#now i am going to read more about these plants with the ants inside

[basil--and--sage]

Hello, do with this information what you will, but I would like to share with you that there is a tropical liana - Dischidia major is her Latin name - that produces balloon-like leaves in which ants build their colonies. (The plant then grows her roots into a nest full of nutritious soil arise from dead organic matter brought there by ants for construction purposes. Just like self made pots.)

It would be very unfortunate if Kili had accidentally, and in no way intentionally, shot down such an ant nest on someone's head, wouldn't it? Shire is such a strange place after all, full of uncanny plants and animals.

Thank you for reading

~ Sigrid

Hello Sigrid,

thank you for your ask and this interesting fact! I googled that plant and wow, it looks so unique and cool. And the fact that ants build their nest in the leaves? Incredibly interesting!

I also learned something new about myself, when I read the second past of your ask: the idea of getting hit on the head by a leaf full of ants gives me the heebie-jeebies (including full body shiver), lmao! I didn't know that about myself beforehand 😂

Thank you so much for sharing! If you have more cool botany, biology etc facts I'd love to hear them!

[supernova3space]

18,681 words. That's where I am now.

I'm not even close to half of the story but I don't want to start posting the chapters now because if I do, I'll either lose the flow or I'll forget and procrastinate and never finish it.

And I want to finish it.

It's an SOA fanfiction. I was reading one of my old Satyajit Ray books (HE'S A GENIUS). I love his stories. They have an element of an undiscoverable horror, peppered with mystery, woven with such meticulous care into the fabric of the story. His horror stories leave you with nightmares and he doesn't even have to utilise ghosts or any specific supernatural beings for them.

The could be a line of ants crawling on your wall. Or the apparition of the dog you ran over with your car. Or an abstract wooden figurine you found in the woods that can't let you sleep at night.

It could be your doppelganger who not only resembles you but has done everything that you have done as well, living your life. It could be a carnivorous plant that your eccentric friend bought.

And his creation of Feluda the detective. Dude is the Indian Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot.

I started writing horror when I was in 6th grade. For our language class. Our teacher gave us a list of words and we had to include them in the story we were writing.

I think I was the only person who wrote a ghost story. I wrote two.

First one was pretty cliched. It was about a man entering a house with a gorgeous garden with lots of fruit trees that he wants to use for selling fruits (Fruit was one of the words in the list so the lack the creativity here lmao). He enters at night cause he wants to prove the watchman wrong about ghosts in the building and, you guessed it, he was killed by the ghost.

Second one took a little more time but it was about a young girl who moves into this town and she finds another little girl playing inside an old dilapidated building. (My cousins and I used to play in old buildings all the time so this was fun). They become good friends and every day our protagonist goes to play with her friend. She never sees the girl in school or anywhere else and when she asks the girl, she says her house is far away.

Then one day, when she comes back, she finds the little girls white dress stained in blood. She's shocked as hell but her friend smiles and tells her she was preparing to go home. She was scared of going because she thought people would forget her but now she had found the courage to go after meeting our protagonist. She then guides our protagonist to an old photo album buried in the building and says goodbye before disappearing into the wind.

Yeah, so, my language teacher was super supportive of this whole disturbing thing lmao I blame her. Thank you ma'am.

I'd say the thing I'm working on is sort of similar. I'm writing something I'm familiar with. I love it, I like what I'm writing, I like how it's going (sorta) and well, idk when I'll finish it but I will finish it. It'll take a long, LONG time tho lmao

Well, that's my rant for the day.

[sooibian]

Catch These Hands

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

Description: Living with Baekhyun comes with its own challenges

Themes: Fluff (surprise!!!!), established relationship, make up artist and masseur Byun, a little bit of byuntae, and one (1) Eminem reference lol

Prompt: @/notyourenglishprofessor : You SAY you didn’t eat in bed but these crumbs say differently.

A/N: Happy Birthday @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ !!!! here’s your biggest pet peeve woven into a bbh fic! Hope you enjoy it XD

Word count: ~ 1.7k

Nights out have never agreed with you. It’s 2 a.m. and your feet hurt from the heels, your head hurts from the drinks, your little black dress (your best friend sure does have a penchant for party clichés) is mocking your food baby, your makeup feels clumpy - maybe you overused the setting powder but you wouldn’t know because the complex art of blending cosmetics has always eluded you. How do they make it look so easy in YouTube tutorials?

As you’re keying in the passcode to your apartment, despite all the malaise, a sudden surge of comfort courses through your veins at the thought of your adorable boyfriend asleep in a clean, cozy bed, engulfed in warm and fresh sheets that exude the fragrance of a spring meadow - courtesy of your brand new laundry detergent. You imagine he is dressed in his snuggly pajamas, with his lips slightly parted, dark hair tousled, and your ostrich plushie clutched to his chest. Ever since you started living with him, you’d never spent a night away from home but the one time you returned after a weekend long Neuroscience conference, you found your plushie resting in the comfort of his arms. The next morning he insisted that he didn’t know where it came from.  

‘Time to catch him red handed’, you smile to yourself.

Kicking off your heels and scraping your hair up in a bun, you tiptoe to your bedroom and the faint melody of Baekhyun singing in a highly expressive croon falls upon your ears.

Tell me you’ll love again, come back to me again..

He should’ve been long asleep and while you can’t wait to crash out either, you allow yourself the pleasure of eavesdropping on his heavenly vocals that always sound especially sweet when he’s wrestling sleep. Until..until you hear it.. the sharp crunch of plastic which sends you barging into the bedroom with exasperation painted across your features. 

Baekhyun clamps his mouth shut. 

Instead of jumping out of bed to wrap you in his arms, he uncharacteristically stays burrito-ed in his duvet, fixing you with an apologetic gaze. Elbow crushing the pillow underneath him, shoulders crouched, lips pursed, hair dishevelled, pajama bottoms scrunched up to his calves, he tries to blink away the very apparent guilt in his eyes. Your ostrich plushie lay on your side of the bed as if its neck had been snapped like a popsicle stick. 

As you loom over him, lower lip wobbling, he pushes his weight further down the pillow but the tail end of the red Orion choco pie wrapper teasingly peeks from underneath it, glimmering in the cozy golden lighting of the bedroom, already chuckling at the drama that is to ensue.

You’re too tired for this.

Without a word to him, you grab a bunch of blankets from the dresser, shut it with a loud bang and stomp out of the room while Baekhyun’s bearing is that of a frozen frame. As you’re questioning your life choices and are about to vent your frustration on the irreproachable couch, your weary gaze finds the bane of your existence again - crumbs. White, inelegant fragments of food conspicuous against your tan sofa.

They say the more you try to avoid something, the more you create it. This was unequivocally the worst quote you’d ever read. You created nothing! You were not the one to leave this slew of crumbs on the sofa neither did you leave a pile of crumbs on the bed! It was all Baekhyun! 

You’re way too tired for this.

Drowsy, you lie down on the floor, curled up in the many blankets, although still cautious as your piercing eyes doggedly probe for more evidence of Baekhyun’s insolence. Surprisingly, the rug was clean-ish. It was almost as if he had planned on you sleeping on the floor tonight. This thought fuels the rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach so you force your eyes shut to avoid a shouting match this late in the night. 

The shuffling sound of footsteps grows closer and you’re determined not to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. The sound comes to a halt and you feel a gentle caress of warm fingers ghosting over your cheeks which is quickly replaced with a smooth and cool touch of a cotton pad against your eyelids, cheekbones, jaw line, with a distinct scent of micellar water wafting in the little to no space between Baekhyun and you.

You continue to play dead as he’s quietly and deftly taking your makeup off while delicately holding you up by the back of your neck and you coyly move your face from side to side to allow him better access to every inch of your skin.

“Too much setting powder”, he whispers.

Darnit!

“Still so pretty”, he remarks in his dulcet voice. Your head now rests in his lap and he’s gently moving his thumbs in tiny circles under your brows, working his way from inside out and continuing the movement all around your eyes and ending back at the bridge of your nose, almost lulling you to sleep.   

At this point every cell in your body is waging a war against your now weakened spirit that’s continuing to disregard him yet you find yourself revelling in his mellow affections.

“It’s a rookie mistake. Not to worry, baby, I’ll help you get it right the next time.” He reassures, planting a soft kiss on your pout.

“Right”, eyes still wilfully shut, you chastise him, “maybe when you find the time from eating in bed.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that.” Baekhyun whines, prying your eyes open with his fingers, not-so-gently.

You smack the back of his hand and sit up cross legged facing him. He stretches his hand out to pat your head and you smack it again invoking a look of pure confusion in Baekhyun’s soft features. His hand is now barely an inch away from your lips and he commands with a raised brow, “Now kiss it better.” 

“Ew!” Your hand strikes the back of his, again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to -”

“Not to eat in bed!” Baekhyun completes your sentence with a deep sigh, “I know and I wasn’t -”

“Do not lie to me Byun Baekhyun!” Warning him, you wag your finger as annoyance betrays your voice, rendering your pitch shrill. Dusting the corners of his mouth with the pads of your fingers, you sneer, “These crumbs say otherwise. You know I hate it when you eat in bed! It’s ...It’s….disgusting! And -”

“And?” 

“You always ignore my post-its!”

Baekhyun huffs and runs a hand through his hair. Letting on a forced smile, he reasons, “We’ve been living together for three years now. I think it’s time you stopped leaving ‘do not eat’ post-it notes on everything you buy!”

Tilting your head to the side, you explain animatedly, “First of all, you won’t let me buy snacks on our grocery runs because they’re unhealthy or whatever and you want to bring about a stupid dietary reform in the household which, by the way, is failing miserably - ”

“Yah!! We’re still in January, don’t be such a pessimist!”

“Do not interrupt me! The few that I do manage to sneak into the cart are mine and mine alone!”

“It’s just that..the ones that you buy taste better”, he mumbles, unveiling the most powerful weapon in his artillery - the pout.

“That is the most ridiculous thing that’s come out of your mouth today aside from the crumbs! I imagined you’d be...”, it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re starting to descend into a fugue state, “you’d be...curled up in bed like a...like a... cooked shrimp with a plushie clutched to it’s chest!”

Visibly offended, he flicks your forehead and bellows, “Cooked shrimp!? It’s called the fetal position. Look it up!”

“I know what it’s called!” Your livid expression eases into a rather ill meaning smile, “My apologies, I took you for a grown man.”

“What in the world - I am a grown man!” His lips stretch into a wide grin and the tips of his fingers tease the sensitive spot on your neck, “would you like to see?”

“You’re disgusting, Byun Baekhyun! A grown man does not eat in bed!” You smack the back of his hand. Again.

“Strike four! You’re obligated to kiss it better now!” 

Tears start to well up in your eyes at the sight of his hand dangling so close to your face. “I’m tired”, you cry, burying your face in your hands as exhaustion and exasperation take over, “I really need you to stop eating in bed.” 

“Babe, I -” His eyes grow into large brown circles at the sight of your distressed state and he freezes.

“I feel like the crumbs will, like, turn into ferocious ants and nibble at my skin while I’m asleep”, you break into full blown sobs and Baekhyun takes you in his arms, holding you tight against his warm and comforting frame and patting your head to calm you down.

“Hush, baby”, he sing-songs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You go get changed into something comfortable and I’ll dust the bed, okay?”

“Can you change the sheets instead?” Sniffling, you ask him with wide, pleading eyes, a sly smile playing at your lips.

His eyebrows shoot upwards and he exclaims, “It’s three in the morn-”

“Please?” You sing-song, a little too loudly.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Okay! I’ll change the sheets.”

With his slightly dispirited face sandwiched between your hands, you ask cheerfully, “And you promise to never eat in bed again?” 

“I promise to never eat in bed again.” A dejected Baekhyun says to his knees. 

“And you won’t steal my snacks?”

You had now started to push your luck with him, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

He flicks your forehead a little harshly this time making you squeal. “Can you stop with the stupid post-its, already?”

Rubbing your forehead, you surrender and get up. “Fine! I’ll go shower now.”

Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist. Nuzzling your neck, he coos seductively, "I’ll join you.” 

“Byun Baekhyun!”

[imagines4thefandoms]

Eternity Pt 2 (Kol Mikaelson X reader)

Requested: yes from Wattpad

This will no be accurate according to the show so bare with me.

Y/n’s POV

“Kol” you whispered.

You quickly looked over your shoulder but the only person there was your best friend (bff/n). She gave you small smile and then went back to taking notes. You could have sworn that you felt something. The entire class you just stared blankly at the powerpoint. You didn’t even notice the class was over til (bff/n) shoved you a little as she was leaving the classroom.

“Y/n are you ok” Bf/n asked.

“What,” you asked coming back to reality.  “Yeah” you answered grabbing you bag and running out of the room.

“Your crazy y/n. Just go for a walk to clear your head,” you told yourself.

The plan was to walk around campus until your next class. The scenery was going to calm you down, just link it did after your turned. But you didn’t really focus on the scenery.

Flashback

You woke up and everything hurt. Your head. Your teeth. Your eyes. But weirdly enough not your stomach or legs or face. Not where that man hurt you. You opened your eye but the light was way too bright.

“Its ok,” a strange voice said.

The light became less annoying and you took in your surroundings. But it wasn’t a hospital. You quickly sat up of tried to make yourself small. There were two men in the room with you.

“Please im sorry. I won’t run,” you pleaded with those men.

“Hey your safe. I promise that man will never hurt you again,” the man in a suit said.

“Technically no one will now,” the other one said.

There was this pain in your stomach. It was like hunger but much worse. There was a bag on the table next to the bed you woke up on and it smelled amazing. The younger of the two men grabbed the bag and sat on the bed.

“Drink this and you will feel better,” he said holding out the bag.

The urge to take it was strong but you were weary of the men. You turned your head away and just hoped the hunger would go away like it has before. The other placed his hand on the younger and they both left the room.

“She needs to feed,” you heard the younger say.

“That young girl just went through something horrific Kol. Give her time,” the older man say.

“Elijah, and if she doesn’t are we supposed to let her die,” the younger man now known as Kol asked.

“She might not want to become one of use. It's her choice. One that neither of us will make for her,” Elijah responded as he walked away.

Everything hurt. But this pain was worse than you ever felt. This pain couldn’t be pushed down and ignored. Something in you knew that whatever was in that bag would make the pain go away. You went to grab it off the nightstand but it wasn’t there. Kol must have taken it. Maybe that was best. right. If I drank that I would become one of them according to Elijah but what were they? British?

You curled into a ball and just cried. This pain has to go away right. Kol said I could die. Would that be a good thing. Or should I drink whatever is in that bag. What's so bad about becoming British? There was this loud tapping on wood. You shot up and looked around the room but saw nothing. The tapping continued. You got out of bed and saw nothing but a lone ant in the far corner. Yep you were going crazy. You were walking back to the bed when there was a thunderous knock on the door. Your tried to cover your ears to lessen the sound but it didn’t work. Kol walked in.

“What's wrong with me. What did you do,” you asked backing into the corner and curling into a ball.

“Shh you are okay,” Kol said stepping towards you.

“No stay away. You said I'm going to die.”

“Only if you don’t drink this,” Kol replied hold out the bag.

“What if I don’t want to be British. Huh. You ever think of that,” yelled.

“What,” Kol laughed.

“I heard what the other man said. If I drink that i'll become like you.”

“A vampire darling. You will become a vampire. Not British and were are not British. Technically we are Norwegian,” kol replied with a small smile.

“There is no such thing as vampires.”

“You teeth hurt,  and your eyes and head. Everything it too bright and too loud. You’re hungry. Hungrier than you have ever been,” kol stated.

“How…,”

“You are transitioning between vampire and human. You don’t have to turn if you don’t want to. But you died back on the farm. That man shot you. If you don’t drink this you will die,”

“Im dead?”

“Undead technically.”

You looked at Kol like he was crazy. A Vampire is one thing but you’re not dead. You would remember dying right. Kol took another step forward and you noticed his face change. His eyes got all veiny and his teeth got pointy.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed standing up. “How.”

“My mother turned us after my younger brother died,”

“And how am I…,”

“My brother and I found you. You were seriously hurt so my brother fed you his blood to heal you. I killed the man who hurt you but he shot you. You died with vampire blood in your system so now you’re becoming a vampire,” Kol explained.

“Will it hurt,”

“No. Your pain will stop and you will be strong and faster and no one will hurt you again,” he explained stepping closer. “Drink this and you will be a vampire.

“Kol enough,” Elijah said walking into the room. “This is her choice.”

“If it will take my pain away i’ll drink blood. So what’s in that bag,” you asked stepping towards the brother.

“Human blood,” Elijah responded.

“Ew what,” you exclaimed taking a small step back.

“Drinking human blood with complete the transformation,” kol explained.

“But it smells so good,” you said with a gross expression.

Kol laughed a little and looked over at Elijah. “Are you sure you want this,” Elijah asked.

“I think so. Nothing can hurt me besides, wooden stake, holy water, a cross, the sun and garlic. No garlic bread will suck. Wait I don’t want to hurt people.”

“Holy water, a cross and garlic are all myth. The sun won’t be a problem with a daylight ring and you don’t have to hurt people if you don’t want to,” Elijah explained.

“Ok, I think I want this,” you said stepping forward and taking the blood from Kol.

You ripped the bag open and took a small sip. You expected it to taste awful but it was the most delicious thing you ever consumed. After drinking the whole bag you returned the bag to Kol and wiped and blood that was on your face away. Kol was right. The pain was gone. You felt strong. You felt free. You felt safe.

You were so entranced by the memory of your transformation that you walked longer and further than you planned. A text message from your lab partner brought you back to reality and you realized that you were late to class and that you walked 5 miles.

Shit I lost track of time. -y/n

Don’t worry ill tell the teach that you are sick. I'll send you the notes after class- (random name)

Thanks sorry- y/n

End flashback

You started to walk back to your room when you saw a couple chasing each other in the park across the street. They looked happy. The guy grabbed his boyfriend and they both fell down. They laid there together and watched the clouds pass.

You hated how happy they were. You hated how they had each other when your person was gone.

Flashback

“Y/n come here,” Kol called from down stairs.

You kinda stayed with the Mikaelson’s after you turned. And they were right. You didn’t have to hurt anyone. But you kind of became a thief. Once a week Kol helps you steal from a blood bank so you don’t have to hurt a person, but only if there is lots of blood.

“What Kol,” you asked walking towards him.

Kol grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the house. You tried to plant yourself but he was older and therefore a lot stronger.

“Kol I don’t want to,” you whined trying to break free of his grasp.

“You have been inside all week, and its (fave weather) outside,” Kol explained turning to you.

“Fine,” you respond.

You go back upstairs to dress accordingly and then go out with Kol. The two of you walk around town til you guys reach the park and sit in the gazebo located in the center. Kol has become your best friend, your person. Without kol you wouldn’t be alive today and you loved him.

“Are you alright darling,” he asked sitting next to you.

“I’m perfect,” you responding watching the weather.

“Yes you are,” Kol mumbled watching you.

You got up and exited the gazebo to fully enjoy the weather. Kol sat protected watching you close your eyes, look up and spin around enjoying this beautiful day. You didn’t know kol walked over to you til his hands where on your hips causing you to stop spinning. You laughed as you fixed your hair and looking into his brown eyes. You stopped laughing when he grabbed your face. Before you could question what he was doing Kol pressed his lips against yours.

He broke the kiss and looked at you. “God you’re gorgeous.”

“I know.”

Kol laughed and then pressed his lips against yours again, but this time you wrapped your arms around him and deepened it. Something happened and the two of you fell to the ground. Laughter erupted from the both of you. Kol was on top of you and he just rested his forehead.

You pushed him off of you and the two of you just laid in the middle of the park holding hands. It was the best day ever.

End flashback

Kol’s POV

How. I’ve been dead for two months and now I was able to feel her. More importantly she could feel me. My sweet Y/n. I wanted to go follow her but there was something calling me. I don’t know what it was but I just needed to follow it. The thing calling me lead me back to my brothers. I walked into a house and saw Elijah sitting in the library reading. I explored the house and saw Klaus in his drawing room. Rebekah was with Marcel and there was a strange pregnant woman in the kitchen. I was going to try to call out to Klaus but there was something calling me upstairs. There was a door at the end of the hallway that glowed. I walked towards the door but before I could open it, someone else opening it.

“There you are. I have been looking for you,” a young brunette said.

Y/n’s POV

I reached my dorm room and I was going to take a nap. Naps solve all problems. But I needed answers. Did I really feel my Kol or am I going crazy. Maybe cursed or hexed. The only person who would know was Elijah. So I grabbed my keys and decided it was time to head to New Orleans.

Flashback

“Where are we going,” you asked Kol messing with the blind fold he placed over your eyes.

“You really don’t like surprised do you,” he asked slapping your hand.

“Well the last time I was blindfolded and taken to a surprise I died in a barn,” you responded with a deadpan tone.

You could tell by the air how much Kol did not appreciate your joke. He was never really a fan of your dark humor. You placed a hand on his knee to let him know you were ok. He grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it.

“Your humor needs work,” he said.

“No you just need time to get it,” you responded.

“Well either way we have all of eternity.”

The car stopped and Kol quickly got out and opened your door. He removed your blindfold and a beautiful cabin stood before you. The cabin sat on a lake and was surrounded by woods. Kol grabbed your hand and brought you inside.

“Kol what is this place,” you asked running your hand over the beautiful furniture.

“I bought this place years ago as a safe haven from my family. I come here when ever Niklaus is in a shabby mood,” he said wrapping his arms around you. “I thought that my beautiful girlfriend could use a vacation.”

“So you brought me to your don’t dagger me cabin,” you asked turning your head to look at the love of your life.

“Yes I brought you to my don’t dagger me cabin,” he laughed. “And now it’s our don’t dagger me cabin.”

“How romantic,” you joked turning completely around to hold him.

The entire trip was perfect. Just you and Kol doing everything you love. But the best night there was the third night. Kol had driven into town to grab stuff to make dinner. Kol promised to make your favorite meal. While Kol was out you decided to relax by the lake and soak up the sun. You stayed there til Kol came back. He placed a kiss on your temple to let you know he was back. You got up and returned the favor. He started to walk back to the cabin so you ran and jumped on his back.

“To lazy to walk darling,” he asked holding your legs so you don’t fall.

“Yes I am babe,” you responded placing a kiss on his cheek.

He shook is head in laughter and carried you inside. Once be brought you into the kitchen he sat you down on the counter. Kol turned and stood in between your legs. Your arms were around his neck and the two of you just stayed like this staring into each others eyes.

“So what’s the plan old man,” you asked after a couple minutes.

“Dinner, desert, then sex,” he replied.

“Sounds delicious.”

You sat on the kitchen counter and just watched Kol cook (favorite meal). While he was cooking you grabbed the phone that was on the counter next to you, which so happened to be his, and turned on music. Every so often Kol would bring you a spoon to taste the food.

“Delicious,” you judged.

After twenty more minutes, Kol was done cooking. He set up the table with candles and rose petals and went to the bedroom and put on a suit. He pulled out the chair for you and you just stared at him. You looked at Kol in his suit and you in a tank top and shorts.

“Seriously babe,” you exclaimed point to the romantic scene then to your outfit.

“You look gorgeous,” he said walking over to you.

“I know i’m just underdressed,” you ran upstairs and changed into a simple (f/c) dress.

You return downstairs and give Kol a little twirl. “Better.”

He looked at your dress and then laughed at your fuzzy polka dot socks. “Stunning,” he replied grabbing your hand and bringing you to the table.

The (favorite meal) was perfect. Kol was perfect. Everything was perfect. Kol took a sip of wine then grabbed your hand. He looked a littler nervous which confused you so you gave him a little smile in hopes to calm him down.

“Y/n you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on and I have been alive for over a century. These moments with you have made me feel more alive than when I was actually alive,” he stated to say. “And I meant is when I said that we will be together for all eternity. But there is one thing we need to fix for our eternity to begin.”

“Fix what needs to be fixed,” you asked looking at your dress.

“Not the way you look darling. Just your name,” he said getting down on one knee.

Kol grabbed a little black box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. You jumped out of your chair and fell on top of Kol.

“Is that a no,” he asked jokingly.

“Shut up. Yes. Fix my name it’s awful.”

“Nothing about you is awful, besides your humor. But y/n Mikaelson has a nice ring to it,” he said moving the hair from your face.

The two of you sat up and he slid the ring on your finger. Marrying the man in front of you is a dream come true.

END FLASHBACK

You were playing with your ring which was hanging around your neck the whole ride home. Two months without your soulmate really felt like two centuries. And you knew going back home was going to bring up memories and pain but you needed answers. Why now?

As soon as you entered city limits, you saw Kol at every corner. You saw where you and kol first kissed. Where you had your first date, first fight, first make up. You passed your first apartment together.

You finally pulled up to the Mikaelson house and you just stood at the front door at the house where you met Kol. Maybe you didn’t want the answers; you went to go back to your car but stopped. Kol would tell you to be brave. So you opened the front door and walked inside.

There was some chatter coming from the library so you guessed Klaus and Elijah were fighting again. You decided to wait in the kitchen til Klaus was less “stabby” as Kol would put it. After grabbing some blood from the fridge you went to the library and lightly knocked on the door.

“Elijah I need some help,” you said slightly opening the door. “Im pretty sure I’m losing my mind or that i’m cursed.”

You walked in and saw Rebekah, Klaus, and Elijah looking at the fire place.  You could kind of see that they were staring a Devina. Elijah turned to face you and you saw him.

“Hello Darling,” Kol said walking towards you.

“Kol,” you asked taking a step forwards.

“God, you are even more gorgeous than before.”

“I know,” you cried as you ran into his arms.

He picked you up and spun you around. Kol put you down and firmly pressed his lips against yours. After taking a break for air, you turned to everyone and just smiled.

“How,” you simply asked.

“I found a spell,” Davina replied.

“Thank you D,” you thanked hugging Kol.

She gave you a small smile and you turned back to the love of your life. He was back. You were in his arms again. He looked at you with the biggest smile and then to the ring around your neck.

“I believe this is in the wrong place,” he said taking the necklace off of you.

He placed the ring back on your finger and placed a kiss on your hand.

“I also believe that there was something we needed to fix,” you replied with a smile.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

“I’m trying,” says Xue Yang bitterly. “I’m trying, and it’s still not good enough for you.”

Xiao Xingchen sinks his fingers into the dirt. Crawling over his cheek is a beetle, moving over his lips, trailing along the curve of his nose.

Xue Yang watches the beetle’s process, the muscles in his jaw growing tighter and tighter, fixating on the insect as it nestles in the dip of Xingchen’s left eye.

“I’m trying,” he repeats, and Xingchen thinks of the tongues, of one particularly small tongue at the end of the row, and hears himself saying, “You’re not trying very hard.”

Xuexiao - E - AO3! - Read on Tumblr - Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3

Chapter 4 - Rot

Xingchen wakes to Xue Yang bending over him.

He shoves him away, scrambling backward. “Get off me!”

Xue Yang settles back against a tree. “Don’t do that again. What if I hadn’t caught you?”

Xiao Xingchen manages to roll over onto his side, getting a better look at Xue Yang. Xue Yang is stripped down to his inner robe, face streaked with blood, crimson liquid seeping through the green silk at his side.

He grins weakly down at Xiao Xingchen, teeth red. “One of those fuckers got me,” he says ruefully. “Guess I shouldn’t have shown off so low on blood.”

“You didn’t have to kill them all. And you killed some townspeople too, I saw you…”

Xue Yang’s head droops forward, as if he’s too weak to keep it upright. He doesn’t seem to have heard Xingchen at all. “Lend me a hand, will you?”

“I can’t move…”

Xue Yang groans. “Figures.” He slides over, sprawling over in the grass beside Xiao Xingchen, and lies still.

Xingchen rolls over as much as he can and laps at the blood running from the gash in Xue Yang's side. He drinks until he’s strong enough to sit up. Xue Yang is still unconscious, lying in the exact position he fell in.

With clumsy hands Xingchen cuts bandages from an extra robe in the qiankun pouch. He washes his wounds as best he can with the small amount of water left in the canteen and binds them. Finds a medicinal pellet in Xue Yang’s sleeve, makes him swallow it, places a rolled-up robe under his head.

He sits up with Xue Yang all night. He’s surprised when Xue Yang opens his eyes at dawn and begins to struggle to his feet.

“Well, that was fun,” he says. He’s on his hands and knees, as if too weak to get all the way up. “But let’s not do that again for a while, shall we?”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. I’m always fine. I'll go find some water."

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Xue Yang eyes Xiao Xingchen narrowly. “Is that supposed to be sarcasm?”

“Am I ever sarcastic?” Xiao Xingchen lies down. It’s obvious they won’t be traveling today.

“Let me put down a blanket for you.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head, inhaling the dirt beneath his cheek. There’s a blowfly crawling across his temple, just visible out of the corner of his eye. “I prefer this.”

