#3. a sore throat where my ability to speak was taken away for almost an entire week

[teabutmakeitazure]

On this fine Monday afternoon I am suffering from an eye infection in both of my peepers

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

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[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 9

Y’ALL THOUGHT I WAS JOKING WHEN I SAID “ I JUST WANT TO SEE SIMEON [REDACTED] AND [REDACTED] WHILE [REDACTED] AND [REDACTED] ALL THE WHILE MC AND LUCIFER [REDACTED] UNTIL SIMEON IS [REDACTED] OUT OF HIS MIND” I wasn’t.

I’m so, so, so, sorry that this chapter took so long to come out. (シ_ _)シ There was a lot of self-doubt when it came to writing it so it took a little more time before I realized my original plan was the right way to go. I’ve been really excited to write this, so I hope it translated well. Hope y’all enjoy!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10] 

Pairing: Simeon x Lucifer x Reader, Lucifer x Simeon Genre: REALLY filthy smut Wordcount: 7,400 ish   Tags: Threesome F/M/M, Spitroasting, Pegging, rough sex, overstimulation, chastity devices Summary: Desperate for release, Simeon's willing to give you everything, including his body. It's just a shame he's too prideful to do it alone and once again needs to call in a favor. 

Plunge

Your kisses were hot enough to brand his skin. Lips, breath, scent, all of it cloyingly sweet and heady. He reached out to brush your hair from your face just so he could kiss you without abandon. Simeon whined when you pulled away from him. He reached out to you but you pushed him back onto the soft covers of his bed. “No.” you told him firmly and placed a finger onto his lips. He kissed the digit reverently before you slid your finger away, traces of his saliva leaving a glistening trail down his chin.

Your fingers found his nipples and pinched them, hard. He cried out in pain, but there was no question that the pain only turned into pleasure as you ground against his throbbing member. He called for you, his throat parched and hoarse from screaming in pleasure. You only giggled and watched him writhe under you. “No.” you reiterated. “Be a good boy.”

And what could he do but obey you? Listen to your every command as you made his body sing and reach highs he had never achieved before. His cock throbbed, aching to be buried within you, he would do anything for that moment to have you fall into his embrace and make sweet love to you. You were heaven on earth and he was so, so close to salvation.

Your hot mouth wrapped around the tip of his length while your hands kept his legs spread wide. He could feel every one of your taste buds as your tongue swirled around the tip of his cock. He clutched onto the sheets below him, his knuckles turned white from the sheer force of his grip. Simeon keened, begged and pleaded for mercy, yet he knew he would get none. Not while you were in control. No, he knew you would pull everything out of him before he got his release, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He felt you hum while you sucked him off, drawing him closer and closer to his climax. Just when he couldn’t take it anymore, you pulled away and waited for him to stop heaving for air. You had the grace within you to let him breathe for a moment before the tell tale buzz of a vibrator was turned on and pressed firmly against his aching cock.

“Good boy.” You purred and grinned gleefully as his screams echoed in the room. “Cum nice and hard for me now. If you do, I’ll let you fuck me.” Your words were more than temptation, they were pure sin and he didn’t give a damn if he fell, just as long as he was with you. His reward was within reach, and the pleasure building within him reached a breaking point.

As pure euphoria washed over his body, Simeon awoke, panting covered in sweat and dizzy from his dream. His fingers were sore from clinging onto the sheets and there was a distinctive sticky wetness that came from his leaking cock that strained against the cage you had placed onto him. He sighed, tugging at it, hoping that it would give him some relief but it only made the throbbing worse. Simeon took deep breaths, trying to focus on something, anything, to get his mind off of the erotic dream he had. With how often he awoke like this since that night, it was almost routine for him to take a cold shower to wash away the sinful thoughts that invaded his subconscious. Most days it worked, but with how intense his nightly visions were becoming, even that tried and true remedy wasn’t enough.

After seeing you so wantonly taken by Lucifer not once, but twice now, the dreams had started to come in. At first, he didn’t think too much about them, after all it wasn’t the first time he ever had an erotic dream. But, when it involved you and what he now knew you could do for him, his nightly visions  became extreme. It was all he could think about. Sometimes, the dreams involved Lucifer as well, goading the two of you on he couldn’t hold back anymore and was ready to fuck you out of your mind. However, even in his dreams, he was denied the ability to take what he wanted as his body always jolted him awake the moment he was just about to enter you.

It had been a full week of this torment. Simeon expected to be used to it. The weight of the cage on his cock reminded him of that fateful night and everything you and Lucifer did to him. Never had he ever been so pampered and spoiled, yet left hungry for so much more. It never failed to get his member straining against its confines.

The memory permeated his regular thoughts and crept up on him whenever he least expected it to. He wasn’t even granted the privilege to rub one out when the thoughts became too much anymore. He was cursed to be stuck with the discomfort of not being able to find release. Somehow, after such a blissful night, his life was an eternal hell of constant arousal and frustration. The inability to find any sort of relief only caused him to stress and be more on edge. He was being driven mad with a need and a desire to defile someone he swore he wouldn’t do.

Something needed to be done.

Simeon hated calling in favors, especially when he just finished paying one back. Still, he didn’t know who else to turn to and his fingers once again dialed the number to his old friend.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.” Lucifer’s drawl was as smug as ever when he finally picked up after several rings. “How has your week been?”

Simeon only sighed, he was sure Lucifer knew exactly how his week has been. “I need help.” he deadpanned, unable to deal with Lucifer’s pompous tone more than he absolutely had to.

“So soon? Are you writing a new novel? I must say, I was rather enamored with how you wrote the last few chapters of your book. I could tell exactly what parts you took---”

“I’m not writing a new book.” Simeon cut in, huffing in frustration. “I need help… With… Well…”

“Well?”

“The cage you put on me...” He finished his sentence with a fair bit of shame, hating that he had to admit to Lucifer of all people that he was having problems with being too over aroused all the time. “I… I can’t cum with it on.”

“Oh, don’t you know? That’s the point.” Lucifer’s chuckle incited a fair bit of anger within Simeon, but he managed to keep a level head somehow. “Come on now, surely you didn’t think it was just for show...”

“Lucifer, I haven’t been able to sleep properly for a week.” Simeon hissed. “I need to do something about this before I snap and do something I regret.”

Lucifer hummed, completely seemingly nonplussed about his friend’s reaction. “Hmm, well, that would be a shame wouldn’t it.” Simeon could hear Lucifer shrugging to his phone. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know, take it off? You have a spare key, right?”

“Oh no, the one key that exists belongs to your dear friend. Last time I talked to her, she told me the only way she’s going to take that off of you is if you promise to take her.”

There was a fair amount of silence on Simeon’s end. Lucifer wondered if the call had been disconnected and was almost ready to hang up before he heard his friend speak again. “I can’t do that.”

“But it’s what you want, is it not?”

“It’s not about what I want. You know as well as I do that this isn’t something I can do.”

Lucifer sighed, almost pitying how Simeon was fighting his urges. “Is your divinity really that important to you?”

“I… I cannot take what is not meant to be mine.”

“Then, if you cannot take, what can you give?”

Simeon blinked, confused at Lucifer’s cryptic words. He knew Lucifer had something planned, as always; and he had to tread carefully to avoid his fall. Still, Lucifer offered him a sliver of hope, and he would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t piqued. “What are you suggesting, Lucifer?”

“Oh? I thought you’d never ask...”

He was only two steps away from falling. Though Lucifer couldn’t take those steps for him, he could at least offer a little push in the right direction.

~~

You laid your head on counter of the bar, the cool wood gave your burning cheeks a little reprieve. Most of the night had been spend nursing mixed drink after mixed drink. With one final rather stiff order, you finally felt sufficiently drunk to the point where you didn’t worry about Simeon or what he thought about your relationship with him.

You hadn’t seen him in a week. He hadn’t said a damn thing since everything that happened at Lucifer’s penthouse and you were beginning to believe it was all a fever dream. Lucifer had been right about one thing, Simeon wasn’t the kind of person to tell you what he wanted. It was a constant guessing game and you were tired of giving the wrong things to him. No matter what, he remained steadfast in his promise to not fuck you.

You groaned, sipping your drink and looked over at the bartender. “What do I do.” you whined, hoping to get some advice.

“Ah? What’s this? Relationship troubles?” he asked softly while carefully drying a glass. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain your plight.

“How did you know?”

“Well, judging by your demeanor and how often you’ve come in the last week, clearly something is bothering you. When you complain about your job, you ask for beer. This whole week though, you’ve requested mixed drinks, I can only assume that what worries you is a little more ah… personal.”

“Asmo, you are too good at your job.”

He giggled softly, putting the glass in its place and picking up a new one. “Well, I wouldn’t still be working here if I wasn’t good at what I do.”

“This is very true.” You nodded, once again taking another drink. “I don’t know what to do… I really like this guy, but I can’t tell if he’s invested in me the same way I am for with him.”

“Well, now that really is quite worrisome, isn’t it?” Asmo stopped you from answering while he fulfilled an order. He chatted merrily with the customer but he did keep an eye on you to make sure you weren’t too far gone. After all, you had offered him a rather juicy tidbit, he was rather invested now in your story. He wandered back to where you sat at the bar and returned to cleaning glasses now that the patron had their drink. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Venting your frustrations out to someone who was basically a stranger was oddly cathartic. You started from the beginning, keeping some details vague just to protect Simeon’s public reputation. Even if your story was for Asmo, you never knew who could be eavesdropping. Your tale was interrupted a few times by customers, but luckily it was getting late and most of them were just getting one last drink in before heading home for the night. The interruptions became less frequent and you were able to eventually finish your story along with your drink.

“So yeah… I came up with the idea of putting him in a chastity belt, and now he hasn’t talked to me for like a week and a half.” You pouted and slouched over the bar. “Do you think I went too far?”

Asmo hummed, wiping down his workspace and mulled over your story. It was just as juicy as he thought it would be. Some of the details you mentioned had him getting rather excited, and he was glad for the tall counter hiding his growing arousal. “Well, all things considered, I think you’ve given him as many hints as possible. If he can’t tell what you want at this point, then that’s on him.”

“But how can I tell if that’s what he wants? He won’t tell me anything.”

“Ah, you see, you’re giving him yet another chance.” Asmo chided. He took your empty glass from you and slid over a new drink. “On the house.” He declared with a bit of a wink. “You’ve given me a good story to listen to, it’s only fair that I compensate you properly for it.”

“Thank you...” You looked at the concoction and took a sip. A myriad of flavors and sensations flooded your tongue and you took a moment to savor his creation. The warm burn of alcohol rested at your chest and you mulled over the bartender’s cryptic words. “So, are you saying I should stop giving him chances? What should I do?”

“I’m saying maybe, you should take a chance this time around instead.” He smiled sweetly at you and continued to calmly clean his space.

“Huh…” you mused. His words still confused you, but they did get your mind thinking about how else to perhaps coax him to tell you what he truly wanted.

As if on cue, your phone lit up and a message appeared. You had to rub your eyes and make sure you weren’t dreaming; the alcohol running through your system sure made things seem rather surreal from time to time. When you were sure that the message hadn’t disappeared, you picked your phone up to read what the contents were.

[SMS: cAN YOU cOME OVER NEXT wEEK??? i NEED TO tALK TO YOU??? ]

Seeing Simeon had taken the initiative to finally text you sent an exciting thrill through you. You had seriously thought about drunkenly texting him and demanding answers, but this was much better than your poorly thought out plan. His inability to text was still as bad as ever and you giggled at how silly the serious message seemed with the mismatched capitalization.

“Hm? Now that’s a lovely sound I didn’t expect to hear. Did something good happen?” Asmo leaned over the counter when he noticed the change in your demeanor. It was as if the heavens had heard your thoughts and prayers, hoping he would contact you first. After having poured your heart out to the bartender, there was no way you weren’t going to listen to his advice.

This was your chance and you were going to take it.

“Yeah. He wants to meet up next week. I guess it’s time to take your advice to heart, huh.”

“Indeed. I hope it works out for you.”

“Oh, I have a feeling it will.”

~~

It didn’t feel like the week could go by fast enough. You finally had a reason to visit Simeon again. It was odd how quickly you missed him when you didn’t have a purpose to go to his place. Before, you could excuse your weekly visits as work. Now that his book was complete, you couldn’t find an excuse to see him unless he invited you over. To say you were excited to see his text was an understatement. You had hastily written a reply in your drunken state. The typos made you cringe when you looked at it the next day, but your meeting with him was still confirmed.

Your mind was mostly preoccupied with your visit. The work of your new clients piled up as you spent hours on end staring into space and imagining what you could do to him next. You had pushed him so far the last time you were with Lucifer, you had been sure he would be ready to break and just ask to take you, but that moment never happened.

You might have replayed the events of that night over and over again, trying to figure out where you went wrong. Eventually, you just became frustrated about things you couldn’t change and focused on anything but your upcoming meeting with Simeon. Work was a great distraction and you found you were able to at least throw yourself into that until your appointed day came.

There was no reason to be nervous. You had been to his home multiple times, and with the things that had happened within those walls, you should have been completely shameless. You had an idea of what to propose to Simeon, should he be willing. It was a risk, but one that you were willing to take. It had taken a while for you to come to terms with the fact that there would come a time where you needed to just do things yourself if they were at a standstill.

Regardless of what convictions you had, your resolve wavered when you saw Lucifer open the door. For a moment a bit of anger flared within you. You despised how you were relying so much on this mysterious man to push your relationship with Simeon forward. Though you were grateful for everything he had done for the book as well as the amazing night he orchestrated as a celebration, you couldn’t help but feel a little bitter when you saw him greet you yet again. Simeon hadn’t mentioned Lucifer being present in his text to you and seeing the man threw your confidence off kilter, to say the least.

“Why the long face? Am I poorly dressed?” He raised an amused brow at your involuntary pout.

“I uh… I just didn’t expect you here is all.” You shrugged, trying to brush off the bitterness you felt and walked passed him to get inside. “I wasn’t aware that Simeon invited you as well.”

Lucifer chuckled, already entertained by the energy in the room already. “Well, he asked me for a favor, and it’s very hard for me to resist helping him.”

“Great. That’s lovely.” You deadpanned, taking off your shoes and walking into the common room. You blinked in confusion when you didn’t see Simeon sitting at his usual spot on the couch. “Simeon?” you called out, wondering where he could have gone.

“He’s not over there.” Lucifer leaned against a wall, waiting for you to get your bearings before he finally guided you in the right direction. “Come, follow me.”

He lead you up the stairs and down a hallway to a room you had never been allowed to be in before. Lucifer opened the door and ushered you into the dimly lit room. You let your eyes adjust to the darkness before a rustling noise on the bed in the corner of the room caught your attention. You could hardly believe your eyes at the vision before you.

“He’s lovely no matter what he wears, isn’t he?” Lucifer whispered into your ear, coming into the room behind you and quietly closing the door.

“Y...yeah...”

Simeon squirmed. He disliked having so much attention aimed his way, especially if that attention was while he was dressed so scantily. Lucifer had once again outdone himself in setting up the scene. The sheer lacy lingerie clung to him like a second skin. The thigh high stockings held up by an elaborate garter belt only accentuated his assets. The sheer chiffon thong he wore hid nothing from your sight and you had a front row seat to his cock straining against the cage you put on him weeks ago. When he shifted, you noticed a glittering plug fit snugly into his ass. He was breathtaking in his get up and you could feel your cheeks burning from witnessing such a beautifully debauched scene.

“You see, he’s been excited to show you this little getup this all week long. But he still needed a little help getting the last few details right.” Lucifer explained before he sauntered across the room and put the final touches onto the ensemble.

Simeon shifted to get on his knees if only to make it easier for Lucifer to place the bejeweled leather collar on his neck. The glittering lead dangled in front of him tantalizingly once the collar was securely on. He looked over at you expectantly, his eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.  “Do… do you like it?”

You nodded dumbly, stepping forward when Lucifer wordlessly coaxed you forward and offered the lead to the collar. It was surprisingly heavy, looking down, you noticed that it sparkled in the dim light due to all the crystals embedded in it. Your eyes followed the lead until you locked gazes with Simeon. He had the most beautiful pout on his face, his eyes wide and his lower lip stuck out, begging for you to kiss it.

You gave the lead an experimental little tug. As soon as he felt it, Simeon obediently got up and trotted over to where you stood. The immense amount of control you had over him was absolutely mind blowing. “I’ve been wanting… to do something like this for a while now.” he admitted bashfully and turned his face to the side unable to keep eye contact any longer.

Taking his chin gently in your free hand, you shifted his gaze back to you. Hearing he wanted something like this to happen only made you more excited. Hopefully it meant that he was willing to open up a little more. It almost made up for the anger you felt at Lucifer’s presence. Though it was upsetting that you couldn’t coax his desires out of him on your own, you were glad he had reached this point at least. “Tell me what else you want out of this.” You commanded, your thumb gently brushed against his cheek as if it could draw the answer out of his lips.

“I want...” He paused, lowering his gaze but your grip on his chin remained firm and he was looking at you once more with a little jerk of your hand. “I want…” Simeon couldn’t seem to finish his sentence and he stuttered once again.

“I can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me.” You chided softly, tightening your grip on the lead and pulling him down until he was on his knees. Your hand on his chin moved to his hair, gently petting his soft locks before grabbing a fistful and making him wince a bit. “You’ll be a good boy and tell me, right?” You gave the lead a forceful tug, causing his neck to strain and he let out a stuttering breath.

“Y-yes… I’ll be good.”

Your grip loosened enough to give him some reprieve. “And what is it that my precious angel wants?”

“I want you to… I want… Iwantyoutofuckmeplease.” His request came out in a rushed, run-on whisper. Once you pieced together what he said, your cheeks warmed at his candidness. You cleared your throat, trying to reassert the dominance you had acquired. From the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer had made himself at home on Simeon’s bed. He lounged against the headboard, ready to step in if you needed him. For the time being, he was happy to take a back seat to the depravity Simeon was about to subject himself to.

“Is that what you want...” You mused, pretending to be calm, though your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. Truth be told, you had considered doing something like this after Asmo’s advice, but you never thought Simeon would offer such a thing to you. Well, might as well take what’s given…

You gently pat his head and you swore he let out a quiet coo of content at the affection, though you couldn’t be sure. Lucifer watching everything was distracting you from Simeon’s request. Admitting that you would have never gotten to this point without Lucifer’s help frustrated you and it took away from the potential closeness of the moment if it had only been you and Simeon.

As if he could sense your unease, Simeon spoke up. “I asked him to be here… I trust him as much as I trust you.” He leaned his head into your hand, encouraging you to keep petting him. “Please, use him as you wish.”

