#i didn't want to die when i originally set this date either | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

icarusignite · 1 year ago

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Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao.

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol.

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his.

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kaelsleftverdantsphere · 2 years ago

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KAELLIDAN FOR THE ASK MEME THINGY

Who is the better driver?

100% Illidan, Kael is a forever passenger because he drives over the speed limit and no one will ever let him drive himself because of that

Who has better music taste?

Their music taste is very different but also varies in the tone. Kael's is more agressive and upbeat- pop, rock and rap you would listen to while at the gym- while Illidan's is more angsty and deep, from blues and jazz to heavy metal and punk. So it really depends on your preference

Who wakes up earlier?

Illidan goes to sleep later and gets up earlier, just works like that.

Favorite personality trait of the other?

Kael adores Illidan's soft side, how open, and often blunt he is with people he trusts, his honesty.

Illidan loves Kael's sense of justice, his rants, how talkative he is.

Favorite physical trait of the other?

Illidan loves Kael's hair, how soft and shiny it is. He loves to brush and braid it for him before bed.

Kael is really into Illidan's arms and hands, the contrast to his own soft and gentle ones.

Do they prefer daytime dates or nighttime dates?

Illidan definitelly prefers dinners and evening walks and Kael is happy with either so they usually opt for night time.

What are their favorite cuddling positions?

No matter what they want you to believe, Illidan adores being the little spoon.

Who is always cold and who is the human furnace?

This one is pretty obvious. Illidan is sensitive to cold from his time in captivity, when he spent years laying on the cold stone floor. And Kael emits heat even when not using his abilities.

What's something they've argued about?

They often argue about how much they mean to one another. They both have a hard time trusting people and it's easy for them to go from "I love you" to "Okay but would you love me if I was a worm??? NO???!!! OKAY FUCK YOU THEN"

Who is the first to apologize after an argument?

Illidan, although both of them are very stubborn. But Kael would rather die than say sorry first.

What were their first impressions like?

Kael didn't immediatelly like Illidan, his first thoughts were set on saving his people and Illidan was originally just a tool to achieve that.

Illidan originally hated the posibility of helping a proud prince, and didn't really plan on delivering on his promises before he caught feelings.

Do they have nicknames for each other? If yes, what are they?

Numerous, Illidan's nicknames for Kael are lovely and truly meaningful -my sun, sunbird, angel eyes, my fire- with lovingly said royal titles making the list as well.

Kael's on the other hand are way more childish and Illidan originally hated them. -Illy, emerald tits, raven man- coupled with calling him "old man" on special occasions.

Do they prefer hugs or kisses after a difficult day?

Hugs and cuddles, definitelly

What was their favorite date they've done together?

Their first oficial date was in Zangarmarsh, on top of one of the mushrooms, having a small little picnic. -because I fucking said so

How do they feel about kids? Would/do they have them?

Both of them fear being bad parents but if TBC canon didnt happen? They would absolutely eventually come around to having kids

What secret does only the other person know about?

They know of all their deepest insecurities and fears.

Kael is the only one who knows about Illidan's arachnophobia.

Illidan and Rommath are the only people to know how much Kael hates his own face, how dysphoric the thought of the similarities between him and his mother make him.

Who is more outspoken and who is more reserved?

Kael is the one to yell "HE SAID NO PICKLES" on Illidan's behalf.

How do they feel about marriage? Would they get married/are they? Who would/did propose?

Kael dreams of a rich royal wedding and Illidan would love to deepen their bond. They would absolutely get married if their circumstances were different.

Illidan would be the one planning to propose but Kael would find out and propose first.

Do they know about each others' past relationships? How do they feel about it?

Kael doesn't like or trust Tyrande even if he knows she isn't interested in Illidan.

Illidan is fine with Kael's bond with Rommath, even if he doesn't particularly like the man.

Favorite memory of the other?

Kael'thas treasures one memory the most while in Ravendreth. Before the fight with Arthas, they exchanged their vows to never leave one another. It is bitter sweet but he loves to think of what could've been if only he kept the promise.

Illidan's favourite memory is the first time seeing Kael on the battlefield. The young prince, filled with energy, force and dedication.

How would they describe the other to someone?

Kael in Ravendreth: "Oh well, he is this half elf half demon man that fell in love with me as soon as he first saw me... and i said nooooo i cant be with you but he was so into meeee-"

Illidan during Legion: "He was... Special to me-... But that was a long time ago."

What thing do they find most annoying that the other does?

Illidan gets annoyed by Kael being posh and stuffy, thinking highly of himself, being afraid of dirt and so on.

Kael gets annoyed by Illidan being silent. Not iniciating conversation.

What hobby do they enjoy doing together?

Cross-stitching. Just trust me on this one

What hobby does one have that the other hates?

Illidan HATES Kael's interest in high quality wine, wine tastings and so on. He doesn't understand what makes the grape juice so interesting to the blood elf.

Who gets the other out of trouble? Who gets them both into trouble?

Kael is the one getting them in AND out of most trouble.

Who is the dishes person and who is the laundry person?

Kael would DIE if he touched the texture of food on a plate so therefore Illidan is the dishes person.

Who cooks the most?

Illidan has to, Kael would burn cereal.

What's their favorite meal that the other makes?

Conjured mana cookies are the only thing Kael really makes for Illidan, and Illy would swear that Kael's taste absolutely different from anyone elses.

Illidan's fish dishes were the first time Kael has tasted any sort of sea food, he was forbidden from having it as a royal. He still craves that smoked salmon with spice bread or roasted clams with herb butter, even in undeath.

Who is better with money?

Illidan. Kael, in any universe, is a trust fund baby that always spent money on useless shit.

Who would last longer in a zombie apocalypse?

Probably Illidan, he is way more practical than Kael.

#kael'thas sunstrider #kael'thas #world of warcraft #illidan stormrage #illidan #kaellidan

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truly-morgan · 1 year ago

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[Kinktober 2021: Oviposition (18+)]

HuaLian | Heaven Official’s Blessing Fantasy AU 09-10-2021

Day 9: H̷u̷m̷i̷l̷i̷a̷t̷i̷o̷n̷ / I̷n̷t̷e̷r̷c̷r̷u̷r̷a̷l̷ ̷S̷e̷x̷ / [Oviposition]

Xie Lian wants to help his husband in his heat. Hua Cheng also forgot to tell him an important mermaid fact about mating.

