Humming happily to herself, (Y/N) (L/N) washed the dishes in the kitchen. Her beloved fiancé had gone out about an hour ago, going on about securing the future or something. She didn't quite catch his babbling and he was gone before she could even ask him to elaborate further.
It had been a good one month after the miracle of her, quite literally, new life. Her immortal was kind to tone down that panicking and babying after long hours of discussion and thorough convincing. It felt nice to actually do something now. No ill feeling or gaping hole within her existed to form a dreadful sea out of her thoughts to drown in. She was, simply put, home, and home was all she needed.
The serenity within the atmosphere, however, was soon shattered when a bright flash emerged behind her. Scared shitless, (Y/N) jumped and cradled a plate to her chest like some sort of baby and shield hybrid. The soap suds that drenched her shirt seemed to go unnoticed as she froze in both shock and fear. She opted to stare at the sink, not wanting to communicate with whoever or whatever was in her kitchen right now.
"Uh, (Y/N)?"
A familiar voice fills her ears and she finally found herself glancing at whatever materialized near her. She saw nothing in her direct line of vision, and had to look down. It was a wondrous surprise! The little Fate she owed her resurrection to stood there, divine glow and all. "Tadhana!" (Y/N) exclaims, both in a tone of delight and 'how dare you'.
The smol girl looked at her former assignment incredulously. "What are you doing?" Tadhana asked, glancing at (Y/N)'s arms.
The mortal soon realized that she was still clutching her plate baby and struggled for a confident answer. "I'm," she coughed, "I'm washing the dishes, obviously."
Tadhana rolls her eyes. "And you use your boyfriend's shirt to wipe them, yes?" She queried sarcastically, nodding proudly as if she made the right decision of stanning you. "You're quite resourceful and eco-friendly."
"Hey, don't sass me, young lady," you playfully scold, "because first of all, it's fiancé, not boyfriend, and second of all, what are you doing?"
At (Y/N)'s statement, Tadhana was instantly elated, looking at the left ring finger for some proof. On the youngling was an expression that (Y/N) could describe as something akin to a parched sailor finally catching sight of land. Given the events that had happened, she understood the sentiment, but still worried over the young girl's state of mind. "Is everything alright?" (Y/N) followed after being greeted with silence.
It seemed to knock the young girl out of her stupor. "Oh!" Tadhana became flustered. Her shining face soon vanished as quickly as it came. "I came here to discuss the matters concerning my little stunt."
The resurrection.
(Y/N)'s palms turned sweaty. "What about it?" The woman stammered, fidgeting nervously. Had she come here to take back what she's done?
Tadhana took note of (Y/N)'s tremor and gave a soft smile to ease the mortals concerns. "Don't worry," she said, "everything will go well if we cooperate."
(Y/N) let out a breath of relief.
"But it is a serious matter," the young Fate quipped.
It was panic time all over again for (Y/N). Deciding to get a grip on herself, the woman set down the plates and wiped at the wetness in her shirt with the kitchen towel. "What do you mean by that?" She asked, still busying herself.
Tadhana cleared her throat as she shifted around her feet. "Well," she began, "The Council discussed the events of the resurrection. They decided on destroying the arc, banning me from the Fates Course, and issuing one final ultimatum on the souls I've brought back."
(Y/N)'s mouth was left agape as the cogs in her brain try to make sense of the words that came out of the young girl before her. It was all too much to process at once. "So," she trailed off, "you're here to punish me?"
The former Fate was quick to shake her head. "I'm not here to take you back," she said, a bit hesitant with her words. "Well, not right away anyways."
"What?!" (Y/N) shrieked. "But you said—"
Tadhana took a deep breath. "Look," she sighed, "the Council is willing to cooperate with your situation. They'll fully erase any memory of your death, fabricate false ones in the minds of those who knew, and all that, but it comes with a price."
