your head back into the pillow to let your lover devour your skin. But the worry did not leave your mind

“But…” Copia's finger gently pressed against your lips, silencing your words

“Hush, Tesoro… I need you now. Let me love you… please” he pleaded, his gorgeous green eyes filled with longing.

As you looked into your lover’s beautiful eyes, you found that you could not resist him and his warm embrace. You wanted this. As much as him.

But you both knew that the hardest thing to do now was to keep quiet amidst the intensity of your embrace.

Vatican City, later in the night, 16 February 1681

Copia plunged his hands into the fountain, meticulously cleaning the blood from his face and skin. His hunger was appeased. A chilling calmness was surrounding him. Your father's life had been swiftly taken and Copia could still taste his bitter blood on his tongue. The man had consistently treated you poorly, he would yell at you, he would belittle you, and he did not care about your happiness. He had banished you to that wretched convent without remorse. He was one of the people responsible for your cruel separation and he deserved his fate. Copia was certain of it. The pathetic man had begged for his life, but Copia swiftly reduced him to silence when he snatched his throat with his teeth.

The Cardinal gazed at his own reflection in the tranquil water of the fountain, his eyes fixed on the image staring back at him. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat as he noticed a profound change. His once vibrant green left eye had transformed, now displaying a chilling white hue. Copia stood there in shock for a moment… then a wide smile spread across his face.

He really did answer my call, he mused, I don’t know what I am anymore… but I know I have the power to avenge my darling.

He mused that his new gaze would look so much better with some black paint around his eye. Once he was sure that his hands were clean from the dirty blood of your father, he retrieved the silk scarf from his pocket. He held it to his face; savouring the lingering traces of your sweet fragrance. He found that he could smell those last remnants better than before.

“Do not worry, amore,” he whispered, “I will exact vengeance upon them all, and then I shall uncover a way to reunite us once more.”

With that, he put the cherished scarf back in his pocket and headed toward the clergy’s quarters. He had a Camerlengo to rip apart

Time passed slowly, the seasons changed, and the world kept turning and wavering faster.

But Copia remained.

Copia had found all the people responsible for your separation and he destroyed them all. But once he was done, what more could he do? He was now a creature of the night and he could not go back to who he was before. Copia harboured no desire to do so. He embraced his new existence and the power bestowed upon him by the Dark Lord. He stood there, a timeless observer. He would watch the people around him bloom and wither in the blink of his white eye and then fall into the pit of oblivion.

But Copia remained.

And he would not let you fall into oblivion. The world may have moved on, and Rome may have forgotten but Copia embarked this endless journey through the vast ocean of time, carrying the flame of his love for you. He would not let a day pass without mourning you. Each night under cover of darkness, he would visit you. He would lay flowers in your tomb. He would kneel beside your resting place, whispering words of love and devotion, hoping you would somehow hear them.

You were gone.

But Copia remained.

He remained in his loneliness, in his longing for you. The price to pay for being able to avenge you was high: He had to navigate without you.

Copia remained.

Despair would gnaw at Copia's soul as he grappled with the cruel realization that the memory of your voice was slipping away from him.

Copia remained.

But he did not forget his promise. He knew you were there. Somewhere.

He would sail until he finds you.

Rome, a Garden in the Sun, April 1677

“Amore, you do really have a gift, you know that?” You smiled, feeling your lover's arms envelop you as he rested his chin on your shoulder. The soft fabric of your silk scarf gently caressed his skin. Your hand moved with precision, delicately tracing lines on the paper.

“Hush” you urged, your voice barely above a whisper “You will scare it away…” You gestured toward the small sparrow perched on a nearby branch, its cheerful chirping filling the air. Copia kissed the top of your head. The garden of your parent’s house embraced you both with its serene beauty. You were well hidden behind a massive oak. The gentle ray of sunshine caressed his skin. The scent of the blooming flowers filled his nostrils. The air was filled with the sound of chirping birds and the soft rustling sound of leaves in the breeze

He was supposed to teach you latin right now… but the weather was so beautiful and you wanted to draw. You had pleaded him to let you go outside. How could he say no to you?

“My little artist, so perfect” he hummed contently as he held you in his arms.

In an instant, the sparrow spread his wings and flew away, startled by the snap of a branch. Disappointment washed over you, and you let out a sigh as you set your pencil down on the sketchbook.

“Oh cara…” Copia leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. At that moment, he made a silent promise to himself. One day, you would both fly away like the little sparrow. He would whisk you away to a breathtaking place, a sanctuary filled with thousands and thousands of beautiful birds, where you could freely admire their splendour to your heart's content.

London, England, October 1808

Copia's existence was lonely, an enduring consequence of his immortality. He had to live alone. He did not want anyone besides, anyone but you. Copia had left Rome for a while now, reluctantly leaving your tomb behind him. He would go from city to city, from country to country, hoping that he would find a sign of you.

But he had been searching for so long now and the former Cardinal started to feel hope falter within his heart. Could he ever find you again? Were you really out there? Maybe his twisted mind had been deluded. You were dead and gone. How could he ever be able to find you again? He held his hand to the pocket of his black cloak, the place where he kept your silk scarf close to his heart… time had damaged it and your scent had surely faded away now but he kept it nonetheless.