====

It was the first time since Xie Lian started dating his new lover that he finally had the guts to suggest help in his heat. He could see how the merman would clearly be uncomfortable from not doing anything about it and h thought it could be good to help.

It had happened on their vacation to a beach house Hua Cheng owns. Xl simply didn't like to see him restrain himself only because he thought xl might not want to help with that.

“Everything about san Lang I like, so of course he would like to help the same way you help me when I need it" he smiled while gently grabbing his hand.

So, they set for the private beach, where the water is shallow enough for hc to move around with his original tail. Xl would lie if he said he was not curious about how sex would be in hc original form.

It's a strange feeling than to be naked and nearly straddling hc tail. Of course, he had touched it before since hc was more than happy to let him do so, but it felt rather different now that he was fully naked.

The little movement made by hc to stay where they were rubbing against him, made him blush as smooth scales slide on his skin.

“Does gege like the feeling of my tail against him?~” teased hc, chuckling at how redder xl became as something else came to his head, kissing him when he didn’t receive any answers, hands already going to his bottom to tease him with his finger, a first one entering pretty easily has xl had already done some prepping. “You were eager to help me,” he said.

“Yes, I want to help san lang feel better” he replied while a soft moan when hc went to tease his prostate. As much as he enjoy letting hc tease him, even though he was starting to want to go more quickly, somewhat excited about something he never tried before with hc. All they did was always in his human form.

But soon he could feel the strange tip against him, looking at it curiously. “is gege surprised by what it looks like?”

hc asked, breath hitching when he felt fingers take careful hold of his cock. Xl was surprised by the smoothness, large at the base before slowly getting slimmer at the tip. It sure would fit in more easily.

“Gege" hc ended up saying, feeling his restraint slowly die down the more xl was playing with him like this. This made xl snap out of his observation, finally placing himself more correctly above, his lover, legs wrapped around his hips so he could be supported better by hc.

It was a bit weird and awkward at first since they didn’t necessarily do it the same way they normally would in bed, but xl was also not a merman who could stay underwater where it was probably more convenient.

But after a while they found a better position and rhythm, the merman slowly losing himself with how great it felt.

This was the first mating season hc didn’t mind the arrival of, now that he had xl with him to help him out, rather than be stuck in heat all alone. Although in the excitement and pleasure, he forgot a rather important part of how his body functioned.

Xl came nearly at the same time as hc, falling back into hc arms when he relaxed back a bit, ready to wait a bit before going back if hc needed it.

But then something happened.

It felt as if something bigger wanted to pass his entrance, making him a bit nervous, yet when he tried moving, he felt hands on his hips keeping him in place.

Soon, he felt that lump go up hc dick, brushing past his prostate and then resting farther into him.

The round objects were not painful either, seemingly not fully hard, but he was really confused and a bit nervous, unsure what was suddenly being unloaded into him, all he could do was squirm in hc holds as the pressure on his prostate was making him hard again soon.

6 had been pushed into him.

“San Lang” he whined when he felt the dick retract from him, apologetic kisses soon peppering his face. “I am so sorry, did I forget to tell gege about mermaid reproduction? We lay eggs”. Xl could only shake his head, before pulling back a bit to look down at himself, a hand coming to his stomach with a slight frown.

“Gege doesn’t need to worry,” hc said, kissing his temple, “I do not think your body is viable for them, we can easily get them out of you”.

“oh...” xl replies, unsure why he had this small feeling of disappointment. About the news. Did he really think that he would like to...

Hc seemed to catch on it, smiling softly to him, “I am sure we can figure out a way for me to carry them if gege wants to have children with san lang” he suggested, hand joining xl’s one on his belly, trying to see if he could feel the eggs.

“Does... does this happen every time you come as a mermaid?” xl asks, feeling his cheeks flush a little bit at the fact that he wanted to try that again, it was not unpleasant (nothing hc did was).

The merman seemed amused at his question, fingers going back to teasing him. “We usually have eggs in our mating season” he points out, “But sometimes we make some random one throughout the rest of the years”.

“If gege wants more, he simply has to tell me~~” he whispered against his ears, gently nibbling at his neck as his cock was back at xl entrance, ready for more if he wanted to.

And wanting more xl did, not hesitating to take the length into him even with eggs still in him.

It seemed like even if xl couldn’t carry his eggs, hc would pump as much as he wanted into him. The look of his lover with faint bumps on his belly was a pleasant one.

Original - AO3

#my writing #tweet archive #short story #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #ovi kink #egg laying #egg kink #merman au #modern au #nsft #writing challenge #1k - 2k words

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coffeestainedcamera · 1 year ago

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Anyways, time to obsessively theory-craft while waiting on ep 3! Heavy spoilers, obv!

Okay, so I'm not sure Lu Guang is in the clear yet. We had that poster where only Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling are wearing black formal clothes, but he isn't. Almost like they might be attending his funeral? Not too sure if this was part of the misdirection about his death before the air date, though. But then again, the crew sure loves emotionally devastating us viewers, so they might very well kill him off and have a season about Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling trying to save him. Our girl is in the know about the photo time travel and the superpowered killer now, so it'd not be surprising for her to be a co-lead. And we did have that ending sequence where she's the mission control, even though Lu Guang normally serves in that role.

I'm still not entirely sure that the killer will be responsible for offing him, though. They're in this for fun, so I think that they'd love to keep toying with the most powerful opponents they've gone up against yet. I do suspect they'll try to steal Lu Guang's powers, if they weren't bluffing about the matter in the season 1 finale. From there, I think that fate will be the other main villain, as he previously told Cheng Xiaoshi that death is an unchangeable node. So maybe if the killer doesn't want to end him, the universe will keep setting up bad ends to prevent a time paradox. Maybe it's punishment for potentially trying to save Cheng Xiaoshi from death in the other timeline. Not too sure how many times he lost him before the current timeline, but it'd explain the aggressive protectiveness. And maybe this talk of him being too mature for his age is a hint that he's been time traveling a while now.

Additional items of interest about the killer:

They say their powers are photo-related too, and we do see the Officer die after that lawyer steals a photo of him. Not lying about possession, then.

Most likely pushed him off the roof, and the manner of death overall reminds me of Emma. It's a clear taunt to the leads.