That did nothing to soothe the mortal's nerves. "What price?" she squeaked, heart drumming wildly.
"The Council agreed that the root of this 'madness'," Tadhana rolls her eyes at the word. "is the passion and love of the second personifications to their lovers. Since all hell broke loose when you all died, they decided on fixing the other variable of the equation instead. The immortals themselves."
(Y/N) watched as the little girl pulled out a vial of golden liquid, and listened once more to the explanation. "The second personifications are just spares," Tadhana told her, "and so the Council decided that it would lessen the severity and chances of chaos if they are to become mortal instead."
Heart shattering, (Y/N) stared at the vial given to her. The Council saw the second personifications as a flawed and dangerous liability to the balance of life on Earth, so much that they're willing to take the immortality away from that country. Albeit the thought of being able to grow old with her fiancé was endearing, the question lingers in her head.
What if he regrets it in the end?
(Y/N) held back her emotions. "What happens if we don't accept?" she dares ask.
Tadhana winces and a crestfallen look befalls her face. "Then you'll be given a terrible life, followed by danger and bad luck," the little girl refused to meet eyes.
(Y/N)'s heart drops. Both conditions are heavy, too heavy for her to take. It would put her fiancé's happiness and sanity at risk. "Why can't we just be at peace?!" She exclaims, "It's not fair!"
"It's not unfair, (Y/N)!" Tadhana retaliates, "Think about it! When you ultimately die, what assurance will we all have that he won't go astray again?"
"He's—"
"Shut your mouth for a minute and listen to me!"
The little girl succeeded in silencing the grown woman. "It's the fresh start you're both looking for! A blank slate! No one will remember your death, and no one will come after you two! You'll finally be able to get married, start a family and grow old together!"
(Y/N) struggled with her words. "I just don't want him to regret choosing me," she whimpered in a voice barely audible, but the little one still heard.
A small hand rested over (Y/N)'s damp ones. "(Y/N), he's been alone in the truest sense for millennia. He's had flings, sure, but there's no one like you. You've had a fair share of meeting him in your past lives, but this lifetime, you truly became his light. Do you really want to leave him in darkness again?"
"No," (Y/N) trembled, tears running down her cheeks. "Of course not."
"You both deserve a soft epilogue after all of this mess," Tadhana declared, "take the chance and start anew."
Still contemplating, (Y/N) glanced down at the elixir. "What happens when he drinks it?" she ponders, worry and doubt still lacing every word.
"He'll be an ordinary man," Tadhana said, "no more special abilities, and no more immunity from Death."
(Y/N) couldn't help but question the girl's words. "But he'll still remember his immortal life?" she asked, mind still restless.
"The Council believes that this will help humble him in his life as mortal," the little girl elaborated, "that way he'd prevent himself from doing the reckless things that he's accustomed himself to do."
With a sigh, the woman gently enclosed the small vial into her fist. She looked at her former fate with pleading eyes. "Please understand," she said, "I want his consent on this."
The young girl stared back, just as deep in thought. Eventually, she nods firmly. "Twenty four hours," she conceded, "I'll give you one whole day to decide on an answer. Either way, he'll have to drink that liquid or the higher ups will take matters into their own hands."
With that, the bright light returns and Tadhana was no longer in her kitchen. (Y/N) closed her eyes, encouraging a tear to slide down. Still, she felt troubled.
FRANCOIS BONNEFOY
"Cherie, I'm home,"
Your mind barely registers the exhausted voice that calls from around the living room. Circles, your hand just keeps making circles on the plate that you may or may not have been washing for thirty or so minutes. It wasn't until a kiss on the cheek was stolen from you that you jolted in surprise.
You looked at your fiancé with a smile that resonated the same exhausted energy he was having. "Welcome back," you greeted, placing a proper kiss on his lips. Not much to your surprise, the Frenchman decided to grasp the chance to take your breath away. You felt his grip tighten around your waist as he pulled you closer.