You turned to Lucifer and raised a brow, surprised that the CEO of Akuzon would ever agree to be submissive to anyone. The man on the bed only shrugged in reply. “He asked for a favor, how could I say no. Have you seen the way he pouts? But it is as he says, I am at your command tonight.”

The shift in power had your head spinning. Both the men in the room were at your beck and call for the night. The final goal being fucking Simeon until he couldn’t see straight. You pulled Simeon back on his feet and ran your hand down his abdomen to tease the cage that kept his cock bound. He whimpered, bit his lower lip and heaved a heavy sigh. He hoped you would be merciful if he pouted and showed you how needy he was; but it looked like you had no intentions of releasing his cock from its confines anytime soon. Then again, he didn’t think he deserve that sort of sympathy from you, not after what he put you through.

“Well, I suppose I should get to work then, shouldn’t I?” you purred. Having so much authority made you feel drunk and made your mind race all the ways you could take the beautiful man before you. You pulled him back up to his feet and pulled him into a quick kiss, careful to only give him a hint of the passion and love you had for him. “I think I have too many clothes on for what you want, so why don’t you be a good little angel and help me out of them?”

Simeon was more than eager to comply. His fingers quickly flying to your blouse and worked the buttons off. His eyes burned with the same concentration he had whenever he was in the middle of writing an intense scene. He moved like a man on a mission and you were left in nothing but your undergarments quite quickly. “Good boy.” You praised, giving him another brief kiss and lead him back to the bed. “Now, are you sure about this? I don’t want to hurt you if it’s not what you want.”

He nodded vigorously. “I want this… more than anything. I want to give you everything that I have… please take me.”

Your heart fluttered at his admission and your dominance faltered for a moment. “Well, if that’s what you want, how could I ever deny you.” you purred once you had a moment to regain your composure. You looked over at Lucifer who was very clearly in on Simeon’s plan. “Something tells me that know what to do next.”

“I thought you’d never call on me.” He got up from his place on the bed and walked over to a drawer. Once he retrieved what he needed, he beckoned you over and you complied after putting the lead to Simeon’s collar down.

From there, Lucifer helped you get fitted with the harness and made sure everything was on securely for you. He worked methodically, fully invested in making sure you were outfitted properly. When he was done, you needed a moment to get accustomed to the rather sizable strap-on you now sported. The heavy weight of the phallic object felt foreign to you and you half wondered how either of the men in the room dealt with something like this on a daily basis.

The straps of the harness hugged your thighs and your hips, keeping everything in its place so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything slipping when you properly got things going. Idly, you reached down and stroked the silicone dildo hanging between your legs which elicited an amused chuckle from Lucifer. “Who knew my cock would look just as good on you as it does in you.”

You sputtered; honestly, you didn’t know why you were even surprised. Of course he would have done something like this. Looking over to Simeon, you stalled for another moment, still hesitant on whether or not this was something he wanted. But, when he called for you with a needy little whine, you were reassured that this was exactly what he wanted.

“You. Strip. In case I need you later.” You commanded to Lucifer before walking towards Simeon who was waiting so patiently for you.

Giving something for Lucifer to do meant you could focus solely on Simeon. “Come on, hands and knees now, love.” you urged, tugging on the tether to bring Simeon into the proper position. As if he could read your mind, Lucifer tossed you the bottle of lube and you fumbled to catch it.

Now that what he fantasized about was actually happening Simeon was more than eager to show you just how needy he was. His ass swayed gently from side to side as you floundered around with the bottle. It was the first time in weeks he had been touched by another person and everything you teased him with only added to his arousal. Precum oozed out of the tip of the cage, dribbling onto the sheets below. You hoped by the end of the night there would be a veritable puddle of his essence on the bed.

The thong he wore really wasn’t holding anything up. It was a pretty, lacy thing, but utterly useless in practicality. It was easy to just undo the ties that held it up at his sides and toss the thing across the room. Now that you had better access to him, you assessed the glittering plug in his ass. “Did someone spend all week getting ready for this?” you crooned softly, tugging at it gently and drawing out a loud whine from as his tight hole was stimulated.

“Y-yes… I want… I want….” He whimpered, falling to his elbows. He had dreamed about this moment for days on end, now that he was experiencing it, his mind was reeling from all the sensations.

“So greedy.” you chided, tugging at the plug harder and watched as his hole spread and stretch to make room for the toy you were slowly extracting from him.

Lucifer returned to the other side of the bed, fully nude and half hard. He laid back, not even a little bit shameful about how much he was enjoying the scene before him. His friend was so close to falling and accepting his fate, yet he was struggling with every fiber of being. It truly was endearing just how hard Simeon was trying to cling to his divinity all the while being so obscene. The human realm’s temptations were truly marvelous.

The plug released from his ass in a satisfying ‘pop’ and Simeon sighed in content, knowing what was to come soon. You marveled at the impressive girth of the plug before also tossing it to the side. It had served its use as preparation for the main event of the night.

You poured a generous amount of lube down his ass crack, ensuring that he was well covered with the slick substance before you entered him. Just as an extra precaution, you gingerly fingered his hole, slipping you fingers into him to test just how ready he was. He let out a long whine that turned into a moan as your fingers explored him. “Please… don’t tease me...”

“Aww, she’s just making sure you don’t get hurt.” Lucifer reassured, stroking his friend’s hair. He had taken a hold of the leash, keeping Simeon’s head up so he could see every change of his friend’s expression all the while you drove him mad with just your fingers.

“I won’t, I’ve prepared all week for--- ahhhh” His indignant quip was quickly silenced as you pressed the well lubed head of the dildo into him. No amount of preparation could have made him ready for the feeling of being stretched and filled by something so large.

You took it slow, still unsure of whether or not you were hurting him. While it was mesmerizing to see the dildo slowly disappear inch by inch into Simeon, you still worried that it could be too much. You could see Simeon clawing at the sheets below him as he accepted every inch of the phallic toy inside of him. It was so much more than a plug. It filled him in a way he never thought was possible and he nearly forgot to breathe if it weren’t for Lucifer quietly reminding him to relax and take a breath from time to time.

It took a small eternity, but you eventually fit the whole toy inside of him. When you finally bottomed out, he heaved an earth shattering sigh and his shoulders visibly slouched for a moment before Lucifer once again brought his head upright. “Good boy.” You praised, patting his ass cheek lovingly before placing your hands firmly on his hips to keep him in place. He visibly shivered as your hips flexed and gave him an experimental thrust. “You took that so well.”

Simeon only whimpered underneath you, pressing his ass back towards you, urging you to continue. You smirked, unable to get over just how much power you had over him. To know you were drawing these sorts of sounds and reactions from him only added to the high you were experiencing and  served to fuel your building arousal. As soon as you started a steady pace, you were quickly entranced at how readily his body was accepting the toy.

It felt amazing to dedicate his body to you. To give everything he had to the pleasure you could draw out of him. The moment you settled on a rhythmic thrusting pattern, he saw you as he knew you owned him as his master, his lover and his god all at once. There was no greater bliss than feeling the toy slide in and out of him, undoing him in spades as it rubbed against his prostate and made him sing.

Simeon keened and wailed, meeting every one of your thrusts by pushing his ass back against the toy. The cum dripping out from the tip of the cage soon flowed freely. He was sure he would have cum by now, but due to the restraints, he didn’t know where his release began or ended. You became bolder with your strokes, fucking him harder with longer, deeper thrusts, making his moans fill the room and bounced off the walls.

“Oh my… so loud...” You mused before slamming your hips into him and making him properly scream. “Lucifer, be a dear and help me gag him, please. It would be a shame if the neighbors heard how dreadfully lewd he’s being.”

Lucifer sat up straight, a smirk spread on his face when he was at last being used for the explicit purpose to further Simeon’s pleasure. He got to his knees and used the lead to bring Simeon’s face to the same level as his cock. “With pleasure.” He said, stroking Simeon’s hair. “Come now, you know what to do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

Simeon was beyond feeling shame. The lust coursing through his veins overran any sense of embarrassment he might have felt. His mouth eagerly opened to accept Lucifer’s cock, lapping at the tip before wrapping his lips around it.

Lucifer groaned, his long lashes fluttering from finally getting a little bit of stimulation. The slack on the lead disappeared as he pulled on the collar harshly. The rough motion allowed his cock to slip all the way to the back of Simeon’s throat, effectively gagging him as you had requested. Hearing his newly muffled moans sounded like music to your ears.

Sensing that he was struggling to take so much all at once, you stopped what you were doing for Lucifer to get comfortable fucking Simeon’s mouth. Once you noticed his body relax and no longer tremble from being so overwhelmed, you went right back to fucking him until he was too exhausted to take anymore.

You got your wish. By the time he couldn’t take anymore, there was a sizable pool of his cum on the sheets and yet his cock still leaked his essence. It looked painful straining against the cage, yet you looked at your handiwork with a sense of pride. Despite all the ecstasy he had felt, he still wasn’t allowed a true climax. Until he said he wanted to put his dick in your cunt, you wouldn’t give him the privilege of release. Glancing over at his face, you saw a mixture of Lucifer’s cum and drool dribbling down Simeon’s chin. The sloppy mess on his face glistened in the dim light of the room. You couldn’t deny, even in this defiled and debauched state, he was beautiful.

You were careful when you finally pulled the strap-on out of his ass, making sure to take your time and memorized every muffled whimper and moan that came from his occupied lips. Lucifer only extracted his cock from Simeon’s mouth when you gave him the permission to do so with a curt nod. He lovingly stroked his friend’s hair, smiling softly. He knew just how close Simeon was to falling, he could feel it. It would only take one last gentle push in the right direction.

Simeon gasped for air, remembering to roll over and avoid the mess he made. He sprawled on the sheets, staring at the ceiling and reeling in the sensations he just experienced. His whole body was sore, it felt like he had gone through a multitudes of highs with no end. He never reached the intense peak of a true climax, but with how much cum was on the sheets, he at least felt some sort of release from what you and Lucifer did. His asshole, though thoroughly abused by the extended fuck session still craved for more.  

Even though he had given it all to you, it still didn’t feel like it was enough to satiate his needs.

He had thought he would be free from his desires once he gave everything he had to you; but there was still a hollow ache of hunger that wasn’t satisfied.

“You did so well. That was amazing.” you purred, crawling over to where Simeon laid and kissing him deeply. Your tongue swiped across his swollen lips tasting him and traces of Lucifer before delving into the caverns of his mouth to get more. Your hand felt around for the lead to his collar and tugged slightly on it once you found it. His reacted immediately, intensifying the kiss and tilting his head to give you a better angle. Exhausted as he was, he was still willing to give you what you wanted. “What an obedient angel I have...” You breathed once the kiss was finally broken. “My precious angel behaves so well.”

He stood at the point of no return. He was so close to crossing the line and all he needed was a little push.

“Ah, an angel he might be, you’re still unsatisfied, aren’t you?” Lucifer commented, his voice syrupy sweet as he slipped behind you and took both of your breasts in his hands. You gasped in surprise, having nearly forgotten he was even there while you focused on taking care of Simeon. While you were still gathering your composure, Lucifer swiftly undid the straps to the harness. In no time at all, it fell to the bed with a dull ‘thud’ before he unceremoniously shoved his fingers into your sopping wet heat.

Simeon’s eyes widened, barely believing what he was seeing. He had been so enraptured by his own pleasure he had forgotten about your own. The shame of not pleasing you washed over him and whatever bliss he felt was dashed away as he watched you writhe under Lucifer’s grasp. With how drained his body was, he didn’t have the strength to do anything but hopelessly watch as once again Lucifer was the one who could draw out true pleasure from you.

He regretted asking for help. He regretted trusting Lucifer. He regretted everything as he was forced to watch you moan and whimper for someone that wasn’t him. Even if you owned him and everything that he was, that didn’t mean he had a place in your heart.

Hot tears pricked his eyes as he was witnessed Lucifer’s cock disappear over and over again into your pussy. Your pleasured moans would be branded into his memory. The bliss that was plastered all over your face was something he could never draw out of you. He could feel what trust he had in Lucifer crack and break with every thrust you eagerly accepted. The way you clung desperately to Lucifer as he railed you and the way your moans sounded was so much more raw than anything he could ever elicit from you. As he watched you cry out for a man not him, he felt a burning ember of rage grow within him. He would never be enough, no matter how much he gave.

His cock was prisoner to your whims and your rules. The one tenet he refused to break was what barred him from reaching paradise. The divine celestials seemed droll compared to the temptations you provided him every time he fell into bed with you.

No, no. Stop. She’s mine. She’s MINE. Stop. Please stop.

The hold you had on his lead fell when you came around Lucifer’s cock. He never ceased to bring you to a violent orgasm with how he played your body like an instrument. You couldn’t stay angry with him when he so easily turned you into a moaning mess with little to no effort. For as much as you craved Simeon, he offered an allure that was irresistible. Like a devil seducing you away from your goal, he shook your conviction and made you doubt if Simeon could ever be this good.

“Oh, fuck… Lucifer.” you groaned, shuddering as your body was overtaken by your orgasm. You lifelessly fell forward, your whole body limp and used after such a good fuck. Lucifer wasn’t too far behind and with a few more frantic thrusts, emptied himself within you. The envy Simeon felt when he saw cum that wasn’t his own flood your pussy was absolutely indescribable. How unfair was it for you to own every bit of him, yet he could not stake his claim on you.

The rage within him boiled under his skin and he weakly reached out for you to cradle your listless body while you rode out your high. He glared at Lucifer who only smirked in return. Simeon protectively curled himself around you, holding you close. You let out a whine of protest when you felt your leg brush against the puddle of cold cum on the sheets, but quickly settled into his embrace. He wouldn’t let the devil take you away, no matter how much he tempted you. No, he would do everything to guard you from that sin. Feeling you nest comfortably in his arms, he felt the anger within him subside, if only for a little bit.

Lucifer knew how to read the room and took the hint that he wasn’t wanted, nor needed anymore. As far as he was concerned, his goal had been accomplished. He looked forward to the result of his goading in the upcoming days. All he had to do now was make a graceful exit. Luckily, being the busy man that he was, it was easy to pretend that he received an urgent text from his assistant as an excuse to leave the two of you alone. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.” he said before taking his leave.

You waited until you heard the front door close before you let your body fully relax into Simeon’s arms. “So, was that what you wanted?”

“Yes, all that and more.” he lied softly, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck before the two of you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He was a step away from the edge and a this point, he was more than ready to take the fall.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 3: The Great Escape

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary:  What’s a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 1733

Of Doms & Subs Master List

I was very appreciative of the thick carpeting because it allowed me to nearly soundlessly slide the dresser in front of the bedroom door.  The window screen was almost as silent when I popped it free of the frame.  The room faced the leeward side of the hill, so it was effectively a three story drop to the ground.  Not being eager to test the limits of my regenerative abilities, I took one of the ropes from my pack and tied one end around a leg of the heavy oak bed.  Rather than drop my bags noisily to the ground, I was grateful for my new strength that allowed me to climb down with them both slung across my back.

It was raining again.  Or would that be still raining?  Hard to tell in this part of the Northwest.  Hopefully it would help muffle sounds.  The thick grass squelched under my feet as I sprinted for the road, avoiding the driveway and the crunch of gravel.  I was so focused that I almost didn’t see the wolf charge at me as I rounded the house.  What was his name again, Ian?  I spun the duffel from my back to the front, using the momentum to slam the end into his solar plexus.  Fifty pounds of weight powered by a werewolf judiciously applied into a two-foot squared area was sufficient to knock the wind out of even another werewolf.

Unfortunately, werewolves recover much faster than humans.  Asphalt was so close I could practically taste the petrichor when Ian grabbed me.  Before I knew it, I was slung over his shoulder so that it dug into my stomach, which was still full of pizza and carbonation.  Not a good combination.  The duffel fell down and I extricated myself from the strap before it could strangle me.  Rather than start a fight I couldn’t possibly win, to keep myself calm, I pondered at what point suffocation would overpower regeneration.

“That was quick thinking with the duffel,” Ian said as a salve to my pride.

“Get mugged on the way back from the gym, or work, you learn to improvise.”  My voice sounded stuffy to me from the blood rushing to my head till it felt like it would burst.  “How’d you know?”

“We were all expecting it,” he laughed.  My stomach really wished he hadn’t as his shoulder bounced against my gut.  “Hell, there’s a betting pool going on when you’d try.”

Ian set me down on the porch and opened the door for me.  We pried off our muddy shoes in the aptly named mudroom.  “I’m gonna have to climb back up the rope.”  He cast a confused look my way.  “I pushed the oak dresser in front of the door,” I confessed.

He threw his back and laughed.  “You sure you’re submissive?”

“That’s what they keep telling me,” I shrugged.

“I’ll send Jim up, skinny dude’s like a spider monkey anyway.”  He gestured for me to hang the backpack on a hook, so I surrendered it with as much grace as I could muster before he marched me down to what I was rapidly coming to think of as the principal’s office.

If Angus had been woken up he gave no sign of it.  He was dressed in the same clothes he wore earlier.  The scowl was certainly the same, if a touch darker.  “Where were you going this time?” he demanded.

“Timbuktu,” I answered far more casually than I felt.  “What is this?  Another attempted case of forced Stockholm syndrome?  Right now the only difference I’m seeing between you and John is a mansion in the city vs cabin in the woods.”

“I tried to be delicate despite the situation and your nature, which is obviously ill suited to our culture.”  If I thought he was growly before, I was sorely mistaken.  What rumbled from his chest to spill through the room had never come from a human throat.  His voice was a wave of power like none I had ever felt before.  I shivered involuntarily.  As embarrassing as it was to visibly react, the more visceral response low in my body was mortifying.  The wolf was anxious to submit.  Our mutual arousal just made that urge worse.

“You are too new to control yourself.”  He no longer bothered with the amiable pose against the desk.  Now he assumed an Alpha stance, drawn up to his full height, feet spread slightly, so his presence was overwhelming even without the mystical power he exuded before.

“I have been terrified, hunted, tired, hungry, held against my will, and am royally pissed, but I haven’t lost control once.”  If someone only heard my words, they’d never suspect that my head was bowed and my shoulders practically hunched.  I told myself it was only a show to placate him in spite of my attitude.

“The full moon is weeks away, so do not make the mistake of complacency.  Do you know what happens to bad little wolves who lose it?”  His register and volume had dropped till it was far more intimate than a voice should be, like a caress that brushed places not entirely physical.  My wolf would roll over and beg for his praise instead of censure in that deliciously dangerous tone.  “Their Alpha puts them down.  Discipline is necessary to maintain the veneer of civility that allows us to co-exist with humans.  Those who cannot adapt to our ways don’t live long.”

