#eli sunday gifs

[clementine-writes-things]

Wildflowers - E.S

Summary: Y/n is the town "loony" and won't ever change her ways. No matter how many schools she was sent too, punishments she was dealt, it never did any good. Eli was chosen as a last resort. But things take a turn for the better.

Content Warning: Explicit language, sexual themes (no smut), angst, fluff.

Word Count: 3.4k

Songs For Inspo:

O Children - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Choking On Flowers - Fox Academy

And I Love Her - The Beatles

"Perhaps, this is His praise after all."

(A/N: This is not meant to slander religions of any kind! This is a fanfic and is completely fictional!)

Eli walked across the dry dirt, being careful not to mess his shoes up too much. Not too long ago, he was going over a sermon he was planning on giving to the townsfolk on Sunday. But his plans for the day had changed, as he had a new matter to attend to. He was at the town's service as a prophet, and he would help anyone in any way he could. Every one in town had been saved; baptized. But of course, people still sinned and went to him to repent. It seemed like they all wanted forgiveness for the sins that they committed, and he was happy to absolve them all. Yet there was still one person that repeatedly sinned, and in general just caused trouble. No matter how many times she went to the church, she would turn right around and sin. Eli tried to see the good in everyone, but it was proving difficult for this one girl. Though, he could never be mad at her. She wasn't always a raucous woman, for she was quite well behaved as a kid. Eli and her used to play together as children, running around and getting dirty in the grass and earth. But he grew up, and she did not. It was when she got older that she started to rebel. It was getting to a point where her parents grew tired of constantly correcting her bad behavior and trying to get her to talk with Eli. Instead, they had him come over unbeknownst to y/n. And this is where he was heading for right now. In fact, her parents had already left for the market, wanting a break from their headache of a daughter. All Eli had to do was let himself in and have a discussion with y/n; help her see the light.

His pale hand grabbed the door handle, opening it up and stepping inside the house. Lacy curtains covered all of the windows, blowing in the soft breeze from them all being slightly cracked open. Eli walked around the house, peeking into each room in search of y/n. She was nowhere to be found, no matter where he looked. It was then that he heard a giggle, a familiar one, from outside the house. Curiously, he walked to the backdoor, opening it and stepping outside. There she was. Eli was surprised to see her in her milk white undergarments, sitting near the creek with her feet in the water. The priest cleared his throat as he approached her, holding his hands in front of his body. Y/n laid back on the grass, tilting her head to look at Eli, seeing his upside down figure. She giggled again, lifting a hand and waving it around.

"Good morning, Father Sunday!" Y/n greeted, closing her eyes and basking in the sun.

He sighed, trying to avoid eye contact with her.

"Y/n, you are indecent. I would prefer you dress yourself before I talk with you." He said.

She huffed, rolling her eyes before rolling on her stomach. With her elbows propped up on the verdant blades, covered in morning dew, she kicked her feet back and forth. Her chin rested in her palms, tilting her head as she gave him a strange look.

"What is indecent about my attire? I am clothed, am I not?"

Eli was already growing frustrated, but he did his best to be patient. He had many discussions with y/n in the past, though they were all at the church. Every time he thought he was getting somewhere with her, it all blew up in his face. Although he was a firm believer that everyone could be saved, y/n was certainly giving him a reason to break that belief. But again, he could never be mad at her.

"You know very well that those are undergarments, not every day clothes. And you are staining them with grass." He scolded.

She sighed, picking up a dandelion and putting it behind her ear. Eli watched her, thinking about how he was going go about this conversation. He truly did not know, as every other attempt he made was futile.

"Yes, I know Eli. I find it gives them character, instead of a boring white." Y/n smiled.

Eli didn't say anything. All he did was look down at her with a blank expression. After a few seconds, y/n groaned and stood up. The white shorts and bra showed off her curves more clearly now that she was standing up. He averted his eyes from her body, keeping them on her face. She brushed a few blades of grass off of her stomach and knees, humming to herself as she did so. The dandelion still rested behind her ear, the bright yellow hue complimenting her hair nicely.

"What is it that you want, Father Sunday? I was having a perfectly nice time enjoying the weather before you interrupted it."

"I am here to have a discussion with you."

Y/n narrowed her eyes, backing away slightly. She raised a hand, pointing at him before poking him roughly in the chest. He furrowed his eyebrows, slightly offended from the action.

"Did my parents tell you to do this?" She asked.

He looked at her, facial features soft. Y/n scoffed, backing away a little more. Eli noticed this and walked closer to her, almost as if he was approaching a wild animal. In a way, that's exactly what y/n was. She was wild and free, coming and going when she pleased. In her heart, she was an adventurous spirit, sometimes packing a bag and going out for a walk in the wilderness. It could range from a few hours to almost a full day.

"What is wrong with you damn people? Why can you not let me live my life the way I want to live it? What am I doing that is so wrong, Eli?" She asked.

Truthfully, she wasn't doing anything inherently bad. It was mainly just the rebellious nature that made her parents concerned. She had stolen a few produce items a couple times, but that was the most she had done. The other things she did was sneaking out, going to the saloon and flirting with the oil workers, and falling asleep during Sunday service every now and then. They weren't terrible, but they did make people concerned and uncomfortable. However, she was what some would call a bit whorish. She didn't sleep around with men, but she did have a habit of, as previously mentioned, flirting with the men in the saloon. It started off as harmless fun, but she would slowly evolve into promiscuous words and provocative innuendos.

"Your behavior as of late has been cause for concern, y/n." He stated, walking towards her slowly.

"A cause for concern? And what exactly, Eli, have I done to concern?"

"I have seen the way you talk to the men in the saloon, do you think that is an appropriate way to act?" A frustrated sigh left his lips.

"Listen to me closely when I say this, Eli. I do not give a fuck about how people think I should act." She spat.

His eyes widened, taken aback by the foul language that left her peachy lips. Eli's cheeks turned slightly red, his patience wearing thin. Y/n was acting like a child who was throwing a tantrum, and it was getting on his nerves.

"You know what I think, Eli? I think you are jealous." She stated, crossing her arms over her chest, accentuating her breasts.

Eli was now fuming, though the tips of his ears were red from embarrassment as well. Y/n did have a point. He did find himself slightly jealous of the men she flirted with. It would be a lie if he said he didn't have feelings for y/n growing up, but she was a stray bullet now. An unpredictable force of nature that was not to be reckoned with. Yet for some strange reason, the feeling still lingered in his heart. He watched as she sat back down on the grass and laid back, humming as the sun shone on her face. After a few seconds she spoke back up.

"If you want to have a 'discussion' that much, Eli, then you will have to drag me away from here." She said, stretching on the verdant lush below her.

He scoffed.

"I am not going to do that, y/n. You are going to get up and go inside the house, and then we will talk once you are properly dressed." He commanded.

She laughed softly, looking at him upside down.

"I do not follow your orders blindly, Eli Sunday. You are a priest, but you are not God." She taunted.

His fingers gripped the side of his pants tightly, his patience was now as thin as a sheet of ice. Y/n knew she was getting on his nerves, pushing his buttons, shortening his fuse. She knew this and she loved it. It was just a game for her rebellious heart. Suddenly, she rolled on her stomach, getting on all fours as she crawled towards him with a smile.

"Though, I have a feeling you want to be worshipped like one." She hummed.

Eli glanced around at his surroundings, swallowing thickly. Y/n's cleavage was on display to him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but glance at it occasionally. She giggled, sitting on her heels as she looked up at him. He shook his head, looking up at the sky with his hands over his heart.

"The only one who is deserving of our worship is the Lord Almighty, blessed be His name. I am merely a prophet of His word." He explained.

Y/n shook her head as well, fingers playing with the blades of grass that engulfed her thighs. The area was overgrown, bright and alive in the warm spring sun. Flowers bloomed around the land too, a few small patches of daisies near y/n. She leaned forward, placing each of her hands on his shoes. He watched as she leaned backwards again, dipping her hand in the creek before using the liquid to clean the shoes. Her fingers made quick work of getting rid of the dirt spots. Eli watched with a shudder, the sight of her cleaning his shoes was one that he found oddly appealing.

"Oh Eli, I know you very well. I am quite sure I know you more than you know yourself." She chuckled.

He didn't say anything, only listening to what she had to say.

"You seek acknowledgment and praise from those around you. Because you did not receive it growing up, you sought it in religion and turned your face to God. But has He given you any praise, Eli?" She asked, her question genuine.

Feeling like something was stuck in his throat, he cleared it. His chest felt like it was tightening, and he couldn't look away from y/n below him.

"I talk with Him, y/n. He provides me the words for my sermons, I am a messenger to communicate His word. I do not need any praise from the Lord, for spreading His word is all the reward I need." He said proudly.

"I would not mind rewarding you for your hard work and dedication." Y/n smiled sweetly at him.

He stepped back, making her slip slightly. With a twitch in his neck, he licked his lips and shook his head. Y/n's smile faltered, making Eli feel a little guilty about his action, but he dismissed the feeling.

"I know what you are insinuating, and I want no part of it. As a man of God, I shall not give in to such animalistic desires. No matter how appealing they might be." Eli said shakily.

"So you admit that you want to have sex with me; you find it appealing?" She blushed as she sunk down to her stomach on the grass.

When he did not reply, y/n smirked and had a horribly great idea. She flipped over onto her back, facing toward the creek. Eli watched as she slowly removed her bra, making his eyes grow wide and cheeks turn red. After that, she removed her underwear, discarding both clothing articles to the side. Y/n now lay bare in the sun before the priest, sighing happily in the warmth. Eli lowered his gaze, avoiding any type of view of her.

