#freya fanfiction

[infernalodie]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐚

“'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘓𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦“

Inspo: Giveon - All To Me

Pairing: Freya x Fem!reader

Summary: She had you all to herself...

Warnings: Just pure smut in a tree, fingering, queen kink, and use of petnames.

Words: 1845

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

You swore that each time you adventured far from home, the blistering colds would soon enough cause your limbs to freeze up and fall off. Mimir always took that moment to tease you while your father would tell you to stop your fussing and to endure it. But you never saw the reason for you, Atreus, and your father to go hunting when it wasn’t needed. Atreus was the hunter while you had preferred staying home and training. Father continued to say that although that was good, your need to learn hunting would benefit the group.

So, here you were, in the woods wandering around with your mother’s bow and your sword tight in your grasp. Alone as you were the second oldest and more trusted than Atreus ever would be. But your idea of hunting was wandering around until you found something worthy of your attention. Yet, your mind was already preoccupied with a specific woman, blurring your attention to the main task at hand.

“I don’t understand why she won’t let me see her,” you muttered to yourself, kicking a clump of snow out of your path. Since Fimbulwinter had washed over Midgard, the sight of snow had been more pleasing to your eyes. The sky was constantly grey from the clouds producing the white flecks that melted against your cheeks. And as much as you hated the massive gusts of wind, you tolerated it for the beauty that was given in return. “That bitch doesn’t even care, does she? Is all flirty with me and then suddenly doesn’t come and see me when I hunt.”

You scoffed, pulling your sword from its sheath and tossing it towards a tree. Propelling the blade towards the trunk and hopping onto it before beginning to climb the tree. The snow clingings to the branches causing a stinging sensation to bite at the tips of your fingers. Finally reaching the precipice where you kicked your feet across the thick branch and back propped up against the base. Retrieving the rope around your belt that held your 6 rabbits and meat from a wolf that you had encountered in your walk, and wrapped the rope around you and the trunk as a restriction for if you fall in your sleep.

Snuggling closer in the furs made by your father, you stared out at the frozen-over Lake of Nine. A perfect view of Tyr’s temple and all the different realm travel towers. It was a sight behold to anyone that had a sane mind in these parts. But as of late, raiders were senseless, murderous dumbasses that you had butchered for fun, and a certain Valkyrie Queen had been creating problems for your father.

Closing your eyes, to seek the moments of peace that would be needed when you get home. Likely to hear how your father would already make you feel more a disappointment than you already did. So, a nice nap up in a tree, away from danger, away from your brother and father was well-needed. Although, Mimir would be a rather nice company right about now. You were sure the man would look to take hold of the beauty of the landscape from up here-

“What are you doing up here, pup?” That soft and rather amused voice made you yelp and snap your eyes open. But when you saw the source of the voice, your face grimaced in disgust as you relaxed back into your position. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Y/n.”

“I’m going to give you whatever look I feel like, Freya,” you scoffed, closing your eyes and crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Face forming a pouty look that Freya found endearing. “You have a lot of balls showing up out here after attacking us yesterday.”

Freya rolled her eyes at the mention. “I don’t seek to hurt you or Atreus, Y/n,” she sighed. “Your father took Baldur from me. You can’t be surprised.” The mention of the once invulnerable Aesir God made the mood shift slightly.

You understood where the woman stood and why she was doing what she was doing. Just as much as she understood why you would defend your family. There were certain things you kept from your brother about your mother because you knew it was better that way. Everything you did was meaningful, as do her decisions. Hell, you hadn’t even done anything when she last held Baldur in her arms. Kratos and Atreus were the ones responsible as you stood by, silent and tense.

But now, she was angry and fueled by the simple need for revenge. Leaving her a relentless, frightening, and rather hot “enemy” that came to visit you occasionally. In secret, of course.

Noticing the shift, Freya smiled and leaned toward you with a mischievous grin. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the thrill-” She inhaled sharply with her lips an inch away from yours. Problem was, your quick reflexes of your knife pressing to the belly of her jaw. Eyes now open and lips parted, teeth baring in a grin. Moving and pressing the knife further into her flesh, forcing her to turn her face for you to examine,

Under her eyes, there were streams of eyeliner that hadn’t been smudged the day Baldur was killed. The constant reminder of your father’s decision was on her face in the shape of tears. Her eyes were now smeared in a thick black eyeliner with hair was slightly frizzed from the cold weather over the past three years. Yet, somehow, she was a sight to behold.

“I like when a person keeps their word, Freya,” you said, forcing her chin up further. A wicked grin formed on your lips when the woman held her breath, eyes fluttering shut. “And I hate to be kept waiting, and cold.”

Freya felt all restraint be ripped from her body as she jolted forward and crashed lips upon yours. A sigh fell from the older woman’s lips as her tattooed fingertips softly brushed a few strands of your hair out of your face before she cupped your cheek, pulling you incredibly closer. You smiled, taking your dagger and stabbing it into the tree before wrapping your arms around her neck.

In what had occurred years ago, the death of Baldur had only brought you and Freya closer. It was sick and twisted, the Valkyrie knew this, but even before Baldur’s death, the two of you flirted and made feelings apparent for one another. Kratos hadn’t wanted you two to see one another after Freya swore vengeance, but you nor Freya cared. Because in this eternal winter, the both of you sought the warmth of one another’s bodies. That’s because you brought the best out of Freya and she’d needed a sense of rejuvenation, and you were that source.

“I missed you,” Freya breathed, lips barely parting as her hands moved feverishly against your clothes. You broke apart, panting, lips bruised, and heart hammering against your chest as you help shimmy your pants down just enough to give the Queen access to your soaking core. Although snow nipped at your lower back, the feeling of her warm fingers flicking across your drenched heat made it all the more worth it. The contrast was better than anything you’d ever felt or seen. “And I see someone has missed me as well.”

“Shut it.” Your hand wrapped around her throat, tugging her towards you to where your lips met once more. Teeth classing and tongue fighting for dominance over the other. Freya pressed the pads of her fingers to your clit, rubbing fast shapes in the sensitive bud. A gasp erupted in the back of your throat, your head was thrown back with Freya sliding her attention to the edge of your jaw. Kissing and sucking as you trembled underneath her.

Although you were the daughter of the Greek God of War, you were far more submissive than Freya took you for when she met you. Of course, on the battlefield, you showed your capabilities. But every now and then, with only Freya around, you showed yourself more perspective to her touch or words. Practically mewling at the faintest of holds she would have on your hand or your waist. And slowly, she broke away the shyness you held and now left you a far more dominant girl than when she found you.

Finally, Freya pushed her fingers past your clenching pussy, grinning when you moaned loudly, unapologetic as to who could possibly hear or see. Your walls quivered around her finger as she thrust into you with urgency. Either for you to reciprocate the relief you were feeling or to pay back for her mishap. Because even if she didn’t say it aloud, she hated that she left you waiting.

“You’re a gift from the gods, Y/n,” Freya whispered, breath hot against your neck as she nibbled at your pulse point. Feeling you twitch and let out shaky choked moans into her ear. Hands holding her tattered garments as she smiled softly against your cheek. “You are never leaving my side, pup.”

Her possessive words made you bristle with warmth as that knot in your stomach grew tenser. A groan falls from your lips. You tried to focus on her kisses, wanting nothing more than to reciprocate them. But the more her fingers gently nudged the sweet spot in you, you grew focused on that sensation. Melting more and more with each thrust of her fingers that weren’t afraid to scissor inside you, sweetening the bliss that flowed through your body.

“My Queen, I-” You shivered with a moan as your hold on her clothes grew tighter. Neck straining as your head rolled back. Freya took in the sight with admiring eyes, smiling widely, especially with the familiar title you had given her. Sending a wave of adrenaline through her system as her fingers sped up. “My Queen, I’m going to cum!” You whined, pulling her closer in case she even thought about pulling away.

But she would never do such a thing. Especially to her pup.

Her fingers curled and curled until they finally pushed you over the edge. Leaving you gasping and letting out a cry with your back arching. Toes curling in your boots as your legs curled and straightened with the explosive orgasm. Freya followed your pulse point with her lips, knowing just how much the feeling drew you feral. And her fingers slowly worked you down when your body twitched from the aftershocks.

Soon panting and slowly regain your bearings with a wave of exhaustion written on your face. But when your gaze met Freya’s, your lips curled into a cheeky smile. “I never thought I would fuck in a tree, but I guess we can cross that off our list.” Freya couldn’t contain the laugh that fell from her lips as you smiled cheerfully. She rested her forehead against yours, shaking her head slightly as she stared up at you adoringly.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

[frost-queen]

Watch the boyfriend (Reader x Elijah Mikaelson)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers   , @merlieve , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly   ,@denkisclown  , @wildieflower   ,@meyocoko  , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07  , @melsunshine   @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat,@rosecentury,   @imagines-by-her ,  @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn, @niktwazny303   ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Your foot bopped along with the beat. Earplugs in you sat sideways in one of the Victorian chairs. Legs over railing, scrolling on your phone. The Mikaelsons were out, meaning you had the house for yourself. You took the opportunity to do absolutely nothing and have some me time. Moving around the house with earplugs so that the music swallowed you whole. Now you were just sitting down, waiting for the Mikaelsons to come home. Your eye caught a glance of the first Mikaelson entering.

It was Kol. He nodded at you as you gave him a welcoming nod back. Freya entered next with Rebekah, chattering about something. Elijah and Klaus were the last Mikaelsons to enter. Elijah smiled upon seeing you. With vampire speed he rushed over to you.

Coming to hover over you, leaving a caring kiss on your forehead. You looked up at him, tapping at your lips. Elijah chuckling before kissing your lips upside down. You heard Klaus groan letting himself fall down in the sofa. You unplugged your earplugs, swinging your legs over the railing to the front.

“How was your day sweetheart?” – Elijah asked coming to sit on the railing with you. – “Enough about me, how was your day? Did it go well?” – you answered. Elijah took your hand, fiddling a bit with your fingers. Looking at him, you noticed some forgotten blood on his jaw.

Making your finger wet, you wiped it clean. – “You missed a spot dear.” – you told him. Elijah cupped your cheek. – “I’ll have you to clean me.” – he whispered to you. Klaus rolling with his eyes. – “Please lead this up to the bedroom.” – he scolded. Elijah and you both laughed. Klaus then got up, taking his brother by the arm.