Alas, your human body required such unfortunate necessities, and you were soon forced to pull away and replenish your aching lungs. Francois nuzzled against you, his lips brushing across your skin before settling home on your forehead. "What's bothering you, cherie?" He whispers to you after a short while. It was clear with your puffy eyes and damp shirt that you weren't fine.
Gazing into his purple hues, you caught sight of the unwavering concern in his eyes accompanied by the looming presence of murder lest the cause of your downtrodden expression was an unfortunate soul. Your eyes fluttered to a close as a sigh escapes your lips. There's no use hiding the truth from him.
Turning back to your chores, you rinsed the last of the plates and wiped your hands off with a towel. All the while, you were thinking of a way to break the news to him. "Do you remember the little girl I told you about?" You began, "the one that brought me back to life?"
Francois' brows furrowed in confusion, as he takes a seat by the dining table. "Tadhana?" he instantly recalls, earning a nod from you. "What of her?"
Another deep sigh came from you. You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. "She came by just about a half an hour ago, and she told me that the Council of the Afterlife decided on an ultimatum," you pinched the bridge of your nose, stressed by all of this.
"What's the ultimatum?"
You heard Francois do his best to sound calm, but you knew well that his concern levels are off the roof. It was probably best to explain this to him with the vial in the discussion. For this reason, you held the small glass between your fingers as you showed it to him. The golden liquid was almost haunting.
Francois leaned forward and stared at the vial intensely, resting his arms on his knees. "She gave you that?"
You nodded softly, still afraid of what might happen. "She that it would," you paused, "it would make you mortal."
A wave of relief washes over your Frenchman as he lets out the breath he's been holding. He stands to approach you, lean figure looming over you and all. "Is that all?" he mused, so nonchalantly that it throws your demons into silence.
"Yeah," you stammered, "But you'll be mortal!"
He hummed dismissively, still taking the vial from your hands.
Flabbergasted, you watched as he uncaps the thing without a care in the world. "Are you sure you won't regret it?" you meekly ask him.
Francois looked at you, almost offended but he didn't act upon it. Instead, he downs the elixir of mortality, all the while looking at you—as if to establish some sort of point. A slight grimace befell his face as he made sure to get every last drop. He hands you back the vial before wrapping his arms around you.
"I've been tired of this world for a long while," he tells you as he presses a kiss on your forehead. "It's bold of you to assume that I won't forsake my immortality to be with the only reason I tolerate the rest of the world."
ALLEN JONES
"(Y/N)?"
You froze yet again at the mention of your name. Wiping her tears away, you slowly turned around to meet eyes with the person behind you.
"Al," you forced a smile, trying desperately to act as though everything was dandy. "Back so soon?"
Allen let out a light chuckle. "Baby, I've been gone for a good three hours. Are you trying to get rid of me or something?" he said in a teasing manner, nonetheless still accepting the kiss you greeted him with.
You smiled up at him again, still opting to stay in his embrace. A curse almost left you lips when you see him furrow his eyebrows as he stared back at you.
"What's wrong, babe?"
Shit.
He saw through your façade and felt the troubled thoughts in your head. "It's nothing," you insist, waving a dismissive hand and going back to the dishes. Did he not hear or see Tadhana?
"What's gonna happen in twenty four hours?" Allen continues to prod.
Oh.
Visibly, you stiffened. "You heard that?" You elicited a nervous chuckle. Desperately, you scrubbed at the plates, just as you felt your fiancé approach you from behind.
"Well not all of it but, babe," Allen scolds, "We gotta go through shit together. How can we do that if you won't tell me? What did the kid want? Are they taking you back? What—"
Fuck it. "Do you want to become human?" You spluttered all at once, cutting off your American and catching him off guard.
"What?" Allen blinked confusedly.
"I mean..." you struggled to look at him in the eyes. "Do you want to be mortal and you know..."
Allen fills in the line. "Grow old with you?"