Oh crap, I knew that look.  Angus had to teach me a lesson or else be seen as weak, possibly even flouting the Marrock’s laws.  The kid gloves were coming off or else the pack stability was at risk.  The needs of the many and all that.  My pride was bruised enough as it was, so I turned inwardly to my lupine half.  Promise not to go on a murderous rampage?  Her tail thumped happily in agreement.  All right, tagging you in.  She didn’t fully take over.  Instead she removed the inhibitions and fears of what others would think of me for abasing myself.  Wolves didn’t worry about human hang-ups.

I, she, we fell to our knees on the throw rug on the hardwood floor at his feet.  Perhaps it was there as a small kindness to those grovelling, like I was.  It lent a disturbing reality to the term called out on the carpet.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” we whispered to the thick pile.  “Humans have taken advantage of my passive nature in the past.  I’m afraid that may happen again in a pack.”

“While you are in my territory you are safe, but you will abide by our laws, which means you will not leave without a proper escort.”  The power behind his words pressed the air from my lungs and settled into my bones.  There was no hope of disobeying now.  We weren’t even sure we wanted to.  “There are worse things out there than fey and wolves, pup.”

He knelt gracefully next to me, and faster than thought, his teeth nipped sharply at the side of my throat.  Not hard enough to draw blood, but there would certainly be a mark on my pale skin in the morning.  To my utter shame a gasping whimper escaped my lips and the slow warmth that had been growing between my legs suddenly flared into a blaze.  “Now go to bed.”

When I balked at her next point of protocol, the wolf took over just enough to crawl out the door in acknowledgement of the reprimand.  Once in the hallway I scrambled to my feet and practically ran upstairs.  Someone had retrieved the duffel and my pack, although the rope and any other climbing equipment was conspicuously absent.

Too tired to dig out my pajamas, which were in dire need of a wash anyway, I stripped naked and fell into bed.  My wolf’s last thought was, He’s a good alpha.  I had fallen into velvety sleep before I could wonder what that meant.

If her scent had been compelling before, it was maddening in her arousal.  Only Ian’s presence and her fear of being exploited allowed my humanity to remain in the driver’s seat.  Otherwise my wolf would have taken her right there on the carpet.  Dear God, he even liked the idea of claiming her in front of Ian so that he would know she was mine.  As it was, he wanted to seek her out in her den.  Barring that, he’d even curl up and sleep where she knelt.  We both liked knowing that she would carry our mark in the morning.

“I’ll be damned, boss, you may just tame the shrew after all,” Ian grinned from his post by the door.

“She’s not a shrew, only scared,” I sighed and rubbed my face.  “Imagine no preparation, no ceremony, simply an emergency Change by an old lone wolf in the middle of the wilderness.  Given the choice again, knowing what she does now, I doubt she’d make the same decision.”

“Isaac called right before the jailbreak,” he said.  “Their pack can be ready to greet her at six tomorrow night.”

“So soon?”  I had to force my lip to remain still and not curl up in a snarl at the thought of Ellie leaving my territory.

“Submissive female spontaneously Changed and leading us all on a merry chase while trying to deny what she is now?”  He cast me a wry, sideways look without providing a direct challenge.  “Hell, I’d be surprised if they didn’t already know about this latest attempt.  Which reminds me…”  He pulled a thick envelope from a back pocket, drew half of the bills from it, and handed it to me.  “You and Mickayla both picked midnight, so you get to split the kitty.”

“Speaking of Mickayla, see if she can get some time alone with our little escape artist before she leaves.”  I tucked the packet into a pocket.  “If John wasn’t clear on pack politics, I doubt he gave her a comprehensive idea of how much she’s changed.”

“You mean like how to use her nose?”  Ian’s grey eyes were twinkling far too mischievously.  “Or how her sex drive’s gone through the roof?  Because she might’ve already figured that one out on her own.”  I growled and cuffed him upside the head.  “’Night, boss,” he said unrepentantly as he strolled off to his room.

[monsterywriting]

Monster Boyfriend (Dirrath) - pt 1

Part 2

Part 3

word count: 1,666

When the High Queen announced that you were to be the new ambassador between your kingdom of Altruria and the nearby human kingdom in front of the entire court, you weren’t very surprised.

You were the logical choice: your coronation as the 13th Princess was only a year ago and you were technically still in the training phase. As such you hadn’t had much chance to forge much political power or a stance on foreign affairs.

The other twelve were much older and more experienced, and some of the higher ups held magic that rivaled the High Queen’s. That meant they weren’t afraid of defying her orders behind her back to serve their own interests from time to time.

But what drew out your anger was the High Queen’s introduction of your new bodyguard, Dirrath. He had been standing by her side the entire time, inciting some whispers from the court before the High Queen began speaking.

He wore dark leather armor, a stark contrast to the peaceful meeting and to his almost snow white and entirely unscarred skin. His face and hair was obscured by his helmet, but his body was tall and almost unnaturally lanky. He hardly looked the part of hired muscle, but even more so when compared to the thirteen captains of the royal guard standing next to each throne.

You knew better than to argue with the High Queen in front of an outsider, solidarity was important above all else in showing strength. But your body acted before your mind and you shot up from your throne with a strangled cry.

All eyes shifted from the High Queen to you, most shocked but a few others on the council were holding back laughs.

The High Queen turned back to look at you with an eyebrow raised, her mouth in a tight line. Dirrath, slowly turned to look as well, and you could feel him looking you up and down.

Face burning, you quickly bowed to the queen and sat back down wordlessly, eyes burning a hole in your lap.

Clearing her throat, the High Queen dismissed the court and the rest of the council.

“Stay here, 13.”

You froze in your tracks. You’d been half expected her to call you, but you’d been holding on to the hope that the High Queen would let you go.

Rather than remain in the throne room, however, the Queen led you and Dirrath to her private study. Although you were side by side with Dirrath, you pointedly ignored him, keeping your eyes strictly forward as the three of you made your way through the winding hallways of the castle, even as you felt him watching you.

You couldn’t help but wonder where the hell the High Queen even found this guy and if he was even trustworthy. It wasn’t like she could send out fliers in search of a mercenary from outside the kingdom.

“I know your training has not yet been officially completed, 13,” the High Queen began as she locked the large wooden doors behind you and made her way to her desk before nodding for you to sit down on the velvety sofa in front of her, “But I see a lot of potential in you. The Royal Seer also agrees. King Roquechade has already accepted our offer to negotiate trade in writing, so you will head out in a month’s time. Until then, you will take extra lessons in preparation for your meeting. And Dirrath here will be joining you as your personal guard.”

If you had any hope of finding someone to take your place before, it was dashed then. The Royal Seer’s word was law, more so than the High Queen’s. Her’s was the only position in the kingdom allowed to look directly into the great crystal and appoint princesses.

“I understand, my queen, but,” you paused as you ran through every imaginable way to word your next sentence as delicately as possible, “Is my royal guard inadequate, your grace? Surely I will able direct them to your satisfaction in time for the mission…?”

The High Queen smiled knowingly as she leaned forward in her seat, “Don’t worry, I understand what you are trying to say, 13. Why the hell do you need an outsider bodyguard for?”

You shifted awkwardly in your seat, Dirrath still standing near the door, but nodded your head stiffly in affirmation.

“13, you’ve only been in the capital for a year, but you grew up in the border district, correct?” The High Queen waited for you to nod before continuing, “and in that time, have you ever seen a convoy entering or leaving the kingdom?” shake “Do you know why?”

“Altruria’s borders are closed to outsiders,” your ears burned with shame.

It was no secret amongst the council that you had no previous schooling before being selected. It remained quite the sore spot for you since being thrust into the capital with wealthy and highly educated nobility that didn’t approve of an outskirter being the 13th member of the council and in line for the crown.

Your mother was a small town healer with very little magical ability of her own, which meant your childhood education had been limited to the practical uses of various healing plants and potions.

“The guard—and you—lack the necessary experience for diplomacy, especially with a kingdom we’ve been at odds with for so long,” the High Queen mercifully ended her verbal jabs there, “Dirrath is an outsider, and as such understands the outside world. Of course the rest of the court wouldn’t approve of an outsider as a consultant, so officially he is only a mercenary.

“So, unless you have any other questions?” The High Queen gave you a broad smile as you shook your head.

With that, the High Queen turned her focus on the stack of paperwork on her desk, picking up a pen and beginning to scribble away.

You took this as a dismissal, standing and bowing before turning to exit the room, saying nothing as Dirrath turned to follow you.

“Oh, and 13?” The High Queen called one last time behind you, making you pause at the doorway, “Just give Dirrath your armor and he’ll be practically indistinguishable from the rest of your personal guard! You won’t even notice he’s there!”

The sound of your footsteps and little else echoed down the empty hallways, neither you nor Dirrath speaking. In fact, you realized, you had yet to even hear his voice since the High Queen presented him to the court.

“We are going to the training grounds,” you informed your silent shadow, not really expecting a response, and you did not receive one.

This was going to be a long month, you thought glumly.

“My princess,” the captain of your royal guard bowed as you entered the courtyard, a few dozen soldiers in full armor sparring in pairs in the morning light.

You nodded in greeting, waiting until he was upright to talk, “There will be a change of roster in my personal guard, Olek. Dirrath will be joining as a member for the time being.”

Olek cast a leery glance at Dirrath before turning his attention back to you. Of course, Olek was present and standing next to you when the High Queen announced that Dirrath was hired specifically as your bodyguard, but you were currently affirming that you would abide by that decision.

“I would like you to get Dirrath a weapon and begin his physical training.” This was a not so subtle attempt to dump the bodyguard on Olek and be free of him for three months, but there was a clear necessity for training.

Dirrath was much taller than Olek, but gangling and weedy. While you knew Dirrath’s role as your personal bodyguard was just a pretense, you couldn’t help but wish the High Queen had taken more care in selecting someone who at least looked the part.

Olek called for one of the soldiers—Garreth, who had just knocked down his sparring partner and stopped to help him back to his feet before running up to you and Olek—to bring two practice swords and handed one to Dirrath, who took it wordlessly and began studying it intensely.

By the time Dirrath and the other soldier were facing each other and waiting for Olek’s signal, the courtyard was silent and all eyes on them, Olek not bothering to tell the others to get back to their own training.

You stood awkwardly behind Olek, not quite prepared for the report to the High Queen if Dirrath got hurt. Although all the swords were blunted to prevent serious injury during practice, Dirrath still looked so frail, even more so standing next to Garreth.

“Begin,” Olek commanded.

The fight lasts all of two seconds, as expected. What was wholly unexpected was Dirrath standing over a disarmed Garreth, a booted foot on the soldier’s chest and the edge of the sword pointed at his throat.

Garreth, to his credit, maintained his composure, tapping the ground and standing once Dirrath stepped off of him.

Dirrath made his way back to where you sat in the shade, your fist clenching as every instinct you had screamed danger. You didn’t trust Dirrath at all before, but this unexpected show of strength made you even more suspicious of Dirrath and why he was here.

Before he could actually reach you, fortunately, a servant called out to you from the courtyard entrance, indicating it was time for your first lesson of the day.

“Get him some proper armor and try to see what exactly he can do,” you muttered to Olek before following the servant inside.

However, as you headed to the 7th Princess’ study for your magic lessons, the servant stopped you.

“The High Queen has instructed that you take all of your lessons in your study, princess,” she said, bowing as you silently made a one-eighty turn and set out towards your new destination.

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Ch. 10

Marichat time :3

> Read it here on Ao3 <

> Read it here on Wattpad <

CHAPTER 10: NOCTURNE

Music glossary: Nocturne: A musical composition that is inspired by, or evocative of, the night, in which emotions are private, subtle, and understated.

(Music:  Love Me - Yiruma)

Chat stirred, groaning weakly, slowly ebbing from the edge of unconsciousness into a sea of confusion.

Where am I? Am I alive?

His head ached. Memories were fuzzy, as if he were trying to view them from across a great, impenetrable fog. He willed his eyes to open, only to wince from a flash of stinging pain behind. Time to make use of his other senses, he supposed.

The atmosphere was calm and quiet; the gentle smattering of rain clinked off of roofs creating a pleasant white noise. He lay on something that was soft and comfortable and smelled like lavender, smelled like… home. He loved that smell. He inhaled deeply, wanting more. More. More of this soothing, delightful air. More of this tranquility. More of this safe feeling. He ached for it; hungered for it.

Despite the pain in his body, it was difficult to remember when he’d last felt this at peace. He chose to indulge and stay this way for a while; not asleep yet not quite awake, cozily drowsing in the realm of in-between. The real world could wait.

Time passed; he wasn’t sure how long. This was the first time in years that he’d slept without any nightmares, and it was glorious. Could it have something to do with his current location? He couldn’t be sure, but it was a possibility.

Finally deciding he was ready to face whatever was out there, he decided to try to open his eyes again, this time succeeding. It was dark; his sight blurry. Squinting, his view came into focus and he regained his feline night-vision.

Wait. Night vision?

It dawned on him: somehow, he was still transformed.

Scrunching his eyebrows in puzzlement, he examined his surroundings, searching for clues to try to figure out where he was and what had happened to him. The decor looked rather familiar. However, under dim lighting, it looked a bit different and he couldn’t quite place it. He was pretty sure he’d been here before; but when?

The last thing he remembered was… did he really speak with Marinette? Or did he imagine her sweet and caring presence while in his semi-conscious haze, hallucinating to console himself into thinking that he wouldn’t die alone and in agony?

In any case, he knew that the next part had been real: there was pain. So much pain. He had begged for it to stop, begged for anyone to help, even begged for mercy and release.

And then, when it finally stopped… he recalled lithe yet powerful arms holding him, drawing him close and protected, shielding him from the cold. And he felt weightless, like he was flying; the unmistakable smell of rain mixed with the subtle yet distinct tones of cherry blossom. How much of this had been a dream? Thinking on it with a sober mind, that last bit definitely sounded too beautiful to have been real.

But the burning question remained unanswered. What happened? How am I alive?

As he continued trying to piece together what had occurred, he felt something lightly squeeze his hand; something soft and warm.

There, asleep at his side, body halfway splayed across the bed and halfway dangling to the floor, was a woman with long, dark tresses, illuminated almost ethereally by moonlight; her graceful fingers still interlocked with his. Her hand twitched again, squeezing his once more. A tiny, sleepy moan escaped her lips as she turned her head towards him, face still obscured by hair that had fallen across her delicate features.

Brows quirking inquisitively, he idly wondered who she was. It looked like… Could it be…?

Ladybug?

The young woman’s eyes popped open and she jolted into a seated position, spine ramrod straight. Her head whipped around and her eyes locked on his like magnets, blinking in surprise.

Oh. He’d said that out loud.

She let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her hand shot up to her temple (with Chat immediately missing its softness and warmth) and she breathed out in surprise, “You’re awake!!”

He blinked in recognition.

“M-Marinette?” His voice was deep, raspy and sore, as if he’d been coughing.

Or screaming...?

Marinette quickly wiped away some drool from her chin, then smoothed and tucked some stray hair behind her ears (which didn’t do much for the remainder of her almost comical bedhead, but he wasn’t about to mention that) stammering, “Marinette! Y-yeah, that’s me! Hah! Haha… N-nice to meet you?”

Chat blinked. “H-hi…” he replied sheepishly, curling in on himself.

More nervous laughter. Flustered and still attempting to finger-comb her hair and rid her nightshirt from the myriad of wrinkles, she continued, “A-although I guess we may have already met, since you know my name.”

Her movements ceased and she hesitated. Cocking an eyebrow, she asked with a more tempered voice, “ Do we know each other?”

Now it was Chat’s turn to fluster and stammer. He fidgeted with an edge of the bedcovers, looking everywhere but at her.

“I’m— that is, we-we’ve— I mean…”

His chest felt tight. Despite all his crimes, all of his sins and his shame, part of him wanted to tell her; wanted someone to know. Someone who had nothing to do with any of this horrible mess. And it might as well be Marinette, who he cared for immensely and trusted implicitly. She’d be the perfect confidante.

However… it was because he loved his friend that he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t place that kind of burden on her. And it pained him. More than he could express.

He groaned, exhaling deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. With a melancholic heaviness to his voice, he replied quietly, “I shouldn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, right…” Marinette said faintly, trying to hide her disappointment. But as always, the poor girl wore her heart on her sleeve and could never conceal her feelings no matter how hard she tried, for better or worse. She looked away guiltily, almost seeming upset at herself for having asked in the first place.

Chat felt awful. She had every right to ask that question, especially after he’d blurted out her name before passing out. Why wouldn’t she be curious? It just didn’t feel fair that he had an advantage over her like this.

He explained further, partly to remind himself, “I don’t want you and your family to be in danger from Hawkmoth if he were to somehow find out that you helped me.”

Marinette shyly hummed in affirmation as she shifted, clearly stiff from having fallen asleep in a half seated position. Letting out a small grunt, she stretched out her legs and wiggled her feet to get the circulation flowing again.

She shrugged timidly. “My legs are asleep,” she muttered with a lopsided but good-natured smile. Chat’s eyes were drawn to the movement; her socks were pink, fuzzy, and had a pattern of tiny, rainbow-colored macarons.

He smiled back affectionately. She’s so adorable.

She looked up at him, aqua blue meeting glowing emerald green.

“He did this to you, didn’t he?” she stated plainly, not really a question, changing the atmosphere of the room completely; he could have sworn her voice had an almost murderous tone to it.

Chat’s eyes blew wide.

She’s sharp.

There was no use in trying to deny it, was there? He knew she was too smart for that. She’d always had an uncanny ability to figure him out, and apparently that extended to his alter-ego.

Opening his mouth to reply, he stopped, having absolutely no idea how to even begin. How could he possibly recount everything that happened? Not to mention it would require having to disclose his relationship to Hawkmoth, which was out of the question. But Marinette deserved some kind of explanation, after everything she’d done for him.

“He won’t get away with it, you know,” she said before he could answer. “Ladybug’s gonna kick his ass,” she declared with certainty, not a single doubt in her mind.

Chat barked out a laugh despite himself. This girl is something else.

He hummed in amusement. “I’ll bring the popcorn,” he quipped with a smirk.

She smiled fondly at him, although he wasn’t sure why she would. He’d done so many terrible things in the past. But somehow, she’d taken him in regardless; even treated him like a regular person. He grinned back widely. She really was remarkable.

“Marinette...” He hesitated, face shifting into a thoughtful expression. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she replied, folding her hands over her lap.

His lips set in a hard line. “Why are you helping me?” he asked bluntly.

“I…” She looked down briefly, as if deep in thought. She finally replied, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I… I’m a bad person,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Marinette shook her head resolutely. “No. I don’t think you are.”