“Come we have much to discuss.” – he said. You blew Elijah a kiss as he left with his brother. Putting in your earplugs again, you forgot what you were even mindlessly scrolling through. Video after video you were watching with little interest.

Swiping your finger up a few more times, the video’s flashed by. Till one video made you stop and watch. A girl’s voice speaking as you saw the camera getting pointed at a boy. “Hey guys can you watch my boyfriend for me.” – she said taking her leave. Her phone turned towards her boyfriend as he looked confused at the camera.

It made you laugh at how silly his expression was. – “What are you laughing about?” – Rebekah asked joining you in the open living room. You took out your earplugs, showing her the video. At first she furrowed her brows till she started laughing. She handed you back your phone. – “Do you think I should do it with Elijah?” – you questioned. Rebekah quirking her eyebrow up.

“He’d have no clue.” – she answered. – “Right!” – you called out. – “That would make it so funny!” – you told her. – “If you do make the video, send it to me.” – Rebekah suggested. – “So you can have leverage over him?” – you teased with a laugh. – “Then you should make one about Niklaus too.” – she joked. Rebekah’s phone rang as she got up, answering it. Speaking with her gave you stuff to think about. Getting more eager to do it with Elijah. You only had to wait for Elijah to finish his meeting with Klaus.

Waiting for Elijah felt like eternity so you decided to help out Freya in the meantime. Help her label some new bottles with ingredients for her spells and potions. The urge of filming the video growing by the minute. Freya noticed you were eager for something, but didn’t comment about it. Hearing the door open, it made you tense your muscles. From Freya’s witchy room, you saw a glimpse of Klaus leaving.

You quickly set the last bottles down. – “Sorry gotta run Freya!” – you called out, taking your leave. – “Thanks for the help Y/n!” – Freya shouted after you. You ran into the room where Elijah was. He looked surprised at you for a moment. – “Y/n, sweetheart.” – he called out. You walked up to him, placing your hands on his hips, getting on the tips of your toes for a kiss. Elijah happily kissed you back. 

“Someone missed me.” – Elijah said with a smile. – “Didn’t you miss me?” – you asked curious, already knowing the answer. – “Immensely.”  - Elijah responded cupping your cheek. His comment made you scrunch your nose with a teasing smile. Elijah booped your nose making you flutter your face back. – “How about a drink?” – You suggested, tilting your head a bit. – “I can’t say no to you spoiling me.” – Elijah replied.

You went over to the bar, taking two glasses. Leaning over the counter, you grabbed for the bottle. – “Need a hand sweetheart?” – Elijah asked. – “No!” – you called out loud. He moved his hands up in defence, not arguing with you there. He sat down as you returned with his glass. You then went over to grab your glass from the counter. Pulling out your phone. You pretended to hold it against your ear as if you had a call.

Elijah furrowed his brows, wondering who you were calling. You then moved your phone down, pressing the record button. Returning to Elijah, you made sure it was recording from the front. Setting your glass down on a good position. – “Hey guys can you watch my boyfriend.” – you said, setting the phone against the glass for support.

Elijah’s gaze went from you, down to your phone. Staring confused right at the camera as you took a run for it. Elijah turned around. – “Y/n?” – he called out. He then looked back at the camera, feeling like someone was watching him. He stared awkwardly at it, feeling awkward to even sip his drink. Nervously, he moved his hand up to greet whoever was watching him.

His gaze glided awkwardly away from the camera, trying to see if you were returning. When you weren’t returning, he sighed deep. Tapping his fingers patiently together it felt awkward for him. Elijah suddenly moved closer to the camera. His face getting full on the camera. – “I don’t need watching.” – he said to your phone. You had returned seeing him do that. It made you laugh loud, making him turn his head in an instant. – “Y/n!” – he shouted.

Continuing to laugh, you ran over to your phone to collect it. Your face came on the camera as Elijah looked over your shoulder in the camera as well. – “Has he behaved?” – you asked teasingly at the camera. Elijah looked in shock at you. – “I have!” – he called out, making you laugh loud, stopping the video.  

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[starlightandfairies]

Ahhh your writing is just perfect! ❤️ I dare for another idea hehe 🫶🏼 just maybe something where you're dating but you get incredibly jealous as Katherine appears back in town and you know of their past. So you think it would be better to step back for a while but Elijah notices immediately and misses you as you not show up at any occurrence. He later finds you at the Grill, talking with the Salvatores about that topic and Elijah eavesdropped the whole conversation, finally realizing what's wrong with you and feeling bad for this to happen, as he only has eyes and feelings towards you. Then one night he invites you over to his house and tells you about his feelings and that you don't have to worry about Katherine as she's long forgotten to him and he proves that to you that night? ☺️ Ugh I love cute and fluffy Elijah !

Description: With Katherine back in town, knowing Elijah's past with Katherine brings some unwanted shades of jealousy to the reader. 

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for both of your lovely requests! I hope you also enjoy this one and thank you as well for your kind words!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, F/fs = favourite flowers

Word Count: 1,279

First Person's POV 

Elijah and I currently sat in my favourite café, it was normally very quiet and once again today was one of those days. Elijah stared at me with admiration, he held my hand softly in his, rested small kisses on my knuckles and whispered words of devotion. 

"I'm just going to run to the bathroom." Elijah nodded, resting another kiss on my hand and finally let me go off to the bathroom, I did what I needed to do and finally came back out. I stopped in my tracks, seeing a brunette talking to Elijah, he looked less than impressed, he looked pissed and I could only assume what that meant. 

"Katherine." I simply stated, choosing to sit beside Elijah instead of across from him, the woman forced a smile to her lips the resting bitch look not fading from her eyes. I could feel this twinge of hurt and jealousy invading my being. Katherine took it upon herself to sit down and join us, Elijah let go of my hand and the once gentle and tender look that decorated his features was long gone. 

"What was your name again...?" 

"Y/n" I answered, hating the way she stared at Elijah, I knew of their past as Elijah had been quite open about his past relationships. Katherine nodded, shrugging and turned her attention to Elijah. I grabbed my things, kissed his cheek and pushed myself up to leave. 

"Bonnie wanted me to do something, I'll see you later." Elijah nodded, staring at me for a moment, I walked out before anything could be said and made my way to Bonnie's house. I asked Bonnie to do a spell, something that would allow me to go under the radar and not be found by Elijah considering that I would be distancing myself from the love of my life to conceal the ugly green monster. 

I had been cancelling dates, vague answers over the phone and would leave quickly with some bullshit excuse if Elijah appeared out of the blue. I could tell he could sense something was, I didn't want to mention that something was wrong and he hadn't questioned my actions. 

Elijah's POV 

Something was wrong with Y/n I couldm't place my finger on what it was, I couldn't understand what had happened and why she decided to almost disappear. I was missing her dearly, I missed seeing her smile, I missed her silly little jokes and her ability to make all my world seem so much better against all the issues going down. I missed her little rambles she would go on, the point is that I miss her and I don't know how to bring her back to me. 

I had finally been able to catch the trail and follow her around, see if I could understand what was going on and it took me to the Grill. I stood near the bar, blending into the ground and proceeded to listen in on her conversation with the Salvatore brothers. 

"I know it's silly of me but I can't help but be jealous." 

"Come on, you know that the noble fossil wouldn't cheat on you." Damon remarked, a clear roll of the eyes that made Y/n whack him lightly. 

"I being serious Damon! I know he has history with Katherine, when he was human he loved Tatia and then he found Katherine. What if her coming back brings back the feelings? I can't stand the idea of him leaving me for her and I don't want that to happen."

"Y/n have you tried speaking with Elijah? You know he'd hear you out and he'll be respectful of what you're going through." I let out a breath, I clenched my eyes shut, hating in myself for not reading the signs. If I knew sooner I would've done everything in my power to reassure Y/n that the only person my heart sings for is her. 

"He's a 1000+ year old vampire, he has more important things than dealing with my petty feelings." 

"Y/n listen here. Elijah worships the ground you walk on, he wouldn't think any less of you for worring about Katherine. We all know what Katherine is like and you have every reason to be worrying about it." Damon's response seemed to freeze her in her place. 

"Thank you..." 

Four nights later, I invited Y/n to come over, I will admit I was surprised when she agreed. We journed to my bedroom, she placed herself on the bed, fiddled with her hands and I took this as an opportunity to shut down the feelings of doubt and jealousy. 

"Y/n the other night, I overheard you speaking to the Salvatores about what's been going on..." She buried her face in her  hands, looking ashamed and worried about what I could possibly say. I sat beside her, took her hand and cupped her face in my other hand to ensure she met my eyes. 

"I understand your worries completely. I understand and I want you to know, that Katherine does not matter to me. She hasn't for 500 years. All I care about is you, no one else matters to me, just you. I love you with all my heart, I love your smile and your little jokes. I love when you leave me a note with a little picture, I worship the ground you walk on and I will go to hell back to prove that I love you as much as I do. I am awfully sorry that you haven't felt as if you could speak to me and I feel awful that this happened. But please, my love... know that I would never ever dream of breaking your heart and leaving you alone. You have my word, I promise you that I won't let the devil of a woman try and break us apart because she is long forgetten." 

She took a few breaths, Y/n moved closer to me, rested a kiss upon my forehead and took a moment before finding the courage to speak. 

"I am sorry, I'm sorry that I didn't come to you, I'm sorry I didn't allow you to know what was going on. It was fair of me to shut you out when you haven't done anything to warrent it. Please forgive me." 

"There's nothing to apologise or forgive for. My love, let me prove to you my undying and everlasting love for you." Her shy little smile brought a smile to my lips, I cupped her face in my hands, bringing her in for a kiss and listened to her hum as I brought her into my arms for an embrace, Y/n took a moment to breathe and whispers softly into my ear. 

"i love you, Elijah. I love you more than you'll ever know." 

"I love you more my love." 

First Person's POV 

Late into the night, we lay in each other's arms, Elijah and I lay naked under the blankets. My headed rest on his chest, he took my hand away lying across him and brought my hand to rest a sweet and longing kiss against my palm. The action was enough to keep my smile stuck on my lips and it was enough for me to snuggle in closer to him with my hand resting in his and his tender eyes continuing to made me feel incredibly loved and devoted to. 

[babynowornever]

My contribution to Nomae Week and this beautiful ship that made me write again. Thanks for reading!