"Y/n, I implore you to redress yourself."

"Eli, did Adam and Eve not walk around the Garden of Eden entirely naked? What is so wrong about what I am doing? No one else is around, we are out near the woods." She giggled.

Her argument was valid, and entirely true. Sighing, he raised his gaze back up, deciding he would do his best to just ignore her state. She patted the spot next to her, signaling for Eli to join her. Though he hesitated for a moment, Eli eventually decided to sit next to her. Once he did, she rolled over on her stomach, and his eyes landed on the plump of her ass. It was as if it put him in a daze; preventing him from looking away. It took him every shred of his willpower to avert his eyes from the beautiful sight.

The silence was heavy, but it wasn't exactly uncomfortable. It was a casual silence and there was no rush to break it. Eli looked at the creek, watching as the frigid water rushed down stones. The trickling of the river, the chirping of the birds, and the warm sun. It was all so nostalgic. It reminded him of his childhood. The good parts of it. The parts where he would play with y/n outside. The parts where he could have fun.

"It is rather lovely out." He admitted.

Y/n rolled over once again onto her stomach. Her prominent breasts were on full display, and she had no shame. It was baffling to Eli. How was she not ashamed of her bold presentation? Yes, she had known him since they were kids, but that was no excuse to be this "comfortable" around him.

"The sun feels nice on my skin." She sighed, closing her eyes.

Eli looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his pocket watch. The sun did in fact feel nice. It was like a cozy blanket being draped over his shoulders. He couldn't even imagine how nice it would feel on his bare body. It made him want to try, but he instantly dismissed that thought.

"Y/n, your parents are losing their patience."

The young lady sat up, and turned to look at her childhood friend. Eli made eye contact with her, doing his best to not lower his gaze. She sat on her heels, and they dug into the plump flesh of her ass. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she looked down.

"I am as well." She replied.

Eli raised an eyebrow, unsure of what she meant by that. Upon seeing his confusion, she cleared her throat. He watched as she stood up, turning away from him. Her ass was fully revealed to him, and he couldn't help but stare. Hues of pink danced over his cheeks, and he quickly looked up to stare at the back of her head.

"I do not want to live here, anymore. I'm leaving, Eli..." She trailed.

Y/n turned back around, and she looked down at him. The sun shone behind her, almost creating a halo around her head. It was breathtaking to him. She was always so stunning. A lovely girl.

"...and I want you to come with me."

His eyes widened, and he stood up as fast. It was a panicked movement, and resembled a skittish deer. A piece of his gelled hair hung in his face, and he stumbled over his words.

"I-"

Before he could finish his sentence, y/n stepped forward. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her lips against his. The kiss was soft, yet spoke a thousand words. Each and every one of them were synonyms of love. Eli froze in place, hands up in the air in surrender. But the longer the kiss went on for, the more he gave in to it. His hands moved down to y/n's waist, and he held her gently as he kissed her back. It would be a lie if he said he had never dreamed about this very moment. When Eli pulled away, y/n whined and grabbed at his coat in a sad attempt to pull him back.

"Eli..."

"Y/n, I will not go with you." He stated.

She frowned, her eyes glazed over. His heart lurched at the sight, and he felt horrible. Why did he say that? It wasn't true. He wanted to go with her so badly. But he was afraid.

"I want to, but I do not think I should." He added.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she nodded. She sat back down on the grass, staring at the water. Her skin glowed in the radiant sun, and it was captivating. Eli got on the ground as well, watching y/n as she laid on her back like before. His love for her was strong, and he had tried to suppress it over the years, but it never worked. It conflicted with his priesthood, and it caused struggle in his life. It was like a curse on his soul.

"Perhaps, this is His praise after all." He said.

Y/n looked up at him, her head engulfed by grass and wildflowers. The various colors contrasted against her skin tone perfectly. Vibrant hues and sweet smells of the earth; it all suited her so well.

"What do you mean, Eli?"

He looked to his side, seeing a beautiful poppy. It was blood red in color. How fitting, it truly was. The deep color representing his love and desire for y/n, standing out amongst his other feelings. Gently, he picked it from the soil, damp from the creek. Y/n watched as he removed the dandelion behind her ear, and replaced it with the freshly picked poppy. He then moved the dandelion to his coat pocket, placing it inside. It's golden petals stuck out, and stood boldly against his black clothing.

"Maybe you are the praise I have been wanting to receive from the Lord. An angel sent to me as a reward for my devotion." He smiled gently.

Y/n looked up at him from the ground, blushing deeply at his words. Eli Sunday had just called her an angel. How baffling was that? She was speechless, and gave him a starstruck expression. Slowly, she sat up and looked into his eyes.

"I am no angel, Eli. The townspeople have made that abundantly clear." She sighed, eyes lowering to the grass.

He shook his head.

"I know of angels, y/n, and you are the spitting image."

The tears in her eyes now fell, trickling down her cheeks as she avoided eye contact. Eli watched with a soft gaze, taking note of how precious she looked when she cried. He hated to see the tears, though. He reached forward, cupping her face in his hands. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears.

"Please, come with me, Eli. You will not be running from your God, for His presence will be with you always, will it not?" She pleaded, holding his hands against her cheeks.

Eli smiled.

"I suppose you are right."

Y/n was smiling brilliantly, and she tightened her grip on his hands. Tears streamed out of her eyes more than before, and Eli tutted. He did his best to wipe them away, but it didn't help. So instead, he leaned forward and kissed them away. The liquid smeared over his lips with every peck, and y/n froze underneath him. He was relieved to hear that he could finally leave this town. As much as he wanted to serve the community, he grew tired of it. He felt isolated from the world, and he wanted to explore it. Being a priest was fulfilling for a while, but he no longer desired it. His love for the Lord was still strong, but he wanted to try something new. He wanted to see what the world had to offer.

"I love you, y/n."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she dove to his neck. Sobs were muffled into his skin, and he could feel the tears now on his neck. Her arms wrapped around his neck as well, and she pulled him close to her. Instinctively, he placed his hands on her lower back. The feeling of her warm skin against his palms made him shiver. It was like a dream come true.

"I love you too, Eli."

[theehoneeybee]

An Evening Coffee

pairing: Edward Nashton/gn!reader warnings: stalking, obsession, swearing, implied kidnapping? the riddler is just a silly goose word count: 1.0k

part one

synopsis: Edward's obsession only grows stronger the more you pull away from him. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ a/n: thank you for the love on the previous fic <;3 also don't forget my requests are open teehee ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After Edward had left your apartment you were quick to draw all the curtains, triple checking that the front door was locked. To be extra safe, you heaved the coffee table in front of the door to barricade yourself in.

He knew where you lived.

The hairs on your arm stood up straight, alert. The air in your apartment weighed on your shoulders, unable to escape the feeling of dread that surrounded you. You drowned in fear. How did he know where you lived? Had he been here before? Was he still here now?

You didn't have a second of peace, your brain swarming with questions. Everything began to make sense. The feeling of being watched and followed, and of course, the card.

You wanted to move apartment, to run away and hide where he could never find you, but there was one small problem. Edward still had your laptop.

You stayed awake all night, forcing yourself to keep your eyes open. Caffeine and anxiety fuelled you as you stalked from room to room, unable to sit still, frantically checking that you were alone in the apartment. Was it even worth informing the police? You had no physical proof that Edward had done anything and the Gotham police were useless. They would just tell you, "we'll look into it," then you would never hear from them again.

The alarm from your phone blared in your ear. You don't remember falling asleep. You shot straight up, eyes snapping open as you scanned around your room. It was time for you to go to work.

Each time a customer came through the door a shiver ran down your spine, anticipating Edward's arrival. The night dragged. You anxiously stared at the clock, watching as the seconds ticked by all too slowly.

"Evening," Edward greeted you as he came through the door, the bell chiming behind him. You tried your best to keep a straight face, to keep the fear at bay.

"Evening."

He gently sets your laptop down on the counter. "I'll just have a coffee tonight," a kind smile adorned his lips as he spoke to you. How could he look you in the eyes and act like nothing was wrong? You couldn't help the shaking in your hands as your poured his coffee. "Well, I was able to get the virus off your laptop. Like you said, it was just something you got from a dodgy site."

You nodded, mumbling a thank you as your grabbed your laptop to put it away. Had Edward been the one to mess with your laptop? Part of you knew that would make sense, that is was the logical thing to think, but the way he looked at you almost had you convinced otherwise. Almost.

"You should be more careful, you know," Edward advised. "Try not to use those sites in the future. You never know what could happen. There's some dangerous people out there." His clear glasses gleamed in the light.

He wouldn't leave fast enough. Edward took his sweet time, sipping his coffee and scribbling his answers in a crossword puzzle. You watched him cautiously from across the diner, avoiding eye contact whenever he would glance your way. When Edward finally left, you let out a sigh of relief. A weight was lifted from your shoulders, not having to worry about him for the rest of your shift.

You scurried home, eager to get out of the dark and into the safety of your apartment. The illusion of safety, at least. Before you went to bed that night you messaged your manager, begging to be switched to the day shift. It would be too hard to find a new job on such short notice, so changing your shifts would be the quickest way to deter Edward. It was hard to fall asleep. No position seemed comfortable or safe. On your side, it left your back exposed, vulnerable to the world. You tossed and turned for the rest of the night, every little noise of the city waking you from your sleep.