Copia wandered in Spitalfields. It was late at night. The moon was throwing its pale light on the grey cobblestone of the street. The sound of silence filled the air only disturbed by the echoes of his heels on the pavements. The market which was usually overcrowded looked eerie at night. But none of those things aroused fear in Copia’s heart. Copia was hungry.

Was there anyone foolish enough to go out at night in such a wretched place? Copia hoped so. But as he looked around, he saw nothing but cats and some rats. The immortal being wrinkled his nose… he had eaten rats a few times before to alleviate his unbearable hunger. But tonight, he did not want to feed on some rodents. He wanted fresh blood. He wanted to feel the thrill of sinking his teeth in someone’s neck. He had become this kind of monster after all... And he had done that many times before. Suddenly, Copia stopped.

There she was. His prey.

The woman was sitting on the edge of a small wall before an old statue, her hair was hiding her face. She was focused on something, blissfully unaware of the threat that was hanging over her. What was she doing out in this place at night anyway? This girl was undoubtedly looking to get herself killed! Copia licked his lips, his hunger growing. He could already taste her sweet blood on his tongue. He would...

Suddenly, the woman turned her head toward him. She gasped upon seeing him, her sketchbook dropping to the floor. In that instant, Copia's cold heart skipped a beat.

It could not be...

This woman wore your face!

Her eyes, her hair, the outline of her lips, the colour of her skin... She was your spitting image. His eyes snapped to the sketchbook on the ground. When it fell, it had opened on the page of a drawing… a sparrow. Copia felt his heart sink into his chest. His eyes widened, and his face turned paler than ever. He took a step back as the woman jumped off the wall

"I have a knife!" the woman shouted. "I won't hesitate to cut you open if you try something!"

Copia's heart sank even further and his hunger disappeared all at once. The woman had your voice, he was certain of it. Even if he could not remember the melody of yours a moment before, he felt it was unmistakable; she was you. He had finally found you.

“I will not hurt you, bella,” Copia said eventually.

He took a step further, knowing that the darkness still concealed him from you. You pulled out a knife from your cleavage and pointed it towards him. A low chuckle escaped Copia’s lips, to his dismay, it sounded sinister. He found that he had forgotten how to laugh gleefully. But he did not let this dreadful realization hit him too hard. He had found you again.

“Oh cara… You don’t know how long I have searched for you” In the dim moonlight, he saw you frown. A hint of confusion and terror flashed in your bright eyes.

“What…?”

Copia stood just a couple of meters away from you. Now, you could see his face.

Please remember me.

The vampire closed the distance between the two of you. You were obviously scared, trapped by the wall behind you. Frozen like a deer in headlights, you couldn't move. He knew he probably looked scary with his dissimilar eyes and the black paint around them. But slowly, and with careful movements, Copia raised his hands to your beautiful face. He was shaking with emotion, his mismatched eyes filled with love and devotion. Please remember me.

"Please do not be scared, amore," he whispered, his voice soft like the murmur of a summer breeze.

You were still holding the knife toward him, but you never struck him. He could see that fear was gripping you, yet did not do anything to stop him from touching you. Eventually, his hands grazed your face as he cupped your cheeks tenderly. It felt like an electric shock, surpassing anything he had ever dreamed of; it was pure bliss. You were here, and he was touching you. The knife slipped from your trembling hand.

Please remember me.

He could see that you were closing your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for the worst, but instead of something harmful, you only felt his gentle touch.

Please remember me.

“I have crossed oceans of time to find you” he murmured, drawing soft circles on your skin Time seemed to stop as you opened your beautiful eyes to look at him. But when he eagerly plunged his gaze into yours, the sharp knife of sorrow pierced through Copia’s heart. You did not remember.

Your eyes were filled with confusion and intense fear. Suddenly, you shoved him away and ran. Almost sounding like a wounded animal, he called your name desperately—or the name that was your many years ago. But you did not stop. You did not turn around. You ran. And let yourself be swallowed up by the darkness of the streets.

Copia stood there for a long, stunned. He felt like his cold heart was bleeding out in his chest. With a shaky breath, he leaned to retrieve the sketchbook and the knife you had left behind in his shaking hands. They would join your silk scarf on his aching heart.

The next time Copia saw you, you were living another life, another life that he could have shared with you. Once again, he tried to reach you, only to be met with confusion and fear. His heart broke each time he tried until eventually the pieces of his heart could not be split any further.

It happened again many times after. He met you again. And again. It seemed as though the universe was trying to make up for all the years you had spent away from his eyes. However, it remained consistent in its cruelty. He would encounter you in all your lifetimes..

After a while, he decided to stop trying to get to you, to explain to you that you were his soulmate. Once he discovered you, he would simply watch you from afar most of the time. Every time you drew your last breath, he would embark on another search for you. He would watch you navigate through your lives, sometimes with a darling by your side.

How he wished he could be them...