@nomae-week-2024

[almostfoxglove]

have Javier and reader ever talked about his relations when he was in Columbia? them being best friends and all. did she laugh it off? did she understand? I'm curious ☺️

HI SWEETHEART this made my day when I got it. I'm so sorry it took a while to answer but I hope you don't mind that I got a little carried away with this one... everything's weird and bad right now so I'm gonna post this and try to get some sleep - I hope you're taking care of yourself <3 thank you soso much for sending this ask, seriously it means the world. ily!! here's some tenderness for you.

javier confesses about colombia

an I'LL CARRY YOU drabble

Explicit (18+) | Javier Peña x f!reader | drabble 1.1k words CW: Allusion to canon-typical violence & trauma and two idiots being sickeningly in love.

You never push back on anything but his blame. 

headcanons and full drabble below the cut!

in ICY, javi leaves to colombia (the first time) at twenty-eight (seen in part II). between that moment and when he returns aged thirty-six (seen in part I), they have no contact because her phone number changes, so when he calls her right after leaving (seen in dark heart), he thinks she's icing him out for good. *sobs gently*

we know he disappears again at the end of part I and doesn't return until he comes home for good at the end of part II. between those two meetings, they also have no contact - so his girl doesn't hear a thing about colombia (and by extension, all his sexual escapades), though she follows the news.

in the year after his return (all of part III) I don't think much of what happened down there comes up. javi's traumatized, still acclimating to civilian life while his girl's engaged *sobs harder*, and I imagine he's scared to admit his role in all the death and violence. if / when she asks, I think he keeps it pretty vague and chooses not to talk about the women he was involved with (they aren't together yet, after all)

POST-FINALE HOWEVER, javi tells her pretty much everything in little chunks at a time, including about all the women he slept with and what he knows of what became of them (I imagine the helena story is an especially tearful / difficult retelling, but it's important to him that she knows the truth). he's pretty terrified it'll scare her off, but I think we know her better than that.

here's a peek at what I imagine part of that conversation looked like <3

It’s the middle of the night and he’s not yet buying it, still has that little wrinkle above his nose that folds when he scowls cutting deep into his brow. Propped against the wall in his little twin bed, when you insist Javier’s dark eyes dodge yours and fall to the hands that knot themselves in his lap, anxious. But anxious is fine—just means he’s talking. Cutting off slabs of those missing years like meat from a bone for you to carry.

You’re grateful to be given anything at all. You know how deep trust like this really goes, unseen but branching. Mycelium underground. 

You never push back on anything but his blame. 

“Baby,” you say softly, and his jaw ticks as the word melts him a touch. 

His chin might flicker briefly like his body longs to cry, but if it does he wrestles it back before meeting you with dark, helpless eyes. “You don’t know,” he says, no cruelty in it. His voice not much more solid than a whisper and slaughtered red by guilt.

“Know you though,” you say.

The sigh that cuts out of him could shatter you. Javier turns to stretch out length-wise on the bed, his socked feet hanging off the end. You moved in weeks ago but haven’t gotten around to upgrading to a bigger mattress and part of you believes—though you’d never say it—that he’s waiting to get through all this first. Like the hurt of him needs to be here to do it: in the bed where you both once were small, held. So you allow it, take turns groaning in the daylight hours about your backs and hips and necks, and at night you hold each other ‘cause you have to, to fit in this little thing. Not that you wouldn’t, anyway. Not that either of you know how to sleep without the weight of the other’s body anymore. 

You always did sleep best beside him.

When he’s settled, you slip down to lie against him, propped up on one elbow with your torso folded over his and one arm draped across his hips. Javier sighs, pleased by the weight of you, and closes his eyes. 

“Was different there,” he says, after a long moment. “M’different now.” 

Outside the crickets are rioting again, ribbiting their threaded symphony. You push the hair back from his face—more pewter than ever but so familiar in its waves and curls—and watch the twitching of his face, all the microscopic ways he wrestles with some unnamed memory. 

You give him his time. All this patient, open air until he swallows and starts to say, “Didn’t do right—” 

It isn’t that his voice cracks, just that it stops all at once like someone’s lifted the needle off a record. Though you don’t know precisely what he’s trying to say, you sense its jagged outline. Can feel the memory slicing him anytime he speaks. Below you, Javier clears his throat. “Didn’t do right by them.”

Deep breath, then you push.

“Did you hurt them,” you ask, your voice quiet but solid, firm.

Though his brows fold low, his eyes stay closed. Swallows again. “No,” he says.

“Did you touch them without their consent,” you go on. “Do anything they didn’t want.”

“No,” Javier replies.

“Were you cruel?”

He shifts, uneasy. Mutters back a weak and whispered, “No.” Sometimes he has trouble with this one and stumbles over the answer, but tonight he’s got it right.

You know all this, of course. You’re not asking for you because you already know the answers—know him, whether he wants to admit it right now or not. Doesn’t matter that he’s different now; so are you. So is everybody. Tragedy doesn’t let a goddamn thing stay the same. And while you’ve always known you’ll never see nor fathom the whole, vicious picture—what living down there through years of violence laid ghost and seed beneath his skin—there’s not a bone in your body that believes him malicious. 

At first he worried, but you don’t care about the bodies he lost himself in. All the women he held and had. Sort of surprised you too, but you didn’t learn of them until after you’d found each other again, for good this time, and so what was there to be afraid of? That there’d been, in the worst of his agony, warm hands and welcome bodies? 

No, you don’t care. Doesn’t matter the number. 

You’re glad that at least for small, clustered minutes, he wasn’t always alone.

“Did you try?” you ask. This is the big one, the one you know hurts most for him to hear. “To help them.”

In the turquoise cover of early night, Javier’s face crumples in. Forehead canyoned by lines, his eyes swallowed by miserable, crinkled Vs. You see no glossy tears slip loose but they must be in there, hidden under his lashes when for so long he holds his breath like he can’t trust his own lungs or own mind. While you wait, you lay one palm in the center of his chest and the shimmer of moonlight winks off your hand, reflected in the flat face of a garnet, making silver of red and pearl. It feels, for the moment it’s bright, a little like having his mother back. Like you can feel her in the room, holding him with you.

Javier’s heart hammers beneath your touch, then his hand bolts up to cover yours as if to keep you there. As if you’d ever pull away. “I—”

You press down gently, give him your warmth, your weight, and his hand tightens in kind.

“I wanted to,” he croaks.

“Did you try?”

And it breaks him, chokes him. One wet sound punches out of his chest but he’s tough, soft bits and all. Something in him’s always just known how to hold on. How to take it, for better or worse. But it’s for the better here, you’re certain. Because he won’t survive believing himself evil—you see that clearly, illuminated like a streetlamp casting gold over a night-dark road. If he doesn’t see that he tried, doesn’t let himself feel it, one of these days the guilt will kill him.

It’s just the one ragged breath, then he pebbles apart perfectly still. Steady, you leaden your weight on his sternum, press down a little harder, and Javier grips your hand with greater need. All his warring goes on quietly, invisible in all but his head.

“M’right here,” you tell him gently.

He nods, his eyes still shut. His breaths slow and agonizing.

“Right here,” you say.

Together you wait for the spell to pass, for the storm to clear, until finally the clouds part over him and he sucks one longer, deeper breath, dragging all the room’s air into his lungs. There it is, there he is, solidifying under your palm. Seaming back together, stained glass made new. 

“I tried,” Javier breathes.

His face unfurls and the deep lines once carved with a knife fall smooth. The wrinkles stay of course, all the evidence of his life, but they’re softer now. You trace the crows feet at the corner of his eyes with your thumb and find his skin hot and damp. 

“I know you did, baby,” you whisper to him. “You tried.”

Suddenly his arms fly up and crush you to his chest—so startled, you yelp and can’t help but chuckle as his grip tightens and tightens. You let him squeeze you, your arms trapped under his, and hum softly when you feel his nose against your hair. Carefully he inhales, then slow he exhales: something he’s picked up in his sessions, attended twice a month. Which is how you know that although he’s fallen silent, he’s busy in his mind reminding himself of frivolities. All the tiny bits he must have missed in those long, distant years he spent away from you, believing you hated him. 

You imagine cut grass and July sunshine, beer bottles ice cold on the porch with his pop,

and rolling cigarettes in the bed of the pickup at sixteen, laughing at the sour clouds choking out of you when you couldn’t hold your smoke,

and birthday parties,

and your hand, at every age, in his.

He knows better now, that you never hated him and never could. Knows too that you’ve loved him all the years he’s loved you and will all the years you have left.

Eventually you feel the air shift as he comes home into his body. With his chest smushed tight against the shell of your ear, you’re half asleep, adrift in the deep throb of his pulse. You feel his mustache, the graze of his lips, and the quiet murmur of his voice calling you another name. New, these last weeks. It still surprises you, the sweetness of mi amor on his tongue, in his mouth.

“Get some sleep,” Javier murmurs as his arms go slack around you without pulling away.

“Only if you do,” you mumble in reply, eyes feathering open just long enough to catch the last of the sky’s deep blue. Then they’re closed again. Everything is warm and black.

“M’right behind you,” he says, and soon you’re both asleep.

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3 tag list below!

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[littlefreya]

Do you think Syverson would like it if his girlfriend gets a tattoo of his name on her wrist?

Disclaimer: Logan is not Sy’s real name (he doesn’t have one in the film). I came up with this name for him in Lines in the Sand. However, it’s not the same Sy from that story, nor from Feral Collision. :)

Pure cotton candy fluff.

Please comment and reblog 🖤

****

“Now that’s jinxing it, darlin’!” The Captain huffed, displeased at the fresh marking that decorated his girl’s wrist.

A deep frown crested his tanned brow as he inspected it closely, tilting her wrist back and forth.

‘Logan’ it read in big black accented letters. It wasn’t even a good tattoo to begin with. Trashy style, like the one his friends at the unit had. Did she get it at some walk-in studio at the train station? Knowing the reckless imp she is, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“I thought you’d like it…” she answered sheepishly, her voice somewhat vulnerable.

Sy lifted his gaze to meet hers, his big blue eyes softening as he noticed the concern and guilt sufracing her face. Carefully, he cradled her hand between his labour-coarse palms and drew it to his chest.

“Oh, darlin’, don't get me wrong. I love it that you did it for me, but…”

“But?”

“You know what they say about couples who get one another’s names inked, right? They end up breaking up and then you are left with that mistake haunting you for the rest of your life. I don’t want that. I don’t want us ever breaking up…” Sy explained, his voice carrying gently as he took her little palm and brought it to his lips. He kissed each one of her fingers, the bristle of his beard grazing her skin and making her chuckle.