You thought the switch to day shift kept Edward at bay. Aside from the feeling of being watched, you had not seen or heard from him. You asked your co-worker who took over the night shift if she had seen him, brown hair and clear frames, you described. Nothing.

Even your laptop was completely fine. The black screen and flashing question mark never appeared again but you still felt a level of unease using it, covering up your webcam with tape, just in case.

After a long day, all you wanted to do was rot in bed. One of your co-workers called out last minute, leaving you to cover them until someone else could come in. The rest of the evening you had spent running errands. Hauling all of your groceries onto the subway was no easy task.

You shuffled into your dark apartment, unable to flick on the light just yet as you carried your bags into the kitchen. They smacked onto the countertop with a loud thud. Your bedroom light was still on. Odd, you thought. You could've sworn you had turned it off. Electricity isn't cheap after all.

As you entered your bedroom, someone sprung out from the darkness, making you jump with fright. You hadn't spotted Edward in the corner, shrouded in the shadows. He towered over you, his eyes obscured by his glasses. You slowly backed away from him, until you were pressed up against the wall. He stood inches away from you.

"I missed you," Edward cooed. "You stopped working the night shift."

Your bottom lip trembled, fists balled against your sides as you stared up into his green eyes. Before you could utter a word, he spoke again.

"I just wanted to see you. You caught onto me hacking your laptop pretty quickly. You're a smart one." So he was the one who tampered with your computer.

"Please just leave me alone," your voice trembled as you spoke. For someone who used to seem so meek, Edward was making you shake with fear. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb running across your bottom lip. You swallowed. He leaned down, his face centimetres yours.

"Don't think you can get away from me that easily."

You were his.

[riddlersbimbo]

this bitch can powerwalk

[saltrocksss]

as long as i haz teeth i will bite u

[rosyerato]

I might be obsessed with Paul Dano...

Eli Sunday

The Riddler

Burt Fabelman

Calvin Weir-Fields

I love him

[k3niv3z]

There Will Be Blood, 2007

[babybluebex]

Can I ask you for a blurb about the time when Eli "fell to sin" after leaving Little Boston?

oh eli my freak ass husband

You felt the bed shift beside you, and you sighed as you heard the floorboards creak. "Eli," you moaned softly, stretching your hand out to him. "Come back to bed, darling."

"I will," your lover told you in his smooth, almost cautious, voice, and you squinted your eyes open to see him standing by the window, flicking a lighter to light a cigarette.

When you first met Eli, he was so cute. He was innocent and soft, a proper gentleman, a preacher. You got plenty of your share of righteous men that shoved money into your hand, but there was instantly something about Eli that was different. You could tell, that first night as he rutted into you like a wild animal, completely lost in his own desires, that Eli was special. He was quiet and kind, not boastful or overly critical. He was just a man who wanted sex.

You couldn't have imagined that you would fall for Eli Sunday, the preacher from Little Boston. It got to the point where you felt empty without him, and you worried if you were fully in love with him. He certainly was in love with you— he told you so.

You sat up onto your elbows in bed, watching Eli by the moonlight. He was partially dressed, just his pants, his suspenders hanging limply at his hips, his pretty, smooth chest almost reflecting the light. Around his neck, he wore a chain necklace made of gold, one of his first purchases when he reached the big city, he had told you. His hair was arranged awry, out of the slicked-back middle part he usually donned. His neck was littered with marks both from your lipstick and your teeth; for as sheltered and inexperienced as Eli was, he had an innate sense of how to make a woman cry and moan.

You could tell that something was on Eli's mind, what with the way his eyes unevenly focused outside the window as he smoked. "You know," Eli started, his voice still affectless. "I had never smoked a cigarette before I came here."

"Really?" you asked softly.

"Hardly ever drank," Eli continued. He seemed as if he was talking to himself, and you were merely an observer to his thoughts. "Had never had sex. One could say that this city corrupted me. It's made me... Prideful. Sinful."

"Oh, Eli," you whispered. You could sense his pity from across the room, and you beckoned him back to bed. "Come here, come hold me."

"You're my sin, my love," Eli said, and he finally looked at you. "I sin because of you."

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you extended your hands out to him. "I'm sorry," you whispered, and Eli dutifully came to you. He sat on the edge of the bed, and you shifted to wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek into his warm, freckled back. "You don't have to stay, Eli, you can leave—"

"No, I can't," Eli told you. "I love you. I can't leave you."

You sighed heavily, and you touched your lips to his spine, settling gentle, calming kisses. "I love you too," you told him. "If you're so upset about sinning, isn't there someone you could talk to? I mean, I'm sure you're not the first man to ever fall in love with a prostitute."

"Don't call yourself that," Eli said, and he turned to you. He seemed as hurt as if you had insulted him, and you put your hands delicately on his cheeks. "You're so much better than that."

"But I'm not, sweetheart," you told him. "That's what I am; you came to me, remember? Asked me to—"

"I remember," Eli said quickly, cutting you off. "I remember, I asked you to sin with me. I came here with the intention of sinning, and I have no desire to stop, although I must."

"You don't have to do anything," you told him. "Do what your heart tells you."

"But my heart is in contention with what's holy," Eli said. "I'm a man of God, but I love you. I'm not supposed to, and yet..."

Your eyes filled with tears at Eli's words, and you carefully stroked Eli's smooth cheek with your thumb. "I know you're upset," you told him. "But, Eli... God wouldn't have put me in your life if I didn't have a reason to be. Maybe my reason is to make you sin. D-Doesn't God like to challenge people?"

"Then I have failed his challenge," Eli said, and he pulled at his cigarette.

"No, sweetheart, no," you said quickly. "What if your sinning is the right thing to do? What if... Fuck, I don't know, Eli. I love you and want to be with you, but not if it brings you such turmoil like this."

"I love you too," Eli said, and he discarded his cigarette in favor of grasping your face. "I love you, please hear me. I'd like to marry you, I think."

Your mouth felt dry as Eli urged himself closer to you and pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed him back. He wanted to marry you. Even despite all of his qualms, everything telling him it was wrong, he wanted you as his wife. You broke the kiss and touched your forehead against Eli's, and you whispered, "If you're trying to save me, I don't need it. If you want to marry me because you love me... I'd like that just as much as you."

"You're my favorite sin," Eli told you, and he kissed you again. "The best sin I've ever committed. I love you."

[riddler-apologist]

which paul dano character would you eat? (interpret however you wish)

eli sunday.

[lifeontoast]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something with Eli Sunday? Maybe something with fluff?

I love your writing by the way. I look forward to your yummy posts 💕💕💕💕

Honey-Sweet

 

Eli Sunday x reader (gender neutral reader – no pronouns used)

 

SUMMARY: Reader comforts Eli after a long and tiring day as the pastor of Little Boston.

 

Word count: 1.1k

 

A/N: thank you yummy anon for this request! Hope you like it and sorry it’s taken a while 💕 (also thanks for the compliment I’m giggling and kicking my feet!!)☺️

 

Trigger warnings: use of ‘love’ and ‘dear’ as a pet name, but apart from that, none, just domestic fluffy bliss!

 

…

Eli walks in the door, arms drooping and head bent. He’s clearly had a long and hard day. ‘He works too hard’, you think to yourself, walking over to him. You greet him and place a soft kiss on his cheek. He smiles weakly, appreciating the gesture. Your heart melts for him, it really does.

 

Ever since you married Little Boston’s pastor, your life has never been the same. Eli has been the perfect husband, and you have never wanted for anything. You had just moved to Little Boston, and of course you had heard all about him and his ‘special powers’, so when you first met him, you weren’t at all sure of his frankly cocky and somewhat overconfident manner. He was clearly keen to impress you with his skills and personality. He must have sensed your dislike of him, as you found that, as you kept meeting, these qualities diminished in him. He allowed you to see the real him, the kind, sweet him, and you loved him for that. It was his real self that made you allow him to court you, and then, marry you. That was a couple of years ago now, but your relationship still retains the same spark.

 

That was how you found yourself, arms around Eli, in your kitchen on the Sunday ranch.

 

He sits at the table and put his head in his hands. You place your hands gently on his shoulders with a smile, and he couldn’t help but look up into your eyes.

‘Tell me all about your day, love.’ You say encouragingly.

He nods. ‘Well, the morning was fine, just the service as you know. But this afternoon, it’s been… dreadful. A few house calls, and I was already tired out. But then there was a whole business with that Plainview and he just got me so angry. He really riled me up.’ He sighs.

‘What did he do, Eli?’ you sigh. You’ve been hearing an awful lot about Daniel Plainview lately, and never having even met the man, you didn’t like him. Not one bit.

‘It was just the way he talked to me. He taunted me. He refused to give me the money for the church, again. I’m getting awful sick of it, I tell you.’

You were sympathetic. ‘come now, love. Let’s forget about all this for tonight, hmm? You can worry tomorrow.’

He just nods and gives you a wan smile. You smile back. You know just what to do.

‘I think you need a nice warm meal and a bath, don’t you think? Why don’t you get in the bath while I make you something nice?’ you place your hands gently on his face, so he looks at you. He finally smiles properly for the first time that day. After giving you a small kiss, he gets up and walks tiredly out of the room, while you start thinking about preparing dinner.

 

Just as you’re finishing things off in the kitchen, Eli comes back, skin all pink and warm from the bath. He comes to you and puts his arms around you from behind, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

‘do you feel better now, love?’ you ask.

‘yes, much. Thank you dear.’