The last person who held the photo was the creepy kid, although it'd be a little too unsubtle. Maybe the crew is misdirecting us again?

The killer's manner of speaking in the russian subs for the post-stabbing confrontation is very informal. The vocab used is more likely to be used in a conversation between friends than acquaintances. They use ты/informal you with Cheng Xiaoshi upon an early meeting, which can be considered impolite/overfamiliar. It fits with their "do you wanna be friends with me, and only me?" schtick.

This stalker-ish moment is why I'm not completely discounting the possibility that they may off Lu Guang. He's an obstacle to Cheng Xiaoshi's attention, but offing him would make him mad. For preserving this "friendship", they might not do it.

It's very interesting that the russian subs for the main confrontation scene avoided gendered conjugations of words (and s1 has not back-added them, so I don't really have a comparison point). Can't comment on how faithful this is to the original voiceovers, but this ambiguity is very interesting indeed. Definitely preserves the feeling of basically anyone being a suspect for now.

Anyways, there's still a ton of missing puzzle pieces so uh. That's about it. Oh, and quick explainer of my understanding of the misdirection around Lu Guang's "death":

Two guys in critical condition at around the same time

Both go into the operating room

We begin cutting between these concurrent events, like when we had that scene of luring the killer to the photo studio

We never see their faces, and both are in bad enough condition that either could flatline

The killer didn't go at Lu Guang's throat at any point, so he shouldn't have the neck injuries

The man getting defibbed has neck injuries, therefore it's someone else

But of course, I was too shocked in the moment to think of any of this lol.

#text post #television #link click #link click spoilers #donghua

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steamystories · 6 days ago

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Solstice Changes: Part 2

Alone with my blind date on a moon-flooded hillside.

Based on the works of evans lily, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.

"It's still not quite dark," I said, looking up at the ink-washed sky and noticing that only the brightest stars were visible.

"It's the longest day of the year tomorrow."

Of course. The summer solstice. "Does that mean that tonight is the shortest night then?"

Adam sent me a sideways glance. "It certainly feels like it."

I knew what he meant. The last two hours had flown by. "Well, it must be tonight or tomorrow night, I s'pose," I murmured, experiencing another inward glow of pleasure.

"The nights are all short at the moment. The bedroom in my new flat faces due east, which means the sun wakes me up pretty much every morning. Right now that's around quarter to five." There was a pause. "I really must buy some curtains."

I laughed softly. "Well, the sun never shines into my room. All I've got is a wonderful view of my neighbor’s potting shed." I smiled as he tutted in sympathy. "If I wanted to watch the sunrise I'd have to set my alarm and go outside."

"Or stay up all night."

"Hmm. One of these days I'll have to try that."

"You've never done it?" Adam seemed shocked. "Seriously?"

I shook my head. "It's on my list of things to do before I die." The moment I said it I wanted to bite off my tongue and throw it to the ducks. What the hell was I thinking? Now I really was being insensitive;

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "What else is on that list?"

"Oh, lots of things. The usual sort of stuff."

"Like?"

Cornered, I searched my brain for possibilities. "Travel the world. Learn a foreign language."

"Do a bungee jump?"

I laughed. "No, I don't think so. And I wouldn't like to jump out of a plane with a parachute either."

"Oh, you should. I have."

"Really?" I glanced up at him with renewed respect. "What was that like?"

"The worst bit was jumping out of the plane. God, I was so scared. But after that, well; amazing. You don't even feel like you're falling; you don't get that stomach-dropping, going-down-a-rollercoaster feeling. It's more like floating on a bubble of air. Fabulous experience. And once it was over I just wanted to go back up and do it all again."

"Wow." I shook my head. "Still don't think I could do it though. I hate heights; God, I can't even do rollercoasters. So to jump out of a plane; "

He chuckled softly. "Too far out of your comfort zone, huh?"

"What made you do it? Was it something you'd always wanted to do?"

"It was on my list of things to do before I die. And when Claire died; well, it made me realize that you just don't know how long you've got. So when a group of guys I was working with said they were jumping for charity, I volunteered to have a go. Raised more than a thousand pounds for the air ambulance."

"Fantastic." I swallowed hard, humbled. I'd never done anything particularly altruistic. In fact, come to think of it, it didn't feel as though I'd done anything worthwhile with my life. "I s'pose you've done everything on your list then?"

"Not at all. You see, new things keep getting added all the time."

"Like?"

"Well; "

We'd slowed to a halt, having reached the second bridge already. Crossing it would mean going back along the other side of the river towards the bright lights of the city. Alternatively, we could carry on, pass through the sturdy wooden gate and take the path across the water meadows towards St Catherine's Hill. During the day, this was a popular route for walkers, locals and tourists alike, but now it was deserted, the pathway disappearing into darkness.

"I've never had a one night stand. Shall we?"

I let out a gasp. "What?"

He solemnly indicated the gate. "Walk a bit further?"

"Oh." My voice was small. "Yes."

Laughing; I had a feeling he'd chosen his words deliberately; he let go of my hand and ushered me forward into the gateway. It was one of those V shape constructions originally designed to give easy passage to people but not animals. The gate itself was attached to a fence post opposite the center of the V, hinged like a tongue so that it could flap against the two sides and only allow one person to pass through at a time. But instead of following me, the moment I'd passed through Adam grabbed the top rail of the gate and pushed it flush against the fence on my side.

"Hey!" Trapped, I took a swift glance at the darkened path ahead of me before turning back to peer at him over the barrier. "Aren't; aren't you coming with me?"

"Well that rather depends." He leaned on the rail and regarded me quizzically. "You see, this is a kissing gate."

Uh oh. I could see where this was going. "So if I want you to come with me; ?" As he inclined his head, my mouth went dry and my heart began to pound. "I see."

"It's your choice. And if you'd rather not, that's fine. We'll just head back to the high street and get you a taxi home; I promise to be the perfect gentleman. But I think you should know; ” He smiled, suddenly appearing rather nervous. "The idea of kissing you seems to have shot to number one on my latest list of things to do before I die."

Right now, the idea of kissing him seemed to be at the top of my own list; "I see," I said again, rather helplessly. "Well. Okay."

His eyes widened. "Okay?"