“Is that a wedding proposal?” she jested.

Sy's heart jumped to his throat. For a moment there he wondered if she knew about the ring hidden in his old duffle bag. Looking at her pretty little face, staring at him with fervent anticipation, he considered asking her now, in the heat of the moment. But his impish little love deserved more than a mid-noon proposal.

“Now don’t push it, missy,” he warned playfully and booped her nose. “Now let’s get that tattoo taken care of and put some ointment on it”

[noamaelvr]

When i used to look into his eyes it was like staring back at two giant green emeralds, like fresh leaves in the springtime. The color is so captivating, it's as if nature itself has painted a masterpiece within his gaze. Those green eyes hold a gentle warmth, a sense of kindness and understanding. They always gave me comfort, made me feel some sort of connection..

I've decided to start writing my own NoaMae fanfic !!

Rewrite the stars - NoaMae༄*ੈ✩ by noamaelvr on Wattpad !

Edit: Chapter 3 has been released !

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Merlin

Character: Merlin

Sample Size: 39,021 stories

Source: AO3

[artzyleen]

This interview was absolutely hilarious 💕😂

[wholoveseggs]

Warmth

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

This is just a smutty little thing about being in an arraigned marriage to a certain original vampire. This is the first thing I've ever posted so please be nice :)

{Part Two} {Part Three} thanks for all the love ❤️ If you rather read this on Ao3- Link is here

5k words - No warnings other than smut and mentions of a shitty family.

It's your wedding day, but it feels more like being sold off than a celebration. You're about to marry into the most powerful family in history, but it's not by choice—it's all politics. All you can do is hope that the guy waiting for you at the altar is decent and that somehow, you'll survive whatever comes after "I do."

Part One

You delicately picked at your freshly-manicured nails, your heart pounding in your chest as his sister's circled you, their hands adjusting your dress, hair, and veil.

"Is he a good man?" you whispered nervously, feeling one of them gently pull on your dress, making the low cut of the back align perfectly with your body.

Rebekah gave you a kind smile, applying a touch more blush to your cheeks with a makeup brush. "Yes, dear. He's a good man," she replied.

"He's the best of us, you have nothing to fear," Freya chimed in, taking your hand in a reassuring gesture.

You let out a long sigh as they placed the veil over your head, their satisfied smiles providing some comfort. "You look perfect," Rebekah said, offering a sweet smile. "Welcome to the family."

Walking down the aisle felt like a surreal dream, your heart racing, and time behaving strangely, as if you'd indulged in a bit too much wine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as you laid eyes on the groom. At least he's handsome, you thought. But fear still gripped your heart; marrying a vampire was one thing, but becoming a part of the family of the most deadly vampires was a whole new level.

Standing across from him, you barely registered the officiant's words as they initiated the ceremony. Up close, he was even more striking with warm brown eyes, a sharp jawline, and a physique that complemented his looks. He gazed down at you with a gentle smile, though there was a hint of sadness in his dark eyes, a reminder that he hadn't desired this union any more than you did.

The vows were recited, their words escaping your consciousness as you mechanically repeated them. He lifted your veil and with a chaste peck on your lips, the marriage was sealed.

At the reception, your new husband mingled with the guests, sealing packs and making deals, laying bare the true intention behind your marriage. You observed his brother taking the stage, silencing the band.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming. I have a special gift for the bride and groom. Since they didn't really have a honeymoon planned, I took it upon myself to help them out. Outside, they'll find a car ready to take them on the adventure of a lifetime," Klaus announced, giving his brother a wicked smile, clapping him on the back in a way that seemed almost malicious. "To the bride and groom!" he cheered, raising his glass in your direction.

All eyes were on you as your husband led you to the car. You didn't recognize a single face in the crowd, but you hadn't expected to. The people who had sold you had gotten what they wanted, and this arrangement was a win-win for them.

You settled into the back seat of the car, the leather sticking to your bare back. You adjusted your white silk dress nervously, and he sat down beside you, his jaw and fists clenched, the tension palpable. You drove in silence for a while, stealing glances at your new husband, his expression stern and unreadable.

Wanting to break the silence, you considered a joke or maybe a compliment about his looks, but instead opted for the safest option. "Hi, I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you," you said quietly, extending your hand.

He chuckled slightly, and you appreciated his handsome smile as he took your hand, giving it a gentle shake. "Hello, I'm Elijah," he replied.

You exchanged smiles, and the tension in the car began to dissipate. The street lights reflected in his eyes as the car headed toward an unknown destination.

"Do you know where we are going?" you asked.

"The airport," he responded, gazing out the window with a hint of bitterness.

"Not a fan of flying?" you inquired, trying to discern Elijah's emotions.

"No, it's not that," he sighed softly and placed his hand on yours. "I'm sorry this happened to you. When I began negotiating an alliance with your faction, I didn't know they would require a marriage, I agreed to it for peace." he explained.

You shrugged, attempting to suppress the emotions swirling within you. "They've wanted to get rid of me for a while," you confessed.

Before he could inquire further, you arrived at the airport. A private plane awaited you, and you crossed the windy tarmac in your wedding dress, Elijah shielding you from the chill. You hoped someone had remembered to pack you a change of clothes.

Seated in the plane, the gentle hum of the engines made you instantly drowsy. You reached for a glass of champagne, quickly downing it before pouring another.

Elijah took a seat beside you, selecting a book from a pile on the table. He watched you consume your second glass, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Are you alright?" he inquired.

"No," you admitted, shifting in your seat and closing your eyes.

"Don't like flying?" he teased.

"Hilarious," you replied sarcastically, before turning in your seat, surrendering to sleep before the plane had even taken off.

You awoke to the sound of the arrival announcement. You noticed a warm blanket on you and realized your head was resting on Elijah's shoulder. He smelled faintly of alcohol and nice cologne, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at the sudden intimacy with a stranger, although you supposed he wasn't one anymore.

"Apparently, we're in Canada," he informed you in a soft tone, offering a gentle smile.

"What?" you replied, lifting your head from his shoulder and peering out the window to see nothing but white.

"I suppose my brother's adventure for us involves some cold," he remarked.

The plane touched down, and the pilot's announcement revealed a bone-chilling temperature of -20°C. Panic set in as you realized your thin dress offered no defense against the frigid cold.

"I don't suppose you happen to have a winter coat?" you asked, your tone flat with a hint of desperation.

Elijah calmly removed his suit jacket and handed it to you, offering a warm smile. As he stood in just his dress shirt, concern flashed in your eyes. "It's alright; vampires don't get cold," he reassured you. "Besides, I'll get us to the car quickly.”

He was being humble when he said 'quickly.' He wrapped his arms around you, and in a literal instant, you found yourselves in the warmth of the waiting car, with Elijah in the driver's seat, studying his phone with a furrowed brow.

"It seems our destination is a cottage up a mountain," he said, clearly displeased as he reviewed the itinerary on his phone.

"Not a fan of snow?" you chuckled.

"I'm not a fan of my brother playing games," he replied as he pulled out of the airport.

The drive up the mountain was a strange mix of anticipation and discomfort. The grandeur of nature unfolding around you offered a stark contrast to the peculiar circumstances that had brought you together. You gazed out of the car window, lost in your thoughts.

After a while, it was Elijah who dared to break the silence, his voice carrying a genuine curiosity. "You mentioned your family wanted to get rid of you. Why?" he asked, his eyes shifting briefly from the winding road to you.

Your gaze remained focused on the passing landscape, a mixture of mountain vistas and dense forests. "I wouldn't call them family," you replied, a hint of bitterness in your tone. "They weren't my blood, and they certainly didn't treat me as such. They wanted to get rid of me because I was no longer of value."

Elijah furrowed his brow, seeking to understand. "No longer of value?" he inquired, his voice gentle.

With a deep breath, you began to unravel the unfortunate chapter of your life. "With the human faction, marriage pacts are common. After I lost my parents, they took me in, providing for my clothing, food, and education, with the understanding that, in return, I'd remain pure until they could marry me off," you paused, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment, searching for any hint of judgment. "I didn't remain pure," 

He listened attentively, his warm smile putting you at ease. "Well, you will fit in with my family just fine," he said with a sweet smile. "Purity isn't our thing either. You're free from all that now."

You couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at the irony of the situation. "Out of the frying pan…" you mumbled, a sense of resignation in your words. "I know all about your family. I don't think this will end well for me."

The falling snow whipped past the car windows, obscuring any view beyond. You arrived at the cottage, and you sucked in the cold air as Elijah whisked you inside. He disappeared momentarily before returning with your bags. You sat on the sofa, taking in the place. It was more of a chalet than a cottage, and you couldn't help but shiver in the chilly interior. Elijah noticed.

"I'll gather some firewood," he said, heading outside.

You got up and explored the place, finding some whiskey and taking swigs straight from the bottle as you wandered. Your attention was captured by a sizable record collection, and you began to browse. You found a record you liked and started playing it, swaying to the music in an attempt to warm up.

Elijah returned inside, his arms laden with firewood, determined to make your cold sanctuary warm and cozy. His eyes softened as he noticed your shivering form.

"I'll get a fire going," he said, his voice gentle. He quickly set about arranging the logs, expertly lighting them, transforming the room with the comforting glow and crackle of the flames.

Taking your icy hands in his, he remarked, "Your hands are freezing." He brought you closer to the fire, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin. You couldn't help but be captivated by his kindness and the concern in his eyes.

"You need to warm up," he insisted, his voice a soothing melody.

“You are nicer than I was expecting,” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“I know my family's reputation is not great, but you are a part of it now. I want you to know I will always protect you,” he said softly, his words sincere and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude for his understanding and genuine care. "I believe you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you in and held you close, trying to warm you up; you found yourself drawn to him, his charm and sweetness melting your reservations. In that moment, overwhelmed by his kindness, you leaned in and kissed him softly.

When you pulled away, his expression was both surprised and understanding. "You don't have to do that," he said, his tone gentle. "You're not obligated to do anything with me just because of our situation."

His words filled you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Here was a man, a vampire, who respected your boundaries, a stark contrast to the people who had controlled your life before.

Elijah guided you to the soft rug in front of the crackling fire, arranging the blankets around you to ensure you stayed warm. The bottle of whiskey sat between you, its amber contents promising warmth from the inside out. You extended the bottle to him, a silent invitation to share in the fleeting comfort of alcohol.