‘I’m glad. I’m just about finished here, if you’d like to take a seat at the table?’ you put the food into dishes, and place them on the table. He sits down, but not before pulling your chair out for you. This makes you smile; even when he’s feeling down, he’s still a total gentleman. The two of you begin to eat your food, and Eli gives you little compliments about it here and there. When you finish, you make idle chat and he asks you about your day, though nothing much has happened for you. Eli looks tired still, so you decide to wash the dishes, even when he normally would offer to. He says nothing as you stand by the sink, washing away. This tells you something must be seriously wrong.

 

Later on, you’re both sat in the kitchen, him reading a book, you finishing off some chores. As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t turned the page in a while. He seems to just be staring at nothing, and his eyes have a shiny film to them. You go to him. Suddenly, his head is in his hands, and he looks like he has the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. Gently holding him, you whisper honey-sweet words to him. He starts to cry quietly, something you have rarely seen. Soon he’s inconsolable as the tears really set in. You stroke his hair soothingly and keep trying your hardest to comfort him (it’s all soft and fluffy from the bath, so different from how it usually is, all slicked back neatly). Plainview must really have got to him.

He calms down somewhat as you keep holding him. You’re his home, all he needs, and he knows that very well by now. Another thing he knows for certain is that you can always be counted on to make him feel better about his struggles, and that you can help him forget his worries. Sniffling, he looks into your pretty eyes. You give him a bright smile, and yet your eyes tell him you’re sympathetic to his plight. He simply can’t resist the happiness and calmness you radiate, and soon enough, he begins to smile too. A little at first, then more and more. He’s forgotten all about Daniel Plainview as he’s too busy staring at how beautiful you are. The way your eyes shine when you look at him, as if you couldn’t be more in love. The way your hair frames your angel’s face absolutely perfectly. The way your lips curve as you smile at him. Your dedication to Eli is blatantly obvious, as you stand by him even in his darkest hours.

 

The dusky light coming in from the window brought with it a light breeze, picking up your hair and gently blowing it across your face. Eli thought he had never seen anything so lovely in his entire life.

‘Y/N, love, did you know you are quite the most ethereal creature on earth?’ he told you, making you blush a pretty pink.

 

He pulls you down to his lap, so he can hug you properly. The soft, warm hug he enveloped you in told you everything you needed to know:

‘thank you’.

 

…

 

I hope this isn’t absolutely crap!! Thanks for reading even if it was though :)

[finniestoncrane]

One's Body Is Inviolable (Vampire!Eli Sunday x Reader)

One’s body is inviolable, subject to one’s own will alone. To willfully and unjustly encroach upon the freedoms of another is to forgo one's own.

This is explicit and is one of the most intense things I have ever written. Violence, gore, blasphemy and I am not kidding there's a touch of necrophilia but only by the strictest legal definition. I hope this is worth it! Spurred on by @bunshima and this post.

Any comments would be so helpful, because this is my first time at explicit violence, and I'm not sure if I got the smut ratio right!!

Further Tags/Warnings on AO3, minors DNI, word count 4670

Eli Sunday stood at the altar, sweating profusely. His hair, matted to his forehead, beads dripping down his nose, his cheeks, somehow flushed despite his pallid tone. She had brought him a tonic, something her grandfather brewed for various ailments, a recipe he warned them all he would take to the grave. And he was against sharing it, even with Father Sunday. Appalled by his lack of generosity, and towards a man of faith no less, she had decided it was God’s will for her to steal some, sneak into her grandfather’s room as he tended his plot in their yard, and take a vial to the church for Eli. Her heart still beat at an unnatural pace as she thought about the deed. It can’t have been that much of a sin, surely. Not to provide the voice of the Lord with a remedy for his ailments. But try as she might, she could not forgive herself the sin. Which was just as well, as it excited her. It was truly devilish.

And the spark, the thrill of the sin, followed through when she waited after the sermon to shake Father Sunday’s hand, to ask to speak to him in private. When he nodded at her, head tilted to the side, eyes caring and honest, lips curled into a handsome smile. As he gently placed his hand on her elbow, gesturing with the other to the back of their humble church where they might speak in whispers while the congregation made their way out of the door and back to their lives. Her skin tingled, spreading from her elbow, through her arms and fingers. From her core out, spreading to her shame. Her lip trembled as their footsteps creaked on the worn floorboards, mumbles of the crowd silencing as they left them, alone, with only God as witness to their conversation.

“How might I help you, sister?”

She stood, meek and mild, gazing at his face. He looked slick, wet to touch. It was always the same after his sermons. Father Sunday was an exceptional preacher. The Lord truly worked through him, spreading his word, his healing, his light and love, through their very own miracle. He graced them, and they were truly blessed. None more than her, taken in by his boyish looks and his charm. Why, if she were pressed to answer she would be forthright in declaring her love for their prophet, willing to follow him wherever he might go. And willing to do whatever he might ask of her. Anything.

Words formed in her brain, and with effort they made it to her lips, but they couldn’t transcend the gap from thought to physicality, her lips simply pursing, opening and closing, willing with all her might that God not let her make a fool of herself in front of Father Sunday, in all his graces, standing so patiently and waiting to hear what words of great importance she had to relay. His smile waned, she could see that while patience was a virtue it wasn’t one reserved for silly little girls who were unable to speak when spoken to. Flinching at the hand he raised, she prepared to be scolded as she was at home, but Eli placed the hand on her shoulder, taking two locks of hair in his hand and gazing at them while brushing them gently to her back. His hand pressed down, firm. It grounded her. His stare, commanding and almost invasive, managed to draw the words from within her as he spoke.

“Sister?”

“Father Eli.” A gush of breath escaped her as she spoke, sighing his name with a hint of eroticism she neither meant nor could conceal now that it was out in the open. A shameful secret between her, Eli and God.

“Father Eli.” Her breathing settled, her eyes closed as she focused it, unaware of the intrusive gaze as Father Sunday watched her chest move up, and down, slowly, steadily, quickly averting them as she opened her own. Staring into her very soul as she spoke. “I hope you’ll forgive me if this is too forward or seems like I’m prying, but I’ve noticed you’ve looked a little out of sorts at the last few sermons. A touch of fever, or a flu of some kind, perhaps?” He remained stoic, head tilted gently to the side and leaning forward, flourishes which let her know she was being listened to despite his silence.

“Well, my grandfather makes this tonic, you see. It cures…well it cures just about everything. And I wonder if you might take it to try. See if it won’t perk you up a bit.”

She reached into the pocket of her dress, Eli’s gaze following and straying only when the gentle tugging of her hand grasping the small vial caused the buttons at her neck to move slightly, revealing the hollow in the middle, the tendons on either side strong under her sun kissed skin, making out a few more freckles than he had noticed any other time he was looked there, wantonly. He smiled as she looked back up, vial in her palm, held out in front of him. He clasped both of his hands, large and cool, around hers, grasping them tight as he shook them up and down gently.

“Thank you, sister. This is so kind. But it’s unnecessary. The Lord shall see fit to restore my health as he restores yours through me.”

“Oh, but Father Sunday, I really think you ought to-”

“Ah, but won’t your grandfather notice that this is gone?”

He may as well have struck her face with the back of his hand. The shock of his reveal, the crimson on her cheeks as they flooded with shame.

“How did you…Did God…?”

“I can see it on your face. The burden of guilt hangs weary from you. You’re usually so…” he paused as he considered his next words, and she swallowed her nerves as his eyes bored into her, all of her, in a way so polite she doubted she could even consider it to be anything more than a blessing. “Well, you’re normally so innocent. So pure looking.”

“You can tell how pure someone is just by looking?”

“Of course I can. And you…are very pure.”

She could feel her pulse in her entire body, fingertips twitching with each beat. In the daze, she was sure he must have been able to see her body thumping, hear it echoing around the empty hall. His eyes, languidly taking her in and travelling to her stomach, further and further.

“Father Eli.” Her voice was stronger than he expected. He had taken for granted that she might be a weaker spirit, easier to coerce. It wouldn’t be his first conquest, not the first time he had preached his way into some willing prey’s underwear.

“Thank you, once again. But this is unnecessary. I’ll see you this evening for study, yes? Please give my blessings to your family.” Without allowing a moment for further debate, Eli had walked away from her, the floorboards creaking under his heavy footsteps.

What a fool you’ve made of yourself, you stupid, stupid girl. A sinner, and for nothing.

It had pained her every time she had seen Father Sunday, not only because the lingering guilt and shame that crossed her entire body when he looked in her direction, but because he seemed to be getting worse. Where before he had a rosy hue, tinted on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, his hands warm to the touch as he grasped the sick and the weak and cast the demons from them, he was now greying, and his touch was clammy, cool. Each day he seemed to grow weaker, his sermons not their usual bounce of highs and lows, but a constant stream of whispers. An unsettling hush taking over the hall, with no one daring to do so much as breathe too loud for fear the might miss one of his miraculous and divine words.

Each day, she had waited behind to ask after him, see how he was. And each day he had grown more impatient with her incessant pestering. The more she tried to fix her mistakes, to correct the error of her ways, the more she seemed to fall from his graces. An outcast, the black sheep of the herd. She sobbed at night in bed. What was once her sanctuary, a place where the thoughts of Eli she risked thinking were met with the wet, sinful pleasure of her own touch, now all she did was moan and groan in pain. Weeping pitifully, knowing that while there was no chance for romance or intimacy between them before, there was somehow even less now. The way he looked at her, discarded her soul with the quick look away, too ashamed to have her in his mass after what she had done.