You stare into his eyes. The red was swimming with an undecipherable emotion. The silence that cuts between the both of you didn't do well to calm your racing heart. The bitch was running a marathon or something. Darn it, why did I have to face this confronting thing alone?
You only found yourself nodding timidly to his question, as if to say 'yeah, if you want to, I guess' like the awkward potato that you are.
Much to your confusion and rollercoaster of emotions, Allen's face broke into a shit-eating grin. He gave you a big, sloppy kiss before straightening up like a soldier. "Have at it, ma'am," he tells you, "what's this man gotta do?"
A laugh ripple through you as tears stung your eyes. You showed him the vial. "Are you sure about this, Jones?" You ask him one more time, but he just snatches the glass from your hands.
As the American uncaps the vial, he flashes you a Chesire cat smile. "I'm not sure about everything, but I am about you," he says, "I wouldn't mind becoming a wrinkly ol' man if it means I could spend it with you, doll."
The tears that stung your eyes were a bunch of bitches, but you couldn't care less. You jumped into the American's arms, who was quick to make sure that the vial wasn't wasted when he hugged you back just as tight. One passionate kiss later and Allen holds up the little thing as though he finished a little toast for the occasion.
"Cheers!"
And with that, your lives changed.
MATTHIEU WILLIAMS
The sunset filtered through your windows as you and Matt cuddled in the plush perimeters of your bed. However, something was amiss. "Matt, what are you thinking about?" you finally ask after a long while.
"It's nothing," he quickly dismisses, but you knew better.
"Matt," you softly scold, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
There was silence, but he concedes. "I saw an old couple while at the grocery store," he confessed, looking down at the way your bodies entangle. "They were talking about their children and grandchildren coming over. They looked so happy, so content. I just," he struggles for words, "I just can't help but think that I want that too."
Your heart shatters. You had to tell him now, right?
"Matt, I—"
The Canadian completely assumed something else, sitting up from the bed to avoid your eyes. "I know, I know," he practically huffs, "it's best to just live in the moment, live while I still have you, but it's difficult, you know?"
You didn't know what to say, or when to say it. Matt was too consumed by his thoughts. "All I ever want is spend the rest of my life with you, but all we could ever have is tragedy," he laments, "You can reincarnate again and again but even that won't guarantee we'll meet. You'll grow old and leave me again while I live the rest of my days in the dark until Canada ceases to exist."
Matthieu slumps in his place away from you. You watched as his back tensed with his ragged breathing. Scooting closer, you settled behind him on your knees. You rested your chin on his shoulder and savored the moment. The Canadian didn't resist your arms as they snaked around his torso. Your embrace offered him comfort and love. Somehow, it made his emotions better and worse all together.
"Will let me finish speaking now?" you softly teased him.
His silence gave you the permission to proceed. "I've had troubled thoughts about that too," you admitted, "But there was always also the looming question that what if he regrets having me in the end?"
Matt jolted to react and reject your thoughts, but you shushed him. With him still in your arms, you continue your words. "I know it's all overthinking," you tell him, "but seeing you like this really gets rid of all my initial thoughts for good."
This time, you allowed Matthieu to face you and pull you into his lap, straddling him. His callous hands found solace in caressing your face, and you, in turn, leaned into his touch. "I want to spend the rest of my days with you, too," you whisper to him as your lips soon locked in a kiss.
The Canadian pulled you close, hands roaming your body as yours did the same. His emotions bled into the kiss with much fervor. You felt the pain and the passion he had for what you two shared. At the circumstance, a stray tear fell down your cheek. Gosh, you didn't even realize you were crying until Matt pulled away in worry.
His purple hues peered into your (e/c) ones. The purple reminded you that which blends a sunset into the night; the purple that paints the sky into a beautiful masterpiece for a few moments. In this case, you realize that you would do anything to stay in those few moments to cherish your purple sky.