You both drank in companionable silence, the warmth from the fire seeping into your bones, the whiskey adding a pleasant haze to the room. As the evening wore on, conversation flowed more freely, and the barriers between you began to dissolve with every shared story and laugh.

Elijah stood and helped you up, his hand finding its way to your waist, and before you knew it, he was leading you in a slow dance, his movements graceful and confident. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, swaying to the music.

"What is this song?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

"It's called bitter sweet symphony,'' you replied, your eyes meeting his. "It's one of my favorites."

He nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on yours. "I like the strings, the whole thing is very melancholic," he observed.

You smiled, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder. "I find it beautiful. It's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, don't you think? Even in the face of adversity, we keep going."

He regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "Something you have a lot of experience in, I gather," he said, his tone appreciative.

"I wouldn't say I'm resilient," you responded modestly, the music guiding your movements. "More like adaptable. Life throws curveballs, and you either adapt or get swept away."

He pulled you closer, the dance now a slow, intimate sway. "Indeed, life has a way of testing us. But it also brings unexpected joys."

The dance continued, a silent conversation unfolding between you, transcending words. As the music wove its spell, you felt a vulnerability and connection with Elijah that surpassed the constraints of your forced union. The walls you had built around yourself began to crumble, and you found solace in the unexpected warmth of his embrace.

A soft smile played on your lips. “You're not the monster they make you out to be," you replied, your words carrying a newfound trust.

Feeling an unspoken longing between you, you reached out, your fingers tracing a delicate path along his jawline, your touch conveying what words couldn't express. His eyes, dark and intense, met yours with understanding, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. You pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss that ignited a spark, setting the room ablaze with desire.

His response to your kiss was a slow, seductive smile that went straight to your core. He gently slid a hand around the back of your neck, his fingers winding in your hair. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

You nodded, your own desire mirrored in your eyes. "Yes," you whispered, placing your hands on his chest.

With a sudden surge of intensity, he lifted you effortlessly, his arms strong and secure as he carried you to the nearby sofa. The room seemed to come alive, dancing with shifting shadows painted by the flickering firelight. He gently set you down on the plush sofa, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You are truly exquisite," he murmured softly, as he carefully peeled your wedding dress away, letting it cascade onto the floor like a waterfall of silk and lace.

"I-I think you're beautiful too," you stammered, your words catching in your throat, feeling the chill creep back in after losing the warmth of your dress. You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly, and began to unbutton his shirt.

His smile remained warm and affectionate as he took your hands, pressing a gentle kiss upon them. With a swift motion, he shed his shirt, and pressed his skin to yours in a tender embrace, an effort to restore the warmth that had been lost. He shifted you so you lay side by side, pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hip, the other hand gently cupping your neck as he kissed you softly.

You lingered there for a while as his hands explored the curves of your body. Your own hands ventured, touching his toned chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath your fingertips.

His lips trailed soft, lingering kisses down your neck, each one a tender declaration of affection. His gentle gestures made you blush, the heat of your cheeks contrasting with the cool air in the room. You couldn't help but giggle from the sheer sweetness of his actions.

His hand glided down between you, his fingertips tracing the sensitive skin just above the edge of your white lace panties. A soft moan escaped your lips, a rush of heat pooling between your legs as his hand ventured beneath the fabric. He began to slowly circle your clit, the hand that rested on your neck pushed your head forward, his lips capturing yours in another gentle kiss.

His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles, their casual dips down to your opening making you moan softly into his mouth. The sensation was exquisite, driving you closer to climax with each subtle movement.

“You make such lovely sounds,” he hummed against your lips, then he dipped a finger inside you.

You let out a low, desperate whine, your hips instinctively rocking into his hand. You closed your eyes and swore under your breath, your voice barely audible, your fingers clutching at his neck as he continued to work his magic with his skillful hand.

He smiled, clearly savoring the way you were unraveling under his touch. He slowly pulled his hand away, leaving you achingly empty for a moment before repositioning you. Suddenly, you found yourself underneath him, your back pressed into the softness of the sofa, desire reflected in his eyes.

He began trailing soft kisses and teasing bites down your body, each touch sending electric pulses of need through you.

With slow, deliberate movements, he removed your panties, the fabric sliding off with a tantalizing intimacy that sent your heart racing. He pushed your thighs up, his fingers briefly teasing your clit before he leaned in, his hot breath against your skin.

Then, with an agonizing slowness that made your breath catch, he lowered his head, his tongue finding its way to your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. The world blurred into a haze of sensation, his expertise evident in every flick and swirl, each touch bringing you closer to your peak.

You ran a trembling hand through his hair, your fingers gripping the strands as you surrendered to his tongue. Your hips moved in a desperate rhythm with his mouth, seeking more of the exquisite sensation he was providing.

His hands pressed into your thighs with firm, possessive intent, holding you in place, stilling your movements. With each flick of his tongue, each press of his lips, you felt the tension rising within you, like a coiled spring ready to release.

You couldn't hold back any longer, and your body convulsed as the waves of pleasure overtook you. It was a moment of pure bliss, your cries echoing in the room, as your fingers tangled in his hair. He didn't falter in his attentions, riding you through the aftershocks of your climax.

Your body was still pulsating with the aftermath of the first orgasm, yet he skillfully coaxed another wave of pleasure from within you. He pushed two fingers inside you, finding that perfect spot, and your moans grew louder, filling the room.

"My pretty little wife," he murmured in a seductive whisper. The rhythm of his fingers and his tongue on your overly-sensitive clit created a delicious combination.

You squeezed your eyes shut, completely overtaken by the sensations, your body responding eagerly to his skilled touch. The second orgasm began to build, a powerful surge of pleasure that threatened to consume you entirely. His deep hum against you made you squirm, your legs shaking as you moaned.

His hand shifted from your thigh, splaying across your lower stomach with just the right amount of pressure to hold you down, halting your movements completely. His control heightened the intensity of the moment, trapping you in a delicious blend of pleasure and surrender.

You came apart a second time on his tongue, your body writhing with pleasure as you looked down at his handsome face, his lips glistening with your wetness.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your voice barely audible, your eyes locking onto his. He made his way back up your body, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. Cupping his face with your hands, you traced the lines of his jaw affectionately as your lips moved in a heated dance, the taste of your shared desire lingering between you.

You pulled off your bra, the cool air of the room contrasting with the heat that radiated between you. His eyes were glued to your every move, filled with desire as you exposed yourself to him. His gaze slowly traced over the curves of your body with a look of admiration and hunger.

He positioned your legs around his hips, and you could feel his cock through the fabric of his pants. You reached down to unzip him, but he caught your wrists with a swift yet gentle motion, pinning them above your head with a possessive grip, his eyes locking onto yours in a dark, intense gaze.

“Stay just like this,” he said firmly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling back, his eyes never leaving yours as he removed his pants, the room filled with a charged anticipation that crackled in the air between you.

He leaned in closer, his handsome form fully on display, the intensity in his eyes growing as he gazed down at you. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the anticipation building between you. His cock brushed against your clit, a tantalizing tease that made you let out a soft, desperate moan.

Unable to resist the urge to touch him, you lowered your hands to feel him. He let out a quiet "tsk" and shook his head gently, guiding your hands back above your head. His lips curved into a soft smile, as he held you in place, his dominance making your heart race.

His eyes bore into yours with a gentle intensity as placed a pillow under your hips and positioned himself. With a deliberate yet tender motion, he guided himself slowly inside you, filling you inch by inch. A gasp escaped your lips as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours and rocking his hips gently. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, his pelvis brushing against your clit with every stroke, creating a delicious friction that made your toes curl.

He let go of your wrists and his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, and your breaths became shallow as you clung to his arms, your nails digging into his skin.

He maintained his agonizingly slow pace, a rhythm that kept you on the precipice of release. You could feel his eyes on you, studying your reactions before your eyes fluttered closed and your brows arched in pleasure. His hot breath danced on your skin as he whispered soft encouraging words, his lips trailing up your neck, nibbling your ear. Each touch, each whisper, pushed you closer to the edge, intensifying the pleasure that pulsed through every fiber of your being.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice a seductive melody that made your breath catch in your throat.

"I... I want," you stammered, your voice shaky with desire, your hands clutching at his chest.

"What?" he teased, slowing his pace even more, pulling all the way out before plunging back in, savoring the exquisite torture he was subjecting you to. "You have to tell me," he insisted, his words laced with a playful yet commanding tone.

"More, please," you begged. He took your hands from his chest and pinned your wrists above your head again, your body aching for more of his touch.

"Like this?" he asked, his thrusts becoming deeper and rougher, each one hitting your sweet spot with a precision that made you gasp in pleasure.

"Y-yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, your back arching involuntarily, your legs trembling beneath him as the pleasure intensified, pushing you closer to the edge of climax.

He leaned back, and his eyes locked onto yours, a warm smile forming on his face as he enjoyed the flush of your cheeks in response to his actions. With a gentle touch, he ran his thumb over your clit, feeling the immediate response of your body, tightening around him in pleasure. A low hum of approval escaped his lips as he continued to graze your clit, attuning himself to your body's responses.

The room was filled with the intoxicating sounds of your bodies colliding, mingled with soft moans and the crackling of the fire. Elijah's gaze darkened as the pace of his thrusts gradually increased, the desire between you igniting the air. He released your pinned wrists, his hands guiding your thighs up around your waist, spreading them wide, pushing his cock even deeper.

His thrusts grew more urgent, a relentless rhythm that was hard and passionate. Your body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure reaching its peak as you came completely undone, your head falling back, and your back arching as you moaned his name.

"That's it, beautiful wife," he said softly, his voice strained as his own peak approached.

His own climax surged through him, a wave of heat and pleasure washing over you both. He let out a low groan as his body relaxed. Leaning forward, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his mouth melding with yours in a heated exchange. The room seemed to pulse with the aftermath of your shared pleasure, the fire casting a warm, golden glow over your entwined bodies.

"You are perfect," he whispered against your lips, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a sitting position in his lap. You were still breathless, placing your hands on his chest as you looked into his dark eyes. 

"This is not how I pictured this night going," you said softly, a contented smile playing on your lips. 

"How did you picture it?" He asked gently, his fingers tracing down your spine as he spoke.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on his chest as you gathered the courage to speak your truth. "I thought you might kill me," you confessed, your voice barely audible, carrying the weight of your fears. "I have this fear of vampires. They killed my parents, and I've been haunted by that memory ever since."