But she felt there was one more chance. There had to be. Father Sunday preached redemption. They could always better themselves, through God’s will and forgiveness. And if God could forgive her, then so could Eli. She knew he would still be at the Church this late, given that tomorrow was Sunday. And while her family rested in their rooms, she snuck out into the night. One sin after the other.

At the church, she thought it best to knock first. It was an odd action, to beg for entry in the dark of night as the cool winds whipped the dust up. Hands clasped together in a silent prayer, she begged for forgiveness once more as she grasped the handle and pushed it open, entering the dimly lit hall, the door closing behind her in the draught. Three steps forward, she was already beginning to feel dizzy at the mere concept of having broken into the church. Of all the sins she’s committed so far, this was definitely the worst. Although, it was here as a shelter, to the desperate. And if the knot in the pit of her stomach told her anything, it was that she was indeed desperate. Absolutely starving.

“Do you need to see me?”

It was dizzying, the speed at which she turned. Eli stood between her and the door. There was a brief moment where she was able to wonder where he came from, as it seemed as though he had descended from the roof. Barely enough time for the squeal to make it’s way out of her throat, her airways were closed off by Father Sunday’s cold hands, sweating palm forced against her trachea as he walked her, forced her, up the aisle towards the wooden altar he delivered his sermons from.

Thoughts flooded her brain, mind swimming in them. Surely this wasn’t an appropriate response to her entering the church to see him? Or was it? Was this punishment for her sins, all of them culminating in a physical response from Eli, who held tightly to her, teeth gritted, his seething breaths sending spittle towards her. She turned her cheek towards him, trying not catch the spit emanating from his chapped lips. But in turn, he grasped at her chin, palm resting underneath, fingers pinning her cheek to her teeth causing a sharp pain, thumb hooked onto the teeth in her lower jaw. He turned her towards him, staring eye to eye.

“I thought I had asked you to leave well enough alone. I am fine. I do not need interference from some mewling, pathetic sinner.”

It was over the moment he raised his voice. Having never so much as spoken out of turn before, she had received little to no admonishment, no physical repercussions. And so, this was completely foreign, a new situation, a new stimulus. To which her response was pathetic weeping. Under her breath, and with her jaw held in place, she clumsily mouthed the Lord’s prayer, desperate for Eli to understand her repentance.

“Why did you come here?” He shook her head before letting go, the sudden lack of support and grip causing her to stumble forward and land on her knees on the hard flooring.

“I wanted to make it up to you, Father Sunday. To apologise for my sins. To confess to them all and make you proud again of your flock in its entirety. I’m sorry for what I have done, I’m sorry that I caused you more bother, but you have to know I was acting with faith in mind, being a good Christian. I tried to heal you, to let God work through me. And I’m so sorry.”

She was sobbing hysterically, hands on the floor in front of her to brace her body as it contorted with each wail. He stood above her, admiring the curve of her spine, the spread of her buttocks at this angle. He raised his dusty boot from the floor to her chin and with the toe, gently nudged her head up so he could look at her once more.

“Tell me, how badly do you want to be saved.”

It was an odd question. She considered herself saved. She was saved at baptism, saved through prayer, saved by her dedication to her faith, to her church and to Father Sunday. What were a few sins in life, surely they alone couldn’t require her to be saved, rescued from eternal damnation? But, a good Christian at heart, she shuddered at the though. And eyes, unblinking as they searched within Eli’s for that salvation, she nodded. And he returned, his head bobbing up and down slowly, eyes closed, tongue flicking out over his dry lips. He offered a hand and she took it, pulled up to her feet to stand before him. In shame, she kept her head towards the floor.

“There is sin in you.” He spoke, solemnly. Eyes averted from him, she tried to focus on the knots in the wood at her feet, anything to spare her just a tiny bit from the lecture she was rightly about to receive.”

“Yes, Father, there is.”

“But do you know where the sin lives? Where it dwells? No? Well I can tell you.”

He made his way around her, walking up and behind the altar. She turned to face him, entranced, unable to look away as he stood, knuckles white from the grip he had on the wood. And he delivered it, his finest sermon, words like ambrosia, the milk of human kindness itself pouring from his mouth. A saving grace, only for her. How lucky she was.

“We talk often, and I know you will have listened so many times before, of sins of the flesh. But I put it to you, sister, what lies beneath this flesh we speak of? There is no sweet core in our rotting vessels. Sins of the flesh indeed, but what sins lie beneath? What sins flow through us all, those mere mortals, the immorals. Those who give and sacrifice, those who feed and take. What of those sins?”

She watched him intently, so focused she could swear she could see the veins in his neck bulging, pulsing. They carried the sins.

“What else but carnal desire is driven by the sin within us all? And I ask of you, right now, can you feel it, the heat of the sin?”

A flush of heat waved over her, cheeks feeling as though they were visibly swelling.

“Ah, yes. That’s it! That’s the sin! You can feel it, bubbling to the surface, crimson, velvet. And what drives it more than desire? Nothing! Take my example.”

He stepped quickly from the altar, holding one arm high and taking the other by the wrist, pressing it to his trousers, his crotch, where she could feel his stiff length beneath her palm. And as she tried to pull away, he grunted and heaved her back around.

“Feel it, the sin. Can you feel it pulse? I am fully engorged in the sin, sister. Are you?”

She squirmed, trying to pull away, heat spreading through her own body at the violation, the splendid touch. How long had she thought of it? Considered how he would feel against her? But this isn’t the way she wanted it. There was nothing sweet here. This was, as he had put it, carnal. And she refused to become a participant without at least a struggle. At her tugging, he grabbed the hair at the back of her head.

“Definitely a sinner” he spat the words out, flecks of drool hitting her face. “A perfectly suitable candidate for salvation. What would your father say if he knew you were going against the will of your prophet, of your miracle worker?”

“What would your father say? What would our Father say?”

Rage charged from his throat, echoing in the hall around them.

“Denounce him! I am your father now, I will be your saviour. Tell me, who is your God now?”

Silence apart from heavy breathing and silent sobs.

“I will kick you in the teeth. I will tear your soul from this place and leave you with nothing. Tell me. Who is your God now!?”

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name thy…”

“Our Father? He’s no Father of mine. Mine is the way of the light, the way of truth, of eternal life as told to us. And you are still hoping for salvation from Him? From the boy, born of the virginal cunt?” She winced at the word, continuing with her prayer.

“Or me. Master, creator. Who will make you what you are about to become?”

No longer able to finish her prayers, she knelt weeping at his feet. Begging anyone who may be listening to come and save her from salvation.

“Don’t you even want to know? I’m offering you true Biblical longevity. To become the after-life we all look forward to, so.”

He grabbed her face in both hands, palms pressed to her cheeks, trembling and shaking her features as he pulled her up, her body with no option to follow him as he raised her from the floor by her skull alone.

“You could have it, have it all.”

Intrigue crossed her face at the offer. Father Sunday had always been a truthful man, the preacher they needed and desired. Why would he suddenly lie to her, if he had never lied before?

“You could have me. Isn’t that what you want?”

Her eyes darted to the floor, shame swelling in her chest, suppressed only by the growing arousal that spread like warmed honey over her body, knees gently shaking as the pressure mounted within her abdomen.

“I could take you, give you what you want. If you’ll only let me. Trust me.” And before she could argue against it, his lips, chapped, dry and cold, were pressed to hers. They pushed hers apart, his tongue inside her mouth, probing and prodding its way into her, serpent like. Sinful. But she leaned into it, instinctively. Her first kiss, Holy and sanctified. He moaned and left her lips, settling his mouth on her chin, her cheek, down her neck. There was little she could do, as the words were out of her mouth before she could suppress them.

“Oh God…Jesus…Jesus…Oh God” She panted in between her blasphemous cries, the pleasure behind them spurring Eli on as he grabbed her, taking her whole body in his arms and pressing his lips to hers again. Crashing, teeth clattering hard against hers, the kiss was so violent. Nothing like the tender one she envisioned as she had touched herself, hand pressed against her mound, fingers slipping between her lips to feel the heat, the wet, imagining Father Sunday blessing her with himself. Flesh and bone. Body and soul. And though it was different, it was still pleasurable. His strength, his primal desire, she was but flesh for him to mould to his desires. She leaned into it, allowing herself to revel in the succour of his touch. And then something sharp, heat and pain. Pulling back, her hand flew to her mouth and when she drew it back, she noticed the hot, bright red blood on her finger tips.

“Who is your God now?”

Again, her emotions flipped, moral ambiguity resting at the forefront of her mind as she pondered the question he posed. He was no man, but he was no prophet either. Father Sunday was something different. An entirely unique creature.

“Do you want it? I can give it to you. Please, let me. You will let me?”

She could feel bile rising at the back of her throat, the tangy and metallic taste of her own blood on her tongue, a tickle on her chin where it dripped, tiny splatters on the floor.

“As long as I have teeth, I will bite you. Teeth, biting. If I have no teeth I will gum you.” He repeated it, over and over again. Screaming the words, high pitched and frantic, not the usual strength behind his sermons. This was different. This was unholy, ungodly.

“I can give you everything, I can give you me. I will spill my seed for you, but you must spill your sin for me, spill your blood.” His hands were on his chest, rubbing fervently, scratching at his shirt, buttons loosening, his bare chest exposed. On his pale, white skin, raised red lines formed, some deeper, some more healed than others. As he continued to drag his nails down his chest and stomach, tiny droplets of blood formed from new wounds and old. He rubbed it across himself, chest hair matting, the tiny sliver of hair leading to his dark trousers following suit. And he brought his fingers to his mouth, placing two inside and sucking on them, tongue darting across them, lapping up his own secretion.