I watched his smile broaden to a relieved grin as he reached for me, grasping my hands. Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Putting my arms around his neck, his own arms swept around my back, tugging me as close as the gate would permit. And when his warm, soft lips finally landed on mine, I wanted to cry out with the wonder of it. I clung to him, dizzy with desire, allowing the pressure of his tongue to open my mouth, my eyes crashing closed as I willingly yielded to his possession. It had been a long time since I'd been kissed; and no one had ever kissed me like this;

"Wow," he murmured, raising his head at last. Though he was smiling, he looked somewhat shaken. "I guess I'll have to come with you then."

I giggled, rather shaken myself. "I guess you will."

Releasing me, Adam opened the gate and came through, his hand once again finding mine as we started along the track. "You sure about this?"

My eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness so I couldn't see his expression but the concern in his voice was obvious. "About going for a walk? Sure." I kept my own tone light, but the butterflies in my stomach flapped in anticipation.

What else had I consented to with that kiss?

A moon-flooded hillside.

If someone had asked me, just a few hours ago, whether I'd agree to take a late-night walk with a man I'd only just met;

Stranger danger. At the nursery school where I worked we were always telling the children about that. Never go off with a stranger, never take things from a stranger;

"Not past your bedtime yet then?" Adam teased, his hand warm in mine as we strolled along the path towards St Catherine's Hill.

I smiled. "Well, it is, actually. But I'm only working until lunchtime tomorrow, so I'll risk it."

"Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Nope. Just the usual. I'm meeting my friend Lisa for lunch tomorrow; ” oh, and wasn't she going to enjoy hearing about this? "; but then it'll just be cleaning, washing and shopping. I s'pose I might go to the pub with Lisa and her boyfriend on Sunday evening, but that's about it."

"No hot dates?"

"God, no." I looked up at him even though I still couldn't quite see his face, and realized with a jolt that I hadn't actually told him that much about myself after all. "No." I gave a short laugh. "I think it's time I got a cat."

"What?"

"You know. Single women of a certain age, living on their own; have cats."

"Oh, I see." He sounded rather puzzled. "Why in the world would someone like you need to get a cat?"

"Well, I quite like cats," I said, trying to ignore the prickle of awareness zinging down my spine. "They're soft and warm and cuddly; ”

"That's not what I meant."

I knew it wasn't. "I don't know," I admitted at last. "Like you, I was in a relationship for a long time. It's hard to start again."

He nodded. "Divorced?"

"No." I smiled, remembering how impressed he'd been that I hadn't immediately asked him that question. "Didn't make it as far as the altar, though everyone thought that's where we were headed."

"How long were you together?"

"Too long." I sighed heavily. "Started dating him when I was still at school, did the whole rebel thing. You know. Stayed out late and pissed off our parents, got drunk, drove too fast in his Dad's car; lost our virginity to each other in the back of that car; ”

"Romantic," Adam interjected.

"Nope, bloody painful, actually. There's not as much room as you might think on the back seat of a Ford Mondeo," I rolled my eyes when he smirked, unable to believe what I'd just told him. "Anyway, James got a job making wardrobes, we started renting a flat together and settled down into cozy coupledom."

"Until?"

I looked up at him and grinned. "Nah, sorry. I shouldn't be telling you any of this. Not on a first date, anyway." When he groaned, I bumped the side of my head into his shoulder, laughing. "Well! You wouldn't tell me about Claire."

"I know, I know." He spun me around and pulled me in front of him, peering intently into my upturned face. "But this doesn't feel like a first date, does it?"

I gazed at him for a moment, longing to be able to read his thoughts. "No, it doesn't," I agreed softly.

"Good." To my astonishment, he seized my hand again and marched on again, pulling me along with him.

"Hey!" I'd been so sure he was about to kiss me again I felt absurdly disappointed. "Does that mean you'll tell me about her?"

"When you've told me about James. What happened?"

As we emerged from the cover of some trees I became aware that our surroundings were no longer quite so dim, the grassy hillside before us clearly visible, picked out in numerous shades of monochrome. Turning my head, I found the light source; the moon, a huge, near-perfect orb, rising to our left.

"We grew out of each other, I suppose," I said eventually, my lips twisting slightly as I remembered how it ended. "Well, to be honest, I grew out of him. I think James would've been happy to have trundled on as we were until it was time to stick him in a coffin. He wasn't really interested in getting married, didn't seem bothered about having kids. Just wanted to go out every weekend, spend all our money in pubs and clubs and have a good time."

"You dumped him."

I wasn't surprised to hear the note of disbelief in Adam's voice. I still found it hard to believe I'd done it myself. "Yes. But he didn't take it too well."

That was the understatement of the decade;

Having decided it would be easier for me to leave, rather than attempt to persuade him to move out of our flat, I'd stayed with Lisa for a while. To start with there'd been countless phone calls, where he'd begged me, in various stages of drunkenness, to come back. Then there'd been the flowers. Enormous bouquets of roses, lilies and carnations. Next came letters and then poems; which always rhymed, usually in a facile 'Roses are red, violets are blue' kind of way.

"And then he started stalking me," I said, my attempt to sound matter of fact rather spoiled by being out of breath. We'd been climbing the hill for a while now and it was becoming apparent how unfit I was. "Waiting for me outside the nursery school, outside Lisa's house; everywhere he knew I'd be. Even Lisa couldn't make him stop; and believe me, she's usually good at stuff like that; so in the end I had to take out a Court injunction."

"Well, you broke his heart."

"Right." I gave a snort of derision. I hadn't expected Adam to take James' side. "Okay, thanks for that."

"He didn't stay in the flat, did he? He moved back home."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "How did you know that?"

"It's obvious. He was never going to wash his own underwear." He shook his head gravely. "You weren't his girlfriend, you were his Mum."

"What? No!" I punched his arm, appalled that he'd said it and even more appalled by the thought he might be right. "It wasn't like that."

"Really?" He grinned. "Okay. Who cooked all the meals?"

"He burnt everything; ” I hesitated in surprise as we strayed from the path, Adam tugging me on to the grass. "Short cut," he said simply, glancing down at me as he led the way across the moonlit meadow, now taking a brisk diagonal route towards the summit. "There's a much better view if you go this way. So who cleaned the flat?"

"Well; ” I stopped to slip off my sandals then ran to catch up with him, the cool grass feeling wonderful beneath my hot, aching feet. "I did. But only because he got eczema on his hands sometimes. And he hated wearing rubber gloves. He said they made him; ”

"Who did all the shopping?"