The moment between the two of you shattered, as you left the sweet confines of Matt's lap to retrieve the vial. A deep breath escapes you, but you marched onwards to return to your fiancé. Sitting next to him, you showed the little glass that held the golden liquid to change your lives forever.
"What's that?" the question came out soft, but you heard him well.
Slowly, you handed him the vial. "Tadhana came by earlier to give me this," you tell him, "it's meant to be an ultimatum from the Council."
You watched as he held it in his hands so carefully. "It'll make you mortal," you rested a hand on his knee, as he took a couple of minutes to stare between you and the vial in shock. For the first time in a long while, you saw tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
"We can finally grow old together?"
"We can finally grow old together," you nodded, getting just as emotional.
With that, your fiancé wasted no time and drank the entire thing. He licked his lips to make sure he didn't miss a drop. A grimace emerged from his face at the taste, but the ghost of a smile on his lips tells you that he's satisfied.
Finally, you two could spend the rest of your days together.
OLIVER KIRKLAND
The dawn painted the sky with hints of warm oranges as the sun rose from its slumber, reminding you that you have approximately seven or so hours until Tadhana returns to reap the consequences of her actions. You've been mulling it over since yesterday, stuck at a crossroad with a mind unable to fully tread on a path of decision.
It was a nice thought to imagine having a family with Oliver, having mini versions of you both running around a quaint house with laughter filling the air. It's a fitting paradise, you think, for him to rest from his plights and his troubled mind, to escape from the demons that dwell in the very depths of his being. Oliver can finally be at peace, and finally head towards fully healing himself.
At the same time, your mind argues at the cost this vial demands. Oliver will no longer have a connection to magic—no more imaginary creatures, spells, potions, and what not. Knowing just how much magic has helped your fiancé throughout his deathless endeavors, you worry just how much Oliver might not like mortal life with you at all. Magic has long been rooted into his veins, and if you were to take it away, what then?
After wasting eighteen hours, you finally had enough with the lollygagging and went down to the basement, where your fiancé was working on something you cannot really fathom. "Ollie," you call out with a slight stammer, peaking into his workspace.
The strawberry blonde looks up from the cauldron, goggle-clad eyes instantly becoming sapphires hit with light as he caught sight of you standing by the stairs, still dressed in your pajamas. "Poppet," he grins, pushing his googles to rest at his head. "What are you doing up so early?"
A faint line remains from where the goggles had been, the outside areas lightly grey from the soot of something he had been doing. Nonetheless, you come up to him and give him a quick peck in greeting. "I was wondering if you're going to finish soon?" you murmur, running a hand through your unkempt (h/c) hair.
The Englishman flashes you an apologetic look. "Not quite yet, love. I'm sorry," he says, setting down the instrument he had been holding, and moving to read a book from another table. The book's contents would give you a headache to try and understand so you didn't really bother to look at it any longer. "It's fine," you tell him, taking a seat at an empty stool nearby.
You rest your elbows on the table before you, leaning your cheek on one hand as you watch Oliver's focused expression. Working with the arcane is ever really one of the things that drives him to carry such a serious aura around himself. "What are you working on again?" you ask as he drops one glowing liquid after another into the boiling concoction.
Oliver chuckles, casting a glance at you. "And, why have you taken a sudden interest with my work, hm?" he muses, knowing full well that you know you won't understand a thing.
With a shrug thrown at his way, you make up an excuse for your presence, doing the thing you said you wouldn't do when you decided to come down here—stalling time. "You just look so cool doing your magic chemistry bulls—" you stop yourself as Oliver raised an eyebrow, daring you to continue. "—prinkles."
You cringe at yourself. Bullsprinkles? What the fuck is that? Just get on with it, (Y/N)!
Even as Oliver giggled at your poor save, you sigh at your despondence—a little too loudly, seeing as it makes your fiancé actually stop for a moment and look at you with his full attention. His eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes carrying the worry of a thousand mothers. "What are you really doing here, poppet?" he questions you, "may I help you with something?"