“But—”

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes.

“I won’t be able to give you blood for a few days. Or anything else.”

Xiao Xingchen nods slightly.

Xue Yang shoos the fly off Xingchen’s face. “I’ll wake you up as soon as I can.”

Xiao Xingchen could get up and bring Xue Yang the water, if he wanted to, but it’s been too many days without yang and he has no will to stir. Besides, he likes lying on the ground and doesn't want to get up. A dead tree frog lies a foot from his face, and he spends the morning watching a trail of ants swarm the bloated carcass, mesmerized by the endless black dots as they march back and forth through the grass.

He’s asleep when Xue Yang returns, and wakes late the next day. Xue Yang is sleeping beside him, face white, chest barely rising and falling.

It’s because of me, Xiao Xingchen thinks groggily. Because of me he’s too weak to heal, to seal his meridians and stop his bleeding…

What if Xue Yang were to die...?

Oddly fitting, rotting side-by-side for eternity…

But he reaches out, lays a cold hand on Xue Yang’s throat. Either he hadn't taken enough blood the day before to return him to full strength, or the blood isn't working as well as it used to, becuase his fingers are too numb to sense a pulse.

Xue Yang stirs at his touch. “You need something, daozhang?” he murmurs.

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes again.

It’s morning when he next opens them. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm extended, something sharp digging into his back.

Pain in his ear, something tearing at his hand.

A snapping sound.

Rustling of bushes, feet thudding on the forest floor, the whistle of a blade cleaving the air.

“Get off him! I’ll fucking kill you—”

A bird-like squawk, a whirl of black feathers. The smell of blood. Something cradling his head, touching his ear, his hand. The sound of muffled cursing.

Xiao Xingchen drifts off.

It’s night when he next wakes. Xue Yang is on top of him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead as he slides out from between Xue Yang’s legs. They’re surrounded by a wall of reeds and grasses, the air heavy and sweet, a stork winging its way past the moon.

“Welcome back,” he says. “Here.” He lifts Xiao Xingchen into his lap, holding his arm to this mouth. Xiao Xingchen dutifully sucks blood from his veins, sensation flowing back into his limp body.

There’s relief on Xue Yang’s face as he lays him back down on a blanket covering the damp ground.

Xiao Xingchen sits up. His limbs feel oddly… loose at the joints. He looks around, keeping his left eye closed. A half-dozen yellow talismans are pinned to his robes.

“Every little bit helps,” says Xue Yang, reaching for them. “Or doesn’t help, in your case. Here, I’ll—”

Xiao Xingchen reaches up to brush him away, and freezes.

The little finger on his right hand is missing.

Nothing but a bandage-wrapped stump.

Raising his gloved hand, Xue Yang grins at him. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We match now.”

Xiao Xingchen stares at his missing finger. “How...how long was I asleep?”

“Two days.”

Xingchen glances up at the moon, shining brightly down on their little clearing in the tall grasses. “There’s a full moon. It was waxing last I saw it. And—is this—we were in a forest—”

“Three days.”

“Three weeks.”

Xue Yang folds his arms defensively. “I woke you up as soon as I could. I almost thought you wouldn’t wake at all, I’ve been trying for days—”

“Were are we?” Xingchen's sounds strange, and he reaches up to touch his left ear as he speaks. There’s nothing there, just a soft, slippery ridge of missing flesh.

“Fine, so we flew a mile or two or hundred or whatever.”

Xingchen looks around. Laid out on a second blanket are rows of—

“Are those tongues?” he asks. His voice is strangely mild, emotions still deadened. Slowly he begins removing the talismans from his clothes.

Smiling to himself, Xue Yang settles back, tossing his knife in the air. “Would you like to see them?”

“Why…why are they all laid out like that?” And dozens of small animals, too. Water rats, birds, frogs.

Xue Yang nudges one of the talismans with his bare foot. There’s one pinned to the smallest of the tongues, and dozens more lining the neat rows of tongues and swamp creatures. “Do you want to hear?” he asks, and dives into an explanation without waiting for a response. He’s always animated, but he comes to life as he explains the talismans he’s created, how he devised them, and his current experiments.

“…keep them fresh, and they are fresh, except…”

Xiao Xingchen only half-hears him. He’s too busy watching him, the moonlight lighting up his far-too-pretty-for-what-he-is face, and thinking, not for the first time, about Xue Yang’s immense wasted potential.

What could Xue Yang have accomplished had he only been taught properly? Been guided down the proper path? Given a solid cultivation foundation and the opportunity to channel his genius and creativity for good?

What could he still accomplish?

Xue Yang is explaining how he fixed Xiao Xingchen’s shattered soul and channeled his qi into Xingchen’s corpse. He’s using his hands to speak, drawing shining red symbols in his own made-up alphabet as he explains what, even from the limited amount Xiao Xingchen absorbs, sounds brilliantly innovative.

Perhaps it was a good thing he had never had a formal education. From what Xingchen has seen since leaving the mountain, education, after a certain point, is just another way to enforce a set way of thinking, inhibiting free thought and encasing minds in narrow little boxes. A traditional cultivator couldn’t have accomplished half of what Xue Yang had achieved.

Xue Yang has stopped talking. He seems to be waiting for a response.

“That’s very impressive,” says Xiao Xingchen, vastly understating things.

“For a demonic cultivator.”

“For anyone.”

Xue Yang’s grin nearly wraps around his head, then winks out like a snuffed candle. “Doesn’t matter. I failed.”

“They look fresh to me.” Xiao Xingchen takes a closer look. “There are extra tongues.”

“I killed more than just the bandits, remember? You were all bent out of shape about it.”

“Do you want to pick a fight?”

“If you’re disgusted by the tongues, just say so.” There’s no trace of animation left on Xue Yang’s face. If anything, there’s an odd dead look in his eye as he sits cross-legged across from Xiao Xingchen and stares unblinkingly at him. “Don’t pretend to be interested.”

“I am interested.”

He doesn’t understand why Xue Yang throws this knife suddenly, spearing one of the tongues, or understand the sudden nasty change in Xue Yang’s tone. “Know who that one belonged to? That old man with the fucking eggplants!”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. “You needed it for your experiments.”

“How do you know he wasn’t alive when I took it?”

“I…I suppose I don’t.”

“Then stop faking it!” Xue Yang snaps. Xingchen wonders how long this has been building inside him and what spurred it to finally erupt. “Stop faking it all just because you need me right now! I knew you were a hypocrite, but I thought you were at least an honest hypocrite—”

“I’m not—”

“Liar! Were all those things you said in the inn just lies too?”

Xiao Xingchen can’t remember exactly what he said. Something about not wanting him to be hurt—

Xue Yang produces another knife from his sleeve. He seems more comfortable with a blade in his hand. “I was an idiot for believing you, I knew it at the time!”

Xiao Xingchen looks at the extra tongues. Xue Yang follows his eyes.

“I saved them all from those bandits, so if a few people got in my way, what of it! They would have been dead without me, I saved them, their lives belonged to me—”

Xiao Xingchen looks down at his hand, runs a hand over the bandage covering his finger stump. “I saved your life; does your life belong to me?”

“Had you killed me back then, think of all the lives you could have saved! For all we know that old man with those stupid eggplants would have gone crazy and poisoned half the town; they should be thanking me for killing him!”

Shaking his head, Xiao Xingchen pushes aside the blanket so he’s lying on the swampy ground and breathes in deeply. All he wants to do is sleep. Shut out Xue Yang’s voice. Sink back into oblivion, nestled in the tall sweet-scented grasses…

“I’m trying,” says Xue Yang bitterly. “I’m trying, and it’s still not good enough for you.”

Xiao Xingchen sinks his fingers into the dirt. Crawling over his cheek is a beetle, moving over his lips, trailing along the curve of his nose.

Xue Yang watches the beetle’s process, the muscles in his jaw growing tighter and tighter, fixating on the insect as it nestles in the dip of Xingchen’s left eye.

“I’m trying,” he repeats, and Xingchen thinks of the tongues, of one particularly small tongue at the end of the row, and hears himself saying, “You’re not trying very hard.”

Xue Yang hunches forward, a curtain of hair covering his face, digging his nails deep into his scalp and pulling his hair hard enough to hurt. He looks up through the curtain with red-rimmed eyes that almost glow in the eerie orange moonlight.

“Fuck if I care,” he says. “I’m going to go get some water.”

“Xue Yang—”

“Oh, just shut up! I should have left you unconscious!”

Xiao Xingchen turns over on his back. Better this way. More of his body touching the earth. “Are you coming back? Or are you going to leave me here to rot?”

“You’ll rot whether I leave you here or not—”

And suddenly Jiangzai is out, and Xue Yang is hacking at the tall grasses around them. He lays waste to the walls of reeds before falling to his knees, supporting himself with Jiangzai, teeth bared, breathing heavily.

Xiao Xingchen watches him without moving or flinching.

“Well?” he says as Xue Yang stabs the earth with his knife, raking a deep gash in the moss-covered soil. “Are you coming back?”

“Right, you need me!” Xue Yang stabs the ground, slashing it again and again with his blade as if trying to make it bleed. “How do you like it, daozhang, being bound to someone you hate?”

“I don’t hate you,” Xiao Xingchen says quietly. “Do you hate me?”

“I wish you had stayed dead, I wish I had never brought you back—”

All Xingchen can feel is pity. Xue Yang sees it in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he snaps. “You say you don’t hate me? Fucking liar!”

“I don’t hate you,” Xiao Xingchen repeats. “I don’t know why, but I don’t.”

“How about this, then? I killed your precious A-Qing!”

“I know,” Xiao Xingchen says quietly.

Xue Yang drops his knife. “You know?”

“I saw her name on the talisman. I guess you were telling the truth about needing a name, and actually learned how to write it..."

“And you don’t…you don’t care?”

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes. “Of course I care.”

Xue Yang grabs his wrist, shaking him, forcing him to look him in the face. “And,” he grins, “whose eyes do you think are in your head?”

A chill creeps down Xingchen’s spine as he reaches up to touch his eye.

Xue Yang is laughing now, a manic laugh he doesn’t seem to be able to control. “Just giving you back what was yours! I killed him before you woke up. Tossed him in the same ditch I tossed A-Qing. I’d say he wasn’t yet cold when you opened your eyes, but he’d been cold ever since you stabbed him through the heart!”

And suddenly Xingchen needs to feel. Needs to be choked by the shock, the hate, the grief.

A-Qing and Song Lan deserve it.

He wrenches his wrist away from Xue Yang. He’s weak, but Xue Yang’s fingers slide easily off his slippery, waxy skin. He shoves Xue Yang on his back and straddles him, the mere sight of Xue Yang lying beneath him in just a thin inner robe activating his muscle memory, his cock springing to life.

“Ah, there’s the daozhang I remember! Want to go over to the marsh? You can half-drown me again—”

“Shut up shut up shut up—” Roughly, he thrusts into Xue Yang as Xue Yang continues to giggle, not bothering to take it slow. Tears slip down his face as he thrusts into him, splashes of blood on Xue Yang's chest. "Just shut up—”

“Ah, see, this is what I’ve been missing all these weeks—”

“Stop talking, for once in your life, just stop talking—”

“I’ll do you one better: I’ll do my hair up all stupid, and you can pretend I’m Song Lan.” Xue Yang laughs harder, as if this is funny, body shaking beneath Xiao Xingchen's. “You ever fuck him like you’re fucking me?”

“Be quiet!” Xiao Xingchen thrusts harder, trying to shut him up, but Xue Yang only arches his back flirtatiously, one leg raised onto Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder, a demented smile plastered over his face.

“Was that a yes, daozhang?”

He closes his hand around Xue Yang’s throat. “Stop talking about him, and stop calling me that!”

“You fuck him in your fancy free inns? Pin him down and pour filth in his lily-white ear?”

“Stop talking—”

Xue Yang pries his fingers from his throat. “Were you the one to corrupt him, or did he corrupt you first? You seduced him, didn’t you? Just look at you, you’re like a dog in heat, there’s no way you didn’t make up some perverted priest ritual just to get your di—”

Xiao Xingchen slaps him across the face.

Xue Yang reaches one hand up to splay over Xiao Xingchen’s chest. “Did Song Lan like that? Did you choke him too? Bite his lip so hard you could suck his life out through it?”

“I never so much as touched him!”

“Too bad. He wasn’t a bad fuck for a corpse; was probably a lot more fun when he was alive—though knowing him, he was just as boring when he had a tongue—”

Xiao Xingchen freezes, then turns Xue Yang onto his stomach and fucks him from behind. He doesn’t want to see his grinning face, doesn’t want to pretend this is anything other than a necessary interaction, two animals rutting in a swamp out of necessity—

Xue Yang is still laughing.

Xingchen pulls Xue Yang’s robe down over his shoulders down to his waist. Digs his nails into Xue Yang’s back, leaves long scratches in his scarred skin. Several blackened fingernails come off in Xue Yang’s flesh, and his fingers feel loose where Xue Yang pried them off his throat. He spreads his purple-red hands over Xue Yang’s wiry muscles, pressing him down into the damp, fetid soil.

“Disgusting—”

Xue Yang stops laughing and Xingchen comes abruptly, the sigil on his chest glowing brighter as he fills Xue Yang. He pulls out with a shamefully wet sound, bloody cum oozing out of Xue Yang and dripping to the grass.

Xue Yang rolls over onto his back and Xiao Xingchen, suddenly weak with exertion and the flood of new emotion, falls forward on his hands, framing Xue Yang.

As his palms hit the earth, his head snaps forward slightly, and suddenly one eye goes dark.

Xue Yang scrambles out from under him. A look of shock has frozen his face. He cups his hands, staring.

An eyeball lies nestled in his palms.

Xingchen reaches up to touch his left eye.

It’s empty.

Xue Yang’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “I—I should have sewn it in better—”

Xiao Xingchen pulls his robe closed and holds out his hand.

Xue Yang drops the eyeball into his cupped palm.

“What’s happening to me?” Xingchen asks quietly.

His emotions are in full bloom, but somehow instead of anger, or horror, or shock, all he feels is resignation over what's happening to him and regret over what he'd just done. Knowingly done, unlike that time in the stream...

Silence, just the rustle of the tall grasses in the warm evening breeze, a distant splashing in the nearby marsh, a trill of a night bird.

“I think you already know,” says Xue Yang finally. Slowly he reaches into his sleeve, pulls out a long white bandage, and ties it at an angle over Xingchen’s eye socket.

“Now you look almost like your old self again,” he says.

Xiao Xingchen holds him at arm’s length, swallowing hard. “Xue Yang, how—how long have you known?”

“Rather roguish, your new look. I like it.”

“Xue Yang…”

“I can try sewing the eye back in, if you’d like, but I don’t think it would take…”

“Is that what you were doing these past few weeks? Trying to stop me from rotting?”

Xue Yang winces at the word “rot.” He squirms away from Xiao Xingchen, sitting facing the swamp. Xiao Xingchen wonders if Xue Yang chose this spot to hide the smell of his decaying flesh.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. Xiao Xingchen can hardly hear him. “Didn’t work, clearly…”

He lies down, his back to Xingchen.

Xingchen lays beside him, resting a hand on his arm, his eyeball still enclosed in his other hand. The skin over his knuckles is very thin, with small gas bubbles rising under the delicate bones along the backs of his hands and soft purple lines running up towards his wrist. Blackened lesions mottle his skin, eating down to the bone in some places, and his remaining nails are brownish gray.

He starts to remove his hand, but Xue Yang reaches up, closing his gloved hand around it.

“I didn’t mean to kill A-Qing,” he says, so low that Xingchen has to strain to hear him. “She just bled out so quickly after I cut her tongue out—she was trying to bring cultivators—I tried using a talisman, but it…it clotted the wrong blood…”

“There’s no excuse you could possibly give to make me forgive you for what you did.”

“I turned her into a sentient fierce corpse.” Xue Yang turns, mangled hand still on Xiao Xingchen’s rotting one, and looks at him. “She’s out there somewhere. That was the truth. Practically alive…”

Xiao Xingchen closes his remaining eye. He hates how that does make a slight difference. “Did you truly abuse Zichen?”

“I cut his eyes and tongue out, if that's what you mean.”

“You know it’s not.”

Xue Yang wrinkles his nose, gazing up at the scraps of cloud drifting past the full moon. “I never laid a finger on him. He’s not my type.”

“And was that the only reason?”

“What are you getting at?”

Xiao Xingchen is suddenly tired. So very, very tired. Dealing with Xue Yang is like dealing with a pet fox who keeps killing his chickens. “You understood what that man in Tanzhou did to his wife was wrong,” he says, "at least on some instinctive level. Unless you were simply guessing at how I’d feel on the subject and using it to excuse yourself.”

“Right, wrong, it’s all the sa—”

“Don’t start that again. You knew it was wrong despite the fact that many people wouldn’t think so. You—”

“I’ve killed children.”

“I know.”

“I’ve made you kill children.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t care?”

“Of course I care.”

“Then say something better than ‘I know’!”

“There is nothing I can possibly say to that that would express how I feel.”

“Why is killing children worse than killing any other person?” Xue Yang bursts out. “They would have died in another fifty years, at most. So I sped it along a little!”

“Is that truly how you feel?”

“Why isn’t it how you feel? If you think about it, early death is a mercy! And once they’re dead, it makes no difference to them.”

“Their family—”

“I killed the rest of the family, too. The Changs, all dead. Villagers, all dead. Nobody to mourn them. And it’s not like I would have cared either way, but it wasn’t like I went around killing random children for fun.”

“I never said you did.”

“Entire families, gone, just like that!” Xue Yang snaps his fingers. “As if they never existed, so what difference does any of it make? Some of them should be thanking me. Dying of gout at sixty is worse than being killed quickly at twenty.”

"Gout isn't fatal."

“Missing the point, as usual. So they would have died of something peasanty like plague or gangrene. Really, dead is dead. I don’t understand why you care. I really don’t.” Xue Yang looks legitimately puzzled. “It doesn't affect you. It barely affects them.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. Xue Yang is gazing at him intently, eyes burning with frustration, as if he doesn’t understand why Xingchen is just lying there calmly and listening to his poison.

“You knew what that man did to his wife was wrong,” Xingchen repeats, “meaning you do have something in you that points in the right direction, telling you right from wrong, something not reliant on law or social customs. And you simply choose to ignore it.”

“You think too highly of me. A first.”

“ ‘Highly’! Meaning you know it’s something desirable!”

“I’m just using your own shitty rhetoric. Are we done? I’m tired…” Xue Yang looks up at the moon again, filling his lungs with the fetid swamp air that, to Xingchen, smells sweet.

“No. Xue Yang, why did you hold onto A-Qing’s tongue all this time, and turn her into a sentient fierce corpse?”

“Because I—” He stops. “Getting sneaky, daozhang, throwing in these questions.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?”

Xingchen shakes his head. “Never mind. Why did you spend six years trying to bring me back, and the past three weeks camped out here on a swamp trying to stop me from rotting?”

“Stop saying ‘rot’!”

“Xue Yang, I am trying to understand you.”

Xue Yang is playing with the long tendrils of hair framing his face, not so much as looking in Xiao Xingchen’s direction. “Are we done?”

“Why did you leave Song Lan alone?”

“I didn’t leave him alone. Are you deaf? I cut out his tongue—”

“Xue Yang.”

“Well, he wasn’t you!” Xue Yang explodes. “Is that what you want to hear? You were coming back soon, I just…” I only wanted you. Perhaps even, I couldn’t betray you like that. “I kill people. I don’t hurt them. It’s not like I enjoyed hurting A-Qing.”

Xiao Xingchen can’t let such a blatant lie slip past. “You enjoy killing people. I have every reason to believe you enjoy hurting them as well.”

“That’s not what I meant by that.”

Xiao Xingchen wonders what Xue Yang went through while living on the streets, to make someone like him not want to “hurt” people in that way. He can imagine some of it. Xue Yang had practically told him, that night in the inn...

There’s an odd quivery look on Xue Yang’s face. As if realizing this, he gets to his feet. “Are we done? I’m thirsty.”

“Xue Yang…”

Xue Yang takes a step, wincing. “Be more careful next time, won’t you? I’ll be walking with a limp for a week.”

“Don’t do that, don’t turn everything into a joke or vulgarism—”

Xue Yang flies off through the grass.

Xingchen picks up A-Qing’s tongue and follows him. His legs are weak, but he pushes his way through the chest-high grasses, finding Xue Yang sitting on the edge of the water, arms wrapped around his knees.

Xingchen kneels at the edge of the water and buries his eye and A-Qing’s tongue in the soft sweet-smelling mud. It’s a beautiful warm night, the dazzling gold moonlight glimmering off the wide stretch of marshland. Dark clumps of tall, graceful reeds grow from the rippling water, with the hushed sounds of the night creatures carrying clearly over the water. The song of the crickets, the chirping of frogs. A stork strides through the water not a stone’s-throw away, gleaming white in the moonlight, and stars speckle the deep purple sky, brilliant and clear, here at the edge of the earth.

Xingchen imagines stepping into the shining gold water, letting it close over his head, envelope him, embrace him.

One more dead rotting thing…

“Does it hurt?” Xue Yang’s voice breaks the stillness. “Your eye.”

Xiao Xingchen touches the blindfold. He wonders if it’s the same one he used to wear, kept by Xue Yang all these years. “No.”

“Maggots hurt.” Xue Yang glances down at his gloved hand. “I know.”

Xiao Xingchen swallows. “I’m fine.”

“And your hand and ear?”

“Not much.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. Those vultures—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Xue Yang rests his chin on his knees. He looks more worn-out than Xiao Xingchen has ever seen him, as if the gamut of the night’s emotions have wrung him out and left him empty. “I don’t know how to fix you,” he confesses, his voice almost inaudible.

Xiao Xingchen sits down beside him. He doesn’t think those words have ever passed Xue Yang’s lips before.

“I tried,” says Xue Yang. “I really tried…"

Xingchen looks down at his black-mottled hands. Even in the moonlight he can detect their soft, half-slimy, half-waxy coat.

As he watches, a fly lands on his hand, and another, and another. Or perhaps they had been there all along. He can hear the buzzing of the nearby insect life feasting on the swamp’s rot, drawing life from death, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fungus growing on the dead fox in the Coffin House courtyard, the writhing white maggots making a home in its carcass.

Creating something new.

“You’ve carried this too long on your own,” he says. “Let me take it from here.”

Xue Yang tilts his head slightly, eyeing Xingchen with dark-circled eyes. “You know how to stop the rot?”

“No. But Shifu will.” And she might be able to fix you, too, he wants to add, but doesn’t dare.

“And you know how to find her mountain again?”

“Promise me you won’t bring up your past grievances with her when you meet.”

“I promise, I promise!...” Xue Yang rests his head on Xingchen’s shoulder. He looks very young, small and almost fragile. “I promise, Xingchen…”

It’s the first time Xue Yang has used his proper name since he’s woken. It’s strangely nice to hear. Xingchen, the person, decaying as he is, instead of Xiao Xingchen, the daozhang.

They sit in the stillness, watching the golden moonlight reflected in the water as it moves along with the moon. Listening to the splash of the frogs, the rustle of grass, the call of the night birds.

Surrounded by the sweet scent of rot.

Xue Yang falls asleep with his head in Xingchen’s lap. Xingchen trails his withered purple fingers through his hair, along his jaw, letting his hand rest on his head.

He does not sleep.

He’s at home here, among the decay…

One more dead rotting thing.

They leave the swamp the next morning and travel across the open countryside. Xingchen is too weak to fly, but Xue Yang holds him when he can despite his own growing weakness. Xingchen needs more and more blood just to stay upright, needs Xue Yang’s yang every night, every morning, needs to rid himself of tainted yin, just to keep his mind half clear.

One night he forgets where he is, rises, wanders off, trips, falls.

“Xingchen!” Xue Yang helps him to his feet. “Be careful—”

Xiao Xingchen’s hand comes off in his.

The same hand Xue Yang had pulled him by back in the bandit village what seems like a lifetime ago, he remembers the next morning, after Xue Yang pulls out of him and settles back on Xingchen’s legs.

Xue Yang is staring down at him with a hazy look in his eye.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed on your hand like that,” he says, reaching out to touch Xiao Xingchen’s wrist stump. He'd bandaged it during the night, but dark brown juices have seeped into the still-damp material, staining it with sweet-smelling liquid. "I keep pulling at your hand—”

Xingchen closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault, and I can’t feel anything…”

Xue Yang presses his forehead to Xingchen’s. Xingchen’s skin is still slippery to the touch, still covered in rancid black spots where the reddened flesh has necrotized. “We’ll be there soon,” he says, “won’t we?”

Xingchen nods.

Xue Yang kisses him. He doesn’t seem to notice the blowfly eggs hatching in Xingchen’s mouth, the rice-like maggots living in his empty eye socket, the beetles in his nostrils, the flies that swarm his body and lay eggs on his oozing wrist stump.

Flies that settle on Xue Yang’s own face, attracted by the slimy rot rubbed off on his skin.

It’s late afternoon when they arrive at Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, days later, weeks later.

Xue Yang collapses to his knees at the foot of the mountain. He’s been too weak to fly these past few days, with deep purple circles under his sunken eyes and white hands that tremble as he fixes Xiao Xingchen’s hair every morning.

“Is that it?” Xue Yang asks, looking up at the mountain. “It’s nice and all, but—”

“Wait.” It’s grown harder and harder to speak, Xingchen’s tongue swelling in his mouth, his throat muscles growing soft and loose under the hot sun. “Here.” He fumbles with his white jade hairpiece, but can’t get it out. "I—this—”

Silently Xue Yang gets to his feet, slides the hairpiece out of Xingchen’s topknot, sets it in Xingchen’s hand. Xingchen covers his hand with his fingers before he can remove it, nodding at him.

“Magic hairpiece? I like it. I used to have a gold one that—”

“Shh.”

Xiao Xingchen nods again, stepping forward on legs held together with gauze. Holding the hairpiece, they step through the invisible barrier.

All around them the mountain bursts into sudden radiance, the tall spirit gathering grasses around them sparkling with gold light. The air is thick with curling mists, catching the golden radiance and diffusing it, surrounding them with a warm yellow glow.

Xue Yang opens his mouth as if it speak, then closes it.

“Come,” says Xingchen.

They walk up the mountain, wrapped in the glowing mists.

Just a little farther now to the spot he remembers so well.

A pretty forest glade, gently shaded from the sun. Tall spirit-gathering sparkling with gold light, soft green moss carpeting the bank of a small stream, tiny white mushrooms growing on the fallen logs. Slender trees bent to trail their leaves in the water, the air sweet and warm and lightly perfumed.

Just a little longer...

He stops when they reach the stream that flows up the mountain, flows up past that secluded forest glade.

He turns and touches Xue Yang’s arm, doing his best to articulate. “One last time, before things are set right.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

“I want to.” Xingchen slips his robes off as they settle down in the grass. Xue Yang kisses him, heedless of the fact that his lower lip has been half eaten away by insects, showing a row of teeth in shriveled gums. The kiss is long and slow and deep, his hand slipping down between Xingchen’s legs.

Xingchen gently presses him down into the shining gold grass and lowers himself onto Xue Yang. They don’t need oil, his insides smooth and slippery with decay.

“Soon,” he says. “Soon...”

Xue Yang gazes up at him, one hand on his arm, breathing in deeply, as if he wants to fix Xingchen’s scent in his mind, remember the way he looks now, rotting and desiccated with maggots in his mouth, his eyes, nestling in the soft skin under his cock and under his arms. The tip of his nose eaten away, the bones of his jaw visible through the decomposing flesh.

Xingchen leans forward, sinks his teeth into the curve of Xue Yang's throat, and drinks.

The sigils on their chests glow brighter as he rocks forward, the blue and red spirit light mixing with the golden radiance around them.

He drinks deeply, taking more blood than he has in weeks, filling his throat with Xue Yang’s lifeblood as Xue Yang comes, filling him with his yang. He remains locked in place on top of Xue Yang, arms around him, lapping at the blood trickling from his throat. Xue Yang’s hand is buried in his loose hair, lips brushing the rotting purple skin of his throat, breath warm on his ear stump,

He can feel Xue Yang now, more clearly than he ever has till now. Feel his desperation, his fear, his desire to be—consumed—

He drinks until Xue Yang’s hand falls limply to the grass, his pulse slowing. Drinks until he knows Xue Yang is too weak to follow him.

He can drink him to death, if he wishes. Absorb all of him, the good, the bad. Take him into himself...

"Xingchen." Xue Yang moves slightly beneath him. “Take it all. Find her…”

Xingchen raises his head. He rises, draping his robes over the shivering Xue Yang.