It was hypnotic. There was something entirely erotic, strangely enticing about his movements. It was hard to stop herself. It could be that this was something she desired also. The pain, the punishment, sweet redemption. Or did she want Eli, a man she had lusted after for so many years, who she had held in screams for as her family slept in the other rooms. Or was it the true Christian goal, of eternal life and happiness with her saviour. And was Eli that saviour? Interrupting her questioning, he stepped towards her again, fingers brushing her hair back, deftly unbuttoning her dress, exposing her skin to the room, flesh against flesh as he pressed himself to her, blood transferring between them.

“We must share in the sins. The devil is in you, and I can suck him out. But you must share of my sins, of my curses. Who will take them from me if not you? Who will be burdened with my sin as I am burdened with theirs if not you? Please see this as His plan, as My plan! And tell me.”

He was sweating profusely, pupils darker than usual and taking up more than their share of his eyes, staring into her as she tried to find Eli within the dark abyss. He was smiling earnestly, and she could see him. Father Sunday, in his wisdom and glory, willing her to let him lead her to glory, to eternal life in God’s Kingdom, to be in his image.

“Who is your God.”

“You, Father Sunday.”

He grunted, reaching the apex of a roar, and grabbed her in his arms, clumsily stepping to the back of the church, past the altar and to the built-in unit that lined the back wall. Kisses stolen, grasping hands clawing at her flesh, hips, thighs, breasts and back, until she was stumbling against the table, where he promptly spun her around and bent her over, tearing at the fabric until she was exposed against the breezes that made their way through the gaps in the walls and ceiling, skin become dimpled at the sensation.

He spat on his palm and brushed his hair away from his forehead with the back of his hand, before pressing it to her slit, wet and hot. Without any further warning, he was pulling at his pants, unleashing his length and rubbing at the head with further spit. Eager to avoid any efforts at protest, he thrust into her, pushing her limits, ignoring the wails that spewed forth from her as he pumped forwards, desperate to be consumed by her in his entirety. To feel every inch of him encased in her flesh, her sin spilling onto him, over him, slick, easing his movements.

He grunted, a choking noise that was pitched a lot higher than his usual delivery, but he continued his sermon.

“I hope you trust me. I hope you’re ready.”

His words went in rhythm with his panting and the thrusting as he eagerly pulled her hips back to meet his, fingernails dug deep enough into her to cause bleeding.

“You have to pass, enter My Kingdom. Before. So you. Can rise. Rise. As Lazarus. Rose. See. The Miracle. Performed!”

His speech was slurred and she screamed, pleading with him as he removed himself unceremoniously from her cunt. Hands back at her hips he flipped her over. He took her in, gazing hungrily at her. She was flattered, for the briefest of moments, before she began to wonder which part of her he was hungry for. There was no time to process the fleeting thoughts, though, as his fingers, stained in blood, were fiendishly making their way up and down her slit, teasing and nipping at her lips, dipping in and out. He pushed them in, sharp, hard, fast. And at the breathy moan when he removed them, he licked them clean, eyes rolling back into, the blackness making way for the milky white.

She reached her hand out, his body just out of reach, but her fingers grazed his hips. As he looked into her, she could see what could have been love. More than desire for her body, but desire for her soul. And he placed his hands on the table by her shoulders, easing himself back inside of her with a silent gasp, mouth gaping at the sensation, her face following suit.

“Do you trust me? Do you trust me to do this for you?”

She could barely make out a moan let alone a word or a sentence. But she was brought back to consciousness as his palm made contact with her face, the crack echoing around them.

“Do you trust me?” He hissed at her.

“Yes…yes.”

“Who is your God?”

He was steadying himself with one hand on the table, the other reaching out to the side, out of her peripheral view.

“WHO IS YOUR GOD!?”

“You are, Eli!” And as she released a scream of pleasure, his hand crossed her vision. It happened so fast. The glinting of the light on the blade of the ceremonial dagger, no time to process the pain before she began to shudder under him, body spasming as the blood rushed and seeped from her neck. And another movement, knife to his wrist, he held it over her gaping mouth as the droplets hit the back of her throat. She was choking, fading. But she still moved, twitching around him. He reached his orgasm, seed spilling inside of her and dripping out around his cock, onto the floor behind the altar. And as though timed, she stopped moving too.

Softening, he pumped a few more times into her still body. Once, twice, languid movements as he pushed against his own sin, sliding through it, mixing it with her own. And as he watched the last of the blood drip out, he came again, short. But in perfect time, as her sharp inhale met his gentle, tired sigh. She lifted her head from the table, wearily. He withdrew himself from her and grasped at her thigh.

“Welcome to eternal glory. The afterlife. But guaranteed.”

[lost-in-sokovia]

hold me while i hold you

HERE’S YOUR SUNDAY BABY CONTENT. TWO-THIRDS OF THE SUNDAY BABIES. COME AND GET IT, PIPING HOT!!!

warnings: birth, mentions of blood and death, fluff

“no… n-no no no… eli, please,” you begged breathlessly as eli’s calloused hands held yours. the midwives had finally arrived and it was time for them to take over, eli being dismissed from the room. you were in your soaked nightgown from your water breaking and the wet bedclothes were discarded onto the wooden floor, eli’s effort to help prepare for the birth of your second child. it was late at night, pitch black outside and candles being your only source of light. the moon cast a white glow over the plains of little boston and a breeze blew through your opened window. your two year old, tommy, was wide awake from all the commotion and crying out for one of his parents to come get him. eli held your hand with a nervous look painted upon his expression, his brain on overdrive between the sounds of his son crying, you begging for him to stay, and the midwives ushering him out.

“i have to go and see to tommy, my love,” he tried. “please, darling, you have to let go.” your husband gently tried releasing his hand from yours as he made attempts to step back further and further. you whined, gritting your teeth and breathing heavily as you did your best to defy his actions, but eli managed to pull hard enough to release his hand from your death grip and you cried. he took a few slow steps back and watched your face contort as another contraction ripped through you.

“eli! eli, please don’t go,” you sobbed. midwives surrounded you and tried to console you as others prepared towels and other materials needed for the birthing process. his expression broke as a midwife began to slowly usher him out, pushing him by his shoulders out of the door. he tried to keep his eyes on you as he was escorted out of his own bedroom, your teary eyes desperately staring at him as you reached an arm out before the door was slammed in his face. he stood there stiffly for a moment, cringing as he heard you scream, “eli, eli! i don’t think i can do this!” from behind the wooden door. your sobs were now slightly muffled and the sounds of his son’s cries flooded into his ears from behind him. he blinked, pulling himself out of his worried trance before rushing to tommy’s nursery.

eli could see the silhouette of his two year old standing in his crib with his little fists grabbing at the bars. eli’s shaky fingers hastily lit a candle to reveal tommy’s chestnut hair wet and sticking to his teary face. he set it upon the wooden chest of drawers before lifting tommy out of the crib.

“shh, shh, please,” eli hushed tommy as he gently bounced him in his arms, one arm beneath his bottom and the other patting his back. eli’s mind was spinning as he paced around the dimly lit room trying to quiet his son. “please, angel boy… go back to sleep, shh…”

eli muttered prayers under his breath, the words hitching in his dry throat every time he heard you scream or call his name. though your yells were muffled by the door and mixed in with tommy’s whines, eli’s heartstrings yanked and pulled in his chest.

lord above, please, please grant my wife safety as she welcomes another life into the earth. please allow the child to be born with a healthy and beating heart, another lamb to add to your holy flock…

“ELI!” you yelled gravelly. eli grasped onto the toddler tighter, biting his lips so hard he could taste the tang of blood seep onto his tongue. he squeezed his eyelids shut as tight as he could to prevent any tears from spilling out. tommy wined against eli’s ear as eli stood frozen in his tracks. with his eyes still closed, he bounced his son once more and continued to try and brokenly calm him down. he glanced to a small clock sitting in tommy’s room: ten minutes? it had only been ten minutes since eli stepped out? his stomach tangled.

“tommy… please,” eli begged breathily, continuing to walk back and forth, back and forth in his bare feet. tommy’s cries slowly turned into whines, eli continuing to mutter frantic prayers to god. eli damned the sins of adam and eve as he paced, his sadness hinting at anger every time you groaned in pain. the lord made the pain of contractions and labor a punishment to all the women who followed eve, and eli didn’t believe an angel such as you was deserving of the lightning and fire ripping through your abdomen.

eli so desperately wanted tommy to fall back asleep so desperately so he could wait outside the door for you, but the toddler would not calm down as long as there was screaming and commotion interrupting him. eli’s stomach was in knots as his eyes zeroed in on the door, hoping to be welcomed back in at any moment by a happy nurse that would tell him you were fine and the baby was healthy. unfortunately, all he heard was your anguished groans, cries, and calls. every time you sobbed for your husband it brought him closer and closer to tears. he couldn’t be in there with you, there was no way. it wasn’t his place, and even if he wanted to… no. he couldn’t.

“eli! eli, i want him, PLEASE!” your despaired shouting rang through every inch of your small home. the internal dam that was holding eli sunday’s emotions was broken and flooded over in an instant, eli pressing his face into his two year old’s shoulder and letting out a strangled sob.

from the opposite side of the door, you were pushing as hard as you could as the midwives frantically chattered around you. the room was flooded with candles and oil lamps to provide better light, your nightgown was pushed up around your swelled belly, and your entire body was covered in sweat and tears.