Holding in a deep breath, you watch as the Englishman moves around the table to approach you, coming to stand between your legs when you had turned the stool torwards him. Olivers hands were soft on either of your cheeks. "(Y/N), darling," he coos, "talk to me, hm?"
You look into the eyes of the love of your life, slowly releasing the breath you had been holding in hopes of it taking a bit of the nerves away. It somehow works, seeing as you manage to let out something. "Would you..." you hesitated for a moment, "would you leave magic behind for me?"
Having him so close, you could easily tell that your question caught him off guard. The Englishman had tensed for a couple of minutes, blinking animatedly as he processed your words. "What do you mean by that?" he stutters, though he tries to force in a chuckle.
You look down at your hands, twiddling with your fingers since you couldn't bear looking at him in the eyes. "I mean that... if there's a chance that you could be mortal and... spend the rest of your days with me..." you struggle for words, "would you take it? Even if you can't perform magic anymore?"
Your fiancé goes silent, eliciting a sense of dread into you. Stealing a glance at your strawberry blonde beau, you notice that he had moved to lean against the table next to you. A serious expression dons his face, thinking deeply.
Tears prick your eyes like the crybaby you are, heartbroken at the ideas your mind were feeding you. Shit, he's not going to pick me, is he?
"No more magic?" Oliver questions, "any form of it?"
You look down again at your hands, nodding meekly.
"But we'll..." he paused for a moment, "grow old together?"
Another nod.
"Where is this coming from?" Oliver then asks, reaching for some thick leather book and flipping through it.
You take the small glass from your pocket, showing it to him. Gently taking it from your hands, the Englishman looks at the curious potion within it as he racks his brain for anything similar to the concoction.
The vial's content was alluring to look at. It seemed like a combination of honey and edible glitter that Oliver took a side note to think that it'd be a scrumptious looking glaze to put on cake. Still, it was nothing he's familiar with. "Where did you get this?" he asks, still a bit dazed.
"Tadhana," you say with a sniffle as you held back the tears.
Alas, your fiancé catches sight of a stray tear falling down your cheek. "Oh no, no, no, no," he frets, "there's no need to cry, poppet!"
His words, however, only served as a catalyst to your emotions, breaking the dam on your eyes. Soon enough, you were sobbing. "I'm so sorry," you sobbed, messily wiping tears away, "I understand if you don—"
Your words die at your mouth the moment you look up and see your fiancé downing the contents of the vial. "Ollie!" you exclaim, standing to your feet as you waited for some side effect to the elixir. "Why did you—"
Oliver wraps his arms tightly around you, head burrowed into your neck, taking in your presence. "As long as you'll have me," he tells you, "I don't give a damn about what I'll lose."
You gasp at your fiancé, wondering for a moment if cursing was a side effect, but you get over it as you wrap your arms around him, just as tight. "You won't regret it?" You softly murmur, still worried of what the future might hold.
Oliver pulls his head away to lean his forehead against yours. "Never," he says, eyes flashing pink for the very last time.
LUCIANO VARGAS
You had made up your mind hours ago. You wanted everything to be alright for the both of you. You wanted to be with Luciano in any chance you could get. You wanted this. You were sure of it.
It was only a matter of when.
Luciano wasn't anywhere far at all. He was locked up in his office, still running over some documents that he claims are essential for a smooth living for the both of you. The chances of disturbing him being slim. The clock races against you. With only hours left on the haunting hourglass of Fate, you were nervous at what the council will do to your still immortal fiancé.
Deciding that worrying would lead you to an early grave at this point, you decided to bury your thoughts away and started to walk out into the lawn. You weren't exactly a gal with a green thumb, but you'll try your best to tend to the roses planted on your front yard. Gazing at them, you failed to notice the little girl shyly approaching the fence.
