Heart eyes + sweet talk with our favorite funky little Pharoah
“Oh, Y/N,” Ahkmenrah breathed, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open, causing him to look more child than king as he surveyed the rooftop pool.
Your brother owned one of the most exclusive hotels in the city, and he let you pick a night in the middle of the week to surprise your boyfriend with some outdoor alone time.
“Chlorine doesn’t exactly smell like rose petals,” you apologized.
“You secured this area just for us?”
“Just for us,” you affirmed.
“So . . .” Ahk said gesturing at his clothes.
You held up the rooftop key between your fingers and gave it a little shake.
“No one’s getting up here until we’re ready to leave.”
Ahkmenrah’s face lit up, his grin contagious as he shed his clothes within a nanosecond, and you couldn’t help but laugh as your Ancient Egyptian was now standing on a rooftop in New York City gloriously naked.
“Your turn,” he sang as he looked at you like you were an ethereal creature instead of a mere mortal.
You followed his lead, stripping your clothes off quickly and relishing in the wicked feeling of being naked in such a public space; a part of you wondered just how many of the taller buildings around you had a telescope fixed on you at this very moment.
But there was something sexy about that thought, though, so you grinned and stretched, not missing the way Ahkmenrah’s eyes ran over your body.
Then, he held out his hand and you took it, letting him lead you into the water. Even though the pool was heated, and despite the stifling temperature of the city, you shivered as the cooler water enveloped you, your skin breaking out in little goosebumps as you swam to reach Ahk who was in water almost up to his neck.
He laughed for no reason, his arms splayed as they churned the water, so you swam into his embrace and wrapped your legs around his trim hips. The water held you up until Ahkmenrah’s arms found you, drawing you against his body.
“I have not felt this relaxed in ages, my love.”
“Good. I know it’s hard being cooped up all the time. I wanted to do something special for you.”
“Gifting me with your time, your presence, is more than I could ever ask for.”
“Stop,” you said, blushing at his praise and lowering your eyes to break the intimacy of the moment.
But Ahk was having none of that.
The water sloshed as he reached out to tip your chin back up. His eyes, a dark blue in the dim lighting from the underwater lamps throughout the rooftop pool.
“You are a treasure, Y/N. Never have I known a soul like yours.”
“You’re pretty special, too, pharaoh,” you said with a soft smile.
Ahkmenrah was looking at you like you had hung not just the moon, but the stars and the shadowy night that wrapped them up, too.
“I love you,” he stated firmly, proudly before he kissed you.
As your mouths moved together in a practiced heat, you knew, without a doubt, that you were the luckiest person in the universe to have found someone like Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth Kings, but more importantly, you had found the one true king of your heart.
This HC I’m currently writing is going to be the cutest, fluffiest fluff you’ve ever seen. Hope y’all are prepared for another Uncle Rami and Zara appearance... because this is.....
Dealers choice on which Rami character, if any at all, taking care of his lady sick with the flu and miserable. Por favor :)
Elliot 🖤
* * * * *
You looked up, miserably, as the door to your apartment cautiously opened.
Elliot walked into the dark room, his eyes peering out from beneath his hood, strange grey orbs that seemed to hover rather than sit within his face.
It hurt to watch him move, your eyes aching along with ever other part of your body as you huddled under the thin the blanket of the couch, too weak to move to the bedroom to grab a comforter. Elliot shuffled closer, and you could see droplets of rain clinging to his hood, and you watched them fall as he pulled it down, your eyes mesmerized by the way they glistened in the light.
Oh god, you were so fucking sick.
Elliot’s hand followed its familiar course through his hair, his lips eternally parted in a way that normally made you want to kiss him.
“Hey,” he finally says, squatting down in front of you so he was at eye level as you laid on the couch.
“El—please. I don’t wanna get you sick.”
“That why you didn’t answer my texts?”
You subtly nodded before burying your face in the too-thin blanket and sneezing three times in a row. When your eyes peeked out again, they were filled with tears.
“Ow,” you murmured.
Elliot’s lips turned up in a quick quirk, which you had early on learned to accept as his smile.
“Poor thing,” he said, his monotone voice, deep and comforting.
You tried to smile, but it just hurt too much. A violent shiver coursed through your body and your teeth began to chatter as you tried to wrap up tighter in the blanket.
Elliot’s lips turned down at the corner as he worked out how woefully unprepared you were to be seized by this nasty flu. He stood up, his ankles cracking as he moved toward your bedroom.
He returned with your fluffy white comforter, and he took great care in wrapping you up like a burrito. Your eyes blinked shut in what you thought was only a moment, but when you opened them again, Elliot was looking at a thermometer he had clearly just pulled from between your lips.
“102,” he tsked. “You’re really sick.”
Elliot reached down to gently touch your forehead, a barely-there press of his hand as if he were afraid you’d break.
“You probably don’t have a single thing you need. You work too much,” and from anyone else, it would have sounded like chastisement. But from someone who picked their every word with care, you knew he said it out of love.
“I’ll be back. Rest,” he ordered simply.
And with another blink he was gone. And with another, he had returned.
You heard him rustling the grocery bags onto the counter and you wanted to get up and help, but your stomach was threatening you, holding you prisoner in your tight ball of contagion.
Elliot appeared in front of you again, squatting just as he had done earlier, but this time he was searching your face, his eyes filled with concern.
“You’ve gotta sit up, honey.”
The term of endearment was like a lightening bolt to your heart, recharging you, if only for a moment.
Elliot helped you sit up, your head pounding and your stomach leaden.
“Take these,” he said holding the Tylenol to your lips and patiently waiting for you to follow his command.
He pushed them quickly into your mouth, then held up the cup of orange juice ready-to-sip with a straw.
“Try to drink a little more,” he pressed gently.
You took another long pull and swallowed thickly, shaking your head to let him know that was all you could handle at the moment.
“Want to stay here? Or I can carry you to bed?”
“Here.”
“TV?”
You nodded, desperately in need of something to distract you from the horror of the beginnings of the flu.
Elliot settled in on the end of the couch and gently pulled you down to his lap. His thigh was warm and comfortable under your cheek, his jeans smelling like his laundry soap and a hint of cigarette smoke.
“Rest,” Elliot said quietly as he very carefully draped his arm over the blanket burrito that housed your shivering body. “I’ll take care of you, Y/N. I promise.”
After another three heavy blinks, your eyes stayed closed as the Tylenol began to work. You drifted off to sleep, feeling just a little bit better knowing that Elliot was going to take care of you.