"Look, if I sent him, he'd pack the trolley with chocolate biscuits and family packs of crisps and forget to buy milk. It was easier just; ”

"To do it yourself," Adam finished. He flashed me another smile. "Hmm. I think, as Claire used to say, the case for the prosecution rests."

I had no defense.

"Oh no," I muttered, shocked to the core. "I really was his mother."

"No, he was just a lousy boyfriend." His tone softened abruptly. "Sweetheart, you deserved so much better."

The endearment caught me by surprise. Unsure how to react, I stopped and turned around, only for my breath to catch in my throat.

The city was a distant sprawl below us, the straight, crisscrossing roads of the old Roman settlement defined by lines of streetlamps, the orange glare they cast across the city making it easy to pick out landmarks. The university college to the north. My old school. The glass tower of the ASG building where Lisa worked. The roof of the nursery school where I worked away to the left. And then, below all that, the spire of St Michael's Church where I'd been christened as a baby and the ancient cathedral, floodlights bathing both in gold.

"Why haven't I done this before?" I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. "Beautiful. So beautiful."

"I couldn't agree more." Behind me, Adam's voice was unexpectedly near, his breath warm on my ear. I let him prise the sandals from my fingers, watching as he placed them with his jacket on the grass. When he straightened up, one warm hand landed on my bare upper arm, the other gently swept the hair away from the nape of my neck. The knowledge he was about to kiss me there turned my knees to jelly and by the time his lips actually made contact I was trembling violently, my heart racing so fast I could barely breathe. "It's okay," he murmured, his steadying hands dropping to my waist. "This is only going to go as far as you want it to go. I know you aren't sure whether you can trust me, but I promise you that you can. And, oh God; ” he gave a short, rather uncertain laugh "; I can also promise you that I've never done anything as impulsive as this in my life. It's completely freaking me out."

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't hear Lisa's voice in my head imploring me not to trust him. Oddly enough though, another version of Lisa's voice was telling me that I should. Confusing;

"Why are you doing it then?" It came out as a whisper. My own voice didn't seem to be working properly at all. He laughed softly. "Good question. There doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it. I have to kiss you."

When I turned in his arms he did just that. His mouth was gentle at first, his tongue tentatively seeking my own as he gathered me close, fitting my softness into the hard planes of his body. And just as before, when he deepened the kiss, I began to lose all sense of space and time, my eyes closing as I surrendered to him, wholly and completely. I knew his hands on my shoulders, sliding down the spaghetti straps, his fingers teasing a path over the taut skin of my back, then travelling downwards, finding the zip at the back of my dress. But when he lowered it I whimpered into his mouth. "Hey," he murmured, sounding concerned. "Should I stop?"

I shook my head, still dazed by the pleasure of his kiss. He smiled, but made no attempt to recapture my lips. Slowly, his gaze holding mine the whole time, he brought his fingers around to my chest, hooking his thumbs into the front of my dress then easing the fabric forward and down. I gasped, the shock of exposure turning my already-hardened nipples into pebbles.

"No bra?" He seemed pleasantly surprised.

"No point," I countered, casting a nervous glance at my breasts, pearlescent in the moonlight. Mother Nature hadn't seen fit to give me an hourglass figure to make the most of my curves. I was a classic pear, all bottom and no top.

"I don't know about that." Adam didn't appear at all disappointed, taking a step back to look his fill, his hands holding the dress at my waist. "They're beautiful." His eyes lifted, his expression softening when he saw my disbelief. "You're beautiful."

It occurred to me that I should be afraid but I wasn't. There was something more than a little surreal; dreamlike even; about standing there half-naked in front of him, alone on a hillside. I was center stage in an empty theatre, the illuminated magnificence of the city serving as backdrop, Adam the only person in the audience.

"Really?" My voice had deserted me again, the sound coming out as a rather hoarse croak. "They're; they're too small."

He looked incredulous. "Who told you that?" Once again my expression must've spoken volumes for in the next moment he gave a disgusted snort. "Wanker," he said, shaking his head. "He really didn't deserve you."

I laughed weakly, heartened by the vehemence in his tone. "And you do?"

Whoa; Where had that come from? I hadn't intended to throw down the gauntlet.

He smiled. "Well, I guess I'll have to let you decide." Closing the space between us, he sought my lips and I was lost, drawn into a swirling vortex of bliss, my body becoming boneless beneath his assault. I moaned in protest when he paused, only to moan again as he turned his attention to my jaw, trailing kisses along to my ear, across my neck, my shoulder. He moved lower to the rise of my breasts then higher again, teasing and tormenting me into such a state of need that by the time he sank to his knees in front of me I was taut with anticipation. And when he finally drew one painfully erect nipple deep into the moist heat of his mouth, I cried out, powerless to stop the sound, a surge of pleasure flooding my body. His hands tightened to support me, a delighted grin lighting his face. "You nearly came."

It was true. I could feel the moisture pooling between my thighs, dampening my knickers. "Adam," I whispered helplessly, more aroused than I'd ever been in my life but too scared to ask for more, a tiny fragment of rational thought urging caution. "I've never done anything like this; ”

"I know you haven't. I haven't either." Though the words were spoken calmly enough, I heard a faint tremor to his tone. "But I want you."

I gazed down at him, weak with relief. "I; I want you too."

"Thank God," he muttered, releasing my waist. There was a soft swishing sound, a slight breeze and suddenly I was standing there in nothing but my knickers, my dress in a crumpled heap around my ankles.

"Wow." Standing up for a better look, Adam appeared gratifyingly stunned. "How could you possibly believe you aren't beautiful?" Heart thudding noisily in my ears, I took the hand he offered and stepped out of my dress, not daring to look anywhere but at his face, in that moment feeling more attractive, more desirable; hell, sexier; than I'd ever felt in my life. A moment later it occurred to me that one of us was still wearing altogether too many clothes. "It's your turn," I gulped, my shaking fingers reaching for the front of his shirt. He chuckled softly, watching as I struggled to undo the ridiculously tiny buttons, his own fingers coming down to help. When the last had popped free, I spread open his shirt to discover a broad chest and an abdomen rippling with muscle. "Oh God," I groaned, awed; and frankly, a little afraid. "You work out."