“But I’m a criminal,” he insisted, looking away in shame. “You could have taken my miraculous and left me in that alley, or turned me in to the police instead of bringing me into your home and taking care of me,” he stated, entirely perplexed.

A corner of her mouth quirked upwards and she shrugged. “My best friend once told me that ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.’”

Chat’s eyes went round, then he chuckled incredulously. Quoting comic book heroes to a supervillain was such a Marinette thing to do.

“And,” she continued, eyes brimming with sincerity. “I think you’re one of the good people too.”

Chat gasped slightly, breath catching in his throat, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to rise up, and he had to keep himself from trembling at her words.

“I…” He looked down, face flushed. “Th-thank you. I’m… not used to being around people as Chat Noir. Much less having them be nice to me.” He ran his hands up and down his arms apprehensively. “I don’t deserve it.”

He felt her touch his forearm, pulling his attention back to her. “Everyone deserves compassion,” she said softly. “And everyone deserves a second chance.”

His gaze bore into hers, eyes filled with awe and admiration. He sighed shakily, his lips breaking into a grateful smile. “You’re so much kinder than I ever realized.”

Clearly caught off guard from his heartfelt compliment, Marinette shrunk into herself slightly, a bright blush quickly spreading across her cheeks, and she muttered a quiet thanks.

Deciding to move on from that subject, Marinette rose to turn on a nearby light switch, clearing her throat and stating authoritatively, “Come on, let’s sit you up. I need to check your bandages.”

“Bandages?” he asked with upturned eyebrows. He looked down at his torso. And then his arms. All were bare save for the glove on his right hand (where he wore his miraculous and, thus, hadn’t been removed).

He paused, still staring at his uncovered skin, as if trying to solve a difficult mathematical equation to no avail.

“Why am I naked?”

Marinette squeaked, high like a mouse, wildly waving her hands in rebuttal. “N-NOT ALL THE WAY NAKED!!! W-we had to dress your wounds, so naturally we had to r-remove a few articles of clothing!” she stammered.

He chanced a peek under the bedcovers and his eyes grew wide. He heard Marinette squeak (again) as she turned away in embarrassment. Had there always been underpants under the suit, or was that a new thing…? Did their miraculous always conjure up magical undergarments along with their outfits and he just never knew about it?

Chat scrunched his brows in disbelief. “My clothes can come off?!?” he cried in sheer bewilderment, as if the thought had never occurred to him before.

“D-DO YOU HAVE TO WORD IT THAT WAY??!” Marinette screeched, hiding behind her hands in mortification.

In spite of all the confusion and awkwardness, Chat couldn’t help but snicker. There’s the Marinette he saw so often as Adrien. So expressive and dramatic and just fun to be around, always able to find a way to make him laugh when he was having a rough day.

Composing herself somewhat, Marinette explained, “There’s a zipper, remember?”

Chat’s eyes widened. Oh, yeah… there was a zipper back there. He’d never paid it any mind; it was just… there. But, as far as he’d known, it was purely aesthetic.

“The zipper works??”

Marinette spluttered incoherently and, due to her temporary inability to speak, pointed towards a side table where his clothes laid, demonstrating that his clothes and boots were indeed removable.

Chat quirked an eyebrow. “Huh. I guess so.”

After regaining her ability to formulate sentences again, Marinette cleared her throat and remarked, “We were going to launder them, but the– uh... stains and tears disappeared on their own within a couple of hours.”

Chat stared at the folded suit across the room. “I… I didn’t know they could do that,” Chat murmured, voice full of wonder.

Marinette replied pensively, “Yeah, it must be part of the miraculous’ powers. I never knew it either.” Her eyes popped wide open after saying this, and she added somewhat skittishly, “Umm, I mean– obviously *I* wouldn’t have known! That ring of yours sure is nifty! I wish my clothes cleaned themselves too!” She gave an odd sort of laugh, which he clumsily echoed back.

There was a weighty pause where all they could do was stare at each other while smiling unnaturally, both waiting for the other to break the sudden silence.

Finally, it appeared as though Marinette gave up on the pretense that this was a normal conversation, cringing at her own awkwardness with a groan.

She spoke, this time with a normal voice, “Sorry, I guess I’m still kind of nervous. I’ve never had a superhero in my house before.”

Chat scoffed. “I’m not sure where you got that idea, but I’m no hero,” he said, voice full of self-loathing and disdain.

Marinette sat next to him on the bed. “But you’re with Ladybug now, aren’t you? That makes you a superhero by technicality.”

“How… how did you know that?” he asked, eyes narrowing in puzzlement.

Marinette shrugged, tilting her head. “Well, somehow I doubt you’re still Hawkmoth’s friend after what he did to you.”

“N-no, I suppose not…” The memory bore down on him like a physical weight, vividly reminding him of how far apart he and his father had grown over the years until it became a towering, impassable wall.

“I saw you earlier today, at the akuma attack,” Marinette explained. “It must’ve been really hard to defy him like that.”

Chat gave her a small smile. “I’ve gotta admit, I didn’t realize it would go down the way it did,” he confessed. “But in spite of everything, of what he did to me, and even if you hadn’t found me and saved my life, I’d… I’d still do it again. I just couldn’t live with the guilt anymore.”

Marinette took his hand, squeezing lightly. “I’m so sorry you went through all that,” she spoke almost in a whisper, voice full of sympathy and sadness. “It must be so difficult.”

Chat looked down at their hands and squeezed back, trying to swallow the large lump in his throat lest he get his emotions get the better of him.

“I appreciate you saying that,” he replied quietly. “This is far from over though. He won’t let me go so easily. I know he won’t.”

Marinette chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought. “I don’t know what kind of leverage Hawkmoth has over you, but I want to help you,” she offered. “Do you have any family you can contact? I don’t have to know who they are, but I can still help you call them or meet up with them.”

“I–” Chat stopped. Family? There was no other family. Except maybe...

Nathalie. I can try contacting her anonymously. But how would I do that? Father will be monitoring her calls. I need to figure out some way to let her know that I’m alright.

“There is one person. She’s my– uhh... aunt. But Hawkmoth is able to check her phone history, maybe even listen in on her conversations; I don’t know exactly how much control he has over all of that.”

Marinette completed his train of thought, “And if you called from here, he’d become suspicious, since it would be a random, unknown number. Hmm…”

Chat crossed his arms, thinking. “A burner phone, maybe? Or… are payphones still a thing?” Marinette shrugged. “I haven’t seen one in ages; I have no idea where we’d even find one.”

She tapped her chin, and Chat had to stop himself from snorting in amusement at the way her face always scrunched up (amplified by a cute, exaggerated pout) whenever the hamster wheels turned in her head.

“Maybe you can create a new email account and send her an encrypted message from a public place with free Wi-Fi, like a library or café,” she proposed.

“That might work. Hawkmoth is…” He wrinkled his nose in antipathy. “He’s a pretty powerful man with a lot of connections. But that might be safe enough.”

Marinette pursed her lips in vexation and exhaled heavily, making a raspberry noise. “Well, let’s worry about that tomorrow. We got a bit off track with checking your bandages.”

“Oh, right.” He pushed the covers down to his waist in preparation.

He hissed in pain as he attempted to sit up, but Marinette gently placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Hold on, let me help you. The wounds on your midsection are still pretty fresh and we don’t want to make them worse.”

With a tentative smile, she scooted herself across from him, gently wrapping her arms around his upper torso, and pulled him up slowly. With a wince, he tried to assist her as much as he could, straining to flex his back and stomach muscles, pushing himself forward. The big, deep gash on his torso made it difficult, but thankfully, Marinette was much stronger than he’d expected, which made the task quite a bit easier.

When they finally succeeded, his head swam from the exertion, exacerbated by the blood loss from the day before. Marinette caught him as he drooped forward, holding him chest to chest. He exhaled in relief, impulsively hugging her in return.

“Are you alright, Chat? Is this too uncomfortable?”

He shook his head. “I’m okay. Just got a little woozy for a sec,” he replied, slurring a bit in his slight haze.

“Take as much time as you need,” she replied with a soft, soothing voice. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

He took a few moments to enjoy the closeness and bliss from one of her trademark all-encompassing and near-curative Marinette Hugs. The type of hug that was reserved for her closest friends and family. His curiosity about why she would choose to gift one to Chat Noir was won over by the enjoyment of the warmth and pleasant tingles that spread throughout his body. The kind of feeling you’d get from drinking the richest, most delectable hot chocolate while wrapped up in the plushest of blankets. It almost made Chat forget that he wasn’t Adrien at the moment.

All at once, however, Chat felt his cheeks heat up from the memory of the last time he and Marinette were in this position, when he held her in his arms during her– ahem – “wardrobe malfunction” at the pool just a couple of weeks prior. It certainly didn’t help that she started rubbing his back in lazy circles to ease his discomfort, just as she had back then.

Pushing aside the memory of their mutual embarrassment, he decided to take advantage of Marinette’s calming presence and the physical affection that she so freely gave (and that he so desperately craved). He sighed contentedly, laying his head down on her shoulder, feeling safer than he ever had as Chat Noir. Having her hold him like this, he could almost swear that he could physically feel her sapping away at the ever-present weariness and melancholy in his heart.

Was it possible to stay like this forever? The answer didn’t seem to matter much right now.

It wasn’t until many moments later that Chat realized the sounds that had been rumbling out of his throat all along. Is that…?

He jerked back, words hastily tumbling out of his mouth. “S-sorry!! I’m really sorry!! I didn’t realiz– I mean, I didn’t know that I– Was I purring??!” he spluttered in disbelief.

Marinette giggled, raising her hands placatingly, somehow not in the least phased about the weirdness of it all, and reassured him that it was totally fine. “It’s actually kinda cute, if you don’t mind me saying so,” she added, trying to hide a smile behind her hand.

Chat smiled back in equal parts confusion and relief. She was certainly taking this whole bizarre situation in stride. It’s no surprise they’d become friends since the first day they met. She was amazing, and not as nervous and skittish as she acted around him as Adrien. He enjoyed seeing this new side of her.

“Since you seem to be feeling a little better, I’m gonna–uh, check your bandages now. If that’s alright with you,” Marinette asked, awaiting his approval.

Holding his breath, Chat nodded, feeling his face slowly heat up again.

She gave him a sheepish smile, then turned her attention to his chest. Her blush deepened and she gulped as her hands hovered over him, trembling slightly.

The moment that her fingers touched his skin, Chat became hyper-aware of just how... exposed he was at the moment. Marinette’s gentle touches and featherlight brushes of skin as she changed his bandages and cleaned up his skin both put him at ease and sent his heart racing at the same time. He was so caught up with relishing the feel of her skilled, deft hands that he didn’t even notice the stinging of the antiseptic, nor the air nipping at his uncovered wounds.

Marinette had to lean in extra close to wrap the new dressings across his front and back, going around several times until all the affected areas were completely and safely covered up. Their flushed cheeks brushed against each other every time she craned forward to apply a new layer.

When she finished, her gaze raked over him inquiringly, lingering on his face. She reached up, cupping his jaw lightly, studying him with an intensity he seldom ever saw in her eyes.

He hardly registered her removing bandages and cleaning his face, his stare unable to leave hers, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It was as if he were on the verge of finding something important, something extraordinary, if only he were allowed to get closer.

“Your wounds are looking a lot better,” Marinette remarked, bringing him back to the moment. “Whatever magic your miraculous has, it’s doing a remarkable job healing you.”

She helped him lean back onto his pillows and, with a quick apology, removed the bedcovers so she could treat the sizable gash on his leg.

“So, uh… What kind of medicine is that?” he asked, curiously eyeing the unusual looking poultices.

“Oh! Umm…!” she stuttered. “T-traditional Chinese medicine! You know– herbs and stuff, this and that. I’m not sure exactly how, but they work like a charm!” She laughed nervously with a small shrug. They lapsed into companionable silence again as she continued working.

A crease formed between Chat’s brows as he pondered his current situation. He had questions. A lot of questions. Questions, however, that he knew Marinette wouldn’t be able to answer. Those mysteries would have to wait until he could talk to Ladybug. For the time being, he was grateful that somehow, for some reason, he hadn’t transformed back and his miraculous seemed to be helping him, despite his powers being primarily based on destruction.

“All finished!” Marinette announced cheerfully, tucking him back into his covers. “You should go back to sleep; your body needs lots of rest. Your wounds are healing much faster than any normal person, and I’m guessing that it’s thanks to your miraculous. I’d recommend staying transformed for as long as you can.”

“I honestly have no idea how much longer I have left in my transformation. It shouldn’t have lasted this long in the first place.”

She patted his knee. “Maybe your ring just intuitively knows how to do that if you’re ever in extreme danger?” She shrugged genially. “Don’t worry, though. If you start beeping, I’ll leave ASAP, so your identity won’t be exposed.”

She began to stand, but he lightly reached for her hand as she pulled away, drawing her eyes back to his own.

“Marinette…” he said quietly, almost like a prayer. “I want to thank you again. For all you’ve done for me. You and your parents took a huge risk by letting me into your home, and I really appreciate it.”

Her cheeks flushed a light pink. “Oh, it’s no problem,” she replied timidly with a smile. “We’re happy to help!”

He grabbed her other hand so she would face him fully. Fervently, he reiterated, “I mean it. You saved my life. No one else would have done what you did; not for me. You’re an amazing person.”

“Ch-Chat Noir...” she whispered, throat dry, her blush deepening to a deep crimson.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you, but I’ll sure as hell try.”

“Chat, it’s okay,” she replied, voice full of tenderness and warmth. “You don’t have to do that. That’s not why we did it.”

“I know; you’re all wonderful people. I’ll always remember your kindness and generosity.” He bit his lip in trepidation. “So I’ll be sure to leave your home as soon as I can. I’ll go first thing in the morning, so I don’t inconvenience you any further.”

Marinette’s eyes grew wide and she dropped his hands in shock. “W-what?!” She cried, voice full of fear. “B-but you’re not ready to go off on your own yet; you can’t even stand up right now!”

Chat shook his head. “I’ll manage. I’ve put you at risk by being here as long as I already have, and I’m sorry for that. Once I leave, I promise you won’t ever have to see me or have to deal with me again, and you’ll be out of danger.”

“N-no, don’t be sorry! It’s not your fault! None of this was your fault!!” Her hands waved around frantically, emphasizing her words, questions spewing out like an open faucet, “B-but do you have somewhere you can go? Someone to stay with? I bet Hawkmoth knows your identity, right?? Where would you escape? Where will you hide?! Do you have any money?”

Chat’s eyes grew wide, amazed that she hadn’t already spontaneously combusted. “Mari, it’s okay!” he reassured her, trying his best to sound confident. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll figure something out.”

Marinette squirmed in her seat like she was hiding a bag of ice cubes in her shirt. “B-b-but why don’t you stay another day or two? I’ll ask my parents, I’m sure they won’t mind!”

He suppressed a wistful sigh. “I’d like to stay, believe me. But I can’t, Marinette. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you because of me.”

She replied, calmer this time, “I’m touched that you’re concerned about us; I really am. It shows that you’re a good person.” She chewed on her lip nervously. “But I’d worry myself to death if I didn’t know whether you were okay or if something had happened to you. What if Hawkmoth finds you while you’re out there all by yourself, while you’re still in your condition? Nothing bad will happen if you lay low and stay for just a little bit longer. You can still keep your identity a secret.” She surged forward, placing her hands on his shoulders. “He won’t find you here; I promise. I’m making this offer not to Chat Noir, but to whoever you are; the civilian you.”

Chat was puzzled about Marinette’s fear of his imminent departure, of how utterly adamant she was about this whole thing. Why was she so worried about him? Sure, he wouldn’t stand a chance if he had to fight an akuma, or heaven forbid, Hawkmoth himself. But he couldn’t force the responsibility of harboring a wanted criminal upon the Dupains, who had already showed him more compassion than could possibly be warranted for someone like himself. Ladybug had already almost died because of him. He couldn’t let that happen to Marinette.

“I…” he looked down at his blanket, clearly at war with himself. “I-I don’t know. I should really try to find Ladybug before I make any decisions about what to do next.”

Marinette’s movements stilled and her eyes became pensive at the mention of Ladybug. Chat continued, “I also want to make sure she’s okay. Plus…” he fiddled with the edge of the comforter anxiously. “I don’t want her to know about my battle with Hawkmoth.”

“What?!” Marinette cried, the apprehension in her eyes switching to confusion. “Why not?”

“It’s just...” he began, a sad smile making its way onto his face. “I don’t want her to worry. Because I know she will; she’s so selfless and considerate. These past few years have put such a strain on her. I don’t want to add even more stress or be a burden. I owe it to her to be useful and uplifting; not the opposite.”

Marinette looked down shyly, cheeks dusted with pink. “I-I’m sure she can manage. And she would never think of you as a burden. B-but still, that’s very sweet of you; that you’re trying to look out for her.”

“I swore to her that I’d keep her safe. Hawkmoth might try to take advantage of the situation– of my injuries, and try to go after her, thinking she’d be by herself. So I need to be ready. I need to protect her no matter what. Even if I’m not fully healed yet, I can still do it.”

Marinette made a thoughtful hum, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You care for her a lot, don’t you?”

“I’d do anything for her,” Chat said without hesitation, almost as a sigh, voice full of adoration and respect.

Marinette’s entire face changed from bright pink to a deep crimson, all the way to the top of her ears, and was rendered totally speechless. Had he been too candid? He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable.

Before he could apologize, she cleared her throat. “W-well, I’m sure you won’t have to look too hard to find her. O-or maybe she’ll find you first, who knows?” she said with a rather unreadable expression.

He eyed her curiously. Could it be that Ladybug lived around this area, and Marinette had figured it out because she saw her in the neighborhood regularly?

“A-anyway, my offer still stands,” she added, giving his hand one last squeeze, then headed towards the door. “Holler if you need anything. I’ll see you in the morning!”

“I-I’ll think about it. Thank you, Marinette.”

He watched her turn off the lights and close the door, and was plunged back into a peaceful darkness. He was completely drained, but too many things were running through his head to be able to go back to sleep. He knew he had to get at least a small bit of rest before leaving.

He stilled. A thought occurred to him.

Should he just… leave now?

It was worth a shot. If he did, he could avoid another long (if well-intentioned) confrontation with Marinette in the morning. His friend was a sweetheart, almost to a fault, and very stubborn; so he was sure have a hard time convincing her to let him go.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his arms back, laboriously succeeding in sitting up halfway. But the strain was too much, and he dropped back onto the mattress with an inelegant plop and a pained groan.

He sighed. He’d have to try again in a little while. Nothing wrong with a tiny bit of rest while he gathered his strength, right?