The jealousy was hard to endure. Sometimes, he would even think of ripping these people apart out of bitter envy. But how could he blame them? You were so wonderful. And, in the end, Copia wanted you to be happy.

But as time flowed, and as he met and fell in love with you repeatedly, a cruel pattern emerged. Each time he discovered you more swiftly than before, fate seemed determined to tear you away from him just as quickly.

In this lifetime, you were a valiant nurse leaving to care for soldiers during the war. He saw you for a short moment on the platform of a train station before you climbed onto the train that would lead you to your ruin. In another, you were an ill girl of the night whom he managed to hold in his arms for one blissful night.

Every time, you were snatched away by Death with increasing haste. And always, you were robbed of your youth. The universe seemed eager to pluck you at the height of your bloom, as if unwilling to witness the slow decay of the magnificent flower you were.

But that meant you never knew a peaceful death.

That one time he attempted to spare himself the agony of finding you only to lose you again, you crossed his path unexpectedly.

The oceans of time were moody and tumultuous. You could never travel on the same boat. Each time he reached out for you, to grab you in his arms and never let go, the storm would snatch you away from him. Whatever he was trying to do, his heart ached. But he found that the pain was more intense when he could not see you...

So he would keep looking for you. Again. And again.

He would find you.

He would lose you. Again. And again.

Italy, Rome, March 1676

"Father, is this necessary?" you asked, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Your father glared at you from across the room, his disapproving gaze piercing through your soul.

"Yes, it is," he hissed, his tone sending shivers down your spine. "You need a prestigious education. You are my daughter. I won't allow you to be a disgrace or a disappointment. Is that understood?"

You remained silent, you knew he did not really expect an answer. You were well aware of your father's harsh and bitter nature. He had always resented you, perhaps because you were a girl instead of the precious son he had desired. But you were his daughter nonetheless, he had to keep up appearances. You knew he would not tolerate anything that could bring shame upon the family.

Turning away, you looked out the window of the opulent living room, yearning to be in the garden, drawing and savouring the melodies of the birds as they welcomed the arrival of spring.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts.

You didn't turn around. You heard your father stride towards the door and open it.

"Ah, Your Eminence... it is such a pleasure to meet you," your father greeted with feigned politeness.

"Well, the pleasure is all mine, Signore," responded an unfamiliar voice, smooth and melodious.

A shiver ran down your spine upon hearing it. The voice was as sweet as honey, soothing and enchanting. You dared not turn around. Your father called your name, his tone a bit harsh. Slowly, you pivoted to face the man who had just entered the room. Your eyes met his captivating green gaze, and for a moment, it felt as if time had frozen around you. This man was undeniably handsome. When your father mentioned a Cardinal, you had envisioned an elderly and wrinkled figure. However, this Cardinal appeared quite young and attractive.

Donned in a red cassock, a wooden cross hanging from his neck, he possessed sharp features, with a slightly pointed nose. A small mustache graced his upper lip, while sideburns descended along his cheeks. His chestnut hair peeked from beneath the crimson biretta atop his head.

"H-Hello, Signorina," the Cardinal stammered after what felt like an eternity of gazing into each other's eyes. "It's... truly a pleasure to meet you."

A smile formed on your lips. In the end, you were grateful for your father's insistence on teaching you Latin.

Los Angeles, United States, after years of wandering in the dark…

Copia had finally started another life. Some people had reached out to him, knowing what he was, and they did not mind at all. On the contrary, he became a symbol of their faith. Their Dark Lord had heard his prayers and blessed him with the power of darkness. His immortality and power symbolized the almightiness of Satan. He no longer had to hunt for blood; they provided it for him. Copia had regained the title of Cardinal, offering a slight distraction from his pain.

Years had passed since he last encountered you in one of your many lifetimes. It seemed like the universe had finally ceased its torture, and now Copia sailed on calmer waters. But he had to endure the pain of your absence again. Yet, Copia could not help but wonder why he suddenly stopped meeting you. Was the universe preparing something? What other vicious tricks did it have in store for him?

He tried to dismiss these thoughts and focus on the tasks ahead. But for now, he wanted to make the most of his peaceful afternoon stroll in the garden. Its serene beauty and the sweet smell of the flowers gently enveloped him. The gentle ray of sunshine caressed his skin, and the birds were chirping...

"Um, hello? Cardinal?"

The voice behind him startled him for two reasons—the suddenness of the person's appearance and the oh-so-familiar melody of the voice.

Cara mia...

Copia slowly turned around.

There you stood before him, radiating beauty and sweetness. Your face, your hair, your eyes, the colour of your skin and the beautiful outline of your lips. You smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. His eyes wandered to the silk scarf you wore around your delicate neck. It looked like the one he had no stop wearing against his heart all these years.

Of all the encounters he had with you, it was the first time you approached him on your own accord, the first time you reached out to him. A glimmer of hope shone bright in his mind. Warmth settled in his heart as he smiled back at you.

Maybe it was finally time. Maybe his journey through the oceans of time had finally come to an end. Perhaps he could finally set foot ashore.

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