“Don’t leave me here!” Xue Yang grasps at him, bloodless fingers clutching at his arms, crushing the small white mushrooms sprouting along Xingchen’s limbs. “Take me with you,” he says weakly. His eyes are bleary and sunken, lips gray. “I can carry you to Baoshan Sanren—”

“Shhh.” Xingchen kneels beside him, raises him up. It’s like maneuvering a large limp doll. “I’ll always be on the mountain.”

For the first time since he’s woken, he fixes Xue Yang’s hair, braiding the sides, looping it around the topknot, using his mouth as a second hand. He slides his white jade hairpiece into the topknot and lays Xue Yang back in the grass.

“She’ll find you, now,” he says. “She’ll know I sent you.”

Xue Yang tries to move, can’t. “Don’t—don’t—”

“Let her help you.” Xingchen kisses his forehead softly, leaving a smear of red on the ivory. “Don’t forget me, Chengmei.”

“Xingchen...I…” Xue Yang makes one last struggle, but the exertion is too much. His eyes slip shut and he lies stretched out in the spirit gathering grass, covered in Xingchen’s white robes, the jade hairpiece gleaming gold.

Xiao Xingchen removes the jade flute from the qiankun pouch and, naked, drifts along the stream, up the mountain, towards the glen. He’s feeling weightless, almost as if he’s floating. The light around him grows brighter as he nears the clearing, surrounding him, filling him as his legs give out and he collapses to the earth.

He lies on the mossy bank, green and black flute resting beside him, sunlight streaming through the trees. The wildflowers are in bloom all around him, their perfume mixing with the sweet smell of decay. The damp of the soil, the song of the trees, the deep roots spreading through the earth, all surround him. Flowers he’ll soon nourish, trees he will slowly feed, fungus he’ll one day nurture.

Consuming him slowly.

The earth hums beneath him, around him. Embracing him, enveloping him.

Welcoming him home.

The breeze has picked up, rippling through the grasses, rustling the trees, caressing his bare skin, soft and warm.

In the distance, he thinks he hears a familiar voice on the wind, calling his name.

Xingchen! Xingchen…

Smiling to himself, Xingchen sinks deeper into the earth.

*

The inherent eroticism of losing an eyeball atop your lover

*

liked it? AO3...or even spare a reblog?

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Lovely Noya

❀ AN: I’m been trying to upload this since yesterday here’s hoping this works !!  This prompt is based off Lovely Complex, so yes Noya is Otani in this but the plot was changed to fit Noya’s personality. Reader is 5′8 and Nishinoya  5′2 or 4′10 with his hair down as Wiki states. 

✿ Warning: None fluffy goodness. Tall Fem Reader x Nishinoya

❀ Summary: Of all the different times Nishinoya saw you how was he suppose to know that you were leaving a piece of yourself inside his heart?

✾✾✾✾✾✾✾

1 time.

 Nishinoya rested his face against the wooden desk as the sensei went on and on about how important 2nd year was going to be for graduation and eventually college. But really, he tuned it out, the defeat at Inter high still fresh in his mind. He opened his muted brown eyes to watch as the clouds hazily moved across the horizon. He jerked out of his musing when his seatmate next to him suddenly got up, the chair scraping across the floor, and in doing so creating such a horrific sound that he couldn’t help but wince.

“L/N, read the next paragraph please,” the sensei commanded.

“Haiiiiiii.”

Nishinoya couldn’t help but sit up straighter, did girls know how cute they sounded when they talked like that? He proceeded to pay attention as Y/N continued to read in accented but clear English so much so he couldn’t help feeling envious. Despite years of having English as a mandatory class he still sucked at it.

“And that’s why the Dutch succeeded in trading with a closed-off Japan where other nations failed,” Y/N finished and tucking her skirt, sat elegantly back down in her chair.

“Alright, who’s next to read?”

Nishinoya ducked his head and prayed silently it wouldn’t be him.

“Akira, read the next paragraph!” the gruff teacher barked.

Nishinoya let out a big sigh of relief and slumped over. He heard muffled giggles and he saw Y/N covering her mouth with her hand. When she finished, she looked over to see him staring at her. She jolted in surprise.

“Oh gomen, you just looked so relieved,” she said with a grin.

Nishinoya just grinned back at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to girls laughing at me.” He realized with a depressing clarification and slumped even more.

Y/N blinked at him and leaned forward resting her face on her palm. “What do you mean by that?”

He quickly shook his head. “N-never mind that, Y/N. We should pay attention now before we get in trouble.”

She flashed him a quick smile showing off a dimple only on her right cheek.

“If you say so. And I’m glad I don’t have to correct you on my name! I don’t really like my last name, Noya-kun.”

N-noya-kun??! His cheeks flushed red and he tucked his head behind his textbooks so she couldn’t see the effect her simple words had on him.

L/N Y/N was someone he never shared a class with, and he wasn’t close with her either. Well, he wasn’t close with any girls, but still, the fact they were neighbors would mean they should at least exchange pleasantries, right? But she always arrived before he did and left later than him, so they never really got a chance to communicate. In fact, this was the first time they had an entire conversation since school started. Maybe he should make more of an effort to talk to her. She seemed pretty nice and he could always use more female friends since he had none.

He was jolted out of his thoughts as the bell rang and signaled the class had ended. Nishinoya leaped from his chair with a “yatta!” and quickly picked up his bag. Just as he was about to go rushing out of the classroom, he remembered his previous notions about making friends.

“Bye-bye, Y/N!”

Y/N looked up startled, just as she was putting away her books and a small smile blossomed on her face.

“Mata ne, Noya-kun!” And she turned back to her bag.

Just in time too as his face once again quickly felt hot and he ran off trying to reach the volleyball gym in record time.

4 times.

 Nishinoya sat glumly in his seat as everybody trickled in for the morning classes. Asahi, the ace of their team, hadn’t shown up again, not even seeing Kiyoko-san’s face had lifted his mood that morning. Their loss was even harder to cope with Asahi not showing up like a coward.

He glanced up when he saw Y/N pull out the chair next to him and sit down at her desk.

“Ohaiyo, Noya-kun!” she greeted cheerfully.

“Hey….” he replied and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing just some volleyball club stuff….”

“Oh! You guys had a tournament in March. How did it go?”

Nishinoya furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “wait how did you know about the game? Are you a volleyball fan too?”

Y/N waved off his inquiry. “No, I’m on the student council and I know pretty much all of the clubs’ activities for budget concerns.”

“Right well, we lost.”

Y/N’s face wilted and the smile on her face vanished. It looked wrong on her somehow, he wanted her to smile all the time.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you’re in your second year! You have the tournament a few months from now on and even next year to do better.”

“I suppose,” he muttered and fiddled with the pencil on his desk.

Nishinoya peeked at Y/N from the corner in his eye and saw that she looked like she wanted to say something several times but stopped herself.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Y/N perked up. “Of course!”

“There’s a teammate that took the loss really badly and he’s not showing up to practice anymore! And the thing is it’s not his fault we lost but he’s taking it personally. The team relies on him a lot and everybody’s down. I don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t know why he was asking her or why he was even opening to her, but it was a question weighing on him heavily. Sure, he was a boisterous guy that never let things like defeat keep him down, but Asahi was different. Nishinoya didn’t understand what the ace was going through, and he was kind of confused on how to make things right. Especially since he was harboring his own guilt. But it felt right to ask her. Especially since Y/N was a popular girl that many of their classmates relied on.

“Well, maybe you should start by talking to him and telling him how you feel.  Start with exactly what you just told me and eventually persuade him to come back,” she suggested.

“Are you sure it’s as simple as that?” He couldn’t help but be skeptical. Where were the dramatic crying and wholesome man hugs?

“Yup! Every time the student council members argue amongst themselves, I always act as a mediator being the Vice President. We always start by being honest with each other and then finding a compromise.”

Nishinoya nodded. “Alright! I’ll go talk to him right after classes are done.”

Just as he was about to ask her if she could help him with last night’s homework (more like copy), Mai-san, their class representative, had interrupted them.

“Oy Y/N-chan! I have a couple of questions about the upcoming spring festival’s budget,” she waved Y/N over to her desk.

Nishinoya watched as Y/N stood up and made her way across the classroom. He was startled to notice her height for the first time. How tall was she exactly? She made him feel like an ant underneath her heel. Furthermore, how the hell did he not notice until now?

He watched as all the girls and even a few guys in their class gravitated to Y/N’s friendly nature. She was a natural-born leader that reassured many by her presence. She felt like a gentler version of Daichi-san, to be honest.

As the morning bell rang, all the students made it back to their desk on time. When Y/N sat down at her own, he leaned over and whispered, “Y/N, can I see your math homework from yesterday?”

She didn’t even look at him as she replied while writing down notes, “you can’t keep relying on me, Noya-kun. Otherwise, you will fail your tests.”

He softly brought his hands together and bowed. “Onegaiiii! I promise I’ll make it up to you! How about a popsicle?”

She reached over and pulled one of the notebooks before passing it over to him.

“Try not to make it too obvious, ok?”

“Don’t worry! I’m great at copying we won’t get caught.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wish you would be just as good at math as you are at copying,” she muttered under her breath.

When Nishinoya finally finished he couldn’t help but let out a relieved shout.

“Oy Nishinoya! What are you doing? Pay attention or you’ll start failing before the semester even begins!” The sensei barked at the interruption.

The class broke out into giggles and Y/N couldn’t help the small smile at Nishinoya’s expense as his face crumbled from being scolded.

 6 times.

 Nishinoya blinked slowly as he laid on the couch watching another comedy rerun of some old comedy duo that were famous in the ’90s. He quirked his head when he heard another noise. This time the doorbell rang clearly and awoke him from his stupor.

He scratched the itch on his behind as he slowly made his way to the front door.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming no need to keep ringing the doorbell.”

He reached and unlocked the door before turning the knob. There stood Y/N on his doorstep still wearing her school uniform.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

She shot him an annoyed look and planted her hands on her hips.

“When I told you to go talk to your teammate, I didn’t tell you to start a fight and get suspended, Noya-kun!”

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Gomen! But in my defense, it wasn’t a fight, and I didn’t mean to break anything.”

She tsked and reached in her bag to pull out some papers.

“Here, that’s the work for this week that you missed. I live close by, so I got the responsibility.”

He tried to sound enthusiastic as he thanked her, but her face gave him the impression she wasn’t buying it.

“You aren’t going to do it until the last minute, am I right? And you won’t even do a good job on it either because you would be in a hurry to finish it.”

“T-that’s not true and you know it,” he lamely defended himself before conceding. “Ok, fine you win.”

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked shaking her head. “Can I come in?”

Nishinoya was startled at her request for a minute before consenting. “Sure!”

He watched wide-eyed as her head almost touched the doorframe, she was that tall and he couldn’t help but stare up at her as she passed.

“Ne, Y/N how tall are you?”

“172 cms. It’s not that tall though. Chichiue’s even taller. He has to bend down so that he doesn’t hit door frames most of the time.”

Not that tall? Nishinoya wished most of the time he was able to at least reach the glassware on the lower shelves in the kitchen and she said 172 cms wasn’t tall! Genetics just aren’t fair, are they?

As Y/N collaborated to help him finish this week’s homework, he failed to notice the stars in Y/N’s eyes and the soft blush on her face each time their hands touched. And that would prove to be her undoing.

 10 times.

 Nishinoya cackled at Tanaka who was still lamenting tripping over a volleyball in the gym.  His shaved head still sported a nasty bump that was beginning to purple, with a mischievous grin Nishinoya reached over to poke it. Tanaka let out a yelp and smacked his hand away.

“Don’t do that!”

“Gomen Ryu, it looks like you have another head growing out of your skull,” he gasped out between his chuckles.

“Ah! If it isn’t Noya-kun!” a voice called out.

He turned around to see Y/N walking towards him. She was probably heading home as well.

“Yo Y/N! You’re going home early today?”

“Un! The President let me go since I finished my work early.”

Nishinoya turned around to see Tanaka pulling at his sleeve and looking at him eagerly.

“Oh, this is L/N Y/N my classmate and this is Tanaka Ryunosuke, my teammate.”

“Nice to meet you!” Y/N said cheerfully and bowed.

Ryu however just bowed in a hurry and turned away. Y/N gave Nishinoya a curious look which he only shrugged at. He had no idea why Ryu was acting weird.

Suddenly he remembered the favor he owed her from when she helped me finish his work. He fumbled through his pockets, pulling out a Gari Gari-kun’s winner popsicle stick.

“Here, Y/N! My treat for you!” he said eagerly and put it in her hand.

“Wow. A free popsicle when I took time out of my day to help you,” she deadpanned.

He only chuckled nervously and scratched his head. “I know. I know. I owe you.”

“Never mind I’ll just think of something later. I’m going to head home now. Bye-bye!”

Nishinoya just waved to her and watched as the taller girl left.

“Noya you bastard! How could you do this to me? How could you hide such a cute girl from me?” Ryu burst out dramatically as soon as Y/N left.

“Y/N? Cute?” Noya murmured to himself like he hadn’t considered the possibility.

“You’re joking, right? That’s Y/N, the vice president of the student council. Even third years think she’s pretty and you’re telling me you haven’t noticed? Are you feeling ok?” Tanaka placed his hand on Nishinoya’s forehead trying to check his temperature.

He just batted away Tanaka’s hand and shrugged.

“I guess I just didn’t notice because I don’t like her that way? She’s super helpful and always taking care of me, but she’s not someone I would consider a girlfriend material, you know? More like a friend or even a sister.”

He saw Tanaka giving him a look that he couldn’t decipher before it disappeared. So, he just brushed it off.

“I mean the only girl for me is Kiyoko-san! She shines brighter than any other girl in the school, so it’s not a surprise that I didn’t really notice Y/N.”

Tanaka gave him a nod in agreement. “That’s true! No one can compare to Kiyoko-san,” he said before slapping Noya harshly on the back.

“Ahh! What was that for?”

“For not telling me your friends with a cute girl like Y/N!”

The two best friends tussled with each other for a few more minutes before going about their way home.

 14 times

 Another one and another Friday gone, Nishinoya stretched happily and got ready to leave for home. Next week is the training camp and he was beyond excited to play volleyball once again.

“Noya-kun! Do you have a minute before you leave?”

Nishinoya looked up at Y/N and nodded with a huge smile.

She handed over a bag that she grabbed from inside her desk.

“Here, I’m not sure if your allowed to have snacks at the training camp so I grabbed you some.”

Nishinoya looked through the bag to see some potato chips, chocolate, and other variety of snacks.

Y/N was nervously twitching as she watched Noya look through the bag.

“Sorry if you don’t like them, I wasn’t sure what you liked besides Gari Gari-kun popsicles.”

“N-no!... No. It’s just no one ever has done this for me. I’m just a little shocked is all, Y/N” he said a bit emotionally.

Y/N’s raised her eyebrow. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”

“Of course not! I just have something in my eye,” he cried out while he wiped his eyes.

Y/N let out a giggle. “Well, make sure to train hard. I want to see Karasuno go to the Nationals, ok?”

“Yosh! I’ll do my best!”

She just waved happily and turned to leave the classroom. Nishinoya hurried to show off his goods to Tanaka in the gym.

He ran all the way there before finding his shaved friend just about to enter the gym.

“Yo, Ryu! Look what Y/N gave me!” Nishinoya proudly showed off his gift.

“Whoa, all of that? Did you blackmail her?” Tanaka asked teasingly.

“Nah, she said she wants to see our team at the Nationals and told me to train hard! It’s like I have my very own cheerleader.”

Tanaka looked at Noya tentatively again and Noya’s face dropped at the expression.

“What? You keep looking at me like that.”

“Nothing. I just find it interesting that Y/N’s so nice to you. Do you think she likes you?”

Nishinoya’s face burned at the accusation and he quickly denied it.

“No way! Y/N’s just nice like that and she’s helpful with all her classmates. I mean she and I have gotten close lately, but I don’t think she likes me like that.”

“But does she give snacks to other boys? Or help them study? Does she treat them the same way she treats you?”

The questions left Nishinoya a bit speechless and unable to respond coherently.

“S-still I don’t think she likes me, Ryu! There’s just no way!” He burst into nervous laughter and swerved around Tanaka to head up to the changing rooms.

As he climbed the stairs all he could think about was, ‘Y/N’s pretty and tall there’s just no way she would like me. Absolutely no way!’

 16 times

 Most of his class was heading out to their Thursday lab class that occurred in another building. He was sluggishly making his way to chemistry which he wasn’t ok with. Because no Friday should ever end with a class as awful as chemistry (still not as bad as literature though)!

He wanted to practice volleyball some more after their practice match with Nekoma. Next time he was going to receive all the serves headed his way. His thought process was broken by high pitched squealing.

“Ehhhh? Is that Y/N-san’s boyfriend?” a girl called out.

As soon as he heard the word “boyfriend” and “Y/N” in the same sentence, his head snapped so quickly towards the group of girls talking that he could feel a kink in the back of his neck.

He looked towards Y/N and what looked like a familiar boy. Wait, was that Tsukishima? Since when did she know him?

“No way! I think he’s a first year. Look she’s handing some papers to him. It’s probably student council business.”

Sure enough, Y/N handed Tsukishima a huge stack of papers to which he took and bowed to the older girl in thanks.

“Oh, that makes sense. But don’t they look so cute though? Look, their height difference is only a few centimeters. They match so well,” his classmate said eagerly to her friend.

Nishinoya waited to hear the group of girls disagree with a frown. Only for that frown to get deeper when he heard resounding approval. Did they not know how rude Tsukishima was or how crappy his personality was? Y/N wouldn’t ever be happy with a guy like that! She needed someone who could appreciate how caring she was, not someone who would take advantage of her kind nature.

With that in mind, he rushed to rescue his friend before Tsukishima could get his claws in her.

“Hey Y/N, aren’t you going to chemistry? It’s time,” he said as he budged into their conversation.

Y/N’s eyes widened and checked the watch on her wrist. “Shoot! You’re right. Anyway, Tsukishima-san make sure to deliver that to your sensei.”

Tsukishima only nodded respectfully. “Will do. Ja! Senpai and Y/N-senpai.” He threw a weird, confused look at Nishinoya who kept sending him hostile glares.

As soon as he left, Nishinoya grabbed Y/N’s wrist and pulled her away.

“Stay away from him, Y/N. He’s on the volleyball team and he has a very nasty personality.”

“Huh? Do you mean Tsukishima-san? Are you sure? He was pretty polite to me,” she replied as she kept up with his pace easily.

“Oh, that’s a façade trust me. He always has something smart to say sooner or later. I still can’t believe he had the nerve to talk crap about Rolling Thunder!”

Y/N let out a giggle. “Rolling Thunder? What’s that?”

Nishinoya’s face lit up as he proceeded to explain how cool his super-duper receive was. And how he was called the deity of Karasuno’s volleyball team.

Soon enough the two had arrived at the lab and sat down at their assigned seats. Chemistry passed by him slowly as the teacher droned on and on about molarity. Even the lab that involved freezing and melting water by a flame turned out to be boring. Finally, the lab ended, and he was just about to zip out of there to head to practice when he heard the same group of girls again.

“Ne Y/N-san, which one of those boys would you date? Mai here thinks you suit Nishinoya-san, but I think you would suit that tall blonde boy that you were talking to earlier.”

Another voice interrupted, “aren’t Y/N and Nishinoya-kun close? I think it would make sense.”

“Yeah, but he’s so short! How would they even kiss? Don’t they have like a 10 cm height difference? It would be too weird.”

The girls burst into laughter and his heart dropped.  He knew the idea of Y/N liking him was too farfetched and even if she did it wouldn’t work out. So, without hearing what Y/N had to say he left the area in a hurry.

 20 times.

 He could feel the pressure surrounding the court, suffocating him and the team. They had to defeat Aoba Johsai to get to the finals. Apparently, his team had beaten Seijoh before in a practice match, but it was without their usual setter. “The Grand King” as he was called by Shoyo. A competent setter really made all the difference, huh. Well, Oikawa was better than competent, but Nishinoya really didn’t want to admit that right now. He was annoying in middle school and he was annoying now.

He blew a breath through his teeth as he once again caught a serve by Oikawa. The power of the serve had struck his forearms making them alarmingly red. He could feel the spirit of his team dimming as the rally continued. What should he do? He was getting the serves, but they were still trailing behind Seijoh.

“Fighto! Noya-kun! Fighto!” a familiar voice called out.

He looked up to see Y/N cupping her hands and cheering for him. Nishinoya felt relief flooding through him. She had let him know that she would be a bit late and she had missed several of their matches already. But now she was finally here. His lips trembled and he could feel his vision get watery. Quickly blinking the moisture away, he felt his spirit rekindle.

“Yosh! Everyone don’t worry about the match! I’ll protect the court, so you guys make sure to get those points! After all, I got your back,” he finished off with a wide grin.

Immediately, he could see Daichi relax and let out a small smile. Hinata and Kageyama exchanged a look and nodded. Even Tsukishima’s tense shoulders seem to drop a little. Their spirits renewed, the team quickly readied their stance and faced Seijoh once again.

 21 times.

 The defeat weighed upon the team as they moved through the building to get to the bus. They were going to head back to Karasuno and go to a nearby restaurant afterward. The team was quiet contemplating their loss silently, each of them coping with it differently. As for himself, he felt disappointed and upset of course, but there was still a drive burning inside of him. Seeing the libero on Seijoh cross the line and actually set up the ball, was inspiring. He wanted to try it out for himself for future matches like in the Spring High. However, there was still the somber atmosphere and he knew it wasn’t the right time to talk about future training just yet.

“Noya-kun!”

Nishinoya looked back to see Y/N running towards him. Daichi placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You have five minutes. Meet us at the bus.” He nodded in reply and the team left without him.

“Hey Y/N, I’m sorry…,” he began.

“Why are you sorry?”

He looked up at her face to see it scrunched up in confusion.

“B-because we lost. You told us to go to Nationals and we couldn’t go.”

“Are you kidding? You guys were amazing! I don’t know much about volleyball, but so many people in the audience were surprised by Karasuno. Apparently, Aoba Johsai is an amazing school, and the fact you guys lost by two points? I’m-m. I don’t know what to say! I’m speechless,” Y/N spat out in a rush, giddy in her excitement.

Y/N bent down a little and wrapped her hands around his waist. She pulled him close and he could feel her body heat against his.

“I’m so proud of you. I had no idea you were so good at volleyball,” she whispered.

His heartbeat sped out of control and he started to feel dizzy from the smell of her sweet perfume and the feeling of her soft skin against his. Why was he feeling this way? Wasn’t this how he usually felt around Kiyoko-san and other cute girls? The realization hit him hard. Was he actually starting to like her? And not just in a joking, faux way he did with Kiyoko-san, but in a way that involved heart fulfilling confessions?

Nishinoya could feel himself panic and his body stiffened at the close contact. Y/N noticed right away his body’s reaction and stumbled back quickly.

“Oh gomen. I-I got too excited,” Y/N said as she blushed.

“It’s fine,” he trailed off watching as Y/N nervously played with her hair. He eyed the prominent blush on her face. Why was she acting like….. Oh. Oh. He wanted to immediately deny it like he had done with Tanaka all those weeks ago, but it was hard to when the evidence was right in front of his eyes.

He had to go. He had to go now!

“Listen Y/N, the team’s waiting for me. I have to get on the bus.”

She smiled and replied, “of course. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

School? Oh, hell he didn’t even think about that.

“Yeah, sure,” he got out before leaving her behind. He had a lot to think about.

 25 times.

 Nishinoya wasn’t trying to avoid Y/N on purpose. He still greeted her in class, but he was just no longer engaging her in inane conversation like he did every day. He had a lot to think about. Again, how he didn’t notice her feelings earlier; he had no idea. She wasn’t obvious but when they were alone her earnest gaze was hard to ignore.

As he tried to get himself together, Nishinoya knew he was making Y/N upset by ignoring her. But he couldn’t help himself. Sure, he was the definition of a man who was girl-crazy, but it was all in good fun. He wasn’t seriously pursuing anyone even Kiyoko-san knew that. But this situation was very real and very complicated. In the end, it could cost him the one female he managed to somehow befriend. Still, he wouldn’t have known that Y/N was going to use the opportunity to be honest.

“Noya-kun, can we talk alone?” Y/N asked one afternoon as he was readying to flee the classroom.

“O-oh, I’m not sure. Daichi-san might make me do laps for being late,” he replied flustered at her request.

“Please. It won’t take long,” she pleaded.

Hearing the urgency in her voice, he could no longer refuse. “Alright.”

They walked out of the classroom and she led him behind one of the older science buildings.

She stood in front of him, clenching and unclenching the grip on her bag before she hesitantly spoke.

“N-noya-kun, I have something to tell you.”

Nishinoya felt his eyes widened.

“I know we have become really good friends over the last few months. But I can’t help myself. I really like you! Please accept my feelings!” she said before bowing to him.

“I can’t, Y/N. I don’t really think of you that way. I’m sorry.”

Y/N stood up and looked a bit shocked. Her face that was previously flushed with nervousness drained and became pale.

Nishinoya bowed in return and said, “I’m really sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”

Still looking quite aghast she replied in a small voice, “I-I…. of course, Noya-kun. I just need a little time that’s all.”

He hesitated for a minute as he tried to explain why he was saying no. That he was confused with his own feelings, but before he could begin, Y/N ran off without another word.

“Y/N! Wait up!” He ran after her and caught her wrist, forcing her to turn around and face him.

Her face was wet with tears. “Please, I have to go.”

Stupefied at making Y/N cry, he let her go without another word.  He only watched as she got farther and farther away, he couldn’t help but think that he made a mistake.

 25 times

 He could distantly hear volleyball hitting the gym floor and the sound of someone saying, “nice kill.” But it all seemed to fade away.

Daichi hollered, “alright, let’s do another penalty drill.”

Nishinoya absentmindedly followed his teammates doing another round after they lost again to Fukurodani.

“Oy Noya, this way. We have to run up the hill now. Practice is done for the day,” Tanaka said as he dragged him.

“Right. Gomen,” Nishinoya muttered.

As he ran up the hill, he didn’t notice Tanaka looking at him worriedly. He approached Nishinoya after he was lying at the bottom of the hill and panting for his life.

“Let’s talk, me and you. There’s something bothering you,” Tanaka blurted out.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Just the losses are getting to me that’s all.”

“Bull! I’m your best friend I know these things.”

Nishinoya looked around to see the rest of the Karasuno members busy trying to catch their breath or getting water.

He sat up and plucked the grass on the hill. “Y/N confessed to me before the training camp.”

“What?!” Tanaka yelled out.

Nishinoya got startled by Tanaka’s volume and crushed the grass blades in his hand by accident.

“Shhhhh! Quiet!” he ordered, “do you want everyone to hear?”

They turned around to see the rest looking at them weirdly before assuming it was just the duo being their obnoxious selves and going back to relaxing.

“Noya, you bastard! You got a girlfriend before me! I’m happy and sad at the same time,” Tanaka blubbered trying to hug Nishinoya.

“Ugh! Get off me, Ryu! You’re sweaty and it’s too hot.”

He sighed with relief when his excitable friend finally got off him. “And no, I didn’t. I rejected her.”

Tanaka burst out laughing. “I’m sorry I think I heard you wrong. I thought you just said you rejected a pretty girl asking you out.”

“I did reject her! And she ran off crying.” Nishinoya said desolately.

Tanaka ran his fingers over his shaved head, trying to pull his nonexistent hair in fury.

“What?! Why?! This was your chance and don’t give me that bullshit about not liking her that way! You do I can tell! When you and I talk about Kiyoko-san, you get all excitable. But when you’re talking about Y/N you’re actually quiet and serious for the first time.”

Was he like that for real? He had no idea. All he knew was that he had messed up. That day after he rejected her, Y/N was polite as if they were acquaintances. There was this barrier between the two despite being their desks only a few feet away. She never ignored him, but she kept this façade by ignoring personal questions and answering noncommittally whenever she could.

“But you still haven’t told me why you rejected her,” Tanaka continued.

“Because! Y/N’s 172 cm and I’m what 159 cm? Why would she want to date someone like me anyway?”

“Baka!” Tanaka hit the top of Nishinoya’s head. “Didn’t you say that height doesn’t matter and that you’ll fight with your life?”

He clutched the top of his head and moaned. “Ryu, you bastard! That’s with volleyball! You can’t apply the same thing with dating, dumbass!”

“Yes, I can! You think that if Kiyoko-san was over 190 cm I would stop pursuing her? No way! I would still build shrines to my gigantic goddess every single day if I have to! Who cares about height in volleyball or love? Besides, Y/N already knows about your damn height. She sees you every single day and she still confessed! Doesn’t that mean she doesn’t care in the first place?”

The words echoed in his head. Ryu was right! He was so caught up in his insecurities that he hadn’t realized that Y/N never cared about his flaws. Never once did she call him out on his height or even comment about it. The only time she did get annoyed with him was when he refused to study or asked to copy her work again.