“just keep pushing, come on,” one of the midwives urged as she looked between your legs. you wailed and grasped onto the bed, throwing your head back as you tried to push despite the absolute hell you felt in your lower region. if hell had a feeling, this would be it, you thought.

“mrs. sunday, please, i need you to push harder,” the midwife urged again. sudden anger tore through you and your eyebrows furrowed, slamming your fist on the cushy mattress.

“i want eli! i want eli, i want eli-“ your sour tone soon turned into sobs as more tears streamed down your face. one midwife wiped your face with a cool rag as you cried, cradling your head gently in her hands. eli was all you wanted right now, you were sure he could’ve made the pain more bearable. you wanted to see his pupils widen when his second-born came into the world. you wanted to hear every single praise to the lord spill from his lips when the baby took its first cry. you wanted him to kiss your salty lips and tell you what a beautiful creature you were.

you felt selfish, something in you wanting him just leave little tommy crying so he could aid to you. tommy would be fine, tommy wasn’t bringing a new life into the world in the most painful way imaginable. he would still get his little sibling. eli could only be so many places at once, and you wanted him to yourself. he was your eli first.

“your husband can’t come in here, it’s not his place,” the midwife reminded. “come now, focus yourself.” she gestured to your legs. your bottom lip quivered as you knew you had to continue; the sooner you pushed this baby out, the sooner you could be reunited with eli. you took a deep breath and gritted your teeth as you pushed for another ten seconds, a different midwife slowly counting as she watched the growing cavity between your legs intently.

“wonderful job, take a breath,” she complimented. as you caught your breath you realized that for as long as you’d been in here (and quite frankly you weren’t sure just how long it had been, it simply just seemed like it had been hours) that you hadn’t taken a moment to look down between your legs since the midwife arrived. you lifted your head to see if any part of the baby was visible, and your heart stopped at what you saw on the towels beneath you. there was blood in the littlest pool stemming from your birth canal. the fingers of the midwife between your legs were tinted and slick with red, her occasionally dipping them in a basin of reddish water and wiping them on a towel that was beginning to look a sort of pink.

your head got light and your breathing was beginning to labor again. you shook your head as the thought of dying on this bed clouded your mind. you were going to die here. this was it. you were going to be victim to the same death as thousands of other women across the country, simply trying to bring their precious and cherished children into the world. you wouldn’t get to say goodbye to eli or tommy, and if the baby made it out alive then eli would have to father two children on his own. the midwives would have to break the news and eli would cry over your limp body. oh god, oh god. you grasped at your mattress as you let out a few whimpers.

“i’m going to die, oh my god i’m going to die…” you repeated softly but frantically, the thoughts becoming too much to handle. two midwives came to your side and one grasped your hand as they listened intently to you.

“no, no sweetheart you’re not going to die,” one comforted confidently. your teary eyes gazed into hers desperately as your chest heaved up and down. she slowly shook her head at you as anxious words bubbled up in your throat.

“i-it wasn’t like this with tommy. he was so much easier, and this hurts i’m in pain so much pain,” your voice broke. the other midwife nodded and pushed your wet hair back out of your face, placing a rag on your forehead for a moment.

“every baby is different, ma’am. i’m sorry this is so much more difficult for you,” she said softly. your face scrunched up and you let out a small cry as another contraction ripped through you and one of the midwives got up. the other helped you breathe back down and you opened your eyes once more. “this is completely normal. you may not have had it with your other child, but i promise you are not going to bleed out. you simply aren’t bleeding enough.” you nodded at her words, letting out a shaky breath. “now listen, let’s finish this and bring this miracle out here, alright?”

the woman’s encouragement and comfort spiked something in your heart as you nodded in agreement. there was no doubt that this labor was worse than tommy’s. when you gave birth to tommy, it didn’t seem like it had taken this long. this baby, however, was giving you the worst pain you’d ever felt in your entire life and was nearly scaring you to death. you looked to the sterner midwife between your legs and nodded mostly to yourself.

“are you sure eli can’t come in here?” you asked meekly, hoping just maybe that they would take pity on you. she shook her head and pursed her lips.

“yes, i’m sure. let’s get going now,” she replied. you whimpered and looked up to the ceiling, hoping god could hear your broken thought process you were claiming to be your prayers.

“lord in heaven, grant me the strength i need,” you whispered brokenly.

eli had finally succeeded in calming down his son enough to make him stop crying, but the fussy baby simply would not return to sleep. his arms were getting tired from bouncing him, but if he held the boy still he would let out a sad little cry. eli sighed, the nausea in his stomach growing each minute he was stuck in your son’s room without you. he could hear your pants and strangled groans, the midwives occasionally calling out commands to you. eli’s lips were chewed raw and his eyes stung from how intensely they were opened.

he gave up and sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the dark room, plopping down with a heavy breath as the chair quietly squeaked as it rocked back and forth. tommy let out an unhappy little noise and eli hushed him tiredly, asking god to if anything, please quiet his son as he was torn apart by anxiety. the lord must’ve heard his prayer, for tommy laid silently against his father’s chest, every so often glancing up to him with eyes the exact replica of eli’s.

“eli-i!” came a strangled and broken cry. eli winced. he had heard you call his name over and over and it never hurt him less. there was a dull pain in his chest from all the torture his heartstrings had been facing. he was tired, the anxiety and emotions wearing him thin. as much as he wanted to sleep, there was no possible way. his mind wouldn’t let him. he had to know you were okay, he had to meet his new child, and he had to attend to the one he held against him.

a single tear rolled down eli’s cheek. another minute, another scream. his leg began to bounce on the floor. another minute, another scream. were the women in there taking care of you? another minute, another scream. why was this so much more difficult than when tommy was born? another minute, another scream. a prophet’s wife did not deserve this anguish and pain.

eli sat and blankly watched the time pass on the clock across the room. it had been an hour since your water broke and contraction hit, forty-five minutes since the midwives had arrived. eli shook his head and began bothering his raw lips with his teeth once more.

he allowed his eyes to close for a moment, and after one final scream from you, everything went silent. his eyes shot back open and he startled, leaning forward intently to see if he could hear anything. he heard the mixed voices of the midwives and stood up, realizing they were cheerful and congratulatory. he heard you let out a cry different from your previous ones; a cry of relief and joy. eli’s heart thumped heavily against his chest as he let out a small laugh, tears streaming down his face as he offered his thanks to god. he pressed a loving kiss to tommy’s soft hair and carried the toddler out of the nursery, making his way back to the door he’d watched for so long.

it took a moment for the happiness to dissolve back to panic behind the wooden door. eli’s smile faded and he tried to wipe his steady flow of tears from his cheeks. he breathed quietly for a moment before fear raced through him. there was one sound missing from the room.

-

“wait,” you sniffled as a midwife proudly lifted your newborn in the air, your smile fading. “w-why isn’t he crying?”

the midwife looked at the baby and the other two crowded around her. you watched for a moment as they examined the baby, and your expression broke as soon as theirs did. you felt bile rise in the back of your throat as they began to pat the baby’s back and pump rhythmically at his chest.

“oh my god,” your voice began to rise as you tried to sit yourself up.

-

oh my god, eli thought and grasped onto tommy once more.

-

“is he breathing?” you asked, anxiety biting at your tone. the midwives frantically chattered as they tried resuscitating your baby. you began to cry again, your worn out body having to take the hit of emotion once more. “oh my god!” you yelled with a sob.

-

tears streamed down eli’s cheeks and his chest heaved as he stood with his ear pressed to the door. father in heaven, please give this baby the full life it deserves, just as you have given every other human on this planet. please let this pure being breath, having committed no prior sin and being only a new form of life you’ve granted us…

-

“let eli in, let him in please, please!”

-

let me in, let me pray over him let me in…

-

you sobbed.

-

eli let out a cry.

-

a high-pitched cry then rang through eli’s ears and you let out an emotional laugh. a weight fell from eli’s shoulders as he heard your crying laughter mixed with the sounds of a new cry. never in his life had eli been more overjoyed than in that moment.

moments later the door creaked open to reveal a smiling midwife.

“it’s a boy. congratulations, mr. sunday.” she stepped aside for him to waste no time in coming to your bedside, paying no attention to the bloody towel between your legs. your face was shiny with sweat and tears as you held the now-breathing baby in your arms. eli let out a small sob, his poor heart unable to control any emotions any longer. the little pink body wiggled gently against you, his mouth open in a wide o-shape as he let cries that the two of you had never been more relieved to hear.

you looked at your husband through teary eyes and could tell he had been crying too. he cupped one of your cheeks before kissing you as hard and passionately as he could, his raw lips against your salty ones. he pulled back to press his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face as he panted.

“oh my love, my darling y/n…” he whispered in relief. you gave him a weak smile as you gently stroked your newborn son’s head, his cries become gentler. eli pulled away to lay his eyes upon just what you and him had created nine months ago. he smiled and you wiped his tears, pressing a kiss to his head as tommy looked at the baby as well. one midwife came over to take the baby from you to clean him up and eli climbed up into bed next to you, pressing kisses all over your face as he held tommy in his lap.