He laughed again, stooping to kiss me. "And now I know why," he murmured into my mouth, cupping my bottom and pulling me against him until I could feel the hard bulge of his arousal.

I nearly came again, the mere thought of his body driving into mine sending my womb into spasm. Without further preamble, I grabbed his hips, pushing him away so that I could get to the fastening of his slacks.

"Wait." His voice hoarse, he stilled my hands with just one of his own, reaching into his pocket with the other.

"What? Oh; ” As he produced his wallet and flicked it open, I felt a stab of relief. Protection. I'd completely forgotten.

"Oh no; ”

"Adam?" But it wasn't difficult to guess what was wrong.

He gazed at me in dismay. "I'm so sorry. I was sure I still had one. Shit, I don't believe this."

I stared back, not quite able to believe it myself. "It's okay," I murmured automatically.

"No, it's not bloody okay. God; ” He grasped my shoulders and drew me into his arms, his erection between us a cruel reminder of our predicament. "I don't suppose you've; ?"

"No, but; ” I had no experience of condoms; James had refused to wear them, insisting instead that I took birth control. Typical, I realized, with a blinding flash of new self-awareness, that he'd make me assume responsibility for that as well as everything else. And despite our relationship being long over, I still took those tiny little tablets, reluctant to lose the order I'd gained over my naturally irregular cycle. "I'm on the pill," I said, blushing furiously. "I've been taking it since I was eighteen. You wouldn't get me pregnant." At least, I was fairly certain he wouldn't. Sometimes I missed a dose here and there, but I was sure it hadn't happened lately.

As he pulled back to look at me, I thought I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes, so when he shook his head my heart sank. "It's not just about that, though, is it?"

"But I've never been with anyone but James; I told you; we were both virgins. And I know he didn't sleep with anyone else while we were together; still hasn't, if what people tell me is true." I hesitated, growing increasingly desperate. "And you; you were with Claire; for what, ten years? Was there; have you; ?" I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

His expression seemed to darken. "I never cheated on Claire, if that's what you're asking, and no, there hasn't been anyone since. And for what it's worth, I've never had sex without protection. Claire couldn't take the pill, and before Claire; well, like I said; ” He held me at arms' length and gazed at me for what felt like an eternity, his hungry eyes devouring my near-naked body. "Sweetheart, it's a crazy idea."

"Going to dinner with you was a crazy idea," I whispered. "But I still did it." And with that same feeling of recklessness that had started all this, I leaned forward and kissed him.

For a moment, I didn't think he was going to change his mind. He let me take charge this time, let me seek entrance to his mouth, my tongue mating shyly with his. But then, with a loud groan, he wrenched his mouth from mine and swept me; quite literally; off my feet. "God help me; I want you!" he growled, whirling me around before setting me down again, planting kisses all over my face, neck and breasts, his hands seeming everywhere at once, stroking and caressing me into a state of breathless need.

I reciprocated as best I could, kissing him wherever I could reach, my own hands heading for just one destination; the front of his trousers. Having managed to undo his belt, I battled in vain with the button, growing increasingly frustrated. "Adam; please!"

"Here." Relenting at last, his fingers replaced my own, unsnapping the button easily and drawing down the fly. He kicked off his shoes then let me help him shrug away his trousers and underwear.

It was my turn to sink to my knees. "Oh God," I breathed, unable to close my hand around him, my excitement rapidly turning to alarm. "You're huge."

He made a sound that was half groan, half snort of laughter. "That's very flattering, but I'm not."

"What?"

His eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"You're not going to fit." I ran my fingers over his cock, marveling at the girth, his length. I still wanted him; needed him; so very badly, I could cry with disappointment.

"Sweetheart." Adam lifted my hand away, his voice gentle. "I promise you, I'm not that big. Maybe a tiny bit bigger than average, but not much." He knelt beside me, tilting up my chin with his finger. "So, either you've been reading some cheesy magazine article on what you should always say to your man, or, your ex-boyfriend was hung like a hamster."

I stared back at him, disbelieving. "A hamster?"

He nodded, biting his lip.

"This; ” I reached down again, weighing his heavy cock in my palm "; this is normal?" I couldn't help but stroke it, the skin was so soft, a stark contrast to the rock hard flesh beneath.

"So I'm told. Whoa; I can't let you do that again." His voice was taut, his breathing harsh as he caught my hand again, snatching it away. "Go easy on me, gorgeous. It's been more than two years."

I watched as he plucked up his jacket and spread it out on the grass behind me, all the moisture deserting my mouth. "Two years, eh?" I squeaked as he seized my shoulders, toppling me backwards and following me down. He froze, his lips hovering millimeters above my own. "Why?" he demanded. "How long has it been for you?"

I swallowed hard, reveling in the feel of his warm flesh against mine. "Four."

"Four years?" He rolled his eyes. "Oh dear God," he muttered. "I'm not going to last ten seconds. I'd better look after you first."

"Look after; unh!" His talented mouth came down again, swallowing my words, driving them straight out of my head. Before tonight, I'd never thought much about kissing. I'd always enjoyed it; sort of. But with James there'd always been a point where I'd stopped enjoying and began enduring, half-suffocated by his lust. With Adam, my need for oxygen was gone. I was breathing pure Adam. Nothing else mattered.

It was only when his mouth left mine and began nuzzling lower that I began to suspect what he had in mind; "Oh no," I groaned as he reached my tummy, his tongue circling my belly button before moving steadily downwards. "You can't!"

"Can't what?" Grinning at me, he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of my lacy knickers and started to tug. "Can't take these off? Can't kiss you here?" He touched his lips to the tender strip of skin he'd exposed. "Or here?" he murmured, sliding my underwear lower and kissing me again, right on the line where my curls began. I squirmed, scared that I'd misunderstood his intentions and that I'd make a fool of myself if I answered. James had never gone down on me, giving me the impression he found it unnatural, dirty, even; though he'd had no qualms about me using my mouth on him. "It's; it's not that," I managed. To be continued in part 3, Based on the works of evans lily, for Literotica.

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guozhir · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 1: On the Bridge (1)

Title: [Unlimited] What is it like being a ghost in a horror story?