Plus, the blankets were so soft . And they smelled so good; freshly laundered. It would certainly be a waste to not enjoy the hospitality while he waited. Just for a few minutes. It’s not like he was going to fall asleep. Most definitely not. With an airy sigh, he sprawled out on the bed, stretching out his long limbs as best he could. He didn’t even try to suppress the soft purrs that escaped his throat.

He genuinely did love Marinette’s house. He’d visited a few times, both for school projects and study sessions; and for fun, playing video games with their friends and Marinette’s parents (who were surprisingly just as avid about them as the rest of the teenagers). The atmosphere was just so nice and comfortable and homey; the kind of place he longed to live in. And, even though there was no one else in the room, for the first time in years, he truly didn’t feel alone, nor afraid of falling asleep.

Not that he was going to sleep, of course. He just… needed to relax for a little bit.

With a sleepy moan, he pulled the covers all the way up to his neck, revelling in their plushness and warmth, lying still to listen to the gentle tap-tap-tapping of the rain outside. The only thing that would make this bed absolutely perfect would be the presence of a certain little kwami to snuggle with. He sure missed his grumpy cat, even with his petulant, sassy attitude. He couldn’t wait to see him once he could detransform again.

He smiled and allowed himself to close his eyes. His thoughts idly drifted to Ladybug, as they often did nowadays, and wondered what her own kwami was like. If the ladybug kwami and Plagg were opposites, did that mean that she was agreeable and conscientious? Did she get along with Ladybug like he and Plagg did? What kind of foods did she eat?

He sighed deeply, thoughts becoming distant and fuzzy.

I wonder if she gets to sleep next to Ladybug… Hmm… Lucky kwami…

------------------------

About thirty seconds later, Tikki giggled to herself as she listened to the soft snores of an exhausted Chat Noir. She was tired, yet diligent in her task of magically sending him some much-needed healing and strength. She wondered what Marinette would come up with in order to comply with Master Fu’s instructions to keep Chat Noir here while he recovered.

Despite all the uncertainty, she smiled, full of faith and optimism. Everything happens for a reason; and Marinette always found a way.

[robinsdoghouseofwhump]

Feathers & Fangs Part 3/3

Ok yall! We reached the finale for this part of the story. @whumping-every-day, this has been a wild ride! And I'm mega excited to see your installments with Shirael! (My headcanon is that Shirael is Gabe's guardian angel) Anyways, this part of the story is more focused on Shirael and my angel OC than on Arron, but thats what makes it fun. Enjoy some Gayngels and please ask questions and give critique! It makes my day when I see comments or asks in my box.

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It was a long way of a flight, even for an angel, but they were here. 

"W-where are we sir?" The demon looked out from the balcony overlooking the large city below. So many people, so many buildings, it was bright, and loud. He could smell the scent of salty ocean water, and evergreen trees dotted the landscape. A strange white tower stood prominently in the nicest areas of the bustling urban area. 

"We're here to see a friend of mine, and you're gonna meet him." 

More angels? God, they were gonna do something awful to him. He clung to the angel tightly as he walked in the door.

"Abel! Where are you?" 

Shirael could sense the other angel’s presence, but that was about it. He hadn’t seen Abel since the Fall… but the Principality had always been fond of strays. Shirael had looked down on him for it, before. But this demon, curled up so small and frightened in his arms, was starting to change his mind. 

“Who’s there?” Abel is in human form when he rounds the corner, and his eyes widen when he sees Shirael. “Wha--” He gapes for a long moment, eyes flickering between Shirael and the demon boy, before he snaps a quick salute. “General? Is that - is that you?” 

General. The title rubs Shirael wrong, makes his top pair of wings shuffle uncomfortably. “Just Shirael, now,” he answers. Abel had left, and Shirael had fallen, and Heaven was in shambles - there were no armies left for him to lead. 

“What is this?” The words may have been accusatory, but in this case they were only curious as Abel stepped forward, peering at the trembling demon child. 

"I…. I don't know. I found him in a house and-" Shirael was cut off

"His wings…." Abel frowned and ran a few fingers along his scarred back, earning a flinch and subsequent quivers in response. "Shirael, this is awful." 

"I know, I found him chained up in a mortal household, he has scars everywhere, and he can't even lift himself. I know we… had our differences before, but I couldn't just leave him there. I figured that…" 

"I could take him in?" Abel frowned at his former commander, of course he would come find him about something like this! His reckless behavior was always getting them in-

A soft whine escaped the demon's sore throat, which caught the Principality's attention. "Mm sorry sirs… p-please, I c-can be good!" 

Sirs? What did they do to this creature? A torrent of emotions were radiating off of the boy, sadness, anger, but most of all, a deep seeded sense of alertness and fear. That's probably how Shirael found him. He was good at that at least, finding emotion in others. But he still wasn't sure about this.

"I think I can, he can stay in Micheal''s old room. Do you have anything I could use to find out more about him?” 

Shirael couldn’t help but hold the boy a bit closer at his pleas, hushing him softly as Abel spoke. 

“I know where to find the humans that took him.” Outwardly Shirael’s voice was calm, but to anyone who knew him, the simmering rage was just below the surface. He looked down at the boy in his arms, and he frowned slightly, his eyes picking up something new. There were scars and a ring of sore flesh around the demon’s throat, almost like he’d been… collared. They’d collared him. 

“Abel, I think these humans are keeping demons as pets.” It sounded… horrendous. Once he’d said it out loud, the words sat heavy in the air, like they couldn’t possibly be true. But the demon’s scars, and his wings - his poor wings. The submissive behavior, and the lack of struggling, even when Shirael had picked him up and flown away with him. 

"Sir, you haven't been on earth for long have you?" Abel couldn't help but roll his eyes in his head. "Slavery isn't exactly a new concept here, especially with demons." 

“No,” Shirael agreed. “Not with demons. Or humans, either. But this…” Maybe he had been gone for too long. Maybe Shirael had gotten too lost in the divine. The last time he’d been to earth, humans had still been sacrificing members of their own species to demons in hopes of earning good crops that year. Now humans were keeping demons as slaves? 

"I agree, it's barbaric. I wish I could fix it but I'm not exactly at my most righteous form." Abel got up and went to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, those bruises and cuts on the boy needed to be healed quickly. 

"Ok buddy, can you look at me?" It was directed to Arron, and the demon slowly and shakily looked up at the tall man. "Good boy, now can you lay down for me so I can get a good look at you?" The boy shot up immediately and layed on the carpeted floor with total submission in his eyes. 

"This might hurt a bit bud, don't worry, it'll only be for a second." The alcohol swabs were pressed against his neck and shoulders gently.

Shirael had taken a step back once he’d released the demon, but the angel found himself retreating even more as Abel took over. How things had changed during his time in Heaven. This demon had not only been enslaved, but he had been successfully trained into obedience - something that Shirael would have sworn was impossible, before. 

"Well, how are you? How's heaven been?" Abel tended to the boy and got him patched up to the best of his ability. "Haven't seen you in millennia." Abel looked up at the general with icy eyes as he picked the demon up gently and held him in his arms. (oof, abel is salty. xD)

“Heaven is in shambles,” Shirael answered flatly. The elder angel scrubs a hand across his face, and the exhaustion in his eyes is an ancient thing. He let out a gusty sigh, and with it all of the tension he’d been carrying. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, without looking at Abel or the demon. “I stayed behind when you left, and it… it didn’t go well. Our brothers and sisters turned on each other like rabid dogs after the Fall. There is… nothing left. Or I assume so. I was one of the last to leave.” One of the last to try and keep their broken family together. Sometimes Shirael wondered if maybe Abel had had the right idea; he had certainly gained nothing by staying. 

"Hmm, well I can't say I don't miss everyone. Father is still as angry as ever I bet though." Abel carries the boy to the room as Shirael follows. "I missed you a lot though." 

The demon seems mostly unresponsive as Abel carries him, and for the moment, Shirael is content to allow it. 

“Father was furious,” he agreed. “Right till the end.” Shirael trails after Abel to the room, which he can only assume is the spare. “And… yes. I did miss you. I-” Shirael has to cut himself off there, because he knows it wouldn’t help. Finishing that thought now, after all this time, wouldn’t help. “I missed you,” he repeats. 

Abel laid the demon down on the soft bed and pulled the covers over, he took one last look at the boy. "I'll be right back ok? Don't worry, you're safe here." And with that, he led Shirael out of the room.

"You have no idea," Abel smiled and wrapped his arms around Shirael with a swift and firm hug. "I'm sorry I left, I just… just couldn't stay there any longer." 

Abel relaxed against his ex lover's touch, allowing his obsidian black wings to appear and his jagged halo to form above his head. "And I couldn't let you stay in love with a Fallen."

Shirael had never been meant to love. But he still melted into Abel’s embrace like he’d been starved for it. His own wings responded to Abel’s and the broad middle pair flared out around them both, cocooning them in a glow of soft light. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, just one more time. “Heaven was a lost cause from the very beginning. I should have-” Shirael cut himself off again. No. Saying what he should have done wouldn’t help either. “Staying was a fool’s errand,” he murmurs instead. 

"I understand, I shouldn't have fought with you before I left. And I didn't want you to give up everything you had either."

Silence.

 I...I" Abel started to cry softly in the larger man's arms. "I love you Shirael, you mean the world to me." Sniffel "I'm glad you came back to see me, even if it was for something else." 

Shirael balked just a little at the words. Love… he had never been very good at that. Even when it had been true. 

“Abel…” It’s not confirmation, but Shirael only holds him tighter, feeling the guilt and the hurt pressing down on him. “I don’t think I can… just pick back up where we left off. And I still have to-” he paused, frowning. “The human world is strange to me. And it has been… so long.” He shook his head. 

"Thats ok," Abel smiles up at him, "I'd love to show you around sometime, but I want you to go explore and do what you do best, help people."

“I helped people by exterminating their enemies, Abel.” Shirael is rueful, and there’s exhaustion, but also a smile in his eyes. But he sobers as he speaks again. “Do you think there’s still a place for that?” He knows, Shirael remembers, suddenly. He knows where to find the humans who had done this to the little demon boy. 

"I'm sure there is, but you know how much I hated that." Abel let go of him and stepped out of the winged embrace. "I want you to do good for people, like you just did. You saved a boy from a horrible place. I want you to control your emotions better, then I think I'll be ready for you." 

Shirael hesitated, and the space against his front where Abel had just been felt cold. “I remember,” he murmured. Abel had always hated the violence and death that Shirael had wrought in heaven’s name. Several millennia was a long time, even for angels. “But I want you to know that emotions were not the problem. It was duty, Abel. But heaven is gone now, and Father is… who knows where.” Shirael shakes his head. "I think… we both need time.” His brow creases in a frown. “Wrath has tired me.” He looked back down to Abel, and a faint smile crosses his lips. “It was nice to see you again, love.” 

"You too, please visit again soon ok?" Abel smiled as Shirael walked back towards the balcony, admiring the elder angel’s speckled white and cream feathers. And in a moment of impulse, Abel quickly gave the man a peck on the cheek, earning the sight of very blushy Shirael.

“I’ll - um. I’ll come back and see you.” It’s a promise, heavy in the way he says it, and the two of them share one more awkward, lingering smile before Shirael crouches and flares his wings out. “Take care of the boy, okay?” Shirael holds Abel’s gaze for another split second, before he’s leaping into the air with a mighty flurry of wingbeats. 

It doesn’t take his powerful wings to carry him out of sight, and Shirael’s heart lingers back with Abel, even as the distance stretches between them. 

[marilynsweet]

Caribbeantale - Chapter 3: The Pirate and The Mermaid

     The mermaid had never felt so claustrophobic.

     She couldn’t tell if this was a blessing in disguise - being taken by pirates allowed her reign above the water, freedom to take in the land above without the other mermaids, freedom from the abuse she often suffered because of her beliefs - or if she truly was in danger. Sure, she had been put in this coffin, but it could be worse.

     “I could be strung up,” she told herself, “or lied out in the sand to burn in the sun, or placed in a pit of sharks. At least, for now, I’m safe.”

     She perked at the sound of footsteps on the stairs above her, making her turn onto her back to see.

     Her coffin had been placed under the stairs, tucked behind some barrels to keep the glass from tipping over. The handles were tied to the stairs as well. If she lied on her stomach, she could see boots pass by, she could see the floor, and a few things pass her coffin. If she lied on her back, she could see above her, and slightly a bit of her surroundings.

     Through gaps in the stairs, she could see a shape walking walking downstairs, with a trail of a near-black jacket.

     Her eyes narrowed, but before she could have a closer look, the figure was gone. Frustrated, she moved to turn back onto her stomach, but she noticed a hand pulling the ropes off the handles. Suddenly, the coffin lurched, and she slammed her hands against the sides as the water pushed her towards the end.

     She hissed and tried to sit up, but ended up bonking her head against the glass. With a grunt of pain, holding a hand to her forehead, she peered through squinted eyes at he who had disrupted the momentary silence.

     He was the goat-monster who had cut her out of the net, and from what she could tell, was in command of these men. He was very tall, nearly seven feet high. He had relatively short, blonde hair, tied back in a short ponytail. A scar was slashed down the right side of his face, like he had been sliced with something over his eye, once, long ago. A black hat was perched on his head, with tall, pointed horns poking out of it. A gray vest was what he wore over a white collared shirt. Over that, he wore a near-black jacket with white sleeves, and a small white crest on the left side. His pants were white, and the end of his jacket hovered just about halfway down his boots. He had black fingerless gloves on his hands, and the mermaid noticed pads o the bottom of his hands. A sword scabbard was attached to his belt at the hip, the blade’s hilt of polished silver. His ears were droopy, almost like a hound dog’s, half of which on the left side was missing.

     Neither of them moved for the longest time, staring each other in the face.

     After a long while, he said something she couldn’t hear through the glass. She cocked her head to the side, as if to convey she couldn’t hear. He thought for a moment, before she watched him crouch next to the coffin. He motioned for her to lie flat on the bottom, which she did, and yelped when the blade of a sword jammed into the crevice between the lid and the wall of the coffin, pulling it up until the lock jammed the lid from opening further. Air rushed into the coffin, and the mermaid quickly pushed her head towards the source of fresh air.

     The sounds that were once muffled now came to a clear heading, and she could hear outside of the little glass coffin.

     “Now,” she heard the man say, “Can you hear me?”

     He pulled the sword from the gap between the lid and coffin, instead putting the butt of the pistol in its place to keep it open.

     “I can,” the mermaid replied, her fingers gripping the coffin’s side.

     “What’s your name?”

     The mermaid’s ears pricked up, and she seemed to think for a while. Nobody had asked her name in a long while. She tried to remember, her ears pricking. She had to think of what she had been named for.

     “The color of ice, with the ability to freeze a man. The colors of snow, and-”

     “My name is Frostbite,” she finally answered.

     “That’s a nice name,” the pirate replied, and she was able to twist her head to see his face.

     “My name is Asriel,” he continued.

     Frostbite nodded, but her eyes narrowed.

     “What is it that you needed me for, anyway?”

     Asriel didn’t respond.

     Frostbite felt her heart thump into her throat the longer they sat in silence.

     “Asriel,” she said, steadying her voice as best she could. “Where are you taking me?”

     “Tortuga,” Asriel muttered, his gaze on the floor.

     “Tortuga?”

     “A pirate haven,” Asriel explained, crossing his legs. “Any and all types of things happen there. I need to meet a man there.”

     “But what do you need me for?” Frostbite insisted, her ears pulling back.

     “You are staying on the ship,” Asriel stated, picking at the strings of his gloves. His voice had returned to normal volume, and he had returned his gaze to her face.

     “I’ve got to speak to this man alone.”

     “But-”

     “You are needed for the ritual, once we find this damned island. A mermaid’s tear to be added to the chalice of the man who shall live.”

     Frostbite’s ears flattened, and she swallowed hard.

     The other mermaids had always said she was a weak mermaid. Easy to make cry.

     “So, it’s my turn to ask something.”

     She perked up and Asriel seemed to now have a perk of interest, having stilled his hands.

     “How did you get caught in the fishing net?”

     Her head lowered, and she shut her eyes, turning away from him. There wasn’t much room to move, but it was enough to turn away from him.

     “Are you alright?”

     “Touchy subject,” she muttered, though she wasn’t sure she heard him; her head was now underwater.

     There was a shout from above deck, and this caught Asriel’s attention. He grabbed the pistol and pulled it out of the crack, causing the lid to slam shut. She heard and felt the thud of boots as Asriel stood up and went upstairs.

      She noticed the ropes were still untied. but she was silent, her ears pricked up.

      Maybe...

      Frostbite began twisting and turning in her case, her tail hitting the sides of the case. She firmly placed her hands against the sides of the coffin and began to thrash from side to side. The water sloshed against the lid of the coffin, spilling down the side of the glass.

      The coffin began to tip, and she braced herself as it tipped.

     SMASH!

     She rolled along with the water, which spilled all over the deck. Shards of glass stuck to her body, and she grimaced when she was finally still. Her tail smacked against the wood, and she pushed herself upright.

     “Captain!”

     She suddenly whipped around to face the tattler, her eyes wide.

     A small, frog-like monster was running up the stairs, and Frostbite knew she was done for.

     She could already feel the change happening, and her ears flattened as she attempted to pull herself away from the glass.

     Thudding of boots already told her that she was too late.

     Lines of crimson dribbled down her arms, and she began to pull at the shards with her nails.

     The water had spread out around her, and whilst she was still damp, without the stream of water, she already knew there was no avoiding it.

     She could hear their voices, and the one sentence stuck out like a sore thumb:

     “Captain, she’s got legs!”

[honeybee-babe]

Sharing is Caring (Except When You’re Sick) Part 3

Part three of my collab Sick Luther and Sick Klaus fic with @hargreevesstyles. Can also be read on her blog!

Meanwhile, at the CVS check-out counter, Klaus held the sleeve of the hoodie Diego had forced him to wear up to his face.

“Hih… xngt-ishuu! Ht’TDZshieww!” He scrunched up his nose afterwards and the itchiness that had barely been affected by the sneezes, and rubbed his hoodie-sleeve covered knuckles underneath his nostrils to prevent another outburst. Diego tried not to watch. He would definitely be washing that before he wore it again. In fact, maybe he’d just give it to Klaus.

“Bless you, dear!” The middle-aged cashier flashed him a warm smile as she put the cough suppressants and expectorants (“Might as well get both, knowing you!”) into a brown paper bag.

“Thanks! I’ll take that!” Klaus said with a grin as he took the bag from her, punctuating the sentence with a watery sniffle. Diego rolled his eyes, not looking up from the card reader as he punched in his pin. The total was a bit higher than he’d hoped for, but he tried not to let his frustration show. At this insistence of Vanya’s frantically scribbled list, they’d stocked up on tissues, cough drops, Gatorade, the whole nine yards, even buying extra of the stuff they already had at home. Plus Emergen-C for Klaus. And ice cream, he’d insisted on ice cream (“It’s for Luther! It’ll help with his throat.”). Yeah, right. But Diego had agreed, not wanting to waste time arguing with a pouty Klaus. He just wanted to get home and give everyone their pills ASAP.