Elijah's eyes softened with understanding, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I am truly sorry for the pain you've endured," he said, his voice laced with genuine empathy. "You're incredibly brave for facing your fears and allowing yourself to trust me."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat as you continued. "My adoptive parents married me off to you as punishment, not expecting any kindness from you. But you've shown me a side of vampires I never knew existed. I didn't expect this... warmth, this understanding."

Elijah's hand cupped your face with a gentle reassurance. "I take my vows seriously," he said, his voice unwavering. "You are my wife now, and I will protect and care for you always."

In that moment, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes filled you with hope, erasing some of the lingering pain and fear. 

With a single, elegant motion, he effortlessly lifted you into his arms, holding you close as he guided both of you into the shower. The hot water cascaded over you, cleansing your bodies of the remnants of passion and desire. He gently pressed you against the cool, slick tile, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. His hands asserted a possessive grip on your waist, drawing your body in close to his.

You pulled back, your breath momentarily catching in your throat as his affectionate touch lingered. The hot water continued to flow over your relaxed bodies. "You know," you confessed, "I think I might actually really like you."

He grinned bashfully, his eyes filled with adoration, and leaned in to kiss you again. You could feel his cock harden against your leg, his desire reignited by your proximity.

You pushed lightly on his chest, moving both of you around so his back was against the tile, the warm water streaming down from above his head. You pressed your lips against his neck, then trailed kisses down his shoulder and chest.

Your hands glided over his damp skin, tracing the contours of his muscles as you moved downward, your lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His breath hitched when you reached his abdomen, and you glanced up, locking eyes with him before continuing your descent.

You took his cock in your hand, feeling the weight and heat in your palm. His sharp intake of breath spurred you on, and you pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive tip before trailing your tongue along his length, savoring the salty taste of his desire. His hand threaded through your hair, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

You closed your lips around him, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head, eliciting a low groan from deep within his throat. The water cascading around both of you seemed to heighten the intensity of the moment, amplifying every sensation. His fingers tugged on your hair, his touch both commanding and gentle, guiding your pace.

His hips moved in response, a silent plea for more, and you obliged, taking him deeper. His groans filled the steamy air, your lips and tongue working in harmony to bring him to the brink, his breaths turning shallow and erratic. A satisfied smile played on your lips as you reveled in the power of making a man like him come undone.

You gazed up at him through your fluttering eyelashes, giving him your most innocent expression as you intensified your movements. You pushed your head further down, burying your face into his pelvis, and with a deep groan, he found release down your throat.

Elijah leaned against the tiled shower wall, catching his breath, a satiated smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with admiration. You, on the other hand, wore a confident smirk, the satisfaction of pleasuring him evident in your eyes. 

Elijah placed a gentle kiss on your lips as you stood together under the warm cascade of water, both of you still savoring the shared moment of passion. He then guided you out of the shower, wrapping a large, fluffy towel around your shoulders before drying himself off.

As you both made your way to the bedroom, the soft hum of the bathroom fan in the background, he looked at you with affection. "You're quite extraordinary," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

"Why? Was that your first blowjob?" You teased, giving him a sweet smile. 

He let out a little chuckle, his laughter filled with warmth. He pulled the blankets back on the bed and you both got underneath them. You gladly snuggled up next to him, laying your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

{Part Two} {Part Three}

[leonideez]

elijah mikaelson the man you are

[kidasthings]

Echoes of Eden by Kida

Noa x Mae - #omgisthisastorywithplot?

Chapter 2: Echoes of Eden by Kida – @kidasthings on Tumblr

Prologue

Three centuries after a catastrophic virus decimated human intelligence, turning the survivors into primal shadows of their former selves, the world has irrevocably changed. The ALZ virus, originally intended to combat Alzheimer's disease, not only ravaged humanity but inadvertently gave rise to a new dominant species: intelligent apes.

Near the ruins of what was once Los Angeles, Noa, a valiant chimpanzee of the Eagle clan, has just thwarted a power-hungry bonobo, Proximus Caesar, from enslaving his people. Guided by the teachings of a certain orangutan, Raka, who revered the nearly forgotten, peace-loving chimp Caesar, Noa believes in a world where apes and humans can coexist peacefully. However, during his quest, he encounters Mae, a human who defies his expectations. Mae, immune to the virus and possessing the ability to speak, challenges Noa's perceptions of humans as mere animals.

Together, Noa and Mae manage to prevent Proximus Caesar from seizing a cache of potent human technology by flooding an old bunker. In the process, Mae secures a crucial computer drive that enables her underground human community to reconnect with distant survivors, bridging isolated pockets of humanity; she also manages to betray Noa and his clan by leaving them to fend for themselves.

As Mae's group in Los Angeles prepares to merge with new allies from Fort Wayne, Indiana, tensions escalate. Unaware of Mae's bond with Noa, a small but well-armed scouting party from Fort Wayne comes across the Eagle Clan’s village on their way to Los Angeles to meet up with Mae’s people.

Far more adept on their own home turf, the scouting party is caught by the apes, rounded up, and held hostage. Their weapons are confiscated. Mae is called in when the scouting party never reports to the underground bunker where the rest of the intelligent humans in her group seek refuge. Caught between her origins and her convictions, Mae faces the ultimate choice during the tense encounter: stand with her human kin or protect Noa, the ape she has come to admire.

This story explores the fragile hope for reconciliation in a world torn apart by fear and prejudice. Can Noa and Mae forge a path toward peace, or will the shadows of old wars darken the future dreamed of by the legendary Caesar?

---------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

In the dense shadows cast by the towering trees that skirt the Eagle clan's village, the air was thick with tension and the faint scent of smoke from distant fires. The setting sun bled red over the horizon, casting long shadows across the rough-hewn faces of the Eagle clan and their new captives. Five ALZ-immune humans from Fort Wayne sat bound and rigid, their eyes darting nervously as they listened to the low, ominous murmurs of the assembled apes.

Noa moved deliberately among the captives, his demeanor stern yet marked by an inherent fairness. Each human he approached met his gaze with a mix of defiance and fear, but none spoke. They clung to their silence like a shield, even under the weight of Noa's penetrating stare.

"No purpose here can be good if it starts with secrets," Noa stated, his voice resonating with a calm authority as he paused before a younger man whose jaw was stubbornly set.

The chants from the simian crowd grew louder, a discordant mix of anger and fear, with proposals of banishment or worse. They remembered what happened with Proximus Caesar, the obsession with human technology and worldly knowledge, and want none of it. Noa raised a hand, called for silence, but the restlessness was palpable, a living thing that fed on uncertainty and fear.

At the perimeter of the village, a human woman keeps a low profile in the brush. She had followed a single flare that burst bright in the sky to this location. It was a habitual thing, to bypass this region when doing her rounds in the forest. Immunity to the Simian Flu had bequeathed her the role of tracker, hunter, and scout after her initial mission was completed. Brown hair, blue eyes like the sky, Mae can only watch the scene unfold with a pounding heart. Worry lines were etched deeply into her brow, and her hand reached up to clutch at something around her neck - Raka's pendant - the symbol of peace promoted by an ape named Caesar long ago.

Noa gave her that pendant. For an inopportune moment, Mae was lost in reverie.

Without warning, a strong hand gripped her shoulder, yanked her from the shadows. Mae stumbled forward, dragged into the open. Her breath caught as she was thrown unceremoniously to the ground before Noa and his human captives. Dust and small stones bit into her palms as she caught herself, and a small grunt escaped her lips.

The sudden appearance of the human - a known and not particularly fondly remembered human - amongst them drew shocked gasps and murmurs.

Noa’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed in a complex tumult of emotion. The last time they parted, it was with a promise of peace, and yet here she was, thrown at his feet, disrupting the fragile balance he had fought to maintain.

Mae’s chest heaved as she pushed herself up slightly, her voice raspy but resolute as she met Noa's gaze. A single word hangs between them, charged with layers of meaning, a plea, a greeting, a reminder of shared dreams and bitter realities.

"Noa."

In that moment, the world narrowed to the space between them. Noa stood motionless, the voices around him faded into a distant hum. His heart fought a fierce battle within, torn between his duty to his clan and the undeniable pull he felt towards this woman who embodied both the past they shared and the future they might still forge. He can see Caesar’s pendant, an encircled diamond, as it swung from Mae’s neck wildly.

She still had it.

It is a symbol of ideals that suddenly seem so distant in the face of palpable tension and looming conflict.

The standoff stretched out, every breath, every silent plea, every hope and fear suspended in the dusty air of the dying day.

“Noa,” Mae tried again, defeated. She pulled herself up to stand on shaky, coltish legs. The Eagle Clan scout that initially seized her did not reach for her again as Noa lifted one hand to stay him.

Noa closed his eyes, as if in contemplation.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, as he reopened his eyes and shuttered his gaze.

Mae’s lips thinned out into a seamless line, and she cut a gaze over to the trussed-up humans attached to poles in the center of the village.

Noa nodded, once. He did not need much more than that as he added, “They approached our borders. We do not yet know their intention.”

The five Fort Wayne humans, still tied tight, share deliberate looks of fear between themselves. There is clear intelligence writ into their faces. They are not gagged, much to the chagrin of some of the villagers, as Noa would not have it. Still, they are oddly quiet. A few cast curious looks at Mae, no recognition in their eyes. The only woman in the group chewed her lower lip in frustration. Her blonde hair is cut short in a severe bob.

“Let them go, Noa.” Mae stated boldly, taking a step forward. Two other apes, positioned parallel to her, moved to intercept her advance towards the hero of the Eagle Clan. Once again, Noa lifted his calloused palm and gritted his sharp canines.

“Follow,” he told her, indicating something or someplace to the left with a sharp jerk of his head.

There is a short murmur of indignation from the gathered villagers, save for a small group which consisted of Soona, Anaya, and Noa’s mother. They appeared stuck in a shallower tumult of emotion. Noa’s mother took a step forward, unsure, but Soona placed her palm on the female ape’s furry shawl-covered shoulder and stopped her.

Mae’s eyes followed Noa, capturing his unique profile in a blink, and then dipped her head and hesitated. It is always that hesitation, caught between following an ape and leaving her kind behind, but with a reluctant glance at the captives she turned to follow.

He led her to a towering edifice of wood and natural materials that might be described as a tree house. Far above them, hawks circled in the sky, their soaring shadows blotting out the last rays of the sun. They landed at the top of the tower, a dizzying height, and screeched down at her.