Author: Guess who I am

Genre: Spin off - Romance - TV - Modern setting

Tags (up to four): TV fanfic, supernatural, rebirth, unlimited flow

Serialization date: 20Y3/3/17

Licensing information: Not licensed

Status: Serializing

Award: Groundbreaking (Rising Star Ranking)

Synopsis:

In the eighteenth year after my death, I got caught up in a scheme.

PS: Midnight Feast had its grand finale last week, did you guys catch it, my dears? Anyway, this distinguished VIP is ready for the second viewing! Xiaoyu-meimei's acting as Tangtang was so cute, she definitely has a bright future! A work from a small fan, centered around the heroine, supernatural paro, my dears, please support me and express your thoughts~

PPS: The content has little to do with the original plot, so those who have never watched the TV series can read it without worry.

Main character: Tang Guo, water ghost

Chap1 Prologue

Update time: 20Y3-3-17 12:00:00

Summary: Eighteen years after my death, am I...... breathing?

Text:

After drowning, I became a water ghost.

They say, only those who are obsessed with it will not reincarnate after death. They also say, leave when you're supposed to leave. Persistently entangled in the mortal realm for three lifetimes, is it not just wronging others and yourself? I feel that what they say is right. Sometimes I also preach to the other ghosts like this, but everyone knows the logical truth. When I think about myself, I still feel unwilling for no reason.

For what reason am I alone so miserable? What have I done that is so against heaven and reason, that I did not have a good life, nor a good death in the end?

But the Netherworld is more unreasonable than the mortal realm. I can't even think about it. Thinking just brings distracting thoughts. Either way, if my beliefs are not aligned, I cannot reincarnate. I would have to stay in the water, capturing a living person to be my "scapegoat" to escape.

Don't ask why, how should I know? Anyways, only we drowned people have this task, other ghosts don't have to do it. There is a hierarchy of distain for shitting and farting when we are alive. But there are still a variety of ways to die, how unlucky!

However, my conscience is still intact and I'm still rational. I really don't want to do those immoral things, so I chose to become a "vegetarian ghost."

This means, I only drag those who want to die, and are about to die, into the water, helping them and helping me, a win-win situation.

Unfortunately, ideals must be broken.

Every time I see those so-called "in complete despair" people, I wait beside them longingly. But as soon as I pull their feet a little, they start to kick their feet hastily, and some even scream for help. In the end, not only do I fail my task, but I also have to help rescue them. I can't tell whether I'm a ghost or a dolphin, which is outrageous.

But flowers have their blooming season, foods have a shelf life, and the water ghost mission also has a time limit. Legend has it that we have an eighteen-year death limit. If I can't catch a scapegoat within eighteen years, I will turn into foam like the Little Mermaid and submerge in the stinky sewer, unable to be reincarnated.

I didn't take it seriously before. After all, eighteen years is a long time and I've never heard of a loser who couldn't catch a scapegoat in eighteen years. Yet starting from the end of last year, I, who has no nose, suddenly felt like I was slowly rotting and turning smelly. I then realized I was the loser from the legend.

Time was running out, and I later realized that I was getting angry because of my anxiety. But I'm a northern ghost. The water here freezes over in the winter, even the shore is cold. Dogs don't come to pee by the shore, much less people.

The twelfth lunar month, I struggled for a long time, and decided to give up my vegetarian diet. Regardless of whether the other person is alive or dead, I would pull them down as long as they jumped in the water, regardless of whether they regret it or not. After finally making up my mind, no one committed suicide in the twelfth lunar month.

The first lunar month, I got anxious. Using any means necessary, I carved a hole under the ice, preparing to catch anyone skating on outdoors ice. I was done with it, not caring for whether people died or lived.

Yet it turns out no one went ice skating!

After the Lantern Festival, I had no choice but to become a complete freak. I couldn't care less about propriety, justice, and integrity. I wanted a scapegoat!

I was prepared to use the seaweed to drag a living person from the shore as soon as the ice melted. Who knew that when spring had just begun, the damn municipal government would install iron fences by the water again!

Gosh!

Is this my retribution for being a good ghost for eighteen years?

It was getting warmer day by day, and I got more anxious day by day. Entering March, I was nearly in despair because the date of my death was March 17th eighteen years ago. Who knew it would be my death day again eighteen years later!

I got less and less clear-headed; day by day, I felt like I was gradually melting into this pool of stagnant water, and the seaweed no longer obeyed my orders.

Just like eighteen years ago, I drowned again, only this time it was longer and more torturous.

Right when I was at the end of my rope, half dead, I heard a familiar "crash" sound, and the waves brought the smell of life!

I revived like dying embers, almost crying with joy. Someone climbed over the railing and fell into the water!

Soon enough, I rushed over without hesitation, like a starving person who saw a large cake. I didn't even see clearly what person looked like. I impatiently weaved the seaweed around the person's feet, pulling the person down greedily and desperately.

Die, I'm begging you! Just die, I can only live if you die!

However, very quickly, I felt that something was not right. This person didn't resist at all. When I pulled them, they fell straight into the water, sinking like a rock.

Fuck, I thought to myself, they couldn't have already died right?

Then god really is messing with me!

I quickly went closer, only then seeing that the person who had been dragged down by the seaweed was a woman. She had very long hair, was of average height, very thin, almost as if she were paper. When soaked in water, she looked more like a ghost than me.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes, staring straight at me.

That's okay, she was still alive, but before I could relax, I was overwhelmed with horror.

In those pupils...... in those pupils was actually my reflection!

I haven't looked in a mirror since I died, and I came face to face with my own "exceptionally beautiful" face without warning. I was almost scared out of my mind, freezing for a moment. But at that moment, I felt those eyes getting bigger and bigger, getting closer and closer to me......

Then my vision went dark, a long-lost weight pressing down on my head, and cold smelly water rushed into my nose and mouth.

I'm a ghost, what nose and mouth?

But drowning was too painful, and I had no room to think about it at all. I instinctively kicked my legs, kicking away the seaweeds that were tangled all over my body. I struggled towards the shore, climbing up with all my strength, then sneezed loudly.

Wait a minute, I...... sneezed?

Eighteen years after my death, am I...... breathing?

I lowered my head blankly, looking at my dirty hands, dumbfounded.

I seem to have taken over her body.

Us water ghosts...... have this ability?

This woman hadn't eaten in an unknown amount of time; her stomach was pressed against her chest. When the cold wind by the water blew, I felt the long-forgotten hunger and cold.