“Always best to plan ahead, I guess, hmm?” The cashier smiled at Diego, holding up the last remaining item -- Echinacea -- and putting it in the bag turned to Diego. “You make sure your boyfriend takes this right away before that cold gets worse!” Diego blushed deep red. Klaus chuckled out loud, stopping himself when he felt a bit of a tickle forming in his throat at the tail end of it. He cleared his throat subtly, which subdued it, but it still lingered a bit.

“Will do. But he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

“Oh my god.” The cashier brought her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. We’re not exactly twins -- and I’m not sick,” Klaus said with a proud smile. “It’s for my brother.”

“You’re sick?” The cashier looked at Diego with a raised brow.

“No,” he sighed, “he means our other brother.”

Speaking of brothers and twins, Five was surprised to find Allison and Vanya speaking in hushed tones in the living room. He licked the peanut butter off his fingers as he stood in the entryway and watched them deep in conversation

“I don’t know, Van. But I’ve never seen him so sick, he’s always had a pretty decent immune system”.

“But then how did he get so sick?” Vanya asked, voice soft and scared. “I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Five cut in, crossing his arms smugly over his chest as he stepped into. Allison whipped her head up at him and shot him daggers.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about, Five.”

“Let me guess, you’re talking about Luther, who is sick, and you’re trying to figure out how it happened.”

“Is this some sort of weird twin thing?”

“No, Allison. It’s a having-a-brain thing.”

Five explained how it really hadn’t been that difficult to figure it out, even without his ability to literally jump through his brother’s locked bedroom door -- which he’d only done once, when he heard him whimpering, thank you very much. The fact that Luther had been holed up in his room for two days was enough for him to draw that conclusion -- and let’s just say the largest Hargreeves sibling wasn’t exactly the best at stifling his sneezes. Plus, Five had passed by the pot of chicken soup boiling on the stove. It had to be for someone.

“And to answer your previous question,” Five turned to Vanya, “have you ever tried living in complete isolation for four years? Because I doubt you would feel very healthy when -- “

“We come bearing gifts!” Klaus stood in the doorway to the house, holding up one of the paper bags from the drugstore up above his head with a huge grin on his face. Even despite his chipper energy, his red-tinged nose and slightly-more-pronounced than usual pallor was unmistakable. As was the slight hoarseness of his voice.

Diego trailed behind with two more bags, filled to the brim. You couldn’t even see his face behind them. Vanya rushed to grab one of the bags off of Diego. As they started unpacking everything, Klaus started laughing.

He joked, “What, are we opening up our very own hospital?”

“Come here, ghost boy. We’ve gotta get some of this stuff in you,” Diego ordered.

Klaus groaned and sat down next to his stabby brother. Diego opened the Emergen-C and a water bottle and poured the drink mix in. He shook it up and handed it to Klaus who just set it down beside him.

“Drink it, headass,” Five said.

Again, Klaus groaned. He opened the bottle and drank about a quarter of it. As soon as he put the bottle down, Diego was forcing pills into his hands. Mucinex and Sudafed along with a couple of cough drops.

“I’m not sick!” Klaus said.

Vanya jumped in, “You’re going to catch it. The thermometer I brought downstairs that Diego took your temperature with...I had just used it on Luther and I don’t think we cleaned it in between uses, and...yeah.”

“Hh’-gkSCHh-nGXTchiew! Hh’tsxchyuu!” Klaus caught the sneezes in his palms like normal, but what he forgot was that Diego’s sweatshirt was about four times his size and the sleeves draped over his hands. “Sorry.” He sniffled lightly.

“Bless you,” Allison said pointedly.

The attention of the whole room was on Klaus, something he’d usually bask in but this time he felt vulnerable and uncomfortable in the spotlight.

He grumbled, “I’m not sick! I sneeze all the time!”

Five shrugged, “He’s not wrong.” Still he picked up the thermometer off of the coffee table and blinked over to Klaus’ side. “Open up.”

“Really? This? Agai-ow, what the hell, Five?” Klaus scolded, as his tiniest sibling tried to shove the thermometer in his mouth as he was speaking. Klaus ripped the device out of his brother’s hand and put it in his mouth. After it beeped, he looked at it. “Look, 98.7. It’s pretty much the same as last time.”

“You went up a tenth of a degree,” Diego noted.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “What-fucking-ever, Diego!”

“Take the pills already!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that from you,” Klaus chuckled.

It was Diego’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah and it’s the fucking last time too so don’t get used to it.”

Klaus ignored him and swallowed the pills dry. With another threatening look from Five, he took another swig of the Emergen-C.

“I’m gonna go check on Luther,” Allison said.

Five added, “I’ll come with. I’ve yet to see him in all his sick glory.”

The two disappeared, Five actually walking with Allison instead of blinking away.

“Hehht’TSCHHhyeu-nkTT!” Klaus moaned lightly after.

“Bless you. Where’s Ben?”

Klaus rubbed his nose vigorously. “Uhh, he’s right here. Yeah. No, no I’m not. Shut the hell up! Whatever.” He turned to face his visible siblings. “I will not be manifesting Ben for the time being, as he is being a complete bitch!”

“What’s he doing?” Vanya asked.

“Pestering me! He’s all like ‘Oooohhh Klaus! This is exactly how Luther was at the start! Blah blah blah!’ like, I don’t care!” Klaus ranted. “I feel fine! I know that you’re all used to me being useless but I actually think I’m okay for once and no one will hip off my fucking dick!”

It was silent. Klaus sighed. He felt guilty. Sure, Ben was annoying him but Klaus was the only way his siblings could see Ben. He couldn’t keep him from them like he was his master. He didn’t want to be like that.

“Whatever,” Klaus muttered. Slowly, Ben became visible.

Klaus tuned out the conversation as he slumped back down on the couch.

Up in Luther’s room, Allison and Five were trying to give Luther everything they could without absolutely filling his stomach cavity with different types of medicine. They used some spray Klaus found that was supposed to numb your sore throat. Luther said it didn’t work.

They waited a few minutes after applying everything. Allison was impatient to see improvement. She hated seeing any of her siblings feel like this, especially Luther. He was supposed to be their leader, and when he couldn’t lead them who was supposed to?

For the next hour, Allison checked Luther’s temperature every fifteen minutes. It finally dropped back down to 100. Still a fever, not not nearly as bad as his 103.4 degree fever from before.

“Allison?” Luther asked weakly. His voice had become so much more raw and broken as his coughing had increased. “Can I have another cough drop? My throat hurts so badly.”

Allison nods and goes to give him another one. She hands him two this time, just in case. She then announces that she’s going to go get some tea for him because the cough drops aren’t working as well as she’d like.

All Allison can think about is how sick Luther was. She had had to change his shirt because of how sweat-soaked he was. Luther was obviously embarrassed but he let Allison do it without complaining. That was a big clue to Allison that he was really miserable. He had started having more productive coughs, ones that were wet so everyone in the room could feel his sickness.

Five had left shortly after Allison had taken Luther’s temperature the second time. She didn’t know where he went, but she knew that Five didn’t like seeing his brother in such discomfort. Luther wasn’t one to really show how he was feeling. He was almost always still as a stone. It was odd for them to see him break his walls down for once.

As Allison poured the tea into the kettle, a quiet voice asked, “Can I have some? Only if there’s enough water. Diego said I should keep drinking it just in case.”

“Of course. Sit down,” Allison said.

It was Klaus who had entered the room and he sat down quickly and quietly. Allison would have noticed that he was acting off if she wasn’t so worried about Luther.

“I’m gonna take this up to Luther and then I’ll come back down to hang out with you,” she promised.

Klaus shook his head, “No no no, you don’t have to. You can stay with Luther, I know you want to. You don’t have to feel obligated to stick around. I’ve got Ben here.”

“Klaus, I want to hang out with you,” Allison’s voice faltered. “I thought it would be nice.” She couldn’t help but be upset that Klaus thought she was only offering to hang out with him out of pity. That’s what Klaus was used to: people pitying him.

“Oh, okay then.” He grabbed a napkin off of the center of the table and held it up over his face. “Hh’eiishieww-ishhew! H’nxght!”

“Bless you. You sure you’re feeling alright?”

Klaus nodded, “Must be pollen or something. Diego took my temperature and I feel pretty okay otherwise. I’ve been sneezing all day, but that’s something I’m pretty used to.”

He was right. Klaus was a pretty sneezy guy. Due to his several-year-long relationship with snorting cocaine, Klaus was set off by almost every strong smell there was. He had grown up being allergic to pollen and he had found out in his late teens that he was quite allergic to cats. Klaus wondered if there was anything Luther even could be allergic to on the moon. Moon dust? Recycled air? He didn’t know.

“As long as you’re not feeling too badly,” Allison said.

“Hihh...hh...fuck I...hh’ishhyu! Ugh. My god!”

Allison giggled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Allison continued laughing.

Klaus feigned anger. “What’s so funny?”

“You just had that dramatic ass buildup for that tiny sneeze!” She confessed.

Klaus cracked a smile but then quickly went back to faking his furiousness. “My sneezes aren’t tiny! They’re quite average, thank you very much! They come out so damn fast sometimes, it’s like they’re all on top of one another. They all fuck me in the ass one after another. It’s like a damn orgy but without any orgasming.”

“One time I read that if you sneeze enough it can make you orgasm,” Allison doted. “Not sure if that’s true though.”

“I’ll have to try it out someday,” Klaus said. “Not today though.”

Allison joked, “You better be quiet about it because Diego would not be happy to hear about you triggering your allergies or your asthma on purpose.”

“You’re doing what?” Diego’s voice came in.

“Nothing! Just fun and games, that’s all,” Klaus said.

“Allison mentioned your asthma is it acting up? Are you feeling alright? Christ, Klaus you have to tell us these things Allison where’s the thermometer-“

Klaus laughed, “Calm the hell down, Diego. It’s not acting up, I promise. I’ll tell you if it is, you know that!”

It was times like this where Klaus really saw how much Diego cared for him. He could become so worried in .2 seconds and it always threw Klaus off of his game. Part of Klaus’ whole routine was people not caring about him and it kind of threw a wrench in things when people started to care.

Diego looked at Allison with the same urgency, only calming down a bit when she nodded her head in agreement with Klaus, who was sniffling and rubbing at his nose.

“You mentioned his asthma --”

“In jest, Diego. Jeez, lighten up!” Klaus play-chastised his brother, shoving him lightly with his free hand, which of course left his brother completely unfazed. Diego was similarly unfazed by Allison’s explanation of their previous discussion. While Allison and Klaus chuckled again, Diego’s jaw remaining locked and he rolled his eyes.

“Hilarious. Klaus is getting sick, Luther’s upstairs hacking his lungs out and you think it’s the perfect time for a stand-up routine.”

There was a silence after that. The spoon Allison was using to stir a cup of tea hovered in mid-air. Even Klaus’ sniffling and nose rubbing stopped as he stared at Allison in excitement, waiting for her response. Finally, she started stirring the cup of tea again.

“Yes, Diego. My brothers are sick,” she said, voice calm. A small smile on her lips. “And I’m making them feel better by being a nice, pleasant presence. You should try it, god forbid you might like it.”

“For real, D, don’t be a dick. Sissy is a mom, she’s the best at this kind of thing -- see?” Klaus took the cup of tea from her hand as she offered it. “Thanks, Ally!” He blew on it as Diego shot him a look. “Hey, you’re good at this stuff, too, man!” he quickly added on. Klaus was truly grateful for all of the times Diego had helped him out in the past when he was sick, before he was sober. But now his brother went into panic mode the second he heard him sniffle. It really killed his vibe.

“You’re just a little… intense,” Klaus said with a small grin, quickly covering it up as he raised the mug to his lips. He sipped way too quickly. Not only did he burn his tongue, but steam rising from the mug made his nose itch. He rubbed at it again to delay the inevitable reaction.

“Well, if you’d been in my shoes all these years maybe you’d understand why I don’t think it’s funny to see you make a joke out of it when you’re sick.”

“But I’m not even sick!” Klaus bit back, in that same whiny tone Diego had become familiar with over the years. His nose chose the perfect time to finalize its reaction in that moment. He hastily set the tea down on the counter as he again buried his face in his hoodie sleeve. “nxXGsht-ixgtshu! Hih! H’dtZshiuhh--fuck!”

“Not sick my ass-”

“Bless you!” The three siblings whipped their heads to the entrance to the kitchen, but Vanya was standing at the stove seconds later, having rushed in in a panic. She was just as bad as Diego. She fussed over the large pot of soup boiling on the stove, lifting a small spoonful up to her mouth to taste-test and blowing on it. “Diego, I told you to watch it while I was gone!”

“Sorry, Van, I was too busy watching over our idiot brother.”

“Rude!” Klaus gasped, moving his hand to cover his mouth in pretend shock.

“Klaus, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick yet?” Vanya asked, as if it was an inevitability. She turned to look at him for concern, the spoon still raised to her lips, her anxiety over his well being overpowering her anxiety over dinner. Diego swapped anxieties with her, diving in with another spoon and tasting the soup without blowing on it before she could bring the spoon to her lips. He burned his tongue in his haste, but he nodded through the little wince of pain.

“It’s done.” Vanya shifted her focus back to her own soup-filled spoon and finally tasted it, nodding in agreement.

“Klaus, come get your soup.” Vanya started ladling the soup into the six bowls she had laid out.

“Wait, it’s for me?” her curly-haired brother asked in mild shock (again, people caring about him was not the reality he’d known most of his life). Though what came across was annoyance as he crossed his arms over his chest. He’d sat at the counter watching them prepare the soup for the last hour, sniffling discreetly and rubbing his nose as Diego rapidly chopped vegetables and flung them into the pot with perfect accuracy, Vanya quietly stirring and adding the seasonings. “Give it to Luther, he’s the one who needs it. I’m not--”

“Klaus, eat the damn soup!” Ben had apparently appeared behind him, and he could hear the eye-roll in his voice. Klaus’ living siblings had blinked at him when he’d apparently cut himself off mid-sentence, assuming he was going to sneeze, since he’d cut himself off in the middle of the sentence. When it didn’t happen, Allison sprung into action, picking up a bowl and putting it into Klaus’ hands. She chuckled as she brought a perfectly manicured hand up to his cheek and patted it gently.

“Klaus, do you really think we made this whole pot of soup just for you? And you guys say I’m a narcissist.” Klaus watched as Diego shook his head and walked over to the table with a bowl of soup, Allison and Vanya following shortly after.

“Oh.” Klaus looked down at the soup in his hands and tried to hide the little smile that had formed on his face. He knew for a fact that they had made the soup because of Luther and him, and even if he was convinced he wasn’t sick, the fact that they cared so much and they were going to make a family dinner out of it made him feel just a little bit warm and fuzzy.

“Where’s Luther?” Klaus asked as he set his soup down on a placemat. “Shouldn’t he be the one we’re worried about feeding?”

“He’ll eat in his room. He needs to be quarantined,” Diego said, blowing on a spoonful of his own soup.

“I’ll bring him some!” Klaus rose from his seat.

“Absolutely not.” Diego shot him daggers. Klaus slumped down into his seat with a pout and scooped up a spoonful of soup. “Allison, why don’t you bring it--”

“Oh, no, let him be. He’s asleep.”

“Again?” Allison gaped. “Well I guess that’s what his body needs more right now.”

“Mmmhmm,” Vanya responded a little too quickly, putting her water glass to her lips almost immediately afterwards and taking a big, audible gulp. All these years and she was still a terrible liar. Thankfully, everyone was so preoccupied with eating -- and, in Klaus’ case, trying not to sneeze -- that they’d let it slide.

Around twenty minutes prior, Vanya had left her precious soup entrusted to Diego’s care and walked upstairs to Luther’s room to check on him and ask if he was ready for dinner. Afraid that he might actually be asleep, she opened the door slowly and carefully, not making a sound. The sight that greeted her had been pretty surprising, and even more so touching.

Luther was lying on his bed in the fetal position, barely fitting on the twin XL mattress. His blankets had been pulled back up to his chin, hopefully due to the fever breaking. He was wheezing in that careful way that meant one miscalculated breath would send him into the harsh, liquidy coughs he’d been producing for the past hour or so, thanks to the hefty dose of Mucinex.

And at his side sat Five, probably the only one of the siblings who could fit next to Luther’s massive frame on the bed. He looked down at his brother with intense concentration, brows furrowed as he traced constellations on his broad back with his index finger.

“Gemini,” he announced softly. Despite his expression, his voice carried an air of tenderness Vanya hadn’t heard from him in years. Not since they were kids, and even then it was rare. And he never used it on her. Only Luther, and only when he really needed it.

“The twins,” Luther wheezed out, a small smile playing on his lips, which quickly dissipated as his jaw went slack with a shaky breath. Five quickly retracted his hand, just as Luther buried his face in his blankets. “Heh-nGXTchiew! Hahh-nXXT!” He was stifling again, and judging by the slight curl in Five’s lip, Vanya knew the reason why. Five had never done well with germs, and she caught his slight flinch when Luther’s blanketed form contracted a third time. “S-heh!-sorryfive-

‘nGXTSCH! Hhh’nXGTschiehh. Hhh… heh!”

Luther tensed in anticipation, and so did Five; Vanya could tell he was about to bounce. So she decided to be a good sister and do something about it.

Concentrating on the sound of Luther’s breathing, she focused her energy on his nose, sending little waves of energy flowing outwards against the walls of his nostrils from within, and thus applying pressure from the inside out; something she’d been doing to herself lately, whenever she had to sneeze in a crowded place, or just didn’t want to attract any attention to herself. She released her hold when Luther’s breathing evened out.

As if on cue, Luther let out a deep, wheezy sigh. Five relaxed again, chuckling a bit as he put his finger back gently on his brother’s back.

“That was a first. Gesundheit!” His voice still held the soft tone Vanya had feared it might lose. “How about Libra next?”

With a small smile on her face, Vanya had slipped out of the room even more quietly than she’d came in.