Noa ascended a small ramp and stepped past a woven flap of material.

Mae did the same after taking a moment to peer backwards over her shoulder to ascertain the serious faces of a few apes herding her to the entrance.

Once inside, the darkness enveloped her, and the woman became hyper-aware of a dual pair of reflective eyes that watched her in the darkness of the interior.

“You came back,” he said, voice rough with something like emotion.

“Not by choice,” she quipped, and then stepped sideways away from the shaft of light thrown down by the door.

“Why?” It’s a simple question for a complex answer, and she wasn’t ready to answer it.

“I saw a distress signal in the sky,” she replied easily, eyes skating over the shadows and shapes in the interior of the newly rebuilt tower. “I had to see for myself. It looked like a human flare.”

“A flare?” he questioned; voice flat.

“It’s a human thing,” she sighed.

She heard him padding closer to her, his eerie eyes backlit by whatever reflective photo-sensitive cells nocturnal animals possessed. More of his face came into detail. After he stood about a few feet away, he stopped.

Mae froze.

“You have  ... it,” he informed her quietly.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

A hand reached out, seemingly disembodied in black space, and she felt the immediate lift of the small weight at her neck.

“Do you ... still believe .. in what it stands for?”

Her answer is the same as before, the same empty mantra. “I-I don’t know, Noa.”

A huff, a sigh. The weight on the back of the cord returned and he stepped back.

“Let them go,” Mae demanded, again.

He did not reply, not right away, but he did give her a long look. It was hard for her to discern in the dim dark, but it might be a soft rebuke. “I have to know … why they are … here.”

Mae’s mind shut down, because she wasn’t ready, or can’t tell him that. Her group of survivors had been expecting the Fort Wayne scouting party for months now. The underground bunker housing her people was the last of its kind for hundreds of miles. They had not come across any other intelligent humans in that time, so this must be the group they awaited. Mae was not an idiot; she had seen the sentry apes rifling through a small stockpile of guns on the ground when she was roughly manhandled to the ground.

She trusted Noa situationally, sure, but did she trust him with this?

There might have been a flash of hurt on his face but the dim interior concealed it well. “They belong with me,” is all she can muster.

“Tell the truth,” he parried back. There was a frustrated edge to his voice, nearly a growl.

“I am telling the truth,” she quipped stubbornly.

“Mae,” he refuted quietly, moving so fast that he is suddenly in her space again, too much and too soon. She gasped, caught off guard. His fingers found Raka’s necklace again, still around her neck. He was staring hard at it.

“Tell … me.”

Her tongue is nothing but a slug in her mouth, unable to form words. Noa had never been this close before, taking up her space, her attention, her very being. Caught between one moment and the next, she shook her head in utter disbelief. She could see his features more clearly, the craggy brow, the dark-light eyes, the slight downturn of his mouth beneath an inhuman nose. For a second, he gripped the pendant around her neck tightly, as if he wanted to hold it for some length of time, and then released it yet again to step past her.

Their shoulders brushed, and Mae forgot to breathe.

His voice carried over from somewhere behind her, close to the entrance. “If you will … not speak …  they will.” A rustle of fabric against fur, and he is gone.

Within the crude tower, Mae lets out the breath she held in a slow whoosh.

Noa.

[justaz]

merlin places all his friends to rest in avalon. first freya, then lancelot, then arthur, then gwaine. and then the rest of the knights when they pass along with gwen. freya and co spend time together in avalon but freya is the lady of the lake so only she has the power to manifest herself to merlin. she does so when he comes to visit. she tells him that all his friends arrived safely in avalon and are resting peacefully, recovering from their lives. merlin passes her messages that she carries to the rest and they pass her messages which she carried to merlin.

its a few years later when freya manifests and asks about morgana. merlin isn’t a fan of the conversation but freya says that they’ve all made progress with themselves and each other and have kinda sat back and viewed everything that happened from and outside perspective and gwen wants her best friend and arthur wants his sister to have that same chance, they can’t bear the thought that she’s wandering the forest, driven mad and in pain. they ask that merlin puts her to rest. she’s been tormented enough in her life, she deserves a chance at rest and peace.

merlin begrudgingly treks out to the spot where he stabbed morgana and gathers her remains to carry the bones to the lake. he puts her to rest. freya thanks him and keeps him updated on her progress, it’s slow going but arthur, gwen, and leon want their morgana back, the girl who fought for what was right and just, damn the consequences. years layer freya shares how morgana is more akin to the young girl they described from all those years ago. merlin cries and finally mourns his friend.

morgana’s apology is carried by freya and merlin’s apology is carried back. her first request is for mordred to be put to rest in avalon as well. arthur seconds the request. the knights echo the same sentiment for their brother in arms. morgana tells freya where she buried him and merlin follows her directions and finally puts him to rest in avalon. freya tells him that mordred sobbed when he realized emrys put him to rest, he had thought that bridge was forever burned. merlin will never admit it but he definitely shed a few tears for him as well.

all his friends are together now. at rest. in avalon. more and more years pass but merlin’s health never declines. he’s old, too old, past 100 now at this point. yet he lives. he thinks it might be a cruel joke played by the gods but man can’t live forever so it’s only a matter of time. more and more years pass and he still lives. out of morbid curiosity, he closes himself and imagines himself as he was when he first arrived in camelot. at once, all his aches and pains melt away, his skin tightens, his beard and long hair shrivel up and when he peers into a looking glass he barely looks 20.

a cruel joke by the gods indeed. all of his friends are at peace, resting in avalon, and merlin will never join them. he will remain walking the earth until the end of time or when the gods deem his punishment fulfilled. he will never see his friends again. not unless they rise as the dragon said, but merlin has since come to terms with the fact that the scaly bastard is as manipulative as they come. he may have been lying about that too.

as more time passes and magic begins to fade from the minds of men and they turn to science, pillaging the environment of it’s resources and pumping it full of pollution, freya finds it harder and harder to manifest until she all but can’t. merlin sits by the lake for days without moving and she never appears. the world is different now and merlin is all that remains of albion. camelot fell centuries ago and invaders conquered the isles and made it their own. merlin is all that remains. he is completely and utterly alone.

[starlightandfairies]

Surprise !!!!! Me again haha 😂

I'd maybe have another Elijah idea, where you're like a teacher just like the female version of Alaric and you're a couple. One time you're over at his, trying to do some school work but he accidentally keeps distracting you with simple things like, showering, walking around in a towel all wet and stuff. So you tell him to stop doing that and he finally realizes what he's doing to you, so he tries to make it up by giving you a much needed massage to start with 🤭 (btw, don't worry, I know you won't write smutty things, but maybe it can be a tiny bit spicy? 😘) Love you !

Description: The reader is a professor and struggling to focus with Elijah walking around and doing the simplest things

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing, hints to spicy

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for another request! I apologise for another short one.

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 741

First Person's POV

I sat on Elijah's and mine bed, reading through my students' essays that I needed to mark, some of these students... my god they've got no idea what they're talking about. I rubbed my face, huffing irritatedly I took a breath, gave myself a breather and returned to marking through the essays. 

I glanced up and saw Elijah stepping out of the bathroom, I pursed my lips together and tilted my head to the side. Elijah, the perfect god that he is walked out with a towel hanging around his hips. His perfectly toned body glistened with water droplets, I sucked in a breath and straightened up. I went back to marking the essay, my mind going elsewhere as Elijah walked around his room, that towel covering his lower half left little to the imagination. 

I grunted lightly, trying to force myself to focus back on my assignment, I squirmed slightly as the thoughts came in and would not go away. I couldn't not think about Elijah pulling me into his arms, pushing me against the mattress and making me feel like jelly until I physically couldn't get up in the morning. I could see Elijah's look, I could see him observing me closely with so much love and care that it made the butterflies come to life. 

"Stop doing that, please," I murmured, watching as Elijah tilted his head in confusion which was then quickly replaced by a smirk as he lurked forward and rested a gentle kiss on my cheek. Leaning in closer as he placed chaste kisses against my air, his warm breath sending shivers all over as he pressed another kiss on my shoulder. 

"Stop doing what, my love?" He whispered, sitting beside me on the bed, one arm snaked around my waist and the other began rubbing my right shoulder, causing me to suck in a breath and shudder as he placed another kiss on my neck. 

"Stop being so fucking sexy." Elijah pulled me against his chest, his cologne hitting my nose, allowing for a hum to escape my lips and a delighted smile to form on his. 

"Am I distracting you?" 

"You know you are," I mumbled, placing the essay I was marking to the side, humming lightly as Elijah properly began massaging my shoulders and rested kisses across my face in a strategical pattern. He knew all my sweet spots, knew just how to tease me and how to make my mind crumble. 

"You're so tense. What's wrong?" 

"These..." I needed to pause to take a breath, the massaging was honestly really needed, I was super thankful he could read me like the back of his hand. 

"These students are giving me a migraine." 

"Don't worry about that anymore for tonight." 

"I'm gonna fall behind on my marking," I mumbled as he managed to lower me on the mattress, hovering over me his handsome features staring into my soul and gracing me with loving kisses that made me just crumble thinking of where this could go. 

"I'll help, you just tell me what to do." I nodded, my hands reaching to take off my pyjamas but Elijah easily cupped both of my wrists in one hand and shook his head with a playful tut. 

"Let me undress you, I want to enjoy this, I want to memorise every birthmark, freckle, scar and detail of your sweet and gorgeous body." I nodded, wanting to see Elijah's gorgeous features examine my body and feel his breath hit my skin as he teased and made me shudder in anticipation waiting for the moment to make this grand trick. Elijah dew out ever kiss across my navel, the warm kisses making me blush and arch forward involuntarily. 

"You're gorgeous, my love." 

"I hate that you can do this to me." He shook his head, his hand slipping my shirt off, a smirk gracing his lips as he easily slid off my shorts. 

"No, you don't, you love that I can do this." He chuckled proudly, sliding a hand under my back lifting me up and gave me the perfect chance to grasp his face gently and rest a long, deep and tender kiss against his lips.

"I've never known you to be smug." 

"Shh..." He whispered, lowering me back down against the mattress. 

"I love you so much." 

"I love you more." 

[whackk-kermitt]

Can I ask a request? How would the god of war characters confess their feeling the reader, please🥺

Confessing Their Love

Genre: Headcanons

Warnings: 🤷

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Kratos

Kratos is a man of few words.

Emotions are hard.