I was confused at the time: Was she dead or alive? Am I dead or alive?

What exactly was going on with us?

Before I could figure it out, a flashlight swept over me. Someone had spotted me...... her...... ah, ah someone, someone, it's too weird.

The person who discovered me was a security guard who was patrolling at night. He had a very loud voice, being able to be heard from two zhang. People who were walking their dogs, night joggers, people practicing square dancing...... all appeared out of nowhere. He had attracted all of them. A lot of people surrounded me and asked questions.

I haven't spoken to anyone in eighteen years, and I was still struggling to find my voice. But at this moment, my tongue moved on its own.

It was like a squirming worm. I felt sick, subconsciously opening my mouth, and heard myself making a sound.

"I drank too much, and accidentally fell down......"

"I'm okay, thank you, I'm sober now...... I'm clear-headed."

"No need...... no need to call the police...... I live nearby...... the community right there."

I got goosebumps all over my body, shutting my mouth from shock, and the thin and trembling words came to an abrupt stop.

Being struck by five thunders could not even describe the panic I felt at the moment, but the heart in this body's chest was beating calmly, completely out of sync with my mind.

The original owner of this body wasn't dead; she was still here, just stuck with me!

Two souls controlling one body at the same time was a lot worse than a "three legged race" where two people share a leg. If two people stumble around each other in a three legged race, what about our current situation?

The strange thing was, I can control this body rather smoothly. I can speak when I want to speak, and shut up when I want to. I can't feel her panic at all, but if I stop paying attention and loosen my jaw, she will automatically reply to the people around her, and even stand up on her own.

I bit her tongue harshly, tears welling up in my eyes, but she didn't resist at all!

I felt as if I was driving a car on a steep slope; it stops when I step on the breaks, and it drives automatically when I take my foot off!

She wasn't panicked, wasn't afraid of me, didn't reject me, didn't stop me, only holding those unknown motives staring at me...... quietly in the dark.

I should have jumped into the water and downed her immediately, but there were too many spectators, and there were even a few meddling old men and women who said they wanted to call the police, making me break into cold sweat from fear. I'm a pussy 1! I'm scared of light, fire, and Yang energy. There are so many warm living people surrounding me, and I'm already suffocating. I'm afraid that if a few more citizens were call over, would I not just die on the spot?

I was also panicking at the time, only knowing how to repeatedly incoherently say to not call the police, I can just go home.

A passerby couple recognized the original owner of the body, saying that "I" was a resident in their building, and they wanted to give me a ride home.

What skills we water ghosts have can only be used in the water where we drowned, unable to be transferred to other bodies of water. This broken body was both thin and weak; I became panicked and short of breath when I walked to fast, completely unable to get away from these two living people. I had no choice but to be "escorted" by them into a building.

Fortunately, the original owner's body automatically pressed the elevator floor. It wasn't until I got off the elevator that I got rid of the two nosy people, ready to sneak downstairs and return to my territory as soon as they left. Who knew that the second the elevator doors closed, and before I even had the chance to press the button again, a door would suddenly open behind me.

My...... no, the heart in this body of mine thumped, a chill running down my spine.

A head popped out of the open door, a woman, appearing to be twenty-four or five? Or twenty-eight/nine?

I couldn't tell. Her makeup was half done, her face as pale as a freshly painted wall. She had long curly hair, which was dyed reddish brown, and braided into two fluffy braids. Her facial features were memorable, and her figure was also rather nice. I couldn't find fault with her, but she wasn't good-looking at all, because her eyes were sharp and cold, like a snake. As soon as I saw her, I felt the original owner's body tense up, trembling, and what little energy she had almost disappeared.

The woman frowned, dragging me into the apartment: "What madness did you get into, looking like this?"

Her nails were harder and sharper than her head. I could clearly see that those wasn't a hand at all, but a claw covered in human skin.

The claws were arid, cold, and powerful. The strong scent of rose water hit me, hiding the fishy and putrid smell.

Just what monster was this?!

This weird girl could see water ghosts in the water, and there was a yaoguai by her that was not easy to deal with. What on earth have I provoked?!

Also...... we water ghosts typically cannot possess living people. So in this current situation, is it me who has possessed her or...... or has she captured me?!

She did it on purpose, no wonder why she wasn't worried about being possessed by a ghost at all!

"I told you to make a phone call, did you make it yet?" The female monster pulled me into the apartment, leaving me by the door of the bathroom. Then she turned around, continuing to put makeup on while facing the mirror, as if she didn't notice my presence.

I knew that I would never be able to beat her in a fight. Out of fear of being exposed, I didn't dare to speak, hoping the original owner would speak, but the original owner also refused to make a peep.

"Can you do anything?" The female monster seemed used to the original owner's silence, and didn't mind. After putting on lipstick, her gaze drifted from the mirror, and landed on me. She glanced at me, then said with disgust, "Why do you get uglier the older you get?"

The original owner and I, one ghost, one human, continued to not speak.

"Get yourself cleaned up." The female monster with boundless power gave cold orders, "Wash up and put on a facial mask. I'm taking you to dinner with people tomorrow. If you keep acting like that, you better watch out."

I saw faint traces of blood on her teeth and shivered. Before I could think more about it, my legs dragged me to the bedroom towards the south like a ghost, and closed the door.

Temporarily out of sight of the female monster, I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the door, vaguely feeling as if I had forgotten something.

There were no lights on in the dark room. At present, I was attracted to the only source of light. There was a digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It was ticking, displaying that the current time was March 16, 20:08.

My mind buzzed, and I recalled: the 17th was less than four hours away!

There are less than four hours left. If I cannot escape, I will fall into despair!

Comments on this chapter (by reply time):

[Little Miss Dragon] 0 min just now Newcomer topping the list, preserving courtesy. I haven't seen a supernatural work on the list for a long time, good luck big shot!

[Caterpillar No 3] 0 min just now It's a bit scary, not my type of story, sorry.

[Don't be afraid, Tangtang] 0 min 1 day ago A gourmet chef who accidentally opened this calmly clicking x. [My Husband is 2D] replied: Not by accident, you were tricked into it right? The blurb clearly says Midnight Feast fanfic, but the text is of lower quality.

[My Husband is 2D] 2 min just now Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular tag Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular show tag Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular show tag Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular show tag Trash, if you have the ability, then remove my comment again