“Ryu, you genius! You’re right!” Nishinoya said cheerfully pushing himself on Tanaka’s shoulders.

Tanaka put his hands on his hips and threw his head back as he laughed gleefully. “Of course! You better fix things with Y/N when we get back. Until then get your head back in the game, Noya. Karasuno needs our libero.”

He felt his spirits being uplifted, the rejection no longer weighing as heavily as before.

“Yosha! I want to practice some more. Wanna help me with something, Ryu? I have something I wanna try,” he asked thinking of the tactics that libero used during the Seijoh match.

 26 times

 He could hear Y/N’s tinkling laughter as she covered her mouth to giggle whatever dumb shit his classmates were telling her. She never covered her mouth with him instead laughing with tears in her eyes desperately trying to breathe while he laughed along with her. She never had to pretend in front of him. But the fact she would rather entertain whatever they were asking her instead of hanging out with him before morning classes began, hurt. But could he blame her? Why would she want to talk to someone who rejected her? Still, at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe Y/N’s feelings weren’t as genuine as he thought they were. Because there she was acting normally with other people.

He let out a sigh of relief as the bell rang not because he was excited about class. Rather it meant Y/N had to return to her seat and all the boys surrounding class president Mai’s seat also had to go back.

“Hey Y/N, how was your break?” he asked tentatively.

She spared him a glance and a muted smile.

“Good.” She reached inside her desk and pulled out her textbook.

He couldn’t help the annoyance bubbling up. School just restarted! There was no way she had any work to review, but Y/N was putting on an act like they were about to be handed their midterm exams.

Before Nishinoya could say anything, their gruff sensei had entered and started class. He honestly couldn’t say he learned anything that day. Too anxious rehearsing in his mind on what he would say to Y/N.

When it was finally lunchtime, he made his way to Tanaka’s classroom for some reassurance. Nishinoya was going to corner Y/N before she went home. Hopefully, it would end well and with Y/N as his girlfriend if he had anything to say about it. Again, too nervous to eat, he just gulped down some bread and headed back to his classroom.

He let out a groan when he heard those gossipy classmates of his again. Didn’t they have anything better to do with themselves? Maybe study like the responsible students they all pretended to be?

“What do you mean Y/N has a confession? In the courtyard? W-who is it?—”

Nishinoya didn’t even bother to hear the rest and ran out like someone just announced their volleyball club was being discontinued. He didn’t even bother apologizing to the students he was pushing through to get to his destination. His mind being preoccupied with one thought only.

‘There’s no way I’m losing her to anyone else!’

He arrived in the empty courtyard to see an unfamiliar boy and Y/N standing alone. An unfamiliar tall boy. Y/N and he were the same height.

Nishinoya scowled deeply and stomped towards the two.

“Oy! Y/N doesn’t like you get lost!” he growled out.

Y/N jumped and turned around to look astounded by his appearance.

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed, “um who are you?”

“The guy that Y/N likes and confessed to! So, she doesn’t need or want your second-rate confession,” he snarled as a dark aura surrounded him.

“Though, I would be happy to rearrange your face if you don’t leave right now.”

The boy paled and unceremoniously turned around, walking away at a fast pace. He could be heard murmuring, “what’s his issue I was only passing on a note?” But neither of the two particularly cared.

“Noya-kun! How could you?” Y/N asked aghast.

“Me? What about you? You only confessed to me about two weeks ago! How could you?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed and Nishinoya’s own cheeks reddened in response. Neither of them had spoken about what happened since that day.

She fidgeted a bit before replying, “i-it doesn’t matter! You don’t like me anyway that means I’m free to date whoever I want.”

Nishinoya took a deep breath knowing it was time to tell her the truth about his feelings.

“You’re wrong. I do like you! In fact, I like you a lot! Probably more than you ever thought possible.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “But you rejected me! Why did you do that if you liked me?”

“Because I was worried about what people might think of a pretty girl like you dating someone like me. I was insecure about my height. I didn’t think you and I would work out,” he explained quietly.

“Noya-kun, I knew about the short delinquent with the blond streak since first year. And I never cared about that. I like you because of how much passion and persistence you have. You think I didn’t notice the different pain relief patches on your arms? You think I didn’t notice how much you gave your all during your match against Seijoh despite losing? Or the fact that you’re horrible at literature but still study because I asked you to? I could go on and on-“

Nishinoya felt his heartbeat race out of control. No one had ever said something so nice about him and especially not a girl. A girl that had been on his mind for weeks. No, not weeks. But if he was being honest since the day he had met her.  

“Please go on. Tell me more about why you like me,” he said with a huge smile.

“I—no way! It’s too embarrassing!” she squealed and hid her face behind her hands.

“Oh please? I’ve never had a girl tell me she liked me twice!”

Y/N peaked between her fingers. “Did you mean it? Do you really like me back?”

Nishinoya motioned for her to bend down. Y/N, out of curiosity, did as she was told. He tugged her hand when she got closer, to connect their two mouths. She let out a noise when she felt his chapped lips against hers. He took her quiet sigh as a good sign and pressed harder. There was no earth-shattering moment nor was she suddenly the center of his gravity like people would say. But her soft lips felt warm and inviting so he discreetly asked for permission by sliding his tongue between her lips. Their tongues tangled and danced despite neither knowing what to do. It was messy and awkward, but they didn’t care as their enthusiasm and passion overcame their inexperience. When breathing became necessary, he reluctantly separated while she let out a small whine unable to disguise her disappointment.

“Now do you get it? I really do like you.”

Y/N nodded happily and gave Nishinoya a quick peck.

“Wait, what do you mean by short delinquent? Who called me a delinquent? What the hell?” he asked out of the blue.

She burst out laughing and laughed even harder at Nishinoya’s miffed face.  

 27 times

 Nishinoya marveled at the feeling of her soft hand holding his coarse callous filled hand.

“I’ll wait for you after your practice. We can get some Gari Gari-kun popsicles,” Y/N said.

“Are you sure?” he asked worriedly. She already came in early for the student council. She didn’t need to stay late too.

“It’s fine don’t worry.” She stepped down the staircase and looked back up at him. “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to be late for practice?”

Nishinoya looked down at her curiously and smirked. With him standing on the upper stair, now their heights looked equal for the perfect angle.

“To do this,” he murmured before pulling Y/N in for a quick smooch.

She didn’t hesitate to grant him entry and let him explore for a while before pulling away. Her eyes sparkled looking lovingly at him.

“Ja!” he called out before running down the stairs. Nishinoya only sent a haughty look to an embarrassed Shoyo and Kageyama who were looking at anyone but him. A hysterical Tanaka came running up to him.

“Noya! You became a man!” The two best friends hugged and thumped each other on the back.

Daichi and Sugawara came out of their gym only to see the second-year duo crying and hugging each other, while Hinata and Kageyama were suspiciously red.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I better see you in the gym warming up soon or there will be hell to pay,” Daichi said as he gritted his teeth. He headed back inside shaking his head.

Sugawara puttered over to Hinata and poked him.

The twitchy first year screamed and relaxed when it was only his senpai.

“What’s going on here?” he whispered to Hinata.

“O-oh. Um. It seems Noya-senpai got a girlfriend.”

“Phfft. Funny joke, Hinata. Seriously what’s going on?” Sugawara asked again.

This time Kageyama interrupted, “no it’s the truth. We saw them on the stairs just now. K—k-is”

The flushed dark-haired boy unable to finish his sentence just threw his milk carton away and walked off muttering something about “warming up” and “volleyball”.

“Huh. It must be the truth then,” Sugawara uttered disbelievingly watching as Nishinoya and Tanaka were now talking about double dates as they entered the gym.

 28 times

 Hinata got on his bike and was now ready to go home when he spotted a familiar boy with a blonde streak. He was about to call out for him when a taller girl stepped next to him. Noya-senpai’s face beamed with happiness and grabbed the girl in for a hug. The two then walked off hand in hand as the sun set behind them.

‘If Noya-senpai can get a girl like that there’s hope for me too!’ Hinata cheered. With that positive thought in mind, he biked vigorously home ten times harder.

[saviorinsilk]

No More Secrets

Ship: Cordelia Goode x Reader

A/N: This is one of my favorite short stories I have written!

"Come here," Cordelia's voice broke the silence that held the greenhouse in its tight grasp since I had walked in minutes before. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, the Louisiana sun thankfully hidden behind clouds, just the way I liked it. I had been relaxing in the kitchen, starting to plan dinner for that night, when the noise from the girls chitter chatter and giggles coming from the other room became too much for me. Before I chopped off a finger I decided a break was needed. I knew Cordelia was in her greenhouse and she had been in there working for hours, so I figured maybe she needed a break as well.

The last few weeks had been hectic with All Hallows Eve coming up very soon and the time Cordelia and I had spent with each other wasn't even half what we usually did. Cordelia had been busy planning lessons about the holiday, as well as grinding herbs and plants for spells and rituals that night.

When I had walked in, she was sitting at the long wooden table in the middle of the greenhouse in an ornate metal chair, as she ground leaves in a small black ceramic Bowl. I smiled to myself, remembering that we had hung those exact leaves weeks before, to dry them in preparation for All Hallows Eve. She smiled at me when I walked in but had dropped her eyes back down and continued her work in silence. I saw that she was still busy so I smiled to myself and walked to the back of the greenhouse. I had picked up a small watering can and had started to water the few dry plants when I heard her call my name.

I turned around, my eyebrows raised. Her tone was strict, the same voice she used with the girls when they were in trouble. Cordelia had turned her chair around and now sat facing me as she wiped her hands on a tan cloth. She held my gaze, her face cold. Confusion filled me and I felt my heart drop as I racked my brain for some answer as to why my girlfriend would be angry with me. She raised her hand beckoning me with the "come here" motion of her fingers. My mind wandered and I subconsciously bit my lip as I recalled that that was the same motion her delicate fingers made when they were inside of me. It had been a while since we had been intimate, due to the high workload and it didn't take much to turn me on lately. I shook my head, tossing the dirty thoughts away as I placed the watering can back on the counter with a thud. I made my way over to her, stopping a few feet away so I could look at her without having to crank my neck down.

"How many times do I have to remind you to clean up after yourself?" Cordelia's lips were tight as she spoke and I cursed under my breath. Of course, that's what it was. I could have sworn I had remembered to put everything away last night but I wasn't going to argue with her, not with that look on her pale, beautiful face.

"Dammit, I'm sorry Delia. I swear I'm trying, I just keep-"

"Forgetting?" Cordelia interrupted. I gulped and nodded fighting the urge to drop my eyes to the floor.

"We share this workplace Y/N. It's not right that you use it, and leave it in shambles and I have to come and clean up before I can start my work." She talked with her hands and I couldn't help but follow them with my bright eyes, daydreaming about what they would feel like against my skin. I shouldn't have been thinking that way, not at a time like this but I couldn't help it. I was lost and the devil had taken my soul. Corruption had run through my veins since the first time she had touched me. It was all I wanted and the only thing I ever yearned for or thought of for that matter.

"Since nothing has seemed to help you remember I have no choice. I am going to have to spank you." Cordelia's words had barely left her plump lips before they flew forward and slapped me across the face.

"W-What?" I stumbled over the one simple word, feeling like ants had suddenly begun crawling over my now flushed skin. She hadn't just said what I thought she had said, she couldn't have. She didn't know and there was no way she could know. Unless she...SHIT. I wanted to flee, dose myself in gasoline and burn myself at the stake for my crimes. Who wrote a dirty letter to their girlfriend that they NEVER intended for them to find, and left it in plain sight? An idiot, that's who. My carelessness had really come back to bite me in the ass.

How could I have forgotten to tuck the paper in my notebook before I left the room this morning? I should have at least remembered that. I had barely been able to write my thoughts down on paper out of the shame and embarrassment I felt but somehow it had slipped my mind to hide the absence letter I had written my sweet Delia?

A smirk spread across Cordelia's face, only causing my red cheeks to burn brighter. She seemed so satisfied, like humiliating me was somehow equal to having to clean up a few jars I had left after a late night of work.

"It was a sweet letter, Darlin." She practically sang. I was stunned and frozen in shock.

"Cordelia, I-I never meant for you to read that." My lips shook as I stuttered my words. She tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe you shouldn't have left it on the bed then? It was addressed to me after all. But Y/N I didn't know you had such, particular tastes." I wanted to hide my face but I stood still, my eyes wide with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I'm sick, I know. Please, can we just burn that fucking thing and just forget this ever happened?" I asked as I felt tears prick at the corner of my eyes. Cordelia looked confused but she held her stern facial expression and held her hand out to me. I reluctantly took it, the feeling of her skin against mine calming me down a bit.

"Why would we do that? Desires are never something to be embarrassed about Darlin. Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were always honest with each other?" Cordelia pulled me close to her, her dark eyes peering up at me as she wrapped her hands firmly around my wrist. I wanted to answer her but as her fingers slipped under my shirt and brushed against my bare sides, my mouth opened in a small groan, my head hanging back slightly.

"Tell me Y/N, what is so wrong with wanting me to dominate you?" She pried. Cordelia slid her hands gently across my skin to my back, jerking me roughly against her.

"I'm not weak," I mumbled, pain in my words as I revealed the reason why my fantasies cause me such anguish. Cordelia gripped the waistband of my black long skirt and before I realized what she was doing she tugged it down, the soft fabric pooling at my ankles. The warm air felt cool as it hit my bare legs. I gasped, my eyes meeting hers as she looked up at me. I opened my mouth to protest but she spoke before I could comment on the fact that someone could walk in at any second and see me in my underwear.

"I know you aren't. You're a strong woman who wants to lose control for a while. You want your lover to take control so you don't have to and there is no shame in that." She spoke as took her hands off me.

I groaned in protest, my eyes pleading her to embrace me once more but Cordelia just patted her lap a few times.

"Now, be a good girl and lay yourself over my knee so I don't have to make you." It was incredible how well Cordelia slipped into the role I had always pictured her in and I squeezed my thighs together, the fabric of my light pink underwear damp with desire. I felt so bare in the daylight of the greenhouse and I wished I had swung the door closed behind me as I had entered. Cordelia didn't seem to bother though and who was I to argue with the supreme. I did as she asked, carefully bending and laying my top half over her silky high waisted back pants, my feet planted firmly on the ground, ass in the air. I couldn't help but hide my face in her legs, the situation both severely embarrassing and exciting to me all at the same time. My stomach twisted into knots and I tried my best to steady my breathing as I closed my eyes, the darkness helping me concentrate on not losing my mind. I jumped slightly as her soft fingers tickled the goose bump ridden skin of my thighs. I knew she was smirking as she traced a trail to my backside. I didn't need eyes to see that. I may have felt that I loved her more than she loved me but every time we had sex, Cordelia took her time with me. She looked at me as if I was artifact she was studying and if it wasn't for her delicate fingers, I don't think I would have learned to love my curvy body as much as I currently did. The swirls she drew across the smooth skin of my ass caused me to step up on my tiptoes, my body begging for more contact, not that I was really in the position to make any demands. I felt Cordelia trace the waistband of my thong and pull gently at the delicate fabric.

"Did you wear this for me, baby?" I nodded my head, smiling to myself at how seductive her voice sounded. Cordelia loved it when I wore thongs. She said she liked to see my pale cheeks and there was never a reason to cover their beauty. I had brought a crazy amount of silky and lacy thongs after that and understandably so.

"I'm going to hit you 10 times and I want you to count. You understand me?" Cordelia's voice was icy and that alone was enough to send shivers up my spine.

"Yes Ma'am," I gripped the legs of the chair as I spoke, bracing myself. It did no good though, as the moment her hand came in contact with my bare ass I yelp loudly, shock nipping at my mind. I hadn't excepted her to hit me that hard, not that I was complaining but I just didn't think she had it in her. My skin stung from the impact and as her hand lingered, my skin tingled under her warm hand. I blinked a few times, sucking air in through my teeth. I was so shocked that silence filled the room once more.

A few moments passed and I felt the desire in my centre grow as the effects of the slap spread outwards from her touch. I felt Cordelia lean down slightly, her wavy blonde hair tickling the back of my neck.

"You just earned yourself another one Sweetheart. When I ask something of you, you follow my orders. Now we are going to start again and you are going to count this time. You need this punishment more than I thought. Your memory is horrid." Her words sunk into me and I would have cursed if I could have spoken. Her strong hands had shocked me so much I had forgotten my only instructions. I quickly nodded as she straightened back up. She was getting a kick out of this and I longed to see the seductive look that adorned her face, the one that did every time she touched me. But my face was buried in the fabric that covered her stunning legs. It was probably better that way. She couldn't see the humiliation on my face or the fact that it was the humiliation itself that made the experience much more delicious for me.

Cordelia's hand came down once more, this time on the opposite cheek. The fresh skin stung sharply but this time I was more prepared and I bit my lip to stop my verbal expression of how much I was enjoying this.

"One," I said, making sure my voice was loud. I was strong and I was going to show her that. Her hand came down again, hitting the previous spot and my teeth dig deeper into my bottom lips.

"Two." She hit me again.

"Three." This time both cheeks at once, the loud slapping sound echoing through the building. I couldn't help but feel that that counted as two but I sure wasn't going to say anything to her. 

"Four."

"Five,"

"Six,"

"Seven," My voice began to tremble along with the shakes of my body.

"Eight." She alternated, her hand coming down harder each time. I squirmed against her, my core burning as I felt my thong practically dripping by the time she delivered the last two spanks, one after another, to quick for me to catch my breath in between.

"Nine, Ten." I moaned the last words loudly, my head clouded with arousal. I let out a shaky sigh and dung my nails into the cool metal of the chair legs as I tried to calm my breathing, but it was pointless.

Cordelia dragged her short nails gently over my hot skin and I rolled my eyes back in my skull as she placed a soft kiss on each cheek.

"Now are we going to forget to clean up after our selves next time?" Cordelia asked her hot breath on my neck, leaving goosebumps. I shook my head lazily.

"No Ma'am. Never again." My words were shaky and my southern accent was thick with desire.

"That's a good girl." A gasp escaped my lips when I felt my lovers hand wander, caressing the fabric that covered my throbbing clit. She groaned at the discovery of my wet thong and she quickly hooked her finger under them and with one swift movement pulled them down my unstable legs. I mindlessly stepped out of them and moved my hands from the legs of the chair to her legs underneath my chest. As her hands took their place back between my legs I roughly gripped her, my teeth biting into the fabric that covered her flesh. She cursed but made no attempt to stop me.

She plunged her fingers into my dripping folds and I lost my mind as she slid her fingers against my delicate skin effortlessly. She attacked my clit, her fingers rubbing harsh circles around my swollen nub. She didn't need to read my thoughts to know how desperately I needed her. She wasn't wasting her time, her eagerness matching mine, as if getting me to my breaking point satisfied her as much as it did me. I melted into her relaxed body, no longer able to hold my moans in. She could tell I was coming undone and she tangled her free hand into my long hair and to shock me once again, she fisted her hand in my locks and tugged my head back roughly. Simultaneously she gently but abruptly inserted two fingers inside me. One of the actions alone would have driven me crazy but both of them together evoked a noise from my lips that was so animalistic that when I looked back at it now I was brutality ashamed. Normally I was quite quiet. I wasn't like a porn star, screaming and crying from pleasure but there was something about this whole experience, Cordelia spanking me, acting like a badass dominatrix; not to mention the way she pumped her fingers in and out of my tight entrance, it all forced me to turn into clique that I hated so much.

The dramatic way I was reacting only made Cordelia's own arousal grow and she groaned in response, letting me know that seeing me this way was enough for to bring her to the edge of her own pleasure.

I fought hard against the growing tension in my core, not wanting to reach my peak yet. I wanted to savour the bursts of white-hot pleasure that Cordelia filled me with, with each curl of her magical digits. It was no use though and I felt my chest begin to ache and my lungs struggle for air as she rubbed my clit and slowed her fingers, pushing them deeper and harder into me, proving that speed wasn't everything.

"Delia! Oh god I-I'm gonna..." I couldn't even finish my sentence as my breath was stolen as she copied the same "come here" motion she had beaconed me with before. It sent me crashing off the rocky cliff, all the muscles in my body clenching violently as I plunged into the cold water that was my orgasm. I was silenced by the overwhelming pleasure and I held Cordelia's legs in a death grip, my hearing temperately shutting off, my vision going grey.

Cordelia knew better than to still her fingers and she continued to move them, the action helping me ride through the feelings that she caused me. My body began to relax and I jerked as the pressure from her thumb burned my now painfully sensitive clit. I whined at the feeling but she ignored me and continued to gently tease me as I came down from my high. My breath returned to me and I gulped the air desperately, light headed from the lack of oxygen.

Ever orgasm I had with Cordelia Goode was intense and incredible but this one was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was exactly the way I had imagined it all those nights when I had pleasured myself in the dark, imagining Cordelia's soft hands touching me roughly. The reality of my daydreams definitely didn't disappoint me this time.

I cried softly as Cordelia withdrew her fingers from me, my inner walls clenching at her absence. Her hand relaxed in my hair and before I knew what was happening she pulled me up, guiding me to straddle her lap. I felt vulnerable in her arms and as if the wind could have blown my fragile body on the ground. I leaned into her, my legs shaking against hers and I held myself up by wrapping my hands around her neck.

Cordelia's face was flushed, her eyes black and wild and I couldn't help but feel the tug of arousal back in my core. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers, my bottom lip swollen from the marks my teeth had created. Cordelia cupped my cheeks with her hands and kissed me back with a hunger that resided deep inside her. I breathlessly pulled back, our foreheads pressed together, hers feeling amazing against mine which was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Our lips were so close that they touched as we breathed heavily. I pressed myself against her thighs and let out a long deep breath.

"No more secrets. I want to know everything and anything that makes you tick Y/N. I live to see you this way Darlin'." Cordelia muttered against my lips, her voice hushed.

"Yes, my Supreme," I whispered, reconnecting our lips with a wide smile. The melded perfectly together and it felt as if that was the way we were meant to be, limbs intertwined, lips pressed together, our lung sharing oxygen. Our hearts beat as one and time slipped away from me. Nothing else mattered and as I made my way down my lover's body, caressing everything inch of her as I repaid the favour, Cordelia shuttered against my touch, her dominance fading away; pleads of pleasure replacing them. I wouldn't have it any other way and no matter much I ached for her hands on my body, there was nothing like the sound of my name leaving her swollen lips.

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[namjoonchronicles]

dissertation | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship 

↳ words 3.1k

↳ summary many people doubted your union, how exactly an artist with as much influence as yoongi be a husband to a wife that is still studying. 

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, mentions of anemia

↳ song kodaline ‘saving grace’

It was a thunderstorm that night, when Yoongi laid in bed alone. Face shone by the light on his phone and he was squinting to see the news article clearer. He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently-- a habit he had. He glanced at the time mark on the top right corner of his phone, then to your side of the bed that remained empty. It’s 2:34 AM. Rolling several times over the width of the bed, Yoongi set his foot on the floor and made his way out the opened door where the light from the hall was still on. The ash blue hallway hall, and the wooden floor that creaks under his weight would not guarantee a smooth entry, but his concern was that you might have fallen asleep on the desk, although this was highly unlikely. He just wanted to check.

Took a peek, through the door gap of your study room. Lights on, papers everywhere, whiteboard filled with medical jargons he doesn’t understand. Your laser focused eyes, glasses sliding down your nose, pen in between your lips and typing sounds filled the room. Your purple pencil case unzipped with its contents scattered, next to the coffee mug. And the calculator facing down. Your phone is close by although Yoongi predicts it to be in silent mode. As it had been, since 2010. That’s why you never answer his call the first time. And when you’re in this study mode, an airplane could land in the living room and you wouldn’t even notice. Heck, if he was talking to you in this state, you would look at him blindly and heard absolutely nothing he said. Yoongi knows too well. After the short peek that went unnoticed by you, Yoongi waddled to the kitchen and ran the coffee machine to start.

He scratches his temple while he ensures the machine begins working, then walks to the fridge. Yanks it open to see what is inside. Some old ripen kimchi, newer batch kimchi, some milk and apples. He ran his eyes through several more things and took out two apples. He bought this for your fibre intake. The last visit to the doctor, you were recommended to take more fibres in, as well as iron because you are still anemic. Despite the considerable diet change by Yoongi, the blood count doesn’t project the effort. It was then decided by the nutritionist and doctor, together, that you have to take pills as well as monthly checks while they send your blood result to the lab for thalassemia management, if diagnosed. Yoongi carefully ran the apples under the water, gently. He begins to peel the skin with a knife, and then, wedges them. He places them in the bowl and by then, the coffee has started to pour into the mug he had prepared underneath.

The blue light from the screen is making you pinch the bridge of your nose. Creases begin to form in between your brow as the numbers you obtained from the experiment did not become tally to the theory, suggesting a mechanical error. With the restriction order loosening up, going down to the lab is allowed, but you figured that many other post-graduate students might squabble for a time slot to use the lab.

“Should have calibrated the thing before I started the experiment,” you silently cursed underneath your breath.

Yoongi pushes the door open with his back and reveals a tray, scuffling and making a lot of noise. He set the bowl with apples and switched the cold coffee mug with a new piping hot one. Your whole face lights up.

“Why are you not asleep yet?” you sang. Eyes following him. “How can I sleep, when you’re suffering like this,” he said in a straight voice, almost emotionless, that makes it hard to believe that he was being affectionate. But that’s Yoongi for you. “There were apples in the fridge?” “Don’t lie, we bought them together… If I don’t wedge them out like this, you won’t even eat it,” he nags, “Did you even take the pills for today?” “I did,” you shoved one wedge in your mouth.

“Before or after the coffee?” He was standing next to you and your head was tilting back to see him. “Before,” you chuckled through your nose.

Yoongi turned his attention to your work.

“Is there still a lot to do?” He mutters, kneeling by the table next to your chair. You comfortably circled your arm around his neck from your chair and buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and nodding as a response to his question. He smells like bedsheets, you thought to yourself. Yoongi’s wedding band shone under the bright light of your study room, and as he is careful not to disturb your work, he couldn’t help but worry about your mental state. He knows just how much stress you could handle and even if you weren’t shy away from an extremely stressful situation, it is the first for this kind of work environment. You told him that the mindset of working from home is entirely different from the ones actually working in the work area. But he always reminds you that, you weren’t working from home, you are at home, working.

“I saw the numbers and I knew that it was tally with the theory we learned in lectures, and have been hammering my head on what went wrong, so I checked on my methods and it was all correct, so it must have been the machine,” you turned to the side to see the laptop, still clinging onto him. Yoongi turns to the side and plants a kiss on your hair, standing up slowly.

“What do we do?” Yoongi leans his hip on the desk and folded his arm, looking down at you who is by now, pouting, helplessly.

“Either I go back to the lab and redo the whole painstakingly slow experiment, or just write the whole report and blame it on the error, and thicken my skin when my doctor screams at me for incompetency to run experiments, and ruin my credibility for the rest of post graduate pharmacy faculty,” you shrugged sadly.

Yoongi pouts too, now.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he gathers your head and sandwiched your face between his hands and kisses the skin between your brows, while your hand slid down his hip then over his butt, before grabbing the butt cheeks, playfully. You watch his back grow smaller and smaller as he gets to the door, leaves a gap between the door and the door frame big enough for an ant to enter, and leaves you to your work. You turned sideways to the word documents you have, and then to the calculations on the board on the far left of the room, and just, let out a massive sigh.

Several times the alarm clock vibrates on the bedside table next to you, and your hand would swiftly grab them to snooze mode, every single time. That eventually stops when the heat from the duvet chases you out and when you realise that it was no longer noon, it was actually almost 3pm. Your head pounds immediately, and even then you were counting the hours you slept to see if it was appropriate. Eversince the lockdown began, your sleep schedules have become even more disorganized. Doctor said looking out the window would help, but walking outside once in a while to get groceries proves to be even more helpful than the former. Yoongi always gets the groceries because he usually cooks. Now that the lockdown has slowly lifted, Yoongi started to go to the company building to resume his work, but you’re stuck at home because the university recommended studying from home.

Apart from having to use the lab now and then, there is no need for you to constantly be at the university. Even the lectures are held online, and assignments are submitted through emails. Group work is discussed through video conferences. But you’re an old school gal who always preferred to have her notes printed so you could scribble over the things you needed to do, and it makes organising tasks a lot easier. Walking into the study room, you saw the printer not where you set them. In fact, it has its own table with rollers on them, the cables are hidden and neatly bound by the computer, ready for use. The overall set up is neat. It made you smile first thing in the day. Because you knew who had done it that way, and you wondered how he made all this--assembling the tiny table and putting rollers on it, so quietly, that you managed to sleep through it.

At the office, Yoongi was just leaving a small meeting room. He has his facemask down covering his chin as he sifted through the papers handed to him by one of his staffs. The staff is standing nearby to wait on his comments. Upon waiting the staff realises that Yoongi had a bandaid on his thumb.