“are you doing alright my love? i’m so sorry i could not be in here with you…” he muttered, regret just spilling out of him as he attended and doted all over your weak being. you nuzzled against him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“it was so scary, eli,” you replied quietly, shuddering slightly as you remembered the blood and the panic and the anguish. eli watched as a midwife took away the towel between your legs and his heart hitched when he saw the red stains on it. he kissed your head and sat quietly next to you, unsure of how to express his sadness and apologies to you as much as he wanted to.

he heard your breathing steady and you picked your head up as the midwife who had comforted you brought back your clean and swaddled baby. she smiled at you and nodded, handing you the small white bundle. you held him against your chest and eli wrapped his arm around you, holding you steadily against him. the two of you admired your little miracle baby as you sighed, eli pressing yet another kiss to your cheek.

“he’s beautiful,” you cooed softly. the baby slept soundly in your arms and eli swore he felt his heart grow even more for the newest addition to the sunday family. eli was so grateful that his little son was breathing, and couldn’t take his eyes off of the baby’s chest rising and falling steadily. tommy reached out his chubby little fist to the baby and eli softly caught it.

“gentle, tommy,” he whispered. you remembered your first born was next to you and you gave him a big smile, acknowledging him.

“look tommy, it’s baby brother!” you told the wide-eyed two year old. tommy’s eyes glanced from you to the baby and you let out a small laugh, eli smiling. “can you say ‘baby?’” you asked.

“baby,” tommy’s little voice mimicked. you cheered him softly and eli kissed his little head. eli helped tommy gently crawl over to you and nestle himself atop your legs, his soft chestnut hair right below his baby brother’s blanket. eli ran a hand through his before redirecting his attention to his newborn.

“alexander eli,” you breathed. eli nodded dreamily; in awe you’d ever choose to name your son after him.

“i can’t believe the lord sent me his most beautiful, strong, and kind angel to be the mother of my children.” eli nuzzled against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “you’ve given me two beautiful sons, i could not be more grateful unto you, my love. i adore you, i love you, i am enamored with you.”

you locked eyes with him before kissing him gently, eli reaching across your chest to put a hand on alexander’s little bundle. you hummed against his lips, feeling at home and comforted like this with him. eli allowed himself to relax against you, his small family slowly drifting off to sleep. he gave you a soft squeeze, holding you as tightly as he could, worried that if he let go that he would wake up to find this would be a dream.

“i love you, eli sunday,” you murmured tiredly. eli hummed and admired you, tommy, and little alexander with your eyes closed and existing so peacefully.

“and i love you,” he replied lovingly just before closing his eyes, relishing in what the lord had gifted him.

wow i cranked this out in like less than 24 hours and im so proud of it?? oh my god?? i hope you enjoyed!!💕💖💘

[theehoneeybee]

Late Night Sugar Fix

pairing: Edward Naston/gn!reader word count: 1.3k warnings: swearing, brief mentions of murder, implied stalking, usual Gotham things

synopsis: the night shift at the diner was always quiet, few people willing to venture out into Gotham at night, except for one regular who came in on an almost nightly basis.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

a/n: i'm back in my paul dano era. I used to write for him back on an old blog of mine and it's nice to do it again :)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Another slow night. The drops of rain trailing down the window carried the colours of the glowing city lights with them. The small, old TV perched in the corner re-aired news segments from earlier in the week. The sounds barely reached your ears and the subtitles lagged behind the speech.

The diner had become quieter over the past couple of weeks. With two vigilantes using the city as an oversized playground, and crime at an all time high, people weren't too keen to leave the house. Especially at night.

There was a few regulars who still came in, fellow night shift workers coming in for a much needed cup of coffee after a long day. The familiar chiming of the bell pulled your head away from the TV, turning around in your chair to greet the stranger.

His back was turned to you, his green jacket decorated with dark spots from raindrops. He set his umbrella gently down by the door and shuffled over the the bench, taking a seat on the cracked black leather stools.

"Evening," you greeted him. "What can I get started for you?"

The man barely makes eye contact with you. "A cup of coffee please, and, um, do you have any pumpkin pie?"

The clear frames of his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, little droplets of water clinging onto the lenses. His soft brown hair stuck to his forehead. The umbrella must not have done its job. You gave him a nod and went out the back to prepare his order.

Once you came back, the man had cleaned off his glasses and his attention was now focused on the TV screen. You placed down the food, matching his gaze to look up at the screen.

It was a repeat of a news story from earlier in the day. 'The Riddler terrorises Gotham' the subtitles read, the face of the news reporter was replaced with one of the Riddler's infamous livestreams. The reported called him all sorts of names, 'murderer', 'villain', 'terrorist'. You couldn't help the small scoff that left your lips. This caught the strangers attention, half turning his head to look at you through the corner of his eye.

"Look, I don't agree with the killing," you quickly tried to justify yourself, hoping you hadn't offended him. "But at least he's doing something. I know too many people who have suffered because the cops don't do shit."

An emotion you couldn't quite place flashed on his eyes, leaving just as quickly as it appeared. He nodded, looking back at the TV. "Someone had to do something."

You spend the rest of the evening aimlessly scribbling in your notepad, occasionally turning to the TV for some lacklustre entertainment. The man left, giving you a small nod on his way out. As you cleaned up the plates, wiping down the counter, you glanced at the door.

He left his umbrella.

You leant against the counter, idly flicking between the pages of a newspaper that a customer had left behind.

"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears," you read the riddle printed on the thin pages aloud, "I have no body, but come alive with the wind. What am I?"

"An echo." The answer made you jump, no longer alone in the diner. "The riddle," the man gestures to the newspaper in your hands, "It's an echo."

The same man from yesterday with the clear frames and mousey brown hair was back. You never even heard the door bell ring. Same routine as last night, he sits down and orders a slice of pumpkin pie and coffee. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he ate, filling in the puzzles from a newspaper of his own.

Strange, you settled on, was the best way to describe him. He kept his head down, occasionally shifting awkwardly in his seat and adjusting his glasses, a nervous habit. Strange, yes, but he also was also endearing. Or maybe you just pitied him, the same way a sad puppy is both adorable and heart breaking.

The man was about to leave, folding the newspaper into a neat little rectangle and tucking it into his jacket. Before he had a chance to go, you dashed into the back of the diner to reunite him with his forgotten umbrella.

"Wait!" you called out to him, "you forgot your umbrella yesterday."

"Oh," he says quietly. "Thank you." He took the umbrella from your hands.

"I never got your name, by the way. I know all my regulars by their names," you explained.

He stares at you, eyes obscured by the reflection of light on his lenses, expression unreadable. "Edward," he finally introduces himself.

It was around the time that Edward began to frequent the diner that you began to notice strange occurrences.

When you would walk back to your apartment, the sun barely peaking over the tall city buildings, it felt like you were being followed. You could feel a pair of eyes searing into the back of your head. A wave of relief would wash over you once you finally stepped into your apartment.

On one of the few nights off you had, you were laying on the couch when a card was slipped under your front door. Getting up from your comfortable spot, you half-opened the door and peered down the hallway. Empty. It was a small greeting card with a cartoon owl of the front with the text 'owl always love you' written in cursive.

'I have keys but no locks. You can enter, but you can’t go outside. I have space but no room. What am I?' was scribbled messily on the inside of the card.

You didn't sleep that night.

You and Edward had developed an unspoken friendship. Each night you found yourself looking for forward to his visit. While you didn't talk very much, there was a mutual enjoyment of each others company. He would help you solve the puzzles in forgotten newspapers. Edward was very intelligent, always quick to answer. While he liked crosswords and dabbled in sudoku, you learnt riddles were his favourite.

"Are you any good with computers?"

Edward looked up from his puzzle, "I'm okay. Why?"

"Well I've been having this issue with my laptop," you explained. Whenever you tried to use it, it would work for about a minute before the screen blanked. Only a small question mark could be seen, flickering in the top right of the screen. You didn't want to waste your money bringing it to a repair shop or buying a new one, so your best bet was asking Edward. "It's probably a virus from one of those shitty free streaming sites."

"I can come take a look at it."

You scribbled your phone number down on a scrap piece of paper. "Thank you so much."

You had texted back and forth with Edward to arrange a time for him to come to your apartment to look at the laptop. Was it the smartest move to invite an almost-stranger into your apartment? No, but Edward seemed trustworthy enough.

'I'll be there soon :)' his message read.

Soon, there was a knock on your door and you were letting Edward into your apartment. He took a seat at your desk as you booted up your laptop.

"It'll be fine for a few minutes and then-" the screen went black. "Bam!"

Edward adjusted his glasses, bringing the laptop closer. "Yeah, I see what you mean." You watched anxiously as he fiddled around with it to little success.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to fix it here," Edward explained. "However, if I hook it up to my computer at home I should be able to get the virus off it."

"So it can be fixed? I don't need to buy a new laptop?" Edward shook his head no. "Oh, thank you! You don't mind doing it do you?"

"It's okay. I'll give it back to you at work tomorrow."

You thanked Edward profusely as he left your apartment, laptop in hand. When you sat down on the couch, fear punched you in the stomach. The blood drained from your face when your realised that,

You never gave Edward your address.

[riddlersbimbo]

Paul Dano as Eli Sunday There Will Be Blood (2007)

[nowyouknowdano]

The Sharpest Thorn - Percy Dolarhyde x F Reader (NSFW)

Posting a link to my Ao3!! It's the longest fic I've written so far!

Requested by the amazing: @tomhiddlesmom 💕

Hope you like it!! ☺️

Wishing you all sweet Dano kisses!!❤️

[ppolppool]

evil things i love

[k3niv3z]

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wanted to turn my favorite photos of paul into a moodboard ! \( ^_^)/