She walked back to the kitchen, satisfied with her ability to stop Luther from sneezing, and she wondered if she could possibly do the opposite. She would get to test this theory out at dinner.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

The Bear and the Giant {Part 3/4}

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Tormund Giantsbane x Overweight Female Reader

Warning: Strong language, smut, nsfw, 18+

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You failed to tell Tormund how you felt before he left for Eastwatch and now you hear if the news. Your hope that he’s survived is one of the few bright spots in it all. You’re determined to say the words you want to say to him. [Reader is the cousin of Lyanna Mormont]

Part 1 X, Part 2 X, Part 4 X

Note: This part is just smut so its not necessary to read for the story, so if you don’t want to read smut then don’t feel obliged too. Its really only here because I wanted to write some Tormund smut into the 4 part series. :) 

You are not even asleep long enough to dream, just peaceful darkness, an unaware serenity, when you are awoken harshly by a pair of hands. One is over your mouth and the other around your soft stomach. At first there is the initial panic, you stomp your heel against booted feet, bite down on the hand over your mouth, try to elbow the person behind you. But the panic rather quickly disappears and turns into realisation when you glimpse a familiar red beard out the corner of your eye and hear a familiar accented voice at your ear.

“I’m going to steal you, Little She-Bear.”

Tormund. You realise that you are not being snatched in the night by some stranger, that you are in fact in no danger at all. It is Tormund repeating, fulfilling the promise that you had overlooked as you fell asleep. It eases the tension in your shoulders, your teeth stop biting into his palm, still you had the taste, the slight metallic of blood, where you had fought off a false threat, in your mouth, you relax. You after all wanted to be stolen by Tormund, Tormund was safety, Tormund was gentleness, but this was a part of his culture and you would indulge him.

“I’m going steal you away to my room and show you how a real man uses his cock. You’ll be my beauty, my Little She-Bear” It is punctuated by a thrust of his hips into your bottom. It is vulgar and crude, more so than is usually directed at you by Tormund. He had spent so much of the time he’d known you carefully avoiding such words or insinuations, but now…now he knew you wanted him and he wanted to you. You wanted to be his wife. You wanted him to steal you. You wanted his cock in your cunt. His words finally reflected what he wanted with you, of you…and you couldn’t deny the appeal of his voice growling such words in your ear, the tingling in between your thighs at the feeling of his hips colliding back against you.

You can’t reply, hand still covering your mouth and instead find yourself encouraged to pull your shoes on, despite his eagerness he is still caring for your well being, your bottom pressed tightly against his hips as he moves with you. The moment your shoes are on you are being ferried out of your room and down corridors and through halls. Guards are avoided or snuck past, it is rather thrilling but also terrifying how easily Tormund manages to sneak you past them as if he is nothing but a shadow and you one by extension.

It is a much shorter journey to his designated room than it would be over the Wall, but the idea is much the same. He stole you away in the middle of the night, you fought back (if briefly), and now you’re his. Even if you were his before it all.

You’re released from his grip as he turns to close the door, hands not fumbling once as he locks it behind him. He is anything, but nervous. The almost wild grin that over takes his face tells you that he is far from nervous or worried about this ‘event’.

You are nervous, however. As a lady you were never allowed male company…not of the carnal nature anyway, and the stories you had heard from other ladies, those that had married, were either wonderful or terrifying. It seemed the joining of man and woman could either be incredibly delightful or incredibly painful.

You stop his advance with hands at his chest, placed to keep him at a distance for you to talk, but to still allow you some contact. You want this, but you need Tormund to understand, you need your Ginger Giant to understand what this means for you.

“What is wrong?” It warms your heart to know that concern always comes first with him. That he will always be concerned for you over his own needs or wants. His hands, large as they are, come up to cover your own, intertwining your fingers against his chest.

“I’ve never…” You are not sure of the word, but as always Tormund supplies what you fail to find.

“Fucked?”

“Ladies don’t…not unless they’re married and well…I want to, I do. But I’ve heard some horrible stories, that it hurts.” That there is blood, and pain, and soreness for days, not the good type either. You knew that not all men cared for the pleasure of women, that they took what they wished…but you were unsure if that pain was from selfishness or a natural part of the process. Ladies rarely talked about sex. Even on Bear Island where the rules were laxer than most of the North or South.

“Then those ladies have been fucking idiots.” He presses his forehead against yours, you can see he is taking this seriously, and you allow yourself the moment to nuzzle your nose against his as he speaks to reassure you. “I will not hurt you. Discomfort? Maybe. But hurt? Never. I will make love to you, pleasure you, show you how it should be and you will feel sorry for those ladies in those stories, Little She-Bear.” You believe him, believe that he would never do something to hurt you and it is that that has you pressing your mouth against his instead of talking more.

You expect him to kiss like he treats you, gentle, sweet, a careful movement because he has always been so careful with you. But he doesn’t, with the walls around you, the words and feelings out, he instead kisses like he fights. Hard, rough, well. His teeth bit at your lower lip until you gasp, his tongue sliding in to meet yours. His hands delve into your hair gripping it tightly, just enough to pull against your scalp in a way that sends a shiver down your spin, your large thighs attempting to come together and failing. One of his legs slips between the two of yours, his thigh pressed up against your cunt.

You can’t help but pull away from the kiss with a gasp, your breath is rapid, your heart is racing, there is a tingling between your thighs which is only made more intense by the pressure of his thigh against you. He has slowly moved you backwards without you realising, lowering you down onto the bed he has been sleeping in since Winterfell was taken from the Bolton’s. He seems so large hovering over you.

Tormund’s beard tickles your skin as his mouth trails across your cheek towards your neck. He nips, and kisses, licks and bites along the column of your throat, you are sure there will be marks the next day but you cannot bring yourself to care. Not when your hips are rocking, pressing your cunt closer to his thigh. In that moment your woollen nightdress seems both too thin and too thick.

“That’s right, my Little She-Bear, fuck my thigh. Show me how much you want me.”

“Tormund” It is gasped out as he bites down on your neck hard enough to hurt and shoot pleasure between your thighs. You wonder why you or anyone would ever doubt Tormund’s ability to please a woman. Neither of you are undressed, his cock is nowhere near your cunt and yet you feel amazing.

Or neither of you were undressed before, because his hands are tugging at the nightdress, “Do you like this?”

“Not especially” It is breathless and barely there, but in the quiet of the room he hears and tears the item from your body. Wool ripping easily in his hands and you marvel at just how strong Tormund really is. You wonder if he isn’t part giant. Then this really would be a song to sing.

The urge to cover your body from the first man to look upon it is great, but you know that Tormund loves you, that he wants to see you. If he didn’t he wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t be here right now. So instead you clench your fists in the furs and covers of the bed beside your hips, keeping your body clear of coverage, allowing him to lean back onto his calves and take your body in.

It is not what most southern men would find attractive. You are not thin, lean, toned. Your stomach is not flat and your arms are not thin. Your body is a collection of softness, lumps and bumps and marks. Your hips are wide and dip and curve. Your stomach is soft and protrudes, not flat or in line with the rest of your torso. Your thighs are large, and your arms are too. You are softness and roundness personified, but you feel like the most beautiful woman in Westeros when Tormund’s eyes light up like that in the moonlight, like he’s hungry for you, like he’s staring at something divine.

“Beautiful, you’re fucking gorgeous, She-Bear.” You don’t doubt it as his hands slowly and reverently trail over the softness of your stomach, tiptoeing over stretchmarks, scars and marks. As his fingers, dig into the meat of your hips, hard enough to leave a slight sting, a moan leaving your throat at the feeling combined with his thigh returned between your legs. Tormund is rougher with you than he ever has been and you like it, you like the biting of his fingers in your skin, you love the feeling of his teeth on your neck and the pull of hands in your hair.

You tug at the furs over his torso, he is still fully clothes in his usual attire and you feel an overwhelming need to see him and touch him skin to skin. He removes the layer with a practised ease, his torso free for you to peruse.

He is strong, not the sort of strong that is chiselled and carved like in paintings and statues, instead it’s the sort of strong which is oddly soft. He is beautiful with broad shoulders and a wide chest, strands of red hair covering him, freckles too. You trace a few with your fingers. “You’re beautiful. My beautiful Ginger Giant.”

He smiles at you before his head ducks, teeth grazing over your shoulders, lips trailing down your chest before they latch onto your breast. Your fingers dig into his shoulders pulling him closer, a leg slung over his hips in an attempt to bring the leg between your thighs closer to your cunt which is warm and tingling, wet and wanting.

You aren’t sure how this can get much better, how that feeling in you could grow any more, how you could get any warmer. But you do with every flick of his tongue and graze of his teeth, with every brush of his beard against your warm skin and digging of his fingers into the soft skin of your hip, with every rock of your hips into his thigh.

“Tormund…” It’s another sigh, you wonder if you’re only capable of saying his name from now on. Wonder if all over vocabulary and learning has left you. Only Tormund, Tormund, Tormund left.

His mouth has pulled away from your breast, the cold air running over the damp skin causing you to writhe slightly at the sensation. Your movements continue, along with your quiet repetition of his name, as his lips press kisses down your stomach, over rolls and bumps and marks, until he’s looking up at you from the space between your thighs. It is utterly sinful to see him there, eyes bright with desire, grin fixed in place, hands gripping at your large thighs as he pulls them over his shoulders as much as possible, before he is ducking his head towards your cunt.

It is a strange yet delightful sensation at first, the gliding of his tongue over your most sensitive parts, but that feelings quickly turns to pure pleasure, coiling in your stomach, and clenching of your muscles as his mouth wraps around your clit. You didn’t even know men could do this, that they could place there mouth there and you wonder why when it is such a wonderful feeling, when that tingling warmth becomes a fire and your hands are clutching at ginger hair.

A hand leaves your thigh to slide between them, a finger gently slipping inside you and it is both strangely too much and not enough. An unusual sensation which you want more of as you rock against his hand, his mouth still playing with your clit. You can hear the wetness, feel how wet you are and wonder if any woman could be so slick for any man?

“Tormund…” It’s not a plea to stop. Not a question. Not anything, but a prayer to him. A prayer to everything he is as he slips another finger inside you, stretching you in a way that is briefly uncomfortable before it gives way to more pleasure. There is a coiling warmth in your stomach, a feeling like you are reaching some sort of precipice.

It doesn’t take much more for you to fall off that edge, for something to snap within you, an all-encompassing warmth and pleasure falling over you. It simply takes a growl against your cunt, the realisation that Tormund is too rocking his hips against the bed, that he is enjoying this, enjoying you as much as you are.

You don’t scream, you gasp for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as you collect yourself. But it’s not enough, not as he leans back up and over you, beard wet, lips glistening, grin firmly in place. Not as he kicks off the last of his clothing and worms his way between your thighs. Not as his hands come to rest beside your head, looming over you in a way that is not intimidating, but breath-taking.

“You’re fucking beautiful when you cum, She-Bear. My Little She-Bear.��

You gasp out, moan out as his hips rock that last few inches forward, his cock is sliding against your cunt. So easily, your wetness helping. He bumps against your clit and still sensitive skin, warm with blood. Your calves of their own accord wrap around him and tug him closer and you moan out as he nearly slips inside you.

“Tormund, please…please…” You can barely comprehend what you want, but you know you want him inside you, want him rocking close to you, want him as close as any man could ever get to you. You want him buried deep, want him filing you with his seed, want him as a wife wants a husband, want to make a start on little ginger babies.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed, make beautiful red-haired babes with you, watch you swell for me. Take you as my wife, my Little She-Bear Wife.”

He finally pushes into you and waits. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, it is an uncomfortable feeling at first, a stretch that discomforts you, not the blinding pain others have talked about, and the discomfort fades as he waits, as he stills his hips.

When that discomfort disappears for the most part you rock your hips slightly, just a little test, to see what happens and pleasure flows through your limbs, your shoulders seizing. Tormund takes it for the sign that it is and moves, his hips begin thrusting into your own, his cock rubbing against your warm inner walls with each movement. You are not sure any words could describe the warmth, the tightness, the sensation of Tormund moving within you. The feeling which has you struggling to breathe in the best of ways, has you clinging to his shoulders as your skin slaps together and one of his hands dips once more into the soft flesh of your hip. You are going to have bruises, you know that, and you can’t bring yourself to care. It is rather a nice prospect, to be marked by him, to have a reminder of this feeling, this coiling and burning and writhing.

You say his name over and over and over again like a mantra as he whispers in your ear how he’s going to make you his wife, fill you with little ginger babies, love you every day of your life. You never imagined a man could feel this good. But he does, he feels so good that it takes mere minutes for you to feel that snap, that coil break as you gasp and moan at the breaking of your pleasure.

You are still gripping him tightly as he thrusts a few more times into you, his cock dragging against your walls, before he groans out himself, faced pressed into your shoulder as he cums inside you. You will worry about Moon-Tea later, but for now, you simply hold him against you, the feeling of slick and cum between your thighs oddly pleasant.

You run a hand through the hair at the back of his neck, feeling him shiver as your nails scrape gently across his scalp. “I love you.” You whisper it into his ear, it feels as intimate as earlier, when his forehead pressed against yours in the courtyard.

He tiredly pushes himself up on his arms, pulling out of your body and rolling to the side, wrapping an arm around your plump stomach. “I love you too, She-Bear.” It is groaned out, exhausted, tired, but happy and you snuggle back into his body and let your eyes close.

You will get married soon. This you know. Neither of you want anyone to have an excuse to keep you apart. Wildling King, vicious fighter, gentle friend, giant’s bane, and soon he’ll be your husband too.

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Tightrope Walking” - Part 6

“Tightrope Walking” - Part 6

(Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5)

My Masterlist - Here

Bruce Wayne x Reader - Romantic Relationship

Jim Gordon x Reader - Father/Daughter Relationship

Jerome Valeska x Reader - Past Friendship

Word Count: 2,500-ish

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Violence, cursing (the usual). If I missed anything, please let me know!

Summary: It’s time for your performance. But of course it doesn’t go smoothly.

Author’s Note: Okay, I have been waiting to write this part for weeks now! I really like this part and I know it’s lengthy, but I hope its worth the read to you. I honestly love these type of stories were there is a lot going on.

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces (All Works, Specific Fandoms, or Specific Multi-Parts), please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tags: @cheyennethefangirl @fayrizo @insanityismysanity12345 @just-damn-peachy

That 10 minute warning from Jerome came to an end quicker than you would’ve liked. You had gotten relatively comfortable moving around in your costume and shoes. You were stretching some more when Jerome busted into the dressing room.

He looked at you like how he used to. His eyes were actually caring and he had a genuine smile underneath the permanent one that was cut out. For a second, he looked like the Jerome you knew and used to love. But that thought quickly scattered. He is a killer. He is insane. He fucking kidnapped you. There is no way he could have any love in his cold heart.

“You look perfect, sweetcheeks. Truly perfect.” He moved in to kiss your cheek, but you pushed him away. His face grew annoyed. He grabbed your upper arm rather hard. Hard enough that you were sure you were going to have bruises. He pulled your face close to his.

“Why are you being so mean? Hmm?” You didn’t answer. You were looking down, so you didn’t see him raise his arm and aim for your face. He slapped you as hard as he gripped your arm. You wanted to fall to the floor but couldn’t. Jerome pulled you back up and made you look at him.

“Now look at you. Your makeup is smudged.” He looked down at his watch before turning back to you. “We don’t have any time to spare though. You’ll just go out like this.” You felt a tear trail down your cheek. Something in Jerome switched and he became caring again. Loosening his grip, he looked you up and down.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. I just--” He went to put a hand on your cheek, but it stung so bad that you had to pull away. He just watched you flinch away. It broke his heart a bit. He grabbed one of your hands and tried to speak in a softer voice.

“You gotta get back in a good mindset, sweetcheecks. It’s time to shine.” You just looked up and wiped the tear from your sore face.

You tried to not think of how this was going to also bruise, as you got up. Jerome put an arm around you and walked you out to the chaos of the carnival.

Jerome stayed true to his word. There were quite a few stronger men acting as spotters below you. No matter the number of men that Jerome had gathered, you didn’t trust anyone here. You had made it up to the platform. It was just a bit shorter than the one you used to use during your time with Haly’s circus. It’s only 20 ft. Come on. But what if--

You didn’t have much more time to think. You suddenly felt the spotlight on you and caught the end of Jerome’s introduction. You looked down at him. He gave the megaphone to another henchman before taking his place right underneath you, where the safety net should be..

There’s no other way to go. Keep moving forward.

You took a few seconds to gather yourself. Imagining yourself anywhere else but here. You adjusted your grip on your balance bar and took you first step on the rope, testing it out. For looking so haphazard, it was surprisingly stable. Another breath in, eyes looking forward, and you were off the platform.

What you couldn’t see below you was Bruce, Jim, Harvey, and Alfred watching you. All of them were worried beyond belief. Jim and Bruce knew your past, but Alfred and Harvey didn’t. Even knowing your past, Jim and Bruce were terrified. There was no harness or net. What would happen if you fell?

You were about halfway across. You weren’t focused on anything other than the music, the rope, and your breathing. Your old act came back to you and you tossed in a few tricks here and there. After doing a sort of fancy turn on the rope, you were regaining your balance when you heard a loud bang and felt a sharp pain rip through your upper arm. Somehow you don’t lose your balance completely, but you do have to just stop and stand there for a minute.

Looking down at your arm, you see red blood staining your leotard. Thank god the idiot missed the middle of your arm. That being said, he did manage to clip the side of your arm. And it was deep enough to do some damage. But at least it wasn’t through the middle or in another part of your body.

Just breathe. You can’t do anything right now. Just get across this fucking rope and you’re done. Come on, (Y/N).

Meanwhile, Jerome was watching you with so much protection until he knew you were balanced safely. He then pulled a gun out and turned to the man who still had his gun raised. Jerome was going to send a bullet straight through the dumbass’s head when he was taken aback by another gunshot. His eyes shot to you, but there was no harm done to you. Turning to the crowd, there was a pathway opening around a small group. Jim with his gun raised in the air with Bruce, Alfred, and Harvey behind him.

Jerome laughed when he saw them.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Our special guests have arrived! The famous Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne! And they brought some friends! Why don’t we show them--” Jerome’s speech was interrupted by your scream.

You had been listening to Jerome while also trying to keep you balance. But then two names stood out and made you lose your focus. You weren’t thinking clearly anymore. You scream without thinking.

“JIM! BRU--”

All eyes went back up to you.

As soon as the words leave your throat, you feel your balance waiver. Your grip on the balancing pole failed and it fell onto a henchmen below. Before you could try to freehand it and get your balance back, your foot slips off of the rope. Jerome sees this and yells back at you. Bruce was going to lunge under you, but one of Jerome’s followers holds a gun against him and the others that came to save you.

“(Y/N)! I gotcha, sweetcheeks.”

As soon as you felt your foot slip, you reached your arms out to grab the rope. Thank god you did. The wound on your arm felt like it opened even more due to the sudden strain to hold yourself on the rope. You let out a scream of pain, but you couldn’t let go. You tried to steady your breathing and readjusting your hands to get a better grip. You’ve been a similar position before.