“A minor accident today, nothing to worry about,” Yoongi shrug it off and quickly turned the attention away from him, “...I think it looks pretty good, try to proceed with it first, and show me how it sounds.”

“Through email or Kakao?” “Kakao, because I don’t have the laptop fixed yet and the ones at home are out of discussion,” Yoongi added a chuckle at the end, slapped the staff’s shoulder and excused himself, just when his phone vibrated an incoming message. And a photo, sent by his wife.

“Babe?” - wife

It reads. A photo followed. Of the perfectly set up study station of his wife.

Yoongi smiled and dug his tongue to his cheek, clamping his lower lips between his teeth. He types a reply while leaning to one side of the office wall, by the hallway. Crossing his ankles.

“You’re welcome. Study well~~ Also, we’re having takeouts tonight.” - yoongi

The message chimes in. A jar of cookies in arm, you were nibbling on one java chip cookie while unlocking your phone to read Yoongi’s message. That’s strange. Takeouts?

“But I can cook. And its weekdays.” - wife

”Nonsense. You pulled an all-nighter last night. We are having takeouts. There’s this good new restaurant the staff had been hyping. Think we should go there.” - yoongi

”Okay… whatever you say then. <3 - wife

Yoongi shoves his phone in his back pocket and walks down the hall to his studio. On the way there, he passes by Hoseok who was just leaving.

“Where are you off to?” “Getting lunch, want to go get lunch together?” “Sure.” “Namjoon is joining us too, I’m waiting for his reply.” “Great…you guys decided where?” “There’s a BBQ house I know that sells really good broiled chicken feet.”

Twenty minutes went by since the last text with Yoongi and you had been staring at the calculation on the whiteboard thinking about Krispy Kreme’s premium donuts. You wonder if the outlets are open, as they should be because the lockdown never closed businesses. Yoongi would know, you figured.

“Yeah they are opened, Why?” - yoongi

“I am craving for the ones with the KitKat on, I think my period is coming on soon…” - wife

“We can have that as desserts later no problem, I sent you lunch, and it should be there in 25 minutes. - yoongi

“Yay! What are you having?” - wife

“Broiled chicken feet with Hoseok and Joon.” - yoongi

”That’s not...what you got me… right? - wife

”Of course not, I got you Kimchi jjigae with tofu, and some kimbaps.” - yoongi

Phew. For as long as you’ve gotten married, not once have you doubted that Yoongi wouldn’t understand your palate. But he is quite a prankster sometimes. Even if he is not as savage as your inlaws are, to put strange food in front of your plate, there’s a certain degree of cheekiness of him at stake. You were a bit of a picky eater should it hit you at a specific time of the month. Sometimes you could eat chicken liver with minor problems, sometimes you would vomit at the thought of it. Yoongi had been dealing with the latter, quite a few times now. You have about 3 blister packs of anti-nausea pills at home just to cope with it. Acquaintances and distant relatives would insinuate that you were pregnant, but that isn’t the case. Doctor said it would be difficult to have a baby with your anemia uncontained, and you and Yoongi both would not risk having a child while you were struggling with it.

It is just not worth the while. The risks are too great. Malformed, cleft-lips, premature--the list of risks are endless. Let mommy take care of herself first.

Hoseok drove to the restaurant he was talking about. They got a room to themselves, abiding the social distancing rule with several chairs spread apart. When the food arrives, Yoongi could understand why Hoseok loved the chicken feet. It’s savory down to the bone. He picks the pickled yellow radish with his chopstick and devours it with a mouthful of rice. Hoseok began asking if Yoongi would consider taking his wife here. Namjoon was sitting there answering a call, and had to leave the room so the sound of the grills didn't distract him from the call. Yoongi downed a glass of chinese tea before answering with a groan.

“She doesn’t eat those things. Chicken feet, gizzards, those weird smelling things that don't go away even when you cook it properly…” “Don’t she have that thing, anemic? Anemia, the blood disease?” “Yea, she’s on pills treating that, and I’m also fixing her diet, but she is plunged with work so she takes in more coffee, so that would disrupt the pills function, I heard from the doctor. The woman is a caffeine addict, I don’t think she’ll slow down anytime soon, especially not now.” “I see. She is pretty stubborn…”

Hoseok suddenly burst out laughing, and the reason was, “I remember that one time she went on a full force rant on why you shouldn’t place the picture frame where it was, how did it go though? She went like, why is it on the far left of the light like that…”

Yoongi’s eyes quickly disappeared as his smile grew wider at the memory. He remembers that day so well. You both just moved into the apartment you are living in now and several arguments were brought out as the apartment progresses into a living space and more and more things come in.

“I was the man of the house,” Yoongi pauses and, “So we hang it the way she wanted.”

When Namjoon walked in, Hoseok was full-blown laughing.

“You honestly think I would win against her? She’s a fucking scientist… It’s her world, I’m just living in it, bro.”

Yoongi’s lips pursed as he took another meat into his mouth and chewed, with one knee propped up. The boys continued to talk about their future plans. The games they could watch and eventually, work and where they are heading next. Namjoon was visibly cornered by it all so they were working out balancing work and passion, and it’s usually a difficult thing to do. They were lucky to be loving the job that helps put food on the table. But love can turn to hate so easily. Along the way, one could hate it so much, one could consider leaving it. It would feel like a good choice at the time, but eventually, they will think about longevity, and what makes money. Which is the reality of living.

Yoongi’s whole world is music. And your whole world is science. Both are the opposite side of the same coin. Through the differences, there are many quarrels and conversation shoved under the rug for later days. It is never comprehensible why one would do such a thing, in the perspective of a stranger, but when you are in a relationship, tolerance is as important as communicating, and the two go hand-in-hand with each other. It is only in a relationship that you see someone whose upbringing is so completely different from yours, try to understand the way you were brought up and the values you grew up with, the same way you try to understand theirs. They could be the one who mindlessly folds the doormat messily after they leave the bathroom and doesn’t fix it. Or they could be the one who is passionate about feeding cats but never cleans up after the poos. Or you could be so rigid in your ways of doing things that you simply cannot be flexible.

Or walk the room with their hair dripping wet and leave trails of water droplets around the house. Or leave the dishes in the sink unwashed because it's ‘only one mug’. Or they could use the coffee machine without wiping away the spills that could attract ants. Or have aesthetics that are so different from the ones you like. Maybe they prefer a cupboard with its insides all showing, no doors. Or like to collect designer shoes that cost more than the things you deemed more necessary than that of shoes. Or they might leave their shoes unarranged at the front step and it might drive you crazy how they continuously do this even after countless times, reminded not to.

Or how he is so thoughtful enough to send you the KitKat premium donuts you mentioned just hours ago. Or how he carefully ensured that extra tofu is added in the kimchi jjigae because he knows you love them. Or how he has those printers set up so neatly without you worrying how messy it looks. He had the motion-detecting LED light installed on the balcony so you don’t have to turn on the lights when you want to walk outside. Or how he throws everything away when you say you need to talk. Sure he might fall asleep halfway. Sure he flips the doormats when he leaves the baths. Sure he left his one mug in the sink and went to bed without washing it.

But he also waits 20 minutes for you to get ready because you lost track of time, reading your reports and spotting the error in your datas. And he also smiles when you climbed into the car, with a heaving chest and sparred breaths. And he orders your favourites quite fluently, down to the preferences and drinks. And you might love the way he looks when he is literally just existing. There was no one else that looked so mesmerizing the way he does when he drives. Or when he eats, or when he was thinking, and listening.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t the flipping doormats or the one mug in the sink that became the issue. It was who would still want to hold you even after all these years, in complete darkness and in the brightest day. It was who would still feel you were worth their time, despite having only 24 hours in a day. It is the person you fell asleep thinking of, and woke up looking at.

.

.

.

.

You keep me strong when I can't carry on

When you lose your feet, fall down to your knees and your heart's about to break I will be your saving grace When your eyes can't see, take my eyes from me When you're lost and losing faith I will be your saving grace

Be my, be my, be my saving grace Won't you be my, be my, be my saving grace

.

.

.

copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading 

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 2

This is turning into one of those "Dawn let this get away from her and now it's getting very long" stories. But here's the second installment.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC, Jay White x OFC (non-sexual)

Word count: 1,599

Content advisory: sexual content (not outright smut), bit at the end might be unsettling for some

You take the stairs down to David’s floor because you don’t want to be seen but also because you have to wipe away a few tears as you go. It’s no use beating yourself up over the time you’ve invested in him, the increasingly desperate ways you’ve tried to please him. It’s no use but you do it anyway because even now, you know you’re not going to leave. Maybe he’ll fire you. It would be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you.

As soon as you step into the hallway, your mood shifts drastically. Once again there’s that wonderful tension in your abdomen, that anticipation of what’s to come. You’re scared that maybe the chemistry was a one-time thing because you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t anxious about something, so the second you see him you push him inside the room and against the wall, attacking him with your lips and tongue until he spins you around, never breaking the kiss, pinning you to the wall until you have to separate just to catch your breath.

“Nice to see you too,” he gasps.

“You made me this way, Finlay, so you’re just going to have to live with it.”

He spins you again and gently pushes you onto the bed.

“Does the lady want something to eat?”

You cock your eyebrow at him.

“Oh you’ll get that,” he laughs, climbing on the bed and straddling you. “I just want to make sure that you have lots of energy.”

You laugh too, remembering how breathless he left you the first time you were together. “Yeah. I want room service. But later.”

With that, the two of you are tearing into each other again, neither of you able to disguise how eagerly you’ve been awaiting this. And it isn’t like the first time. It’s better. You’ve figured out just enough about each other’s bodies to up the ante and yet there’s still much to discover. By the time the two of you pass out in a haze of bliss, you don’t think there’s an inch of skin on either of you that hasn’t been stroked, kissed, licked, or grabbed. You can’t remember how many rounds it’s been but the wastepaper basket next to the bed has so many condoms and wrappers it looks like there might have been an orgy.

But it isn’t just raw passion, at least not for you. There’s something beautiful about it, something invisible that slips inside you and radiates a sort of warmth and light you don’t think you’ve felt since the first few times you’d been with Jay. You were young and stupid enough to think it was reciprocated, that the ecstasy he’d brought you early on was an indication that he felt the same way about you that you did about him. In fact, he was a dealer, giving you just enough to get you hooked. As soon as he’d seen you weren’t going anywhere, he’d stopped making an effort.

With that dark thought on your mind, you grab your phone and plug it into the mobile charger. As you’re about to let yourself collapse against David, who’s snoring very softly, something you find endearing, you notice that you have a message. Against your better judgment, you read it.

Be back by 11. I mean it.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, switching the phone to airplane mode.

*

You know you have to leave but you can’t stop kissing this man. The two of you have been standing in the door to his room, the open door to his room where people could see you, making out for somewhere between a couple of minutes and half an hour. It’s late, or at least it’s late for you because normally you’re at work by 6:30 or so. But these long, romantic kisses are taking you back to a time when you had thoughts about romance but no experience. It’s all giddy and filled with possibility again.

“I’m going to miss you,” he murmurs into your lips.

“Send me filthy messages whenever you want.”

“What happens if His Majesty goes through your phone?”

“Then he’ll have even more reason to feel like you’re better than him.”

Both of you giggle and stare into each other’s eyes. You wish you could capture the way he’s looking at you and teach yourself to see what he’s seeing that makes him look so happy. You’re not ready to say goodbye just yet.

“David, would you like to have breakfast with me?”

“More room service?” He kisses you lightly.

“No. I mean let’s go out and get something to eat and some coffee.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I’d like that very much.”

The two of you have to sneak out of the hotel and meet around the corner but from that point you act as if no one could recognize you. You’re chatting and exchanging little touches, taking turns brushing damp strands of hair from each other’s faces, until you find a cute cafe with the delicious smell of freshly baked delights hanging in the air.

That first scent of coffee if always so good that you have to give yourself a second to enjoy it, letting the steam condense on the tip of your nose before taking a sip.

“You look like you’re in church,” he jokes.

“Believe me, there are times when coffee is my savior. So I like to give thanks when I can.”

You reach out and lightly run your nails through the surprisingly soft hair of his beard.

“I like this,” you sigh. “The trimmed beard looks good on you. I like it a lot.”

‘I know.” He takes your hand and kisses your fingers one at a time.

“Did I say that last night? I was kind of worked up.”

“No. A while back you told me I should try cutting the beard a little. I think you said I’d look less like a homeless person.”

You gasp in shame because you can remember saying it, although you hadn’t thought of it since you did.

“I figured I’d give it a try to see if you were right.”

“You did that because of what I said?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You give him a languorous smile, planting your elbow on the table and resting your chin in your hand.

“David Finlay, I think you like me.”

“Always did.” His expression turns a bit melancholy.

“You don’t think maybe I like you too?”

He grimaces. “You didn’t last time I told you.”

“Well I wasn’t as clever and mature as I am now.”

His eyes dart over you, like he doesn’t want to risk meeting your gaze.

“I do like you,” you whisper.

He pulls you closer and for a second you’re just living in the saucers of each other’s eyes before you kiss, a few soft touches of your swollen lips.

“I like you a lot,” he answers.

And you sit there, your arm around him, basking in the strange idea that someone could like you when you weren’t even trying.

*

You don’t make it back to your room until late afternoon. You check in with the office a couple of times to answer their questions but you leave it at that. Yesterday, you told Jay that your work wasn’t suffering because you’d gone on a couple of dates. Today, you’re AWOL. He pretty much has to fire you now.

You’re a little surprised that you don’t immediately hear a hammering on the door and Jay screaming bloody murder from the adjoining room. In fact, it’s dead silent. No sounds of the television or voices, and you realize that you’d been preparing for hours to have your head ripped off the second you were back here. You don’t know what to do with this turn of events.

Just in case, you stay absolutely quiet, tiptoeing around as you close the curtains, remove your clothes, and bury your aching body under the covers. If he doesn’t know you’re back, you can sleep and hopefully your mind will be a little more focused when the confrontation comes.

Strangely, you dream that you’re sleeping in this exact bed, wrapped in these exact blankets, like you’re somehow watching over yourself. The covers are thick and warm and heavy and they make you feel safe, which you realize is unfamiliar. Gradually, though, the heat starts to build up, and the pressure becomes too much. You’re hot and you feel trapped but you can’t see anything except the dark because you’re still asleep.

You try to push the covers off but that seems to make them constrict around you like a python, pinning you in place and turning your cozy little cocoon into a sarcophagus, like you’re being buried alive. Everything seems to be pressing down on you and you know that you have to wake up and get out from under the blankets or you’re going to die.

So you wriggle and fight your way towards consciousness and as your mind starts to emerge from the fog, you realize that the sensation of being trapped isn’t going away. You’re not imagining things. There is something hot and substantial that has you trapped and your body panics even as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on. You move your arms as much as you can before you hear yourself give a muted cry and your eyes fly open.

You’re so startled that you scream. There’s Jay, lying on top of you, his face filling up your whole field of vision, eyes dark and glittering like a crocodile.

[daimonhalos]

Worthless

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 1.033

Characters: Antfrost, Badboyhalo

Warning(s): Self-esteem issues, self deprecation, verbal abuse, angst

Summary: One way to secure power over one's puppets was to quietly build them down until they were devoid of sense of self. Alternatively: how Antfrost temporarily snaps out of his infection only to confirm his concerns about his friend to be true.

A/N: I swear I can find angst in the smallest nonchalant things that are said on lore bits. I made this short more to give myself a warmup as I haven’t written in a while. Don't have much else to say other than heed the warnings and do tell me if I missed any. Have a good read!

✾

❝ Who chooses what is right?

No one can begin to say

So will you turn around

Or will you fade away? ❞

« We're important now. »

It didn't exactly feel ... as concerning, in the moment. Bad had smiled, almost skipping along the ground as he had contemplated his new task after leaving Pandora's Vault.

Ant could only recall the casual "yeah" he had absentmindedly responded with, yet their small interaction seemed to plague his thoughts for the remainder of the night.

Quite like a lightning bolt thundering beneath clear skies, his mind snapped out of that torment, filled instead with “find him, find him, find him”, the concern only weighing him closer towards Bad, to his friend.

Find him, where could he find him?

Walking along the path, that was how he answered himself as he paced hastily over the wooden slabs, basically running, paying no mind to the vines that seldom stood in his way, the same ones his friend seemed to be checking on, eyes rather dull but features soft and pretty relaxed despite it being a suspiciously silent night.

He was breathing heavily when he finally reached him.

« Antfrost? » Bad raised his eyebrows, a question more to himself; his fingers were slightly folded over his palms, as though he had been about to pick up or take something.

« Did you mean it? » Ant had just barely picked up his usual breathing pace.

« What happened to your eyes, Ant? Do you still have your disg- »

« You said we're important. » he tried, gasping for air one last time, before he finally settled. « How much of it did you mean? »

Bad lifted a hand to pick on the skin of his lips, a habit he had picked for various occasions: frustration, boredom, when lost in thought or confused. « I don't understand what- I wouldn't lie to you, you know that. »

Ant bit the inside of his mouth, how could he put it simply?

« Do you … do you think you're not important? »

There was a small instance, the tiniest moment in which Bad's face fell and his arms went limp, like someone had seen right through a disguise he wasn't aware he had put on himself.

And then he scoffed, chuckling the thought away. He began walking down the path again, Ant following shortly after him. « What are you talking about? Of course not. » he stopped only to stare at a carefully planted rose on the ground, plucking it away without a second thought. He passed it between his fingers with ease, uncaring of the thorns prickling his skin. « We're prison guards, after all. »

The way he had added that, low tone, almost secretive, had made Ant stop in his tracks for way more seconds than he needed.

He chose silence, for the greatest part of their journey: Bad had been making his daily tour to check on the vines, taking a mental note about where they had been removed by foreign hands. Until he kept walking even though there were none left around them, heading towards a location that felt more like the destination of an aimless wandering.

They stopped by the sea, the sand giving out under their weight.

Could it reach us here?

« What does it tell you? » Bad turned to look at his friend, tilting his head at the question he was posed. « I know we don't talk about the plans it has for us. Aside from those, what does the voice tell you? »

He blinked rapidly. « In relation to what? »

Ant slid a foot on the sand grains. « For example … do you ever get insecure? About what we're doing, not being able to accomplish it. Does it ever … motivate or comfort you? »

« It says- » Bad realized he had started talking before he even thought about what he was going to say. Does it ever? « It … probably does. »

« Mh … » Ant considered his options, settling onto something vague to push him towards the right direction. « You don't have to filter your thoughts. I just want to make sure we're all on the same page, you know? »

« Sure. » the other narrowed his eyes, as different instances of his time in the Crimson Room came up in his mind, laid out for him to choose. « Well … usually it just kind of reminds me how much it is indispensable for my sake. How I need it. »

After all, you're useless without me.

« And how you're also needed for us to achieve our goals? »

You had nothing before. You still have absolutely nothing, you would be powerless without me.

« It's … yeah. » It's probably subtext. Right? « It tells me it has all I dream of. And that … it's helping me beyond measure. »

You value nothing without me. You understand why I'm so important to you? I make you someone. I make you real.

Ant adjusted his posture, eyes trailing along the border between the sea and the sky, right into the darkness.

« Because, really, I would be just pathetic on my own. »

His head snapped in less than a second, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, aghast at the confession laid out by a voice in its breaking point. « Why would you? »

« I mean, come on. I fought for a lost cause. I lost my best friend without even trying to save him. All I did before the vines started spreading and latching onto my skin was utterly hopeless. I've always been. » Bad wore a sad smile when he turned to finally face him. « That's what it tells me. It tells me how worthless I am by myself. And you know what? » his laughter didn't comfort Ant's distress an ounce. He took some steps towards the forest they came from, on his way for the wooden path again. « It's right. »

Ant was left staring at the empty spot his friend left, as though he had been enraptured by the particles his aura emanated: shock had paralyzed him.

« It's sad, but it's right. »

[reeeyachi]

Repeat

Year written: 2013 Characters: Gon, Killua Summary:  Gon and Killua see each other after 2 years of being apart. Will they stay together again? Post Chimera Ant Arc. A/N: I think I wrote all of these after reading the manga. The impact it had on me was indescribable. I am still breaking, as we speak. Note: Killua’s narrating. Reference song was “For The First Time” by The Script

--

Yes, it was one hell of a rollercoaster ride for me—like I’ve been thrown down the darkest abyss, but I would find some sort of heaven in there. I did not know what and where it had led me, but making that decision is one of the huge steps I knew I had to take to go on with my life, to grow as a person, as a man, as a brother, and as a friend. It was hard, probably the hardest decision I needed to make in my lifetime. Regrets? Sometimes, yes, but looking at that blissful smile on my sister’s face, the heavy load of sorrow and rue somehow fades—little by little. But the pain of two years ago still stings.

Letting go; I found out that I’m not used to that kind of thing, especially if it’s on something I wanted to own forever—something that I wanted to own… but was not even mine to begin with. What a lame excuse for never wanting to cut a thick well-knotted rope with a person you deeply have a connection with. But it’s true. Gon…

Meeting Gon in the Hunter Exam was strange and new. It was the first time I ever spoke with a person my age that long. I don’t know, I just felt… comfortable at that time. That was maybe because he’s the same age as me? I don’t think so. He was like this never ending ray of sunshine, you know. Whenever I see him, whenever I’m with him, whenever he’s just there, I feel this sudden boost of energy. He’s like a huge pill of energy. Gon led me from my solitude. He was my light, a very stubborn one, and he will remain as that until forever.

And I couldn’t believe it. I know I was happy. Me being with Alluka, I was happy, certainly. But I couldn’t believe it. It came back—that feeling like when Milluki had told me that Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio came to see me, that feeling I had, though I was inside my cold and numb self, when my chest started choking me to death because of the warm rush of excitement that came tickling my dead emotionless nerves all of a sudden, when I suddenly had the urge to smile without me even knowing it. It was completely different from the joy I feel whenever I was with Alluka.

Did I hear it right?

“Onii-chan…!”

Yeah, it was Alluka. I may have mistaken that to something I was thinking about. But my ears never lie. Alluka was calling me, I know, but her voice was somehow faint. All of the other noises were also faint. Being a trained professional in the art of assassination, I have known to detect a distinct sound even in the largest mob of talking people, and I was sure I heard something at that time. I looked around, quite desperately, and searched. The rush of excitement was still there—that same feeling…

The people around the market were a blur. Alluka’s silhouette was distinct in my vision, but I wasn’t in full attendance to her. I subconsciously grabbed her wrist and pulled her close while I was doing a little parameter check around the town. The familiar sound of running footsteps made the corners of my lips curve on its own. Ah… And as I turned around, my sunrays shined on me again, and I felt my heart sinking deeply into my chest in awe. It was beating fast with excitement—like a drum was planted on every part of my body. It was as though I drank that huge pill of energy again. And I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that my happiness was locked away in a dark room inside my emotions, and I couldn’t believe that the key to that room is still hidden inside those pure bright hazel eyes.

“Killua!”

I smiled, quite dumbly, but I didn’t care. I didn’t see anyone at that time but that boy—that man—my best friend, running towards me, looking at nothing else but me, calling my name. I chuckled while watching him stumble upon an old lady. That same innocent apologetic sheepish laugh remained in him after all these years. I chuckled more, feeling my heart punching my lungs even wilder than before. Finishing with the apologies, he looked at me and gave me same wide candid smile he had. I did the same. He ran, and paused in front of me.

We stood there for a while, staring at each other, familiarizing ourselves with the new developments in our faces with each sharing a quirky smile. I took a deep breath and nodded once, trying to pull up a straight face. He did the same thing.

“Gon.”

“Killua.”

A staring contest began. I did not know the point of it but we were seriously just staring at each other while holding back a huge smile. And after a few seconds, we laughed, like the old times, while pointing at each other. The memories I had with Gon were suddenly lit vividly inside my head and it played there for a while.

“I’m Killua.”

“I’m Gon!”

“Then let’s stay together!”

“Thank you, Killua. Coming here with you, no, meeting you… was a really fortunate thing.”

“Killua. It has to be Killua!”

. . .

“See you later!”

We both took a deep breath and now looked at each other formally. There wasn’t any awkwardness at all between us. It’s just like before, like when we see each other during the Hunter Exam, like when we meet after each fight in Heaven’s Arena, like just… seeing each other again after a few seconds of separation—only now we’re taller, and older, and stronger.

“It’s been a long time, ne!” Gon started, talking with that familiar energetic tone of his voice, only lower tuned, while glancing at me and smiling at Alluka with his beaming bright eyes.

I looked at my sister. She was smiling and seemed really happy to see Gon again. This made that feeling in my chest turn from pure excitement into awe. “Yeah,” I said, looking back at Gon and giving him the most candid smile my excited facial muscles could ever manage. “And wow, you actually grew taller.”

He gave me a candid smile in exchange. “Hehe~ I could surpass you in height.”

I gave a playful sneer. “Nope, no, not a chance.”

He pouted. Ah yes, that’s Gon for you, alright. “So, what are you doing here?” He smiled again.

I pulled Alluka closer. “What do you think we’re doing? Touring the world, of course.”

Gon laughed. “You still talk like Killua, Killua.”

Normally, this would piss me off for some unknown reason. But Gon’s laugh and the moment was too precious to ruin. “Well, you still act like Gon, Gon.”

He stopped with a smile and stared me in the eyes again. It would look like he wanted to tell me something, but was hesitating, or rather at lost for words. I just knew, because I was feeling the same.

I took another deep breath as I thought it was necessary. “Well, what are you doing here?”

“We’re on a mission.”

We… That piercing pain in the chest replaced the joyous one, and the feeling of sorrow and rue came back, hitting me with its best shot. I sort of wanted to be in that ‘we’—be that someone again, his partner in battle, his partner in everything. I smiled to show how proud I was of him at the same time smiled to help heal my fractured ego.

“I also wanted you to meet Ging but he ran off from me again.” Gon frowned a little.

My eyes grew wide. “Again!?”

He nodded then gave that same bright smile. “Yeah, but it’s all fine because he’s actually in the next region we’ll fly to. Our mission is awesome, Killua! We get to fight cool monsters with strange looking faces and be in different new places and all. Do you want to—”

“Gon! We’re leaving!”

I snapped my head towards a group of strange looking people by one corner then shifted my gaze back at Gon who was looking at them too with a slight frown on his face. How I wish I could say ‘Let’s go, Gon!’ at that time. I batted my eyes and gave a huge smile on the face.

Gon turned his gaze on me again. He smiled. “Killua, do you want—”

“Go, Gon,” I ushered, grasping Alluka’s wrist and pulling her close again. I smiled at him with reassurance.

A frown was visible on his face but it was obvious he was trying to not let his lips fall into a concave curve. He smiled and looked at me straight in the eyes, his irises gleaming like crystals soaked in water. He took a deep breath. “I miss you, Killua.”

I flashed a smile. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t from instinct, it came from deep within me, but my chest felt heavier than before. “Yeah, me too. I miss you too, Gon.”

Something was pricking my chest as I watch Gon run off while shouting ‘See you later!’ and waving a hand at us. He was fading again, but the pricking and the piercing was overshadowed by a greater entity—a new and bright one. It was like me breaking out of my assassin ways by taking the Hunter Exam; there was that pricking and piercing feeling in my chest at that time, but it disappeared because of Gon. When I met him that time; today, it felt like meeting him for the first time… again.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

Anton is a thorn in Liam’s side, and Madeleine has a question for Bastien

Word Count 3583

Warnings - some smut, so NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 18s

14 Loose Ends

‘As Queen in Waiting, I can refuse to meet him’ growled Olivia, but Liam shook his head. They were back at Applewood after the interview with Anton and his lawyer. He and Olivia were in his office discussing the ins and outs of what had been said. She stood looking out of the window toward the orchard.

‘To do that I would have to enact the ‘Monarch in Waiting’ clause’ said Liam ‘That would give Anton the power to make his own legitimate demands, and you would be acknowledging the legality of your marriage’ He sat back in his chair, passing his hand over his forehead.

‘What the hell are we going to do?’ snapped Olivia. She was more used to making a physical gesture to settle anything that she didn’t agree with, and burned to be alone with Anton and a sharp knife – that or slipping poison into his food or drink. The idea of meeting him and just talking made her skin crawl. She crossed her arms across her chest, hugging them close to her body.

‘The archivists and lawyers are going over everything with a fine toothcomb’ Liam sighed ‘If anything comes up they’ll let us know immediately’ There was a knock at the door and after a discrete pause Liam’s aide entered.

‘Beg pardon Sir, Lady Madeleine wishes to talk to you. In person’ Liam made his best effort to stay calm – something he had already been attempting for some hours now after a restless night. Talking to Madeleine was a small thing, but at some point he was fearful he would crack and lose it altogether.