When the day came he fully realized and accepted his growing love for you he struggled to come up with the right words to tell you.

You never knew it, but there were so many moments where he nearly said it but chickened out.

Moments while hunting, fishing, and tending to the wolves and land.

Moments when you two were alone, just talking, or saying nothing at all.

Moments spent watching you laugh and smile.

He wanted you to know but wasn't sure how to say it.

When he finally told you he loved you he didn't actually say it.

But you knew.

You knew by how he looked at you.

By how he held you.

And he knew you loved him just the same.

Atreus

Awkward and cute.

The king of stuttering and stumbling.

He'd asked his father how he and his mother took that step, hoping to glean some inspiration and courage from it.

Kratos wasn't much help.

Mimir didn't have advice suitable for a kid his age.

He planned to get you alone and basically serenade you.

But when you were face to face the adrenalin hit and he forgot everything he planned to say and do.

So he awkwardly handed you a flower and told you how nice you looked.

He was so nervous about messing it up that he was messing it up.

After a while, he realized you seemed just as nervous and you two had been dancing around it.

So he told you then that he loved you.

And when you reciprocated it he felt like he would throw up from the butterflies in his stomach.

He pitched himself.

Mimir

Before losing his body, he would've been shameless in chasing you down and swooning over you.

He'd court you and serenade you, showing you with gifts of flowers, wine, and treats so sweet.

He'd brag to anyone you had an ear about how he adored you so, even if you hadn't accepted him yet.

Afterwards. . .

The man is insecure.

How could he be your lover if he had nothing to give.

He'd wait his time until there was a moment when you two were alone.

A moment where he would confess his heart, despite not actually having one anymore.

His confession would almost feel like an apology.

Like he was becoming a burden to you like you would now have a weight on your shoulders.

But it was a weight he needed off his chest. . . metaphorically.

But then you smiled so sweetly and returned the gesture.

He thought you were making a fool of him for a moment, but only a moment.

The way you held him and pressed a kiss to his cheek told him you were honest.

He'd never been happier.

Heimdal

He wouldn't.

Not directly at least.

Not at first.

He's got an ego that won't sway even for the majesty that is you.

Instead of saying that he loves you, he'd confront that you love him first.

Teasing you for it and poking the subject until you catch on.

The first time he'd ever actually say it is after you'd begin to doubt it.

I mean, he never says it, so. . . maybe it's just pity?

How could you think that? Even if it is just a passing thought!

How could you ever think he wouldn't absolutely adore you?

Are you stupid?

So he said it.

And then again.

And again.

And every time you're alone because PDA is for losers.

If you're good enough for his picky tastes then you are worth more than anything.

You need to understand that or else.

Baldur

The man doesn't feel.

Driven mad but the numbness.

He just wants to feel the breeze in his hair, the sun on his skin.

He wants to feel the cold of the snow, and the pain of a cut.

But nothing.

His body is numb and he lives forever in agony.

Yet when he met you and knew you. . .

He can not feel his heart, even if you took a knife carved it out, and put it in his hands.

But something about you eased the madness and made him feel something again.

He wasted no time holding onto you and keeping you by him at all times.

It may not be to its fullest potential, not until the curse is broken, but he feels for you so deeply that it's borderline obsessive.

You are his and he adors you, worships you.

He will tell you he loves you just to see that smile, to feel that almost real warmth.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

I might come back and add more characters later. I got bored. NOT PROOF-READ

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[almostfoxglove]

I was re-reading I’ll Carry You and it got me wondering… was reader at Javi and Lorraine’s wedding? And if so, what was going through her mind when he left Lorraine at the altar? Did they get a chance to talk about it before he left for Colombia?

sweet angel darling THANK YOU FOR THIS (also, hey! I'm crying abt the fact that you wanted to reread the series! ahhhhh) - I might have gotten a touch carried away with this... oops! hope this is alright :,) in ICY, I have javier & reader aged twenty-eight when javi leaves lorraine at the altar (so this precedes that section of part II by two weeks or so)

javier & lorraine's wedding day

an I'LL CARRY YOU drabble

Explicit (18+) | Javier Peña x f!reader | 1.2k words

You don't know, but you have a feeling.

Maybe it's the filters you had to sweep from the ashtray on your nightstand before leaving: eleven. Or the look in Javier's eyes when he took off this morning: so glassy, far away. How, when he crashed at yours last night—can't see the bride before the wedding!—he'd asked you to hold him, said he couldn't sleep, and in the gloom of your shitty apartment you thought you felt his lips skim your jaw. Just once. Then he was asleep.

Now at the chapel, you light up on the grass while sunlight flirts with the ruffle at the end of your dress. It's bad news whenever you smoke without him, but it's not over yet—there's still time for him to show. Then you meet Chucho's eye across the grassy churchyard you see it in his face, composed as it remains. Worry.

Spearing smoke from the corner of your mouth, you drop the filter to snub beneath your heel as Chucho wanders over, accepting shoulder claps and handshakes from waiting attendees, so many drawls wishing him congratulations, must be mighty proud. He falters none, loyal to his role as doting father of the groom.

Until, of course, he reaches you.

"Thought you were bringing him," you hush under your breath, careful to maintain a gentle grin as guests breeze past, romanced by the sweetness of a wedding in July.

Chucho nods, his hands two stony fists in his pockets, and looks at his shoes. Newly polished, you think. Decades worn. "Thought the same 'bout you."

A glance at the chapel, its pillared spire. The small, coin-shaped window at the very top where you know Lorraine must be waiting, entirely unaware that Javier has failed to show.

He could show up. There are still minutes to go.

And yet you now feel in your bones that Javier's not coming.

With a sigh Chucho pulls one hand free to glance at his watch, but there's no hope in his expression. "Never know what that boy's thinkin'," he mumbles as he too looks up at the chapel.

Your heart winces for the woman beyond the window who must now be fussing over the final details: her hair, her blush, the straps of her shoes. Perhaps fighting back tears while she holds her mother and sister, telling them this is the best day of her life. Gazing out into the churchyard, hoping for a glimpse of Javier. Practicing how it feels to introduce herself with a new last name.

Poor Lorraine.

"Don't say anythin' yet," you whisper to Chucho, steeling yourself. "Might know where he is."

You run a red on your way and find Javier brooding on his own back porch, having left your apartment in time to artfully dodge his father's departure—now he sits planted on the lowest step in his tux trousers and white shirt hanging open over his bronze chest, smoking like he has tired of this mortal plane.

Dry scrubgrass crackles as you walk, but he doesn't look up. "Gonna miss the party," he says dryly, when you come to stand over him.

You think you might be mad—all this fucking ache, the years of watching him love her over you, pick her over you—and here on the big day Javier's decided it's not for him. Cold feet. False alarm. Making all your suffering feel like slinking, unnecessary shame.

"Javi," you scold, your arms crossed.

His chest glistening, slick with summer heat and freckled. He blows smoke from the corner of his mouth as his free hand rises to pinch the hem of your dress where it hangs at the level of his eye. "Y'look nice," he says.

Weak, it wilts you. He's trying to distract you from the mess he's about to make, and how pathetic you feel when he succeeds bruises you. "If you wanted to make a break for it, should've told me."

He scoffs, pinches his cigarette back to his lips to drag, and continues to thumb the gauzy fabric of your dress, unwilling to let it go.

In his silence, you sink onto the porch step beside him, letting stray grass tickle at your calves. Stealing his cigarette for a turn, staring out at the yellowed pastures where the colts are galloping in the shade of their old-world oaks. Letting the summer melt you, ruin your hair. Filling your lungs with what's polluting him.

"When'd you know?"

Javier's jaw flinches. He shakes his head. "Don't think it matters now."

For a long time neither of you speaks. You finish the cigarette, then Javier lights another and hands it straight to you. The time for the wedding comes and goes, but neither of you answer the phone when it shrills from the kitchen. After the first three calls, you go in to knock the phone from its cradle before returning to his side.

"How'd the interview go," you ask him—because asking this is safe. You can't ask what you want to. You can't ask him why. Asking would be to show your hand, to admit you have hope to hide.

A resigned shrug jolts his torso, shoulders burdened by guilt's great albatross. "Dunno," he says. "Said they'll know in a couple weeks."

You nod and pass the cigarette, careful not to shiver when Javier takes it in a way that touches every part of your hand. Weak: you lean against him. Spineless: your head finds the heat of his shoulder. Terrible: you almost smile when he brushes his lips against the crown of your head. You should drag him to the chapel, make him break up with Lorraine where he can look her in the face if not march him down the aisle at gunpoint—she's a good woman. Good to him. She loves him, entertains his black humor, makes sure he eats. She'd take care of him. They'd make a gaggle of cute little kids.

But you're in love with him, self-bound to secrecy and unable to shake the shackles of your adoration. Often you wonder if this fact makes you bad. Certainly unwise, sometimes unkind. Because you don't take him anywhere, don't tell him off, don't make him fess up to you. You sit, right here on the porch that's bore your weight for most of your life, and let him get away with it.

"You think you'll take it?" you say, your temple still resting against him as a tendril of smoke bleeds into the air. The miles aren't worth counting—if Javier goes, it'll cut the cord. And worse than the feeling you had at the chapel is the doom that gathers over you when you consider this in a new light: Javier isn't getting married, won't have a wife, and therefore won't have any reason to stay.

If they offer it, he'll leave you in Laredo alone. No guarantee that he'll ever come home.

"S'a long shot," he says. "Doubt they'll offer."

"They'll offer, Javi. You'd be good."

At this he chuckles softly as if surprised. "Yeah?"

He should be saying I do right now. Kissing his bride. Rushing off down the petal-blown aisle to a chorus of collective joy.

It's dangerous to wonder why instead he's here, smoking next to you. Why he came here instead of hiding—a place he knew you'd find him. Like he wanted you to. It's dangerous, yes, but you do. Quietly you unfurl one hand, let sunlight hit your open palm, and Javier looks down at it for a long, stretching moment before sliding his over it to claim.

"Yeah, baby," you tell him, eyes sinking shut. "Course you'd be good."

*also, because this bit didn't quite fit in the drabble - I imagine that when Javier finds out he's been offered the job in Colombia a couple weeks after this, he invites our girl out for the fancy dinner in part II (intending to celebrate & tell her the news) but on the day he loses his nerve and decides he can't bear to say goodbye to her, so instead he chickens out, changes his flight, and leaves :,) ow

tag list for the series in case anyone wants to be sad w me <3

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