Your first show with Haly’s. Your first time performing your act in front of an audience. You tripped but pulled yourself back up. You surprised yourself with your strength. Find that strength again. Not physical. Mental strength.

You cannot fall down. Jerome might catch you. Might. And even if he does, he’ll be all over you. You do not want that ever again. Bruce was down there. You wanted Bruce and your dad. Like fucking hell I’m gonna fall.

Taking another couple of breaths, you somehow push through the pain in your shoulder and get yourself sitting back on the rope, earning some applause from the viewers below. You look at where you are on the rope, only halfway. There is no where to go but forward. You were about to stand back up when Bruce’s voice rang out.

“Keep going, (Y/N)! You got this!” You look down and find him in the crowd. He is looking a Jerome and looks like he is going to try to take him down. Before you could scream back, Bruce is fighting with the henchman that had a gun pointed at his head. He then lunges at Jerome. Jerome lands on his ass and Bruce is now directly underneath you.

“I got you! Just fall down to me!” You actually think about it for a hot second but then see movement to Bruce’s left. Jerome is getting up, gun in hand, his sight set on Bruce. Fear came over you in a split second.

“Bruce! Watch out!” Bruce turns around in time to see Jerome getting up and stalking towards him. He looks back at you once more. You scream at him. “Get out of here!”

“I’ll find you! I promise!” And with that, Bruce ran through the crowd and into the house of mirrors with Jerome following close behind. There is too much chaos going on down below for you to find Jim or Alfred or Harvey. So you take a deep breath and try to focus.

There is no way out. Just forward.

Somehow you were able to tune everything out and stand back up. While regaining your balance, you heard another gunshot and a bullet whiz by you. Whoever tried to shoot at you missed. You looked down to see Jim knocking someone out, most likely the man who tried to shoot you just now. You two exchanged glances.

You could see how worried Jim was, even from this high up. You nod to him and he nods back before turning his attention to the thugs around him. Just that little moment gave you more confidence in your ability to do this.

Focusing on your breathing, you took step after step until you were almost there. The platform was only another 5 feet away. This realization hit you and you risked everything to pretty much run across that rope. 

You landed against the pole that shot through the middle of the platform. Taking a second to really feel that you were off the rope and safe, you slid down and sat there for a minute. Tears of relief flooded down your face. You regained your composure enough to see clearly, and you quickly went down the ladder to the ground.

I gotta get to Bruce before Jerome does.

When you did reach the floor, you saw how chaotic it really was. Fighting everywhere, gunshots every so often, and screams of pain mixed in with the carnival music. You leaned down to a fallen follower of Jerome’s and took the baseball bat that he had in his dead hands. When you looked back up, you saw the sign for the House of Mirrors and ran as fast as you could.

Before you could get to the entrance, you saw Alfred. You were about to call out to him, but then you saw five henchmen beginning to circle around him. There was no way he could take all of them down himself. So you ran up and beat the shit out of two of them while Alfred took care of the other three. You had finished your two and saw one of the three that Alfred was fighting coming at him from behind with a knife. Before he could reach Alfred, you tapped his shoulder and whacked him as soon as he turned around. Alfred had finished the two he was fighting and then turned around to see you with the bat.

You were bashing at this creep’s ribs. It was all really hitting you what had happened. So all of your fear and adrenaline were getting out of your system. The only reason you stopped throwing the baseball bat at the follower was because the pain in your shoulder started to flare up again. It felt like you had been shot 20 times over in that spot. You dropped the bat while stumbling backwards a bit and quickly putting a hand over the wound. Alfred was by your side in a second to keep you upright.

“It’s alright, miss. He’s not getting up anytime soon.” He tried to look at you, but you had a faraway look in your eyes and your breathing was becoming quicker. Alfred remembered you getting like this at dinner. He tried his best to reenact what Bruce had done to get you back and calm you down a bit. 

“Miss?” He put his hand on your uninjured shoulder and you pulled back quickly, you brain was playing with you. You knew his voice. You knew him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help. I know it’s mad here, but you need to focus on something. Something small. Focus on the ground. Or better yet, focus on your hands.” You slowly shift your gaze to your hands as you move each digit and slowly come back to reality. Reality wasn’t much better than inside your head right now, but you had friends here. And that was better.

You fully realized that Alfred is here now. You throw your arms around him, wincing as you didn’t really think about your shoulder before doing so. Alfred tried his best to help you from falling over again. Before either of you could say anything, another voice entered. A voice that had helped you through so much in your life already. A voice you were scared you would never hear again.

“(Y/N)! ALFRED!” You turn around and see Bruce coming out of the House of Mirrors. He is a bit bloody and beaten, but he was alive. Even though you were a little lightheaded, you ran towards him.

“BRUCE!” He could see how much blood you had lost and how much pain you were in, so he ran a bit faster than normal so he could catch up to you. And good thing he did.

You got about 10 feet closer to him before tripping and almost falling, but you landing in his arms. He pulled you up and you both embraced for a second or two. He tightened his arms around your waist and buried his head in your neck. You were shaking like a leaf. Your shoulder hurt like a bitch, but you didn’t care. Bruce was alive and you were in his arms.

You both pulled away to look at each other. His hands inspecting the wound on your shoulder while yours just went up to his face. You were in tears.

“I was so scared I thought Jerome was going to kill you in there. And I thought about how that would have been the last time I saw you. And I don’t know what I would have done if he had--” You knew you were rambling but you couldn’t help it. Luckily, Bruce knew the best way to make you stop. He had simply leaned forward and kissed you. The kiss was not simple like your usual kisses, but you kissed back with no hesitation.

When you two pulled away, you were still shaking and crying. But now they were tears of relief. Bruce opened his mouth to say something when a voice behind you broke your attention. Turning around, you were met with the protective face of Jim with Harvey behind him.

“(Y/N)! Bruce! Behind you!” Jim called out. Bruce took your hand and led you both to Alfred, the two of them helping hold you steady. You now saw what Jim was warning you two of. Jerome was stumbling out of the House of Mirrors towards the group of you, with his face sliding off. But Jim stepped in and socked one right to Jerome’s face. Jerome turned back to Jim with his face halfway sagging off of his head. Jerome tried to land a punch on Jim, be he dodged and returned with a strong punch to Jerome’s face again. This time causing his face to fly a few feet away.

Jerome stumbled backwards, but before he completely fell, he looked at you. He saw you leaning on Bruce. His face went from pain to disgust.

“I thought you were better than that, sweetcheeks.” was all he got out before he fell backwards and passed out.

Harvey went to go make sure Jerome was down and put him in cuffs while he lightly shoved Jim towards you. You were already slowly making your way towards him, he just opened his arms and closed the distance. You were shaking and started crying again, thankful that you all were alive and together.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N/N). This shouldn’t have happened to you.” You just looked up at him and shushed him.

“I know you’re sorry. But there wasn’t anything else we could have done to prevent this from happening. I just--” You lost your balance halfway through your sentence. Jim caught you, but you started getting tunnel vision and your ears were ringing.

“Harvey! Call for an ambulance!”

[heartmadeofstxne]

This is the first of a series of drabbles about some of my characters called “People Fall Asleep on Lucas” 

This is Charlie

Pairing: Lucas/Charlie

Words: About 2500

Shameless fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort, (not really a sickfic but kinda)

Commences under the cut

Charlie had been sick for a handful of days, dragging himself to his classes and pushing himself through practice with a racking cough and spiking fever. It took the collective efforts of pretty much everyone in their dorm to get his ass down to the infirmary where they kept him for the end of the week. Now, his fever had broken and his cough no longer left him breathless for minutes after. The illness had left him tired and achy and taken all but the last pieces of his voice but also stir crazy.

Lucas lounged lazily on the couch, legs stretched, typing absentmindedly on his laptop. He’d never been more relieved that the coaches had given the team a fairly light, quick Friday afternoon practice. Their sick captain wasn’t the only player showing fatigue and for once Lucas couldn’t argue with cutting down on the amount of practice.

Charlie returned to the dorm leaning only a little on Mr. Donovan as they went up the hill. Upon seeing Lucas his face lit up with more energy than he’d showed nearly all week, prompting his dorm parent to give a bemused chuckle. Lucas didn’t look up from his screen and Charlie silently chewed on his lip in disappointment.   

“Luc. Look who I found.” Lucas jumped slightly at the sound of Mr.Donovan’s voice and scanned the room searching. Seeing Charlie, Lucas’ throat gave a small gasp of delight as he leaped to his feet, leaving his laptop discarded on the floor to bound across the room.

“Hey babe” Lucas punctuated his greeting by leaning over and kissing Charlie’s forehead.  Charlie beamed and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a disapproving cluck from Mr. Donovan.

“He can stay in the dorms with us for the weekend, provided that he takes it easy and actually rests his voice and lets it recover.” Like a switch, Charlie’s smile turned into a scowl and he lifted his chin slightly in defiance. Lucas took the opportunity to run his fingertips along Charlie’s still slightly swollen neck and glands. Despite the light touch, Charlie winced and Lucas’ hand dropped instantly.

“You still look pretty rough C. I bet you’ve done a real number on your vocal chords. Come on, let’s get you back to your room so you can get some rest before everyone else gets back and hound you.” Lucas deposited Charlie into the room that he shared with Mathieu before heading to the next door over and sliding down to lean against his bed. Eyes closed he could hear what sounded like Charlie walking around and moving things in his room and Lucas groaned but couldn’t bring himself to himself to stand back up. If Charlie wanted to fucking kill himself on a Friday afternoon Lucas wasn’t going to stop him.

Lucas half surprised himself by falling asleep on the floor in the middle of the afternoon. It was a habit that he’d picked up from some combination of having Dylan for a roommate and just being a high schooler. He woke up to his already sore neck being tight and upset from leaning against the wood of the bed. With a sharp exhale, Lucas stood up, stopping for a moment to let the world spin around him. Slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes he stumbled his way back into the common area. Charlie was on the couch, leaning against Natalie, Maddie on the ground at his feet. Dylan and Carmen seemed remarkably peaceful, sharing the loveseat and so Lucas lowered himself into a chair at the dining table.

“You look like shit” Mathieu said as way of greeting as he took the seat across from Lucas.

“It’s what happens when you take an unplanned nap in the middle of the day.” Lucas grumbled running a hand through his hair bitterly.

“It’s a good thing you’re going to be using this weekend to fucking sleep then.” Mathieu didn’t phrase it as a question and Lucas rolled his eyes.

“You say that like I don’t have 3 tests next week and a paper coming up.”

“All things you can do after you relax for a bit.”

“I don’t feel like you’re exactly one to be making that point M.”

“No one in this fucking dorm takes care of themselves so we each have to look out for each other. You spend this weekend making sure Charlie doesn’t try to get back on the ice or like sing. I’ll make sure you don’t burn yourself out studying.”

“Who looks after you?”

“Nat.” Mathieu responded without missing a beat.

“We’re freaking 16, M. Why are we so tired all the time?”

“Stacose”

“You couldn’t have said that in fucking english?”

“No. I like annoying you too much.”

“You are the worst fake-ex-boyfriend ever.”

“I know. So spend some goddamn time with your actual boyfriend you asshole. It’ll be good for both of you and your relationship to have some down time.” Lucas didn’t respond but simply got up with a new mission to find food knowing that Mathieu wouldn’t take it personally.

Mathieu must have recruited Dylan because by the time that Lucas woke up, his roommate had at some point silently snuck out of the room and disabled his alarm. With a sigh, Lucas reached for his glasses and headed out into the almost entirely empty common area. Charlie was alone at the dining table eating a plate of fruit and pancakes. When he saw Lucas approaching his pushed one over to the end of the table.

“Thanks.” Lucas taking the seat and the plate. “Everyone else has headed out I take it?” Charlie nodded. Lucas let his head fall against the hand of his right arm that he had propped up on the table and set to chewing. Charlie rapped twice on the table with his knuckle prompting Lucas to look over in concern “yeah?”

Charlie pointed at Lucas, then placed two fingers on his own temple before tipping his head questioningly. Lucas frowned around the mouthful of food he was swallowing trying to figure out the question.

“Oh” He realized “These” he chuckled and ran a finger along the edge of the frame of his glasses “No I don’t have a headache right now. I just have a feeling it’s just going to be one of those days. Weekend probably. Lots of homework and studying to do.”

Charlie motioned at himself and then at his room and held his hands far apart in front of his own face. He had missed two and a half days of classes while being on bedrest and it wasn’t like the classes he had attended at the beginning of the week had gotten his full attention either. “You’re sick, you were sick. Surely your teachers understand that. You still look like you got hit by a fucking bus. They’re not making you do all of the work are they?”

Charlie shrugged, hesitated and then held out his left hand, palm down and shook it side to side. “I’m sorry C. Sometimes high school just fucking sucks.”

Charlie lowered his gaze to his plate and put his focus on pushing some berries around, no gestured response. It was hard for Lucas to see him struggle to communicate. For a much as Charlie was shy, quiet and withdrawn, for as much as he looked to other people to literally speak for him. It seemed that Lucas had somewhat forgotten how chatty and lively his boyfriend could be. Now he was reduced to fucking miming whatever he was feeling.  They ate the rest of their food in silence.

Lucas thought about what Mathieu had said, he really did. But what Mathieu hadn’t seemed to consider was that he was a natural test taker, while Lucas was more like a normal human being and was not. Anyway it wasn’t like Charlie seemed to want to hang out and have quality boyfriend bonding time either. “I’m going to go do math homework in my room. Uh, knock some shit over if you need anything.”

In his room Lucas dug his math textbook and flipped it open his desk. He worked on the assigned problems, solving triangles by dragging his hand across his notebook. It took so much of his mental energy to remain at least semi focused that he didn’t notice the door behind him open. He only noticed when Charlie wrapped his arms around him from behind. He would have complained but it felt surprisingly nice to have a weight draped over his back, warmth shared between him and someone else. Charlie leaned in close so that his breath was on Lucas’ neck. “Hey babe” Lucas put down his pencil and used his left hand to reach for Charlie’s. Charlie squeezed back with the left while his right hand reached over to grab one of the pencils loose on Lucas’ desk. Pushing himself into his toes so that he could reach all the way over Lucas, Charlie wrote a couple numbers on the paper and almost instantly simplified and solved the equations Lucas had been blankly staring at.  

Lucas turned his chair around, and detangled himself from Charlie’s arms so that they were facing each other. “You know that I love your math brain and your freakish calculator abilities. But maybe we should save the tutoring for when you can, you know actually talk.”

Charlie pulled away and crossed his arms protectively over his chest.  He shrugged and then nodded but made no move to leave Lucas’ room.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Lucas wasn’t sure he could focus with his boyfriend looking so pathetic behind him “Go back to your room C.”

Lucas expected another scowl, like he’d given when Mr.Donovan had reminded him not to talk. He hadn’t expected his 17 year old boyfriend to fucking pout at him. But that’s exactly what Charlie was doing, eyes wide, bottom lip stuck out and Lucas didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He reached out with a gentle hand and laid on Charlie’s left check. “Charlie’s you’re older than me. You really think you can pout and get me to do whatever you want?” Charlie’s expression didn’t change. Lucas’ leg jiggled uneasily against the base of his chair “For fuck’s sake Charlie. Fine. Go to your room, let me finish this up and then I’ll come sit with you or something. I promise. Go.” Satisfied, Charlie dropped his arms, smiled and left the room. Lucas scoffed and rolled his way back to the desk but he couldn’t stop from smiling fondly.

Somehow, Lucas found it easier to focus on his homework and worked on the next set of problems with a renewed energy. He was disrupted by the sound of might be moving boxes, a small crash and then a violent coughing fit. Lucas’ pencil fell to the floor as he leaped to his feet.

“Charlie?” He burst into the other room to find Charlie standing in the middle, holding the guitar that normally hung above his dresser. “Fuck, Charlie. I thought, I thought…nevermind.” Lucas rubbed his forehead and bent down to pick up some of the boxes of Mathieu’s spare parts that had fallen. He had noticed that someone, presumably Natalie or Mathieu had taken the pair of Charlie’s skates and the stick from the entryway of the dorm but he hadn’t put it past Charlie to try and dig out old hockey equipment and try and sneak out. Charlie only gave a sheepish shrug in response. “Come on, I assume you don’t want to be in this room alone much longer” Lucas took Charlie’s arm and pulled him into the common area. Mr.Donovan had emerged from his office at the sounds and Charlie gave him a thumbs up while Lucas rolled his eyes. “I got him. Don’t worry.”

Charlie sat on the couch and strummed happily on his guitar while Lucas picked up a notepad that he must have previously left out and a pen and sat down next to him. The two sat without conversation for quite some time until Charlie started to fade, letting his arms fall and the music stop. Lucas glanced up from his notes “You’re still tired huh?” Charlie couldn’t deny it and shrugged, Lucas took the instrument from him and with great care laid it on the coffee table in front of them.

“Come here” He motioned Charlie over closer to him and flipped on the television where the last 10 minutes of a hockey game were playing. When a one goal lead was blown with 4 minutes left , Lucas gave a triumphant cry while Charlie gave more of a squeak and and then doubled over coughing. “Fuck, fuck. Sorry, sorry. That was my bad. Not one of my greatest plans, that was kinda the inevitable outcome.” Charlie straightened up shaking his head and massaging his throat.

Not your fault He mouthed and Lucas sighed

“Kind of my fault.” Mr.Donovan reappeared with a glass of water and bag of cough drops, both of which Charlie  took graciously.

Lucas curled up on the couch, hugging the notebook to his chest. To his surprise, once Charlie was done drinking and swallowing he leaned against him. He let Charlie stay there for a couple of minutes before glancing around the room and coming up with an idea. He tried to pull his legs out from under Charlie without disturbing him but received a sound of indignation. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.” He returned to his room with quick strides and scanned his bookshelf until he found what he was looking for.

Charlie was sitting up waiting for his human to return and so Lucas didn’t have to wiggle his way back under the other. “Have you read this?” He asked holding out the beautiful black hardcover book with golden edges to the pages. Charlie shook his head after a glance. “Good. It’s been awhile since I’ve read it but from what I remember you should really enjoy it.”

So Lucas began to read, he’d never been one to read outloud much but Charlie was a great audience of one. At first he fought to keep his eyes open, looking up at his boyfriend with focus and admiration. Lucas however, ran his hand through Charlie’s hair, down his face and neck before resting on his heart. “Don’t worry about it” he whispered “Close your eyes, go to sleep. I’ll read it again with you when you’re feeling better. I just thought you could use something to fill the silence.”

Charlie smiled almost tearfully up at Lucas from where he laid in his lap and Lucas smiled back. He was amazed with how much he felt just sitting there as well. Maybe Mathieu could be right this one time.