‘Is she outside?’ he asked, and the man nodded. Liam turned to Olivia.

‘I expect you’ve no wish to meet her, my dear’ he speculated, and the sour look she gave him confirmed his suspicion. ‘Tell her I’ll meet her in the library in ten minutes’ he said. Olivia smiled in gratitude as the aide left to deliver the message. It was pleasant to see her expression change after the stress she had borne over the last few hours.

‘Thankyou Liam’ she said simply. ‘I’ll go to my room when the coast’s clear. See you for lunch?’

‘Of course.’ He bowed and took an adjoining door that lead to the library without going out into the ante room by his office. He knew that Madeleine would not be pleased at being told to wait. Sure enough, she was scowling when she entered, but made a curtsey all the same.

‘Your majesty’ she intoned.

‘What can I do for you, Lady Madeleine?’ he asked, indicating that she sit on one of the many wing backed leather upholstered chairs. She sat neatly and elegantly, ankles crossed and thighs angled toward him.

‘Oh please, do we have to keep up the ‘Lady this’ and ‘your Majesty’ that?’ She said haughtily ‘We were very nearly engaged, and we’ve known each other a long time’

‘Maddy’ he sighed ‘I’m sorry, but I would never have willingly proposed to you, despite my father’s wishes, you should know that by now’ He remained standing, positioning himself in front of her, straightening his jacket in a gesture that belied the informality in his tone.

‘Well that’s a moot point, as Olivia is betrothed to Anton Severus’ she said acidly. He cocked his head at her ‘I can tell you were going to enter into some god forsaken alliance with her, I’m not stupid’

‘That’s not something I’m willing to discuss’ he said in a neutral tone.

‘But you’re not denying it’ she sniffed. He pursed his lips

‘What do you want, Maddy?’ he asked. She raised her eyebrows innocently.

‘Why, to be by your side, Liam’ she replied ‘If you can’t have Olivia, who else are you going to fall back on? I’m prepared to forgive you your rejection and stand shoulder to shoulder with you against Anton’ Liam gritted his teeth.

‘We’re doing all we can to refute his claim to the throne, and I have faith that we will find a way’

‘You have to have a back up plan’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me what I should do’ he replied, and she smiled triumphantly

‘If the worst comes to the worst, you marry me to produce an heir in order to continue your fight for the Crown, in Cordonia or in exile’ She got up to leave ‘Considering your need for an heir, perhaps you should treat my offer with more urgency’

‘I’ll never leave Cordonia willingly’ he asserted ‘and I doubt that I’ll be taking up your offer, Lady Madeleine.’ His face changed ‘Give my love to your mother when you get home’ she said smoothly. Madeleine scowled.

‘I plan to stay close to you .’ she asserted, but Liam knew he had planted a seed that would hopefully bear fruit.

------

Back in her private suite at Applewood, Madeleine pondered her conversation with Liam. When he had rejected her after Constantine’s death, she was prepared to hurt him in retaliation, but finding out about his plans with Olivia and her arranged marriage to Anton had changed everything. Madeleine still had a chance at being Queen, and she would give it all her energy. Her thoughts went to the people most likely to support her efforts, and frowned as she looked at her phone. Her mother wasn’t answering her calls, and there were no messages either. She wasn’t at the manor at Fydelia, or any of their other properties.

The last thing she had heard was that she had been making a short business trip to Monaco. She knew her well enough to surmise that ‘business’ was shorthand for some sordid liaison. She had been gone for a few days now, with no word of when she would return, which was unusual. Ordinarily she would be bombarded with messages about when she would be back, and invitations to dinner or lunch if they weren’t in the same residence together. She bit her lip and thought again, beginning to wonder how much she should worry. There was one person she could rely on to find out where she was; Adelaide was always talking about Bastien Lykel and only barely concealed how attractive she found him. He had a connection with her that none of the other guards did, plus he was discreet.

She made her way down to security and was admitted to the office. Lewis was on duty and told her that Bastien was off duty. If she’d known where his suite was she would have gone straight there, but instead asked for him to see her at his earliest convenience. She went back to one of the lounges and listlessly leafed through a glossy magazine, and after a while Bastien appeared.

He was dressed casually, and she noted a change in him. She narrowed her eyes. To be truthful, she hadn’t taken much notice of him lately – he was, after all, staff, not nobility, and she didn’t really pay attention to commoners unless she had need of their services. He looked relaxed, not as stuffy or serious as she remembered. Then she recalled some gossip about him and one of the other staff. Well, if he was involved with someone else she wouldn’t have to bump into him at Fydelia manor as she had in the past, supposedly on duty, but in reality making his way back from her mother’s rooms. That hadn’t occurred for quite some time now, but it was a relief to think that it wouldn’t happen again.

‘You wanted to see me, Lady Madeleine?’ he asked, and instantly he was back to his usual self, grave and efficient.

‘I did, Captain Lykel’ she replied ‘I’d prefer to speak to you somewhere private’

‘Of course your Grace. Perhaps the library is free’ She nodded in agreement and he went to the door to open it for her. It was gratifying to be treated with respect. Lykel had always been deferential and professional, she noted, and she was grateful that while it was obvious to her that he had some physical relationship with her mother, it had remained a secret. They reached the library, and again he opened the door for her after scanning it for other occupants and ushered her inside. She sat in the same chair she had used not so long ago when she had talked to Liam. He stood and waited for her to speak.

‘Captain, I won’t beat around the bush. I haven’t seen my mother for some days now, and I’m concerned’ She saw a flicker of some unexpected emotion briefly cross his face. Not worry or surprise – something told her he knew something she didn’t.

‘Indeed. That must be worrying, your grace’ She huffed impatiently

‘It is. I wonder if it would be possible for you to discover her whereabouts. I’m sure the King wouldn’t begrudge you your time on such a matter. Anton Severus may be in custody, but that doesn’t mean that anti monarchist sympathisers might not target members of the nobility in retaliation’ His expression was more readable this time – uneasiness and a hint of indecision, she realised. Most people wouldn’t notice the brief flickers of emotion on his face, but Madeleine was good at reading people. It was a useful skill when one seldom betrayed one’s own feelings or thoughts.

‘As a matter of fact I know exactly where your mother is’ he replied, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise ‘Unfortunately I can’t give you any details, but I can assure you she will return to Fydelia Manor in the near future’

‘You can’t tell me?’ she asked coolly.

‘I’m afraid not’ he replied. ‘I am often told things in confidence, and this is the case right now.’ He gave her a sympathetic smile ‘but I may be able to get her to contact you before she returns’

‘I’m disappointed in you, Captain Lykel’ she snapped, rising to her feet in irritation,  but he moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was instantly taken back to the first time she met, when he was on his first solo mission as a guard and she was a schoolgirl, home for the summer. His grey eyes showed concern and he radiated stability and reassurance. If she had been able to choose a father it would have been someone very much like him, even though he was marginally closer to her age than to her mother’s.

‘Trust me Madeleine’ he said gently ‘She will be home soon. It’s not my place to tell you anything more – that’s down to your mother.’

------

‘So we have to release him from prison?’ Liam said incredulously ‘At the very least he’s guilty of kidnapping, and is most likely heavily involved in an attempt to kill Lady Adelaide’  The afternoon briefing with his legal team and security teams was not going well.

‘Unfortunately, until we can totally refute his claim to the throne, we cannot keep him in jail. The matter of the kidnap of Lady Riley and Miss Turner is secondary. Moreover, Lady Adelaide’s assault did not take place on Cordonian soil.’ The lawyer said grimly ‘We can however keep him in detention somewhere more in keeping with his demands’

‘I propose that we allow him a little slack and watch for him to trip up’ Lewis chimed in. ‘Once he’s in more comfortable quarters he may very well let his guard down.’ Bastien nodded sagely, pleased to observe that his confidence in his second in command was well earned.

‘Very well, unless and until we can lock him up in jail ready for trial, we shall have to find somewhere secure for him.’ Liam acknowledged. The meeting went on for a short while before winding down.

Alone in his study, Liam sat back in his chair, scraping his fingers across his scalp, tugging at his short hair and groaning in frustration. Cordonian law was different to many other European countries. Thanks to his father, the death penalty had never been abolished, and the law tended to treat nobility different to ordinary people. Having noble blood quite literally meant ‘innocent until proved guilty’, hence Liam’s difficulty in getting Anton permanently locked up in jail. His father had gotten over that problem by more direct methods – those that disagreed with him tended to disappear or go into permanent exile.

Liam would not descend to his father’s level. He intended to use the law to defeat Anton, but it was proving increasingly difficult. Sophia was only one of the historians, archivists and lawyers working round the clock trying to unravel the ins and outs of Anton’s claim. It rather resembled the chicken and egg dilemma. Could a noble who claimed to be the rightful King be guilty of treason, or could the tables be turned and the reigning King be ousted due to a legitimate claim brought by that same noble? At what point did the monarch become the rightful ruler – at the death of the previous monarch? At his coronation? The law was vague. There had been a gap of a week or so after the death of Constantine’s father and his coronation – a week in which Anton’s grandfather Alfred had come out of exile to claim the title but then disappeared.

In the meantime, he had the distraction of the Lantern Festival at Valtoria. Security was not as much of an issue now, but Lewis and his men had gone over the manor with a fine toothcomb. Bastien was going back there that evening, taking Sophia with him in order to see to the arrangements. Damien had decided to take a couple of days off to attend the festival. After that he would have to return to his Interpol duties – for one thing, Greece was requesting that Anton be turned over to them to answer charges there, and the incident involving Adelaide in Monaco still needed some attention.

He sighed. The festival may be one of joy and relaxation but there may be little peace of mind for him, or for Olivia.

------

Sophia kicked off her shoes to stand by the huge bed and let herself fall back onto the mattress, gazing up at the ceiling.

‘If this is a guest suite, what’s the master suite like?’ she called out to Bastien, looking up at the gilded plaster frieze and ceiling rose from which a modest chandelier hung. It had been a two hour drive from Applewood, and she was excited to be at Valtoria. It was late and she wouldn’t see the grounds properly until daybreak, and didn’t need to eat until breakfast. She heard him chuckle before he entered with their suitcases, wheeling them to the side of the room for unpacking.

‘I took advantage of my position for once’ he said, sitting on the edge next to her. ‘If I’m retiring from service soon, we might as well take advantage while we can’ Sophia rolled over onto her front and pivoted so she lay next to Bastien. The high ceilinged room had huge windows looking out to the rear of the property.

‘You spoil me’ she said ‘I wonder what we’ll be able to afford when we move out of the Palace’ She lay propped up on her elbows, chin supported in her palms. She raised her feet off the bed and waved them in the air.

‘We may be eligible for a grace and favour apartment’ he said ‘Though it wouldn’t be as good as our present suite at the Palace. Liam won’t throw us out, you know’

‘We should think about where we’re going to go. I’d rather have a place of our own – you know, choose something we both like’ she said. He reached down and rubbed her back, angling his body toward hers.

‘I can’t plan until Anton’s answered for his crimes’ he said regretfully ‘I’m afraid this bid for the Crown changes things somewhat and I need to be close to the King’ He kicked his shoes off and bent over to place them neatly by the dressing table, following up by taking his socks off with a sigh, balling them up to place in one of his shoes before he turned back to her.

‘You’re still leaving the Guard though, aren’t you?’ she queried.

‘Yes, theá mou, but His Majesty has offered me a post as advisor to the Council. I would like to take that role, at least until the business with Anton is settled’

‘He also said there would always be a role for me at the Palace, and I’ve been busy helping look through all the documents’ she mused ‘So I suppose it will be okay until we think of something else – if that’s what you want’

‘Of course I want to be with you, theá mou. I’m sorry I can’t be more definite, Sophia’ he said regretfully ‘I’m still getting used to the idea of a life outside the Guard. I’ve served the Crown all my working life, and I’m not ready for early retirement’ She shifted so she could squeeze his thigh.

‘We’ll work it out’ she said, and cast her gaze at his groin. She bit her lip and let her hand creep higher. ‘But for now, we really should test this bed. The room is a nice size, I bet the suite next to ours wouldn’t hear a peep if I should – you know, shout out in my sleep. If I had a nightmare…’ Bastien grabbed her hand and stood, smoothly rolling her over onto her back and followed her onto the bed, straddling her prone body and hovering over her, pinning her wrists to the mattress above her head.

‘You’re ready, my love?’ He asked, as a few days before he had comforted her on her period, and as usual they had abstained. Luckily for her, when they were bad they were short, so she nodded.

‘All over now’ she said ‘I need you’

‘Then let’s see if we can be heard’ he murmured. ‘I plan to give the mattress a thorough testing too.’ he dipped down to kiss the hollow of her neck ‘and any other part of the suite you think needs attention’ She shifted underneath him, her hips rolling. She luxuriated in the sensation of being held back, her nerves tingling in anticipation.

‘You’re a very thorough man, Mr Lykel’ she said throatily. He released her and sat up to unbutton his shirt and take it off. The sight of his torso never failed to make her tingle, and she reached to the hem of her top, seizing it with crossed arms and lifting herself off the mattress to pull it off as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. He got off the bed to strip them off as she unfastened and took off her slacks. She rolled over onto her front to watch him swiftly fold his clothes and strip off his pants, standing only in his boxer shorts, with the inevitable bulge that made her pulse race.

She sat up to face him and reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, letting the straps down and dropping it over the edge of the bed onto the floor. He prowled onto the bed and pressed her onto her back again, stopping to kiss her belly and move down to take the top of her panties between his teeth. He drew them down and she giggled, lifting her hips off as his fingers deftly took over, pulling them down to her ankles. She let her knees fall outward and he groaned at the sight of her womanhood, delicate petals enticing him in. He stood to take off his boxer shorts, letting his length swing out, thick and heavy, and crawling over her again, lips to her collarbone.

She slipped one of her feet free of her panties but let them dangle scandalously from her other foot as he continued his attention to her body with his lips, ranging down over her belly to her mound. She stretched her arms up over her head to open her naked body to him completely, and he spread her thighs wide. Soon she felt the scratch of his beard as he explored with his tongue and she voiced her appreciation of his devotion and skill. He brought her to the edge, but just as she expected her release, drew away. She whimpered with loss until he pivoted his body to bring his hips between her thighs, and she brought her arms up around his neck to pull his lips to hers, tasting herself on his tongue.

‘I need you, my goddess’ he said hoarsely ‘Tell me you need me too’

‘Take me’ she whispered, and he pushed gently into her, gradually filling her until he was deep inside her, relishing her softness, warmth and the snug fit that welcomed him. It was short and sweet after their abstinence. Together they moved, naked bodies united in the search for pleasure, the rhythm building to a crescendo, Sophia allowing herself full voice as she came and Bastien followed. They lay back on the bed, Bastien lying on his side curled protectively around Sophia for a while before fetching cloths to clean up with. Sophia slipped under the bedclothes and they lay facing each other until her regular breathing told him she had fallen asleep, and he allowed himself to follow her.

Next Chapter 15 Up in the Air

[durrzerker]

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 6: Wrecked

Standing in the safe room of Zemo's old Masters of Evil headquarters, Taskmaster stared down the barrel of a loaded pistol. Held in the hands of a nine-year-old girl with tears in her eyes, a gun had never been so threatening as it was now; not because of how he feared she might use it, but because he didn't know how far he was willing to go to stop her.

"Put the gun down, kid. I get yer pissed off -- but that's the last time to be holding one o'those."

"What? Afraid I dinnae remember how ta use it? Ya oughta have more faith, considerin' ya taught me." She snarled out those last three words like a slur, but what she was said was obviously true. Compensating for her small size and the weapon's kick, she was holding the pistol exactly right - wide stance, both hands in place, the sights aligned perfectly with her eyes - which were shockingly intense, black as beetle shells and just as hard.

"That so?" He replied coolly, trying not to let her see the anxiety that was coursing through him. If this theory was right - if these kids had the same photographic reflexes as Tony himself - then she'd be able to read his body language as easily as he read everyone else's; he couldn't lie to her or hide his feelings without doing so absolutely perfectly. "Yeah, I'll be honest...I don't even recognize you." Within every good deception was a hint of truth, so he started with that. It was important - because what he wanted to hide was that he overheard the whole conversation between Black Ant and Wolverine. "...What made you realize I don't remember you, then?"

Eyeing him suspiciously for a long moment, only lowering the pistol slightly, the girl took a deep breath. "That idiot partner o'yers dinnae when to shut up. Can't believe this. Been so angry at you...and ya dun ken what ye even did." Still, she didn't drop the gun entirely yet; there was more to this. "...I'm Cassandra. I was - am? - a student of yers. Before ya --"

Before she could finish, however, the entire building shook -- a massive crack splitting the air as the mercenary was nearly thrown off his feet.

For her part, Cassandra recovered remarkably well. Though she fell back against the wall of the armory hard, she didn't relinquish the pistol, planting one foot and grabbing the wall in a nimble move Taskmaster recognized as one of the Winter Soldier's. Either the Red Room had a lot to answer for, or she really had been taught by him. Neither possibility appealed to him, but the quake had more of his attention. "The hell was that?" Hastily grabbing a large syringe out of his first aid kit, he tapped it once and drove it into his arm. Inside was an experimental serum designed by Albino, Taskmaster's on-staff scientist who specialized in helping him close the gap between himself and the superhumans he often had to face. While he typically preferred to keep things purely skill-based, some jobs just demanded you bring out the heavy guns. These particular serums were created as an improvement of the Regenix that was meant to copy Wolverine's healing factor. While not nearly as fast as that, it was also a lot more stable than Regenix, which had a nasty habit of organ failure in its subject.

Already, the pain was starting to fade - it'd be a few hours before he was back to true fighting shape, though.

"Dinnae," Cassandra replied bluntly. "One o'yer many mistakes?"

"Har har. Let's go check on the others."

Leading the snappy little redhead out towards the living room of the mansion, Tony just barely ducked in time to avoid an enormous wrecking ball aimed directly for his face. "What the hell?"

Unsurprisingly, it was being held by a member of the Wrecking Crew themselves, who were currently in heated combat with Wolverine and Black Ant. "Tasky!" Eric shouted. "They're here for the kids! They're the ones who got hired to bring them back!"

"Hired by who?" Taskmaster snapped, lifting his shield just in time to intercept an oncoming crowbar from Wrecker. Even with the vibranium of his shield, he was nearly thrown off his feet, throwing his arm up high to dissipate some of the force. "Damn...zeroed in on me real fast, huh?"

"None of your business who hired us. All you gotta know is you're priority target, traitor! Eight figures on that ugly mask of yours!" Wrecker barked. Despite his great bulk, he was quick on his feet; no sooner had Taskmaster deflected that blow than another one rained down onto his head. Ducking to the side, pirouetting in a Captain America classic afterwards, Tony snarled and drew his sword, sweeping it across the man's back in a single stroke. It was only because he could feel the blade barely break the skin that he reacted in time to avoid the counter-swing from Wrecker's crowbar, anticipating it when he realized he wasn't really hurting the man. Damn tough idiots, he thought to himself.

Wolverine and Black Ant were similarly occupied. Demolisher, her enormous steel ball gleaming even in the dim light of the living room's chandelier, relentlessly swung after Black Ant, who shrank and dove between her legs before growing back to his normal size and kicking her in the back. "Hey! Why didn't you go after Wolverine? This could have been prime girl on girl action!"

"You're disgusting," Laura snarled, leaping over Piledriver as the blonde man attempted to crush her with a superhuman punch, she deftly swiped her claws across Bulldozer's face. His helmet, empowered much like the rest of the group by the Asgardian magic that gave them their powers, mostly absorbed the strike -- but the sparks that it created blinded him, causing him to crash into Piledriver in a running tackle. "They might be strong and tough, but the Wrecking Crew are morons to a man - or woman. As long as we don't let them surround us, we can hold them off!"

"We're already surrounded; they outnumber us," Black Ant complained, narrowly shrinking in time to avoid a thrown chair.

"No we're not," Taskmaster replied coolly. With his focus on Wrecker, he could easily avoid his attacks; while the man was strong and nearly indestructible, he had nowhere near the skill or agility to lay a hand on Tony as the skull-masked mercenary alternated between Spider-Man and Daredevil's moves, pirouetting and ducking as he slapped a button hidden on his belt under his cloak. "You boys are messing up my new -house-. I don't think the housekeeper's gonna care for that too much."

"The hell are you on about, Taskmaster?" Wolverine asked, but he didn't need to answer her; she found out herself a moment later.

Thirty thousand pounds of adamantium came CRASHING through the ceiling; called by the signal on Taskmaster's belt, the gargantuan robot landed with a ground-shaking quake. Twenty feet tall at full height, the otherwise dark-grey automaton was dressed in a giant-sized french maid costume, swinging a massive dusting brush hard enough to send Piledriver flying back and into the wall, unconscious.

"Cleaning time, you roid-raging D-listers!" Tony cheered.

"What the..." Laura trailed off, looking somewhere between exasperated and amused. Black Ant, for his part, nearly got his head taken off by a backhand from Demolisher because he had burst into laughter hard enough to nearly fall over. Still, despite the silly costume, no one could doubt TESS-one's effectiveness; pulling back from Taskmaster out of frustration that he couldn't hit him, Wrecker went after the robot instead. "Just a machine! WRECK IT!" He roared, hauling off with a swing that could knock Thor for a loop. The pure adamantium plating of Tess's armor didn't so much as dent, and before he could wipe the surprise off his face, Wrecker was spiked into the ground by an enormous overhand swat.

"Damn thing's indestructible!" Piledriver exclaimed. "We gotta fall back! Between this and Wolverine, we're outmatched!"

"And Black Ant!" Eric insisted, shouting with both hands cupped over his helmet as the Wrecking Crew started to retreat.

"Nope!" Demolisher called out before disappearing through the same hole she'd made in the wall of the mansion. Still trying to fend off a viciously angry Laura slicing and kicking at their heels, the rest of the group followed after her. "This ain't over!" Wrecker shouted. "You got no idea what world of shit you got yourself into stealing those brats, Taskmaster!"

Placing his hands on his thighs, exhaling from behind his mask, Tony considered that. "Kids are all okay?"

Laura nodded matter-of-factly. "Black Ant's gone to get them," she said, nodding to the other mercenary who was making his way towards the stairs. "I heard the Wrecking Crew approaching in time to get them all to a safe room on the second floor -- except Cassandra. I didn't want to interrupt you, and..." She trailed off, looking annoyed at nothing in particular.

For a moment, Taskmaster couldn't figure out why; then he suddenly laughed out loud. "Hah! You trusted ME to protect her! Admit it!"

"...Your dedication to this mission so far has been -acceptable-," she stubbornly conceded. "Why is your robot dressed like a maid? It's not a sex thing, is it? Please don't let it be a sex thing."

"Of course not. Tessie's too pure for all that. She's saving herself for marriage." Tony made his way over to the idling automaton, patting it on the side. "Aincha, girl?"

"Hilarious," came a new voice. "If you two are done discussing fetishization of Taskmaster's pet robot, you should know that you aren't out of danger yet." Wolverine and Taskmaster both immediately set themselves into defensive positions as a masked woman in a skintight blue costumed stepped silently through the hole in the wall, a hooded black coat with yellow trim adding a severity to her otherwise sleek look.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony snapped, lifting his sword warily.

"...I'm the new Spymaster," she replied coolly, placing a hand on her hip. As her coat shifted back a little, Taskmaster could see a futuristic-looking pistol on her belt; some kind of energy weapon. "The Hub sent me. I'm supposed to help you extract a bunch of kids? If that's true, we need to hurry."

"We've been hurrying all night," Wolverine assured her. "You, however, took your sweet time getting here. Are you sure we can trust her, Taskmaster? I can't get a read on her at all - her smell's blocked, voice modulated...even more than yours."

Tony considered that, but ultimately nodded. "If she's here from The Hub, she's trustworthy. Besides, there's no one that the three of us can't take down together if she -does- try some bullshit."

"Finally, I'm being included!" Eric interjected as he descended the steps, the children in tow. Cassandra had joined them some time during the battle, wisely seeking out her fellow Scions instead of trying to get involved.

"...Yeah!" Tony replied, opting not to tell him that he was referring to TESS-one.

"Hey, who's she?" Eric asked of the newcomer.

Hub's agent. Black Ant, this is Spymistress--"

"Spymaster," she quickly corrected.

"...Spymaster, which is confusing but hey, it's a brave new world. She's gonna see to our extraction. Wolverine's got a point. What took you so long?" Taskmaster couldn't help but nurse a feeling of familiarity, despite having definitely never met this new Spymaster in his life. He'd trained the last one, sure - but that guy had died years ago. "...And do I know you? Did I train ya?"

"In a sense," she replied. "Hub warned me your brain was a bit soft, though she put it nicer. Let it suffice that I know how to handle myself, and you're to blame." Her wry tone, with the help of her voice modulator, almost held a hint of sincere irritation at the question, but Tony didn't miss that little detail. Not entirely. "As for the delay, The Hub decided it would be pragmatic for me to investigate this matter to make use of how to successfully extract the children. I've been following the Wrecking Crew for hours; I've got a cloaked quinjet on the roof, but you need to know something first. I placed a tracker on Piledriver. They're going to leave Bagalia, try to get in contact with their employer. You have to intercept them."

Exchanging a look with Taskmaster, Laura was the first to ask, "...And do you know who their employer is?"

Lifting her phone, Spymaster turned it around and used a hidden device on the back to project a holographic image, tossing the chip she extracted from the phone on the ground. The image was impressively high-resolution; so much so that Tony could count the strands on the moustache of the face displayed.

"You gotta be kidding me," he growled, barely above a whisper.

"I'm deadly serious," Spymaster assured them all, looking between Taskmaster, Wolverine, and Black Ant. "These children are considered property of the United States government, and the Wrecking Crew was just the first wave. I managed to jam their comms, but if they manage to get too far out of the city, you're going to have hell brought down on your heads. Now get the kids ready and let's go. Clock's ticking."

She turned to the children, who warily ducked behind Black Ant with surprising speed. Her body language softened immediately, her professional demeanor disappearing even with her mask on.

Taskmaster didn't see it. He was still staring at the projected hologram of General Thunderbolt Ross.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part VII

I’m so sorry to do this to you, but the angst was inevitable. If you’ve got questions, shoot me an ask and I’ll answer if it won’t spoil the plot : )

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI

Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

    Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel  and  @limabein for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated the feedback!

    Warnings: Smut. Ahk is a solid 20 years of age to be certain to avoid any squick factor.

“My god . . . we’re in Thebes.”

 Ahkmenrah’s expression darkened at your use of the Greek name for his beloved city.

 “I prefer its true name to that of the conquerors, but yes, that is where you now are.”

 “This is incredible,” you uttered, walking toward the outer wall of what was clearly a palace, laying your hand against the warm stone, half expecting your hand to just fall through it like a ghost’s.

 You looked at Ahk and your mouth dropped open into a smile of awe. Your heart was thudding inside of your chest, and you thought that this is what it must feel like when someone is about to die from happiness.

 Ahkmenrah’s face returned your joyful grin, and he asked, “Are you ready to go inside?”

Your ecstatic smile fell from your face as you took in his appearance and your own.

 “Ahk! Our clothes—we can’t be seen here like this. I can’t be seen at all! I don’t look like an Egyptian!”

 Ahkmenrah reached out and grasped your upper arms, locking his eyes onto yours, steadying you.

 “It is okay, Y/N,” he spoke slowly. “This is a memory. Or what I have come to call an ‘advanced memory.’”

 “Advanced?”

 “While the tablet seems to be able to open a portal to the underworld, it cannot, as far as I have figured out, open a door to the past, unless it is through a memory. So, I focused on a specific part of my childhood, wanting desperately to see my parents and siblings again, and when I configured the tablet, a door opened and brought me here.”

 “So, we really are in the past?”

 “Sort of. We are inside of my memory of the past. People cannot see me, but I am as the Akh in my ability to interact with them.”

 “Interact? The Akh? As in one’s spiritual self who returns to earth to re-do wrongs, or something like that?”

 “Come. It’s easier to show you,” Ahkmenrah said, before asking if he could put the tablet in your backpack for safe keeping.

 You shook your head and after he zipped up the tablet, he reached for your hand, pulling you forward as he pushed open the palace door.

 As archeologists unearthed more of ancient Egypt, they had discovered that the dusty stone palaces were once bright and colorful, all thanks to some hunks of stone that had been sheltered from the elements for a few millennia.

 But looking at a small section of colorful stone could only allow the human imagination to delve so deep. Being there, in Ahk’s past memory, you were overwhelmed by the richness of the colors, by the ornateness of the details on everything from the floors to the walls to the ceilings. Depictions of the gods and their actions were everywhere, along with idioms, almost reminiscent of those found in today’s homes, although you had yet to read anything that was quite as cliché as something like, “Home is Where the Heart is.”