"Signora?"
You jolted, but instantly put on a smile—a nervous smile. "Oh! Uhm," you coughed, "Buongiorno!"
Three years of studying Italian, and I'm still crappy. Maybe, it's just the socializing.
"My name is Matilda! I can English!" The little girl beamed, albeit lightly in gibberish.
You walked around the fence and kneeled to the little one's height. "That's nice!" You cheered along, "but what can I help you with?"
"I have something," she timidly said. The hands behind Matilda's back revealed the very sketchbook you were looking for a few days ago. "Mama said I must give it back."
Ok, you're a little pissed now, but you were raised well, and so you had to handle things gracefully, as best as you could. "How come you had it with you?" You asked, voice softly laced with a scolding tone.
Matilda looked at her feet, shifting around. "I saw the pretty dresses and drawings, and I wanted to see it closer," she confessed.
"So you took my journal?" You asked, and the girl nodded guiltily.
Matilda's face was shrouded with tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, signora," she told you, lip quivering.
You didn't want to cause trouble with your new neighbors, so of course, you didn't want to be too harsh. With a hand on her shoulder, you consoled her. "It's alright. You did the right thing by returning it to me. I forgive you," you tell her. Damn this mush of a heart.
Matilda cracked a little smile and placed the leather journal into your hands. You waved back at her when she walked towards her home. "Don't do it again!" You playfully call out.
Just as you decided to continue on with your day, arms wrapped around your waist. Warmth radiates from the embrace, instantly telling you who it was.
"If I could, you would've been with child now," Luciano tells you, causing you to almost choke on your spit.
You turn your head to try and look at him, but he was only looking on to where Matilda had gone. The longing gaze you caught made you wonder. "Do you really want to start a family?" You murmured to him, watching him gaze out the lawn. It was as if he was envisioning the image of it being swarmed with his own line of generations. Your heart was giddy at the thought, but you had to calm your nerves.
"More than anything else in the world," Luciano's response was so soft, almost unconscious, that it revealed the mushy bastard that you had come to love. You bit back a smile. "With me?" You teasingly followed, giggling when he sent you a look that seem to say 'I literally just said I would knock you up if I could, how dare you?'.
"Sorry," you pinch his side lightly. "I just never expected you to be this eager for a family."
Luciano, with his own little smirk, took an arm to wrap over and around your figure, pulling you closer to him. "I won't take too much offense on that," he tells you, "but I am serious about what I said, amore mio."
All this time, you still never tore your eyes away from him. "Then, let's adopt," you suggested, "or you could, you know, drink an elixir that can make you mortal, and try and try till we succeed."
"Si, si, that's a rea—" Luciano hummed in agreement, but froze when he processed the latter part of your statement. "Wait a minute, what did you say?" He almost screeched, wide eyes following as you begun to pull away and enter the house.
"Let's adopt?" You playfully grinned, feigning innocence. In reality, you were nervous as all hell.
Luciano blinks once or twice, somber with an indecipherable glint in his eyes. "You said elixir," he uttered, taking something out of his pocket. "Is it this?"
It was the very vial you were talking about. The golden liquid shimmers at you, as a gasp left your lips. "Where did you find that?" A sheepish smile makes it to your face as you gently take the tiny flask from his hands to uncap the fate of your future.
"Will it really make me mortal?"
You caught the little trace of hope in Luciano's skepticism. You gave him a nod in response. "Tadhana said it's the only way to satisfy the Council and us," you tell him, watching as he scrutinizes the elixir.
With a sigh and not much else, your fiancé downs the liquids, only wincing for a second or two, but soon enough he was fine. Luciano captured your lips with his in a sweet, fleeting kiss, catching you off guard when he suddenly carried you bridal style into your home.
"What are you doing?!" You find yourself shrieking.
Luciano smirks, staring at you with a gaze laced heavily with carnal desires. "Being a man of my word."