 You could’ve spent a lifetime analyzing what was just an entry room, but the great wooden door thunked closed behind you. The sets of guards standing on either side glanced in your direction but made no movement that indicated they saw you or felt your presence.

 “I am not really sure what they see when we interact with inanimate things,” Ahkmenrah explained. “If they do see anything at all.”

 As Ahk lead you inward, you noticed that the room was getting taller. It was such a gradual change that you marveled at the engineering. After you had been walking for several minutes, you also noticed that there was a bright, golden sun carved into each stone, and as you stepped forward it was also growing larger.

 Every pillar was painted and held intricate carvings that were clearly telling a story; Ahkmenrah explained that they told many of the same stories that had been immortalized in his papyruses.

 “Though, these stories tend to focus more on the members of our royal line of succession than on my common relatives,” he explained.

 By the time you reached the throne room, the pillars were so tall that they seemed to disappear into the ceiling, and the sun had grown so large that as you entered the throne room, it took up almost the entire space of the floor, its brightness deafening.

 You wanted to look elsewhere, but the yellow paint of the sun held your gaze, and then you realized why the paint in the throne room was different than that on the stone walkway—

 “Ahkmenrah,” you whispered as you dropped to the floor and touched the sun in disbelief. “This is . . . it’s made of . . . of gold.”

 Ahkmenrah laughed, a deep laugh that echoed through the room. You glanced up, your eyes scanning the rows of the guards that lined the throne room and the small crowds of people that milled about, but his laughter caused no disturbance.

 “Yes, Y/N. As are many, many things that you will encounter in the palace. What’s a bit of gold to the king of Egypt?” Ahkmenrah said through a smirk that did nothing to hide his pride at your reaction.

“I think I need a minute to just sit here.”

 Ahkmenrah held his hand out to you, stating, “That is one thing we do not have a lot of. According to my calculations, 15 minutes inside of my memory is nearly 45 minutes in reality. I don’t think I want to know what happens if I fail to return to the present before dawn.”

 You let Ahkmenrah help you up and lead you up the stairs to the throne. You stepped past a man, clearly a foreigner, who was kneeling on the stairs and speaking in an unfamiliar language.

 You stopped and stared as you took in a young Ahkmenrah, clearly only a boy of 8 or 9 years old. He was so adorable that you felt your heart swell and your face break into a grin. His curls were closely cropped, and he wore a small golden crown. He was shirtless, not yet old enough to don something as sophisticated as a Wesekh, but he wore a thick band of gold as a necklace that was connected by two golden, painted Horuses. His shendyt was short, flowing, and dyed a deep blue with ribbons of bright purple threading. He stood stoically beside his father while his father listened to the man on the stairs.

 On the other side stood Kahmunrah, clearly bored and far too old to be entertaining himself by stepping on a line of ants that were moving between two of the stones on the floor. Looking between the two boys, you saw that Kahmunrah was Ahkmenrah’s opposite in almost every way. While they shared the same dark, curly hair, stature, and skin tone, Kahmunrah’s face was cruel instead of kind, his eyes dark, like his father’s, and his lips were thin, prone to curling into a sneer as he made no point to hide his boredom.

 You whispered to Ahk, “I can’t recall the name of your father.”

 “Merenkahre.”

 Merenkahre was handsome and emitted a strong feeling of ancient power from the way he sat statue-still to the boom of his voice as he addressed the man on the stairs. Merenkahre seemed to bear only a slight resemblance to his youngest son, and you wondered if Ahk’s appearance favored his mother.

 Ahkmenrah interrupted your observations as he spoke up from beside you, “Let me show you how I can interact with them.”

 He moved closer to his younger self and bent to ask, “What are you thinking about in this moment?”

 No one but you and Ahkmenrah paid any attention as his younger self spoke in a hushed, hurried tone, almost as if he were speaking in a stream-of-consciousness.

 You picked up on a word, maybe two, but looked at Ahk, puzzled.

 “He, well, I said, ‘I wonder what this man’s village looks like because his clothes are reflective of the very strife of which he speaks. I need to ask father to show me where the village lies on the great map in his office. Perhaps he does not honor the gods in the same way as us, so they punish him and his people? If so, we need to help because we have the means to do so. No one should be starving while we have so much.’”

 “Were you always so serious?” you asked, smiling at this little version of Ahkmenrah who returned to studying the man as if he had never even spoken.

 “In the throne room, yes. I understood what it meant to be a king. My brother never did. Come, watch this.”

 Ahkmenrah moved to stand beside his brother and asked of him the same thing.

 “Boring, bored, boring. Why doesn’t father just kill him? He has the power of Ra. He could squash him like all these tiny ants. ANTS tremble before me, the great Kahmunrah and future king of all of things great and small! Ha! Ha-ha!”

 “Good god,” you said. “He’s. . .”

 “Disturbed. I know, well, I certainly know that now. This is mild compared to some of the other thoughts I have pulled out of him during my visits. He hid the more extreme aspects of himself well, but not well enough since my parents skipped him and crowned me instead.”

 Ahkmenrah gave Kahmunrah one more forlorn look before taking your hand and leading you out of the throne room.

 Instead of exiting through the entrance of the throne room, you went off to the right. Ahk led you through an archway that headed into an outdoor hallway that ended by opening into an elaborate garden. It was a small oasis with grass and large fern-like plants, trees cropped up in tall clusters and provided ample shade, and flowers that you had never seen before blossomed along tiny streams that flowed out of a large fountain.

 Ahkmenrah’s feet followed a well-worn path to a hammock-like seat in the upper corner of the garden.

 “This was one of my favorite places as a child. It is in the center of the palace and separates our house from our place of business. I played here in peace or with my sisters. Kahmun never had much interest in our games or in nature. See that tree over there, how it is much smaller than the others? Kah cut it down when we were playing a game, but Sitmut and I nursed it back to life.”

 You were quiet for a few moments, the weight of your question filling you with dread.

 “Ahk, have you returned to the time of your death?”

 Ahkmenrah took a deep breath and looked at you with shame in his eyes.

 “I want to know, Y/N. I have always wanted to know, but I am not sure I am ready. I am not sure I can do it alone.”

 “Get that damn look off your face. You have nothing to be ashamed of—who, in their right mind, wouldn’t feel afraid to witness their own death? You don’t have to do anything alone, Ahkmenrah. You have me.”

 Ahkmenrah looked at your face, his eyes searching to make sure you were serious.

 “When I am ready, will you return with me to that memory?”

 “Of course,” you said, cupping his face and kissing him.

 “Thank you.”

 You and Ahk sat together, enjoying the garden for a few more minutes before Ahkmenrah whispered that he’d like for you to meet his mother.

 He took your hand again and lead you out of the north end of the garden. You walked for what felt like forever through hallway after hallway. You couldn’t believe the size of this palace; your precious books fell so short in comparison to being here, seeing, smelling, touching everything you had only ever read about, and it made you feel heady, overwhelmed in the most delightful way.

 Finally, you could hear voices, the pretty trill of feminine laughter spilling out beneath a door. As Ahkmenrah pushed open the door, you found yourself squinting into the sunlight until you realized that the courtyard was not only full of sunlight, but full of women, mostly in white, flowing garments, while white linens hung in the doorways that led into other hallways, all billowing in the slight breeze. You looked around, your head moving comically fast as you noted just how diverse the body types of the women were. Ancient Egyptians were vain, believing that however they painted themselves on their tombs would be however they were resurrected. If only they had known how beautiful their diversity actually made them. Perhaps you didn’t give modernity and progress enough credit sometimes.

 Many of the women were topless, their breasts shaped, once again, with a diversity that was lacking in their paintings. While their skirts or gowns were mostly white, their jewelry was colorful, many of them having jewels beaded into their dark hair. You had started to walk closer to a group of women who were chatting, wanting to look at their makeup, when Ahk pulled you along into another garden. This one, however, was more subdued, filled mostly with flowers.

 You knew her from her aura before you even registered the regality of her clothing. She had the same largess of presence that her son did, and the same warmth radiated from her smile as she turned and saw young Ahkmenrah approaching.

 Shepseheret was dressed in a sheer bright blue skirt, her skin much darker than Ahk’s or his father’s. Her skirt was wrapped around her hips and she wore a golden belt that matched the golden beads that mixed with other colors of beads within her Wesekh. She wore no top, instead only an arm cape of a matching bright blue, mixed with another layer of purple. Her Wesekh was ornate and left only the undersides of her breasts exposed. She looked like the goddess Isis herself.

 Young Ahk bowed to his mother and she opened her arms, pulling him into a tight hug that he relaxed into. Then, he began to talk to her, rapidly, as a young child with much to tell was wont to do.

 Ahkmenrah translated their conversation as you observed their body language. It was clear how much love the two had for one another and it hurt you to think about how much he must miss her. She fussed over his curls and ran her hand down the side of his face before kissing his forehead.

 Young Ahkmenrah had confessed his concern over Kahmun’s lack of interest in the foreigner, and his mother reassured him that Kahmun would learn to embrace his duty, and if he did not, it was up to her and Merenkahre to worry about it, not her youngest son. She praised Ahk for his sensitivity, his quiet skills of observation and told him that they were strong qualities, qualities that he must nurture.  

 “Ahk, she’s achingly beautiful, so warm and loving. You have her eyes and her presence.”

 “I miss her very much,” Ahkmenrah said, the sadness and loneliness from the first night you met filling his eyes.

 You squeezed his hand before Ahkmenrah let go to approach his mother. He looked at her face for a long moment before asking her what she was thinking.

 She whispered a short, simple sentence, and Ahkmenrah translated it with a thickness in his voice.

 “Ahkmen, my sweet, loving boy. I wish I could keep you safe with me, here, always.”

 Your eyes filled with tears at the genuineness of her love for her son, and you looked away, feeling like you were intruding on something deeply intimate.

 Ahkmenrah, not missing your reaction stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

 “What is it?”

 “The two of you. . . you’re just so pure, so raw in your emotion. She loves you so much, and it’s almost as if she knew that fate was going to take you from her.”

 Ahkmenrah gripped you tightly and kissed your temple.

 “So many retellings of our history are rife with betrayal, anger, and a hunger for power. But I was so happy here, so happy with my parents and sisters, even my brother. This is what I was hoping you would understand—we were unafraid of loving, of sharing, of truly living each day to its potential.”

 “And it was cut so short for you. I’m sorry for that, Ahk. Sorry that you never got to experience having a family of your own.”

 “It makes me sorry, too. But,” Ahkmenrah said, turning you in his arms, “fate brought me to you.”

 You smiled, his words wrapping you in a warmth that rivaled the heat of the desert.

 “How much time do we have left?”

 Ahkmenrah pulled a watch out of his pocket.

 “Another hour. What would you like to see?”

 “How about your room?”

 Ahkmenrah led you down another series of corridors, not too far from his mother’s wing of the palace. His room was as you had imagined a young prince’s room would be—large, ornate, and with a great view. His room opened onto a balcony that overlooked the Nile and the many farms of Egypt that littered the banks. The view took your breath away, and once again, you found yourself wishing you could spend an eternity here, just gazing out over the land of this ancient civilization.

 Ahk’s movements inside his room drew your attention back to him. He was laid out on what you assumed was a bed. It was small, and it was comprised of a woven mat. Ahk’s head currently rested on a curved slab of marble, and you scoffed, unable to believe that living people slept like that. You had always assumed the Egyptians’ discovered version of a pillow was used only for entombment. Apparently, you were wrong.

 “I guess the luxury of a big bed with fluffy pillows wasn’t something that came about until people got a bit lazier,” you said as you poked at the bed.

 Ahk twisted out and gestured for you to get in. You cautiously laid down, terrified you were going to fall through it, wondering how the hell anyone could’ve copulated on such a thing.

 You fit your head onto the pillow, and fixed Ahkmenrah with a look of disgust.

 “No, not lazier. People just got smart enough to realize that sleeping on a rock sucks.”

Ahkmenrah chuckled and then fixed you with a slightly lecherous look. “I know that is not all you are wondering about.”

 You huffed and sat up, attempting to bounce slightly on the bed only to realize that there was absolutely no give on the mat.

 “Care to show me how that worked then?”

 Ahkmenrah ushered you into an adjoining room, this one even more private than his bedroom.

 Your mouth dropped open as you took in the elaborateness of this room. In the center was a large bath, closer to how you would define a small swimming pool than a bathtub. It had four carved pillars that formed fountain heads in the shape of the god, Min, that were running with water flowing from—

 “Ahkmenrah, I think this room is vastly inappropriate for a child.”

 He laughed, explaining, “We are educated about sex at a young age. We grow up knowing that it is our responsibility to pray to the gods for fertility, not only to propagate amongst ourselves but to also propagate the land. Fertility was the center of most of our worship, and that,” Ahkmenrah said, gesturing to the very prominent phallic fountain head, “was a very strong sign of it.”

 For the millionth time that evening, you found yourself caught up in the disproportion of reading about something versus actually experiencing it.

 You went back to studying the room and noted that the water itself was littered with petals. It smelled so sweet it was almost like a narcotic, rushing to calm your mind.

 All around the bath were various steps or stone curves with blankets and squares of stuffed fabric that resembled pillows. Also littered around the room were mirrors, some of them directing beams of sunlight from openings in the roof directly into the bath.

 “The mirrors—that’s how the bath was kept warm. How clever!”

 “Most of the mirrors serve that purpose, yes. As you can see, once I got older, this is where I would . . . entertain.”

 You looked around the room once more, taking it all in. You imagined what it would have been like to have been a guest of young king Ahkmenrah—except you didn’t really have to only imagine it.

 “How much time do we have again?”

 “Mmm, about 40 minutes now.”

 You turned to face Ahk, your chin tilted up in a haughty stance, and declared, “I’d like to conduct some research.”

 His face split into a wicked grin as he pulled off his t-shirt and stalked to you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Quickly, you both undressed, but you hesitated, clearly unsure about how this would work.

 “I think you need to command me, my king,” you said with a shy smile.

 Ahkmenrah looked at you with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on his lips as he stepped into the bath, settling with arms spread out to either side of him, completely relaxed.

 “Come here, my queen. Slowly. I want to watch you.”

 You walked to the edge of the bath, eyeing the steps inside of it. You sedately entered, allowing the warmth of the water to pull you further and further in.

 Once the water was up to your collar bones, standing on your tiptoes, you hesitated, waiting for another command.

 “Sit on my lap.”

 You moved slowly through the deep water and back into the shallow as you stepped up to take a seat on Ahkmenrah’s lap. The water ran down your freshly exposed skin in tiny rivulets, cooling your breasts and making your nipples impossibly hard.

 “Kiss me.”

 You bent your head and kissed him, languishing in the taste and feel of his tongue as it swirled with your own. You ran your hands along as much of his skin as you could touch, and when you were both nearly breathless, Ahkmenrah tilted his head back, breaking the kiss. He looked into your eyes, his pupils dilated. You watched his lips form the command that sent a shiver of lust down your spine.

 “Fuck me.”

 The starkness of his command, the pure power that radiated from his eyes as he looked at you when he said it, made you wetter than the bath itself.

 When you centered yourself above his cock, slowly lowering onto him, you noticed that you could see yourself in one of the mirrors that was directly behind the bath, and that mirror pointed directly at a mirror Ahkmenrah was staring into. You looked at him and he gave you that wicked grin again.

 Your breathing picked up at the thought of just how sensual this was, and both of your moans mingled and reverberated through the room as you sunk down and engulfed his hard length.

Ahkmenrah never moved his arms from their place on the edge of the tub as you rode him, so you shifted your own hips and chased your own orgasm as you leaned back, your breasts a tantalizing sight for him as you bounced, splashing water over the sides of the bath. Never once did he buck his hips. Never once did he reach out to cup your breasts or bend to take a nipple between his lips. Never once did he grasp your hips to control your movements.

 You were almost flabbergasted by how quickly you found your orgasm, watching your mirror-self bite your lip as your climax took hold, eyes rolling back, surprised at just how erotic it had been to be commanded by your soft, sweet Ahk.

 It was clear that this was his place, his time, and he was a king here.  

 You slowed down a bit to catch your breath, but Ahkmenrah commanded, this time in a more biting tone to remind you who was in charge, “Fuck me.”

 You entered a new state of bliss as you continued to drive Ahkmenrah to his own peak of pleasure, your thighs trembling with your continued movements, your hands digging into his shoulders, leaving tiny nail marks in his skin. When his mouth finally parted as his head lolled back, a stream of ancient Egyptian tumbled from his lips in a deep growl as he climaxed, his hands tightening on the edge of the bath.

 You, fully enmeshed in this fantasy, didn’t stop moving until Ahkmenrah commanded it, the muscles of his own thighs twitching beneath yours.

 Once his breathing steadied, he raised his head to meet your eyes.

 “Can I kiss you?” you breathed, his softening cock still inside of you.

 “Of course,” he whispered, clearly returning to the persona of Ahk that you were used to, and as you kissed him, he wrapped his arms around you, finally shifting to pull his cock from inside of you as he moved you to the center of the bath to ease the goosebumps on your upper arms.

 You were wrapped up inside the warmth of the water and of Ahk’s arms and longed for this to be your life. No more stress, no more decisions, no more school, no more need for money, nothing but Ancient Egypt and Ahkmenrah.

 Except this was only a memory, a place confined to the limits of Ahk’s own experiences.

 And as if he read your mind, Ahkmenrah pulled you out of your thoughts as he said, “I’m sorry, Y/N, but we need to return.”

 You looked at him, taking his face in your hands, running a watery hand through his hair.

 “Thank you for bringing me here. This is . . . incredible. I was just wishing that we could—”

 “Do not get stuck in that wish, Y/N. It would be too easy for us to just stay here, to just be stuck inside of this, but that is what we would be. Stuck.”

 You raised your brow and with an alarming sincerity said, “I could be okay with stuck.”

 Ahkmenrah laughed softly and kissed your nose. “I appreciate that, but we both know it isn’t true. Come on, my queen. Let us redress in our regal clothing of the present.”

 You chuckled at Ahk’s quip and climbed out of the bath to dress. He pulled the tablet from your backpack and opened a doorway that led you out of his memory and back to the museum.

 * * * * *

 After experiencing Ahkmenrah’s memory, you redoubled your efforts on your dissertation, finding that your writing flowed with a new ease. If you wrote anything that needed backed up with more research, your chairs would catch it. After all, every good thesis took some risks that sometimes took their authors their entire life to fully prove.

 For the next two weeks, you built time into your routine to visit Ahk and explore his memories. The two of you had worked your way up to his crowning and through the first few years of his rule. It was almost time to return to the night of Ahkmenrah’s death, that thought filling you both with dread.  

 However, Ahk didn’t know that you were also carrying another heavy burden; you had to make a decision about Ryan’s invitation.

 It was once again the first Saturday of the month, so you were headed to the museum’s after-dark tours. Your latest chapter was submitted to your chairs, and that gave you a little time to relax while you waited on their feedback.

 Ahkmenrah was standing in the lobby in his full regalia, waiting for one of the volunteers to count out the members of his tour group. You gave him a wave, and his face brightened when he saw you.

 “Can I join this group, please?” you asked of the somewhat frazzled volunteer.

 They nodded without looking up and declared Ahk’s group filled. You loved watching him walk confidently around the museum, interacting with the public, the authority of his presence something that people accepted, unable to figure out why a young museum docent would elicit such a feeling.

 Ahkmenrah was clearly a favorite, and two teen girls whispered excitedly beside you, talking about how hot the docent was. You smiled to yourself, imaging that you’d be thinking the same thing at their age, at least for a minute before you found yourself asking no less than a hundred questions about ancient Egyptian life.

 Ahkmenrah was about halfway through the tour, when you saw Ryan approaching. You couldn’t stop the dread that filled your stomach in an instant as you wondered what he was doing here. Ryan, at first, didn’t notice Ahkmenrah.

 “Hey, Ry. What are you doing here?”

 Ryan raised his brows, “Seriously?”

 You huffed in response. “I told you we’d talk when I was ready.”

 “Babe. It’s a week out. I’ve let you mull it over for two weeks. I’m dyin’ here without an answer.”

 Ahkmenrah had definitely noticed Ryan, and even more definitely noticed when the tour moved on and you did not. He could tell something was wrong by the distress on your face. He led his group into the next exhibit and told them they had ten minutes to explore on their own before moving on.

 The glitter of Ahkmenrah’s apparel caught your eye as he approached, and once again, your nerves seemed to ignite, anxiety clawing its ugly way around your chest.

 “Is everything alright, Y/N?” Ahk interrupted, clearly sending a signal to Ryan that he was very aware of your discomfort.

 Ryan took in Ahkmenrah’s appearance, a little surprised, then smirked.

 “Maybe you can talk some sense into her, mate,” Ryan said. “She’s certainly not listening to me.”

 “What do you mean?” Ahkmenrah asked, his brows furrowing slightly, but his posture remaining straight and intimidating, even though he was smaller than Ryan.

 “We don’t need to talk about this now, Ahk. In fact, it really wasn’t something I wanted to talk about at all. With anyone.”

 “Y/N, I’m trying to be patient because I want to do this with you. We could be happy, really happy. You’ve never been good at just letting life hand you a little bit of something good. Just because this doesn’t come with some steep, universal price, you don’t want to believe it could be a damn good thing!”

 Ahkmenrah’s expression remained mostly stoic, but you could feel him growing angry just by the slight tightening of his mouth and his intake of breath.

 “Ryan, let’s just go. Let’s talk about this—”

 “Oh, I think you should talk about it here, Y/N,” Ahkmenrah interrupted, turning his stormy eyes from Ryan’s face to your’s.

 Ryan was quiet, and watched the interaction, wondering if you’d lied to him about Ahkmenrah not being your boyfriend.

 “Ahk, no. You’ve got a tour, and this is really complicated,” you said, a desperate edge hanging onto each of your words.  

 Ahkmenrah’s clipped tone shot through you. “Complicated? You seem to spend a lot of time getting yourself into complicated situations with a variety of people, don’t you?”

 “That’s not fair. This has nothing to do with you, with us.”

 Ryan couldn’t stop himself, and you wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor when he raised his voice and said, “Us? I knew you were fucking this guy! Damnit, Y/N. You said there was nothing there, and like a fucking idiot I believed you!”

 Your eyes darted around the crowded museum, your hushed conversation and now Ryan’s outburst clearly drawing attention. You could only imagine what your trio of confrontation looked like to outsiders. A glittering pharaoh, a muscular Australian, and a girl who wished she were a piece of tapestry on the wall.

 “You do not speak to her in that manner!” Ahkmenrah’s voice boomed, causing you to jump a little.

 “Oh, no, no, no. We are not doing this, not here, no, no, no,” you said as you grabbed each of them by the arm and pulled them into the nearest stairwell.

 As soon as the door banged shut, Ryan was in Ahkmenrah’s face.

 “She has the opportunity of a lifetime in front of her. Do you want to be the one to fuck it all up?”

 Ahkmenrah’s gaze, still thunderous as he glared up into Ryan’s face, said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 Ryan stepped back and crossed his arms, the desire to fight receding as he realized he was the one with the atom bomb in his pocket.

 “Tell him.”

 You slumped against the wall, and ran your hands through your hair before sighing, “Ryan’s gotten a grant that will take him to Africa and to the Museum of Cairo for a total of six months. He can get me a spot, and if I went, I’d leave next week. It’s . . . it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Ahkmenrah looked at you, the fight having gone out of him with every word you spoke until there was nothing left in his eyes but that familiar, distant sadness.

 No one said anything for a long time.

 “I need to return to my tour,” Ahkmenrah said, his cape trailing behind him as he pulled open the stairwell door and left you and Ryan alone in the echoing stairway.

 “Nothing going on between you and the pharaoh, huh?”

 “Oh, shut up, Ry. Don’t act like you never saw other girls.”

 “I guess that should’ve been my big clue. You never really were jealous.”

 “No, I wasn’t.”

 “Does that mean I have my answer?”

 You looked at him, his sandy hair, his handsome, clever face, his strong arms, and you met his blue eyes for what you thought would be the last time for a long, long time. They reflected the sadness you felt at the realization that this was it—there would never be anything else between the two of you because you weren’t in love with him.

 “I can’t go with you, Ryan.”

 Ryan nodded. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into a long, tight hug, one last time. He let you bury your face in his chest, until you could stop the threat of tears. When you pulled back and looked up at him, he said, “I hope he’s worth it, babe.”

 Ryan turned to jog down the stairs and you listened to the steady echo of his receding footfalls.

 * * * * *

 By just after midnight, the museum was completely empty of its strangers. You had spent the last few hours brooding in the break room, waiting for the tours to finish. Many of the exhibits were still dancing, carrying on and living their best un-lives, and the party atmosphere provided a stark contrast to the anxious dread that filled your mind.

 As was becoming the habit when you fucked up, Ahkmenrah was sitting on the bench in his exhibit, his face a mask of disquiet contemplation. Before you could take a seat next to him, he raised his hand, stopping you, and said, “I want to go back to the night I died. I meant it when I said I needed you there. But after that, we will no longer see each other.”

 “Ahk, I’m not going with Ryan because—”

 “No. This is exactly what I feared when we crossed that line between friendship and created a deeper, more intimate connection. It is not fair to you nor to me. We have been foolish and—"

 “Damnit, Ahkmenrah! I’m not going because I’m in love with you!”

 Ahkmenrah lowered his gaze to the floor and closed his eyes, his voice maintaining an enviable steadiness as he spoke. “Please, Y/N. Stop. I am a means to an end for you. Once you have finished your dissertation, I will become nothing more than a remnant, a period of time that you look back on until you do not even want to do that anymore.”

 “You’re wrong! Time doesn’t work like that when—”

 “DO NOT LECTURE ME ABOUT TIME, Y/N!” Ahkmenrah shouted, his voice reverberating through his exhibit, his Anubis statues shifting, reminding you of their spears.

 Your eyes filled with tears and your lip trembled, threatening to break the dam you had so cautiously built to contain your emotions over these last few months.  

 “Be here before sunset tomorrow,” Ahkmenrah stated, his tone dismissing you.

 “Okay,” you said, your voice weak and strained, fighting off the lump in your throat that threatened to choke you.

 You got as far as the first few steps from the door of the entrance to the museum, and as it shut behind you, you sunk onto the cold, stone stairs, your head in your hands, and sobbed.

 Alone in his exhibit, Ahkmenrah let out a shaky breath as a single tear slid down his cheek.

[fataziraphale]

The Best and Wisest Man Whom I Have Ever Known (A Good Omens Secret Santa)

Happy holidays, @ditherwings!!! I was your Good Omens Secret Santa! I had oodles of fun writing this—I too adore literary history and Aziraphale being a dork. You have excellent taste! I hope your holidays are wonderful and you enjoy this offering from me.

When Aziraphale sent a letter to cancel their dinner plans, Crowley dropped a potted plant in shock, scattering ceramic shards all over his kitchen floor. Aziraphale never turned down the Café Royal. He relished in running into all those authors he was fond of, like the unsettlingly tall one who flirted a bit too much for Crowley’s taste. Plus—and this generally piqued Aziraphale’s interest even more—their French patisserie was to die for.

Perhaps more alarming, Aziraphale’s elegantly looped handwriting announced he was cancelling dinner because he was currently in mourning.

In mourning? For a human, then? It didn’t seem in-character. Among their other arrangements, Crowley and Aziraphale had made a pact, some drunken night in 1431, that they weren’t going to love any specific humans. Sure, it was all right for Aziraphale to go the salons and debate the merits of various magazine poems, or be on a first-name basis with his local baker. It was another matter entirely for him to become attached.

It all got too messy. They’d agreed on that. They’d practically emptied out a winery after Boccaccio died—Aziraphale because the man had made such incredible contributions to the literary canon, Crowley because he’d inspired a whole generation of women to take up masturbating, but both because Giovanni was a friend. They knew what happened to humans after they died, they knew the man’s soul would live on until at least Armageddon, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that they would miss him, and they couldn’t keep going on like this, becoming blubbery messes incapable of doing their duties every time a good drinking buddy got ill. So they’d decided not to. They’d promised.

So then who the dev—who was Aziraphale mourning now?

Miffed at Aziraphale going back on his word (and certainly not worried about the angel, don’t be daft), Crowley fetched his hat and coat and set off into the streets of London. Carriages crowded the road, humans weaving in and out of the foggy air. Crowley flagged a cab and rattled off Aziraphale’s address, tapping his foot against the carriage floor as it bumped against the cobblestones.

It was awfully inconvenient, relying on humans for transport, but he had never been particularly good with horses. He’d read in the paper about a German woman who’d traveled a great distance in some sort of horseless carriage. He’d been thinking of heading to the continent to see what the fuss was for himself. He wondered if Aziraphale would like to come along—they could go hear that new Brahms piano thing everyone and their mother raved about.

But no. Aziraphale was in mourning.

Not for the first time, Crowley wondered if it wasn’t simply a euphemism. If Aziraphale wasn’t angry with Crowley but too polite to say so. Sure, they’d had that tiff in the 60s over holy water, but Crowley had thought they’d patched things up. He’d bought Aziraphale his weight in apology chocolate. So what could be the matter now?

Yet as he exited the cab onto Aziraphale’s street, Crowley couldn’t help but notice a pattern: young men sporting black armbands. Yes, there were bucketloads of them—this one hurrying into his apartment, that one buying flowers from a stand on the roadside, those two comforting a weeping woman. Crowley remembered himself just enough to push one mourner into the street, making sure to do so when no carriages where heading his way.

The bookshop was closed, but that was normal for Tuesdays. Crowley rang the bell and, when no one answered, willed the knob to turn.

The angel Aziraphale sat his desk, sniffling over a copy of The Strand.

Crowley stared at him. Indeed, Aziraphale did appear to be mourning—he wore a black crêpe around his upper arm, and another adorned the hat hanging on his hat stand. He put down the magazine with a sigh that came from the very depths of his soul, if angels had that sort of thing (Crowley wasn’t entirely sure). He removed his spectacles from his nose, tucked them into his pocket, and caught eyes with Crowley across the room.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Aziraphale murmured. “You’ve read it, haven’t you? Do sit down. Would you like some tea? No, you’ll likely need something stronger.”

Mystified, Crowley lowered himself into a chair, stopping first to lift a heap of books off its seat and onto the floor. “Read what? I saw the men in the streets. Who died? Is it someone important?” His eyes widened. “They didn’t catch that friend of yours, did they? That author who wears all those gaudy green flowers?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Oscar is perfectly sound, though I’m not sure A Woman of No Importance was his tightest work. Perhaps he should stick with prose rather than drama.”

“Then what’s this about? Someone from your gentleman’s club? No, it’s got to be some famous bugger if everyone’s gutted about it.” Crowley cast his eyes around for inspiration. “It’s not the Queen. I would have heard if it were the bloody Queen.”

Aziraphale drew a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. Crowley had never known Aziraphale to be a crier, but now he was getting the disturbing impulse to start saying things like “There, there” and “It’ll all be all right in the end.”

“He was a great man,” said Aziraphale. “Perhaps Britain’s finest. Crowley, I simply don’t know how I will go on without him.”

Crowley had already reached across the desk for Aziraphale’s hand before he remembered he was supposed to be a demon. “I thought we said we weren’t going to do this. Not after Joan. We weren’t going to get close to humans.”

“Oh, he and I aren’t close. Goodness, though, I should think I’m going to write the man a very stern letter. You simply can’t go playing with people’s emotions like that!”

“It probably wasn’t his fault,” Crowley said. “You know, dying. Humans tend to do it whether they want to or not.”

“But humans can choose not to murder a beloved cultural figure!”

This caught Crowley’s attention. Murder wasn’t always the work of his side, but it was certainly more in his wheelhouse than the angel’s.

“Do you want revenge, angel?” Crowley tried his best to snarl, but his tone came out more like sympathy. “Because I can help you with that. I can turn the murderer’s… undergarments into ants. I don’t know, give me time to think of something really devious, I’m a bit rusty.”

“Perhaps you could write him a letter too,” said Aziraphale, and then his eyes lit up. Something inside him clicked, and a smile lifted his chubby cheeks to Heaven—just as it had when he’d first tried bread back in Mesopotamia, or last week when he’d showed off his charmingly bad gavotte.

“We could start a movement,” Aziraphale gushed. Crowley’s heart, despite not strictly needing to beat, threatened to give out altogether. “Yes, I believe we could! One letter might not sway the man, but twenty? Fifty? One hundred? We could rally the men in the streets! Tape up posters in Trafalgar Square! I could make a picket sign! I’ve always wanted to make a picket sign.” He stood up, raising a triumphant fist as he glared righteously at a stack of encyclopedias. “Why, if we put enough pressure on the man, he’ll have to cave! He’ll bring the dead back to life in no time at all!”

“Er,” said Crowley. “I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. If anyone can think of a way to bring back the world’s greatest detective, it’s Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“Why would this Conan Doyle bloke kill a detective? Did he do a crime he wants covered up? Does the detective owe him money?”

“What? Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley could feel his cheeks growing pink for at least three reasons. “Sherlock Holmes is fictional. He’s Doyle’s literary creation.” He frowned. “I gave you The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes last Christmas. Did you not read it?”

Crowley stared. “Do you mean to tell me, all this time, you’ve been planning to skip out on dinner because you’re mourning someone fictional?”

“He’s a very good detective.”

“I don’t believe this! Angel, I thought you were actually depressed!”

“I am depressed!” Aziraphale scoffed. “And it’s perfectly reasonable to be affected by literature! Why, just last year, I closed my bookshop for a month to recover from The Picture of Dorian Gray!”

“I thought you just didn’t fancy dealing with customers!”

“And you, my dear.” Aziraphale jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you! 1806 BC! You cried after reading The Epic of Gilgamesh! At seeing the humans’ first attempt at truly great literature!”

“Angel, those were tears of laughter! That guy Enkidu had a hard-on for two bloody weeks! Could you keep a straight face reading that?”

“There’s no need to be crass.” Aziraphale coughed into his handkerchief, but Crowley could recognize those upturned lips anywhere. “Anyway, I’m hardly alone in this. Plenty of readers lived for the Holmes stories. It’s a true pity there won’t be any more.”

“Good. Oodles of angry humans. Doyle did my job for me.” Crowley was already mentally drafting a very threatening letter. Naming the man’s children should do the trick. In the off-chance he didn’t have any children, well, the replacing Doyle’s undergarments with ants idea was growing on him.

“But you see, this is why I mustn’t go to dinner with you.” Aziraphale assumed his most sincere expression. “It would be disrespectful to be seen lavishly dining and carrying on when such a tragedy has befallen the literary world. Why, none of my friends there would let me hear the end of it.” He gazed forlornly into an empty mug, rimmed around the top with cocoa stains.

“What about lunch?”

Aziraphale’s head snapped up. “Oh, excellent. I’m simply starving. And a man must eat. No one could blame me for that.”

Crowley’s mouth curled into a devilish grin. He held out his hand, and Aziraphale took it. “I won’t tell any of your author friends if you don’t bring up me and Gilgamesh.”

“Perhaps only in private.”

“It’s a funny poem! The bloke had sex for two weeks!”

“Ah, that reminds me. If you truly don’t want your first edition Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, may I have it back? It would make an excellent addition to my collection.”

“You devious bastard. You only bought me that bloody book because you wanted it.”

Crowley weaved between dusty stacks of hardbacks and emerged blinking onto the Soho street. Remembering the mourner with his arm around his compatriot, Crowley vaguely thought of putting an arm around Aziraphale.

But that wasn’t the way their love language worked. Crowley’s love was showing up. Was badgering Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle to a bloody pulp until he brought Sherlock Holmes back to life, logic be damned. Was giving Aziraphale an excuse to pig out on French pastry. Was hailing a cab and taking Aziraphale’s hand to pull him up inside.

As Aziraphale’s plushy hip pressed into Crowley’s, he thought of the new electric lights they’d shown off at the Paris Exposition. He could feel that current now, running through the angel’s body into his.

He realized Aziraphale had only broken his promise if their pact not to love humans extended to fictional ones. At any rate, if it included falling in love with angels, Crowley was in an awful lot of trouble, and he owed Aziraphale about £15.

Perhaps some promises were made to be broken.

[fantasiesxwritten]

The Bet

Chewing slowly on another fry, sitting in the booth at Fizzoli’s somewhat listening to my girlfriends gossip about nothing of interest to me. Just as I was about to devour yet another fry, my friend slapped it out of my hand, gaining my attention again.

“Earth to Erica! Hello! I know you heard what we said.” Kiesha spat at me as I watched the fry fly out of my hand and across the table.

“Excuse you! And no, actually I didn’t. The dark and nothingness outside was more appealing than what you sluts were discussing.” I replied snidely at her with a smirk playing on my lips.

The girls laughed on cue at my less than humorous and sarcastic comment. They were all ass kissers as far as I was concerned, so I could never take any of them seriously anyway. “Mhm. Just like you. Ms. Too Cool for School. Anyway, so we were saying that we should make a bet on–” Kiesha rambled on before I chimed in and decided to up the ante on whatever lame bet they’d had going. “How about.. I bet that I can seduce the next guy that walks into the restaurant into having sex with me?” On cue again, they all looked at me like I was crazy; none of them daring to say anything to my suggestion. “No? Ya’ll are pussies.” I shrugged and grabbed another fry, putting it into my mouth. Anna spoke up suddenly, “I dare you.” Our eyes locked as I raised an eyebrow at her challenging me as if I wouldn’t or couldn’t get away with it. When I didn’t back down from our staring contest, she quickly looked away. “Well you’ve got yourself a bet, Anna Banana. Now we’re talking. I can only imagine the little cheap ass bet you guys had going.” I added. “Well alright then, E. Let’s see you work.” They all turned around to stare towards the door as I just sat there, already having a clear view of the door. We all watched and waited like hawks to see who the next hopeful would be. I had my fingers crossed underneath the table, praying that whoever he was; God let him be attractive. A shadow could be seen walking up towards the door, before the actual silhouette of who it was, and it seemed all of us had our breaths caught in our throats with anticipation. He neared as the door was pulled open and in he walked. I squinted to get a better looking before I realized it was him. Christopher. My fucking neighbor. Shy ass, timid ass, Christopher. Rolling my eyes, I sat back in the booth now, completely relaxed and uninterested in following through with the bet. I knew that would be a failed mission at best, because he was probably too prude to even be seduced, let alone fucked. All of them turned around after getting a good look at me; staring holes into me, all with the same looks plastered across their faces. “Well?” Kiesha broke the awkward silence. “He’s cute, bitch. Get to working.” She said, giggling quietly. I rolled my eyes once again and crossed my arms. “Hell no. That’s my square ass neighbor. I am not trying to fuck him.” “Oh. Or maybe you can’t…?” Dolly added her input, making my eyes widen slightly at her rebuttal. “Or maybe I just don’t fucking want to, okay?” I shot back, full of attitude. “Nah, Erica. You’re not backing out of this now. It was your bet, you’re going through with the shit. So get your saddity ass up and go over there and seduce his fine ass.” Kiesha shot right back at me, rolling her neck and the whole nine. I sighed loudly and dramatically, turning and pushing Krystal who sat next to me, so she could move and let me out from the booth. It was clear they weren’t about to let me out of this one, so what choice did I have but to approach him and at least give it a try. I knew this wasn’t going to end well, Chris and I weren’t exactly the most fond of one another. But I couldn’t tell them that, they would have just thought I was making another excuse to get out of this bet. Once Krystal was pushed abruptly from the booth, I straightened out my dress casually and tousled my hair a little; walking over in Chris’ direction. I turned back to shoot them all a glare before continuing on to where he sat by himself. When I reached him, he was deeply into a book that he’d brought with him to the restaurant – so typical Chris behavior. I muttered some insults about him under my breath before I interrupted him. “Hey there neighbor.” I tried my best to sound warm and inviting. Chris turned his head slowly and looked me up and down. “Oh. Hey Erica.” He responded nonchalantly, covering up his shy demeanor and turning his attention right back into his book. “Whatcha reading?” I prompted as I pulled the stool out and invited myself to sit down next to him. He flipped it over to the front of the book to show me the cover as opposed to answering me. “Ah, I see.” I replied, rolling my eyes. One of my trademarks. Especially when I was as annoyed as I was right now. “So, how’s it going? How’s your family?” I asked, making irrelevant small talk. “They’re good. Thanks for asking.” Chris replied quickly. I couldn’t believe I was even attempting this and with him of all people. This wasn’t going anywhere, fast. I turned back slightly to look at the girls again who all had their eyes glued to us. Kiesha shooed her hands in my direction, insisting on me hurrying up the process. I shrugged at them and nodded in his direction, letting them know it wasn’t me; it was indeed him. Turning back to face Chris completely now, our eyes locked instantly. He had been watching me, and now I was hoping he hadn’t caught any of them; except the last bit. I reached out and ran my hand up and down his upper arm, going for the cliche approach now. “Wow, you’re really getting buff there, aren’t you? Have you been working out?” I asked, waiting for his usual reaction – dry and boring. Chris turned slightly and a smirk curled up on his lips. Now, that threw me for a loop. Square ass Christopher, smirking? No way. “Thanks. I’m glad someone has actually taken notice to my hard work.” He remarked, taking in the compliment. “Well, I’m definitely noticing. I like what I see.” I replied, grinning from ear to ear. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought after all. I reached out to close his book boldly, and running my hand over his chin, shifting his head to face me again. Chris gulped loudly, wearing that nervous look he usually has going on. “What do you say, me and you get out of here?” I posed the question more as a strong suggestion than a question. “Uh-uh. I mean, where do you want to go? I kind of just wanted to eat some food and read my book. The one that you just closed, now I’ll have to find the page again.” He chuckled anxiously, looking from the book and back up to me. “Fuck the book, Chris. Live a little. I promise I’ll make sure you still eat. Let’s just get out of here.” I stated, a little begging lie underneath my tone. I needed him to not reject me, at least not while my friends watched from a distance. And if I didn’t go through with this bet, they would never ever let this go. That’s something I was not willing to deal with, not from them at least. Chris shrugged and grabbed his book up from the counter. “I guess. Where to?” Backing up some, so that he can push out his stool and get up from there, I shrugged my shoulders innocently with a smirk dancing on the corners of my lips. “I don’t know, your place?” Chris looked apprehensive and uneasy about the place of choice I’d suggested. I lightly planted my hand against his chest, patting it softly; while looking up into his big brown orbs as they looked down at me. “Unless you’d rather we go to my place.” I suggested an alternative. He quickly shook his head, clutching his book underneath his arm. “No, no. My place is fine. My parents won’t be back until after midnight anyhow. Let’s just go and whatever it is your planning, I hope you’re making it worth my while on top of the food I’m missing out on for you.” Giggling cutely as I slipped my arm in between his and walked arm and arm towards the door with him. “I promised you I’d still feed you, right? I’m a woman of my word.” I smirked, but not at him. Over at my onlooking friends as we walked through the door together and out of the restaurant. The next battle was trying to figure out who’s car we would take, Chris insisted on us taking his, but I was hesitant on that simply because it would mean leaving my car here at the restaurant. I wanted to drive myself there so that I could make it back here and give them all the juicy details I knew this night would be filled with. Chris was about to be turned all the way out tonight and all I could hope was that at the very least, he wasn’t a virgin. I didn’t know the first thing about fucking around with a virgin, my sex drive was far too high and experienced for the guidance that one would surely need. Finally agreeing and settling on letting him drive us, I slid into the passenger seat of his two door Honda Accord as he pulled out of the parking lot to the restaurant, joining late night traffic and driving off into the direction of our neighborhood. It didn’t take us long before we arrived in the driveway of his two story home that was literally a few houses down from my own. Turning the car off, we both opened our doors at the same time as I got out and closed mine and turning to see him walking over to my side of the car. I tossed my hair over my shoulder as Chris stood right next to me and motioned with his arm extended for me to approach the door to his house first. Wearing a smug look on my face, I walked up ahead of him towards the door, looking over my shoulder as he followed behind me to find his eyes below – way below – as he caught me catching him and stopped. I chuckled lightly under my breath as he came around now to open the door for us. Fidgeting nervously as he unlocked the door, until he finally got it open and let me walk in first. “Thank you.” I whispered out seductively, walking inside and standing in the foyer of his house, watching as he closed the door and locked it; setting his keys down on the table that stood off to the side of the door. In my head, I knew a move needed to be made and quick. I didn’t have all night to loosen him up and ease him into this – it was my bet after all and the longer I hesitated to fulfill it, the more the girls would try to turn it around on me, as if I wasn’t capable. I knew how capable I was, and once I turned on my charm for him, not even prude Christopher would be able to resist. “So, Erica..” Chris started as he strolled over to where I stood. “What was the big deal in us coming ba–” Grabbing him by his shirt, I hushed his words with a rough pressing of my lips to his. Instantly he returned the kiss, our lips slipping off of each others as Chris’ hands found their way around my waist tightly. For what I thought I knew of him, he was a damn good kisser and it was throwing me all the way off. I had fully expected to be in control of this whole situation, but Chris cleared that thought from my mind when he took the first move in letting his tongue slide casually inside of my mouth; finding mine and rolling his around it. Allowing me to suck on his roughly as my hands crept up to his face, cradling it in them and tilting my head to suck his tongue harder. Chris’ hands trailed down from my waist to cup my ass in his strong hands and lift me up, making me wrap my legs around him as he walked us off toward the stairs. Moans escaped through my lips into our kiss while he carried me up the stairs carefully until he stopped in front of his room with his back to it. I reached out behind him and pushed the door open with my palm flat against it, removing my hand as he walked backwards inside. My body was beyond ready at this point in anticipation, I just hoped that Chris didn’t get cold feet all of a sudden and leave me panting. Collapsing back onto his bed, with my legs still straddled around him, Chris pulled back some to allow me to grab the bottom hem of my dress and pull it up slowly over my head, tossing it. He stared down at my breasts in amazement as if it were his first time ever being this close to a woman’s body. “Don’t stare, that’s rude.” I joked with him, running my manicured nail up his throat lowly to stop at his chin, aligning his face up with mine. “But I’ll forgive you, if you fuck me like no tomorrow…” His eyes glazed over for a second as his lips curled up into a smirk. That smirk he wore was panty wetting and he had no idea just how sexy he was to the female species. I had no idea how sexy he was up until the moment downstairs when he took initiative with our kiss. “Is that what you want?” Chris asked, seemingly confused and taken back by my daring and bold comment. I nodded. No sooner than I did that, Chris lifted me up enough to flip me over to the side of him on the bed. Laying completely flat on my back, I watched as he slid down to his knees in front of me, situating himself between my thighs that were also spread. Using his hands, he spread them even wider as he reached up under my ass to grab my lace thong and pull it down and over my ass quickly, getting it off of my legs and letting it find my dress that was thrown about his room somewhere. My heart beat hard in my chest as I looked down at his head between my thighs, while his lips found my right thigh and pressed against it; sending goosebumps breaking out all over my body. He trailed his soft kisses all up the inside of my thigh before moving over to the other and doing the same. Inhaling deeply, his face met at my center as he breathed against my lips, “Mmm, you smell good enough to eat. I hope this was what you planned on feeding me.” Shocked, appalled and turned the fuck on didn’t even begin to explain the way I felt upon hearing those words. I let my back fall against the bed as I moaned out softly. Chris’ tongue parted my lips as his tongue lay flat against my clit before he drug it up and down, flicking against it lightly with the tip. Shock waves went through me as my back arched in reaction to his tongue; which flowed down below to dip inside of me where he kept it there, sliding it in and out of me. He stiffened it up and let his tongue taste me repeatedly, long and hard. “Shit, Chris…” I moaned out a little louder now, thrusting my pussy into his mouth. His tongue was deep inside of me now as he continued to bring it in and out slowly until he picked up the pace, leaving me wanting to fuck the shit out of his face. He gripped the sides of my thighs with his hands, holding onto them tightly as he trailed his tongue back up and swallowed my clit into his mouth. Sucking over it slowly, letting his tongue roll around it slowly before flicking up against it again; harder than the first time he did. I planted my hands on top of his that lay on my thighs, rolling my hips in slow circles against his mouth; his tongue doing as my hips were. Chris’ face was embedded between my thighs for what felt like hours because of the hazy cloud my mind was in from his head game. I don’t think I’d ever gotten head this great before, not even from previous experienced lovers. His tongue knew just the spots I loved and when he was inside of me – goddamn it was as if I was close to a sweet death that I wanted more than life itself. The last time he let his tongue tease back inside of me, he curved the tip upward as he was deep inside, pulling out and going back in. His tongue was having a battle with my g-spot and his tongue was winning; as my back arched a little more and I felt my pussy contracting around his tongue inside of me. “Fuck, fuck, fuckkkkkk!” I yelled out as I tightened the grip I’d had on top of his hands, rolling my hips harder and faster into him. My orgasm was coming and it was coming fast as he let his tongue slip out and go back up to my clit; collapsing his lips around it and sucking it hard. That did it as my body gave into him willingly, exploding from his tongue on me. “YESSSSSS! Don’t fucking stopppppp.” I screamed out in a midst of moans, as his tongue never slowed up its suckling on my clit; my orgasm strong and hard. Pulling away from me fast, he left me still moaning out in pleasure as my eyes struggled to flutter open from the tight squeeze I had them closed in. When they did open, my body was still shaking lightly from my tremendous orgasm as I watched Chris intently as undressed himself and scurried over to the dresser with his back to me. I could only assume what he was doing before he turned around and proved me right. Walking back over to me, a condom adorned his extremely large dick– now that was more than a pleasant surprise because I hadn’t expected him to be packing like that. Inside I was now wondering how could someone as square as he, be toting that inside of his pants and not have a girlfriend for that reason alone. The thoughts that were now swirling around in my head were wild enough to make a whore join a nunnery. “Are you scared?” Christopher asked as he got closer to me as I now sat up some on the bed. “Hell no. Why would I be scared?” I retorted with sarcasm dripping from my words. If anything, he should be scared of me. I was the one with experience and could put it on him with my eyes closed. “You should be.” Chris said in a low and dark tone as he pulled handcuffs out from nowhere, or so I thought. I could have missed them while being so enthralled with the size of his dick. Dangling them around in front of me, with his other hand he reached out for mine to pull me up. Pulling me up hastily, I was on my feet, standing before him as he led me around to the front of his bed. Stopping us both in front of one of the posts that went all the way up to his ceiling, Chris directed me to wrap m hands around it. He came over to the side to handcuff my hands in such a way that my hands stayed suspended upward and around the post; while handcuffed. Even though they were tight around me, I was now beyond in shock at the freaky side to my neighbor that only seeing was believing. Maybe I was a bit scared now– scared but intrigued nonetheless. He came around to stand behind me and suddenly my world went dark, as he began to tie what felt like a scarf around my head; my vision shielded from anything and everything. “Uhhh, Chris..?” “Shhhh.” He said, tightening the tie around me. Next I felt his hand connect with my ass as he gripped my hips and pulled me back some, so that my ass was poking out for him. With his dick in his hands, he began rubbing it up the crease of my ass slowly and down to tease over my opening before dragging it further to run over my clit. A small moan escaped past my lips as he continued rubbing it over my clit, before he let it play in the juices from my previous orgasm as he began to slide himself inside of me slow at first. All of a sudden slow turned into fast and rough. Before I knew it, he was gripping the hell out of my hips and pushing himself into me deep and long. My teeth flew to my bottom lip, biting it ever so hard to keep from screaming out as loud as I wanted to. Chris wasted no time thrusting himself up inside of me, and the way I was standing and bent over slightly, his dick was caressing my g-spot already; making me fight off the feeling of an orgasm wanting to break free soon. I could feel my walls clenching around him, as I pushed back on him slightly; rolling my hips along with him. Stopping suddenly, but still staying inside. “Erica, don’t move. I didn’t ask for your help.” Stunned as he spoke, I instantly stopped rolling my hips, letting Chris have the complete control he insisted upon. Without warning, he pulled back slow and then rammed himself inside of me, making my breasts press up against the post hard. I groaned out as he kept repeating the action; pulling out slowly, before slamming back inside of me. “Ahhh! Fuck!” I moaned out loudly, ignoring the pain I felt from my chest consistently being rammed into the post. Chris effortlessly pulled my body back onto him; each time he pulled me onto him, his dick was creeping feverishly inside of me. Tossing my head backwards as the sounds of his body connecting with my ass filled the quiet room amongst his random grunts and groans. Moaning along with him as he filled me up over and over again, clapping against my ass hard while it rolled against him; I pushed back a little harder. His hands slipped down from my hips and to my ass, grabbing my cheeks hard and pulling me into him over and over again, making my ass jiggle for him faster. A moan came out of my mouth, louder each time my skin was against his. I could feel how hot my ass was beginning to feel from the way I was being slammed into him. “MMMMM!” I let out loudly, as Chris showed no mercy, his dick beating up my walls so. “Say you love this shit!” He demanded through gritted teeth as his face was pressed up to the side of my neck; sweat being exchanged between us. “I-I..” I stuttered out from my body trembling, “I loveeeeee this shit!” “Yessssss. Now throw that ass back on me.” He hissed out, biting the side of my neck hard and pulling on my skin between his teeth. “Ahhhh, yesssss. Fuck me, Chris!” I moaned in response to his words. I never would have guessed my neighbor was this undercover freak. Boy, was I wrong about the way I pegged him. Looks were most definitely deceiving. Grinding myself against him hard, Chris gave it all right back to me, his dick leaving and then entering me again; always harder than the time before. I wanted to use my hands so bad, but the thrill of not being able to had me more excited than I would have expected, having little to no control. Our bodies continued clapping up against each others, Chris’ groans echoing louder around the room. As the sweat dripped down the side of my face, I felt my body getting hotter as the seconds marched on. “Shiiiit, Erica. I'ma bust so fuckin’ hard in this shit..” Chris warned me, his words making my clit jump at the thought of him releasing inside of me. Pushing my ass into him while rolling my hips, I felt my own orgasm building up quickly and steadily. Chris leaned his forehead into the nape of my neck as his dick never left me any more than an inch, all while he rolled himself into me consistently. I felt him swelling up inside of me, but he didn’t slow down one bit. My pussy reacted to his swelling by contracting and throbbing around him; ready to cum for him as well. Grabbing my ass hard as he pulled me against him, preparing to cum inside of me; I could feel the way his twitches began come in faster. He bit down on my skin with his teeth as he groaned out loud and his pumps were coming in faster than before. “Ahhh, yeahh… fuck!” Chris spoke out before he clenched his teeth around my skin again; harder than he just was. “Oh my God, Chris…. shit… fuck..” I was just moaning out randomly, balling my hands into fists as they were still held up high. I was about to cum and hard, the feeling welling up inside of me. My stomach muscles began to tighten and I had that built up feeling that came right before I released and relaxed. “Cum with me…” Chris whispered against my skin. His breath against me was almost like a bomb going off inside of me as my back arched deeper and I gave into him, and all over him. My breathing picked up heavy as loud moans circulated around the room, my body giving him what he wanted as he gave me what I had wanted. Both of us groaned and moaned together as we released for each other; Chris’ moist skin clapping against mine hard as he found his piece of Heaven inside of me. I could just collapse right now, if only my hands weren’t tied up. He began to slow up some, letting his dick run in and out of me slower and slower with each stroke. “Shit…,” he breathed out slowly, his breath blowing against me. “That was…” I was speechless. I couldn’t even find the words to explain the way that felt and the way I was feeling right now. “Amazing, I know.” Chris finished my sentence, his voice full of conceit. He chuckled at himself as he pulled back and out of me, leaving me still tied up and blindfolded. All I could hear was his hard footsteps against the floor as he pulled the condom off of himself and disposed of it. He walked back over to me taking his time as he made his way back over to remove the blindfold he had around my eyes, dropping the scarf onto the bed. Now that I could see again, my eyes adjusted to their surroundings. Next he used the key to release me from the handcuffs as my hands dropped down and I brought them up to my chest, rubbing around each of my wrists with the opposite hand gently. “You’re conceited as hell. More so than I thought.” I said with a smile covering my face; Chris tilted his head to the side at my comment. “And what are you?” He spat in return. Confusion dawned on my face as I pondered what he meant before inquiring. “What does that mean?” Chris crossed his room to put back on his boxers and his tee that he wore under his shirt. “Just what I said. You must really have thought me to be naive. How sad.” I was confused as hell still as I found my panties and dress sprawled out on the floor and begin to follow suit with him in dressing myself. “I still don’t foll–” “Just save it, Erica. I knew all about your little bet. This was just a quick fuck for me.” His eyebrows raised as he spoke the words into the air. “Wha-a-at bet?” I asked stupidly. “Right. Dress yourself, get the fuck out of my house and never bring your ass back here again.” His face read all sorts of serious as mine read embarrassment and the apology that I wished to speak, but thought against it. After I’d finished getting dress, Chris stood at his doorway with his arm pointed and his finger along with it in the direction that I needed to go. Silently, I left, doing my walk of shame all the way to his front door; opening it and leaving out. A walk of shame indeed as I would have to find my way back to the restaurant and avoid explaining this tragic ending to the girls. Never in my life had I experienced anything such as this – the embarrassment mixed with the kinky and best sex I’d ever had in my life. Only to know that I would never be able to have it again. Chris left me turned out in the worst way possible. Now I would never be able to explore those four walls again with him, all because of a stupid ass bet that was my bright idea to begin with. On the long walk back to the restaurant, I went over all the lies I could muster up to tell the girls, because the truth was definitely not an option – not for me at least.

Author | Kierra Posted | August 2012