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mikavlcs · 2 years ago

Text

Reverie

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x cryomancer!reader

Summary: In the midst of investigating, a figure from your past returns, sending you into a panic. Wednesday is there to help pick up the pieces (and maybe get some revenge too).

Warnings: panic attack, implied abuse and violence, blood, reader is a Simp, it gets a bit morbid near the end lol, abrupt ending

Word count: 5.5k (sigh)

Notes: this fic made me realize just how much i struggle with character descriptions... but anyways this is a long request for literally the nicest anon ever, whoever you are i hope you enjoy this!

Masterlist | Part 2

Silence was something that you cherished.

Throughout the years, the numerous group homes, revolving door of foster parents, and whirlwind of schools you attended instilled a yearning for calm and quiet. A need for peace to soothe your daily anxieties.

Loud noises were bothersome, they reminded you of things better left forgotten which is why you put forth your best effort to avoid them wherever you ended up.

Nevermore Academy was no different.

Though it was a school for outcasts, it was still a school. A place that housed hundreds of rowdy, unruly teenagers for the better part of the year. And teenage outcasts were still teenagers.

You learned quickly to avoid the quad at all times of day except after curfew, the only time when it was completely empty save for some roaming teachers.

Lunches were spent in empty classrooms instead of the cafeteria and free time was spent exploring the campus for a place to claim as your own, like you have in every place you inhabited over the years.

But luck, it seemed, was not on your side because not a single place you found fit your needs.

Sure, there were quieter places like the library or the dorms (depending on the hour), but it was rare that found a place that offered actual meaningful silence.

Surprisingly, the solution to your problem came the moment you looked beyond the cramped campus of the school, and that solution was the forest.

The vast woodland that separated Nevermore and Jericho was thick, comprised of thousands of trees, and filled with life of all kinds—tall, vibrant green trees, a myriad of bird species, scampering squirrels, and even foxes during parts of the year.

Unfortunately, not all of the life that resided there was welcome. You heard whispers of something in the forest killing unsuspecting hikers and truckers. The mayor said it was bears, but you knew better.

Knowledge of the danger that lurked amongst the trees only made the woods that much more enticing to you. You trusted your ability to keep yourself safe with your powers. A wall of ice was a simple thing for you to create, but not for someone (or something) else to break.

The forest became your safe haven. Because of the murders, both students and Jericho residents alike tended to keep their distance, which made your solitude nearly guaranteed.

The chirping of birds in the distance and whistling of the trees in the wind made for a beautiful ambiance to read in. And it remained unequivocally yours for the first part of the semester.

Then a new student arrived mid-semester.

You never went out of your way to look for her, knowing you would hate that kind of attention yourself, but you still managed to see glimpses. Truthfully, she was hard to miss.

A girl dressed head to toe in black, twin braids framed a permanently impassive face, dead eyes set on the path in front of her. With her came a sense of foreboding, like storm clouds on the horizon. You would’ve sworn she was also a cryomancer with the way she seemed to chill the atmosphere around her.

Students parted like the Red Sea when she walked through the halls, determined to avoid her wrath. Given the few rumors you heard in passing across the school, you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

But those glimpses were few and far between, mere moments when your eyes caught a flash of monochrome, then she was gone.

She shared a handful of classes with you, but she was always seated across the room from you, just out of your sightline. By the time class ended and you got your things together to leave, she was on her way to her next class.

The first time you truly saw her was in passing.

You were at your spot in the woods, resting your back against the broad trunk of a tree as you read when the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Curious, you glanced up toward the sound and sure enough, there she was a few meters away heading in your direction.

She paused when your eyes met but remained silent. The only indication of surprise was the way her eyes narrowed, brows lowering ever so slightly.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone, you know,” she said. Her voice was cold as a winter breeze. You liked it, it suited her.

“I could say the same to you,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your book. You kept your focus on your story, eyes dutifully scanning the sentences, but in your peripherals, you could see her still standing there.

Another moment passed before she resumed walking, heading off in the direction she had been going before and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lifted to the retreating figure, following her until she was completely out of sight.

A curious encounter, but not one you ended up giving much thought to.

Then she showed up again.

Only the very next day did she appear once more, the circumstances exactly the same as before. You read, she walked. Except this time she didn’t pause, just kept marching past you.

Same with the next day. And the next. And the next. You were almost convinced that you two had a pseudo routine when, with no warning, it changed.

One rather humid afternoon, you heard her footsteps and didn’t bother looking up, knowing she would just continue on her way. But today she didn’t. Today, her steps faltered as she went by you, and above your book, you saw her pivot.

Your eyes were drawn up by the unfamiliar movement. Brows furrowed, you watched as she settled against a tree opposite of you and rummaged around in her bag, pulling a textbook and paper out.

From where you were, you couldn’t see what the paper was, but the book you immediately recognized. It was a textbook for Botany—one of the few classes you shared with her. The paper must’ve been the homework that you finished in class.

You were almost tempted to offer your help, but you knew she had no need for it.

So you turned your attention back to your book, reading a bit slower with the distraction of the girl across from you.

The worksheet, unsurprisingly, took Wednesday all of ten minutes to complete, but she stayed there with you for the better part of the afternoon, pulling out a book after she finished the homework.

Not a word was spoken between either of you, not even an exchange of names. Just you, her, and the blissful, silent serenity of the forest around you.

She left at sundown, packing her things and walking away without sparing a glance your way. You left soon after, a smile pulling at your lips.

When she returned the next day, that same smile appeared. Even when she didn’t stop to sit.

Your pseudo routine had shifted.

Some days she left to venture into the forest, some days she stayed with you. And though you were content to just sit with her when she allowed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where she went off to on the days she chose to keep walking.

Your answer ended up coming from Enid. The girl had asked to sit next to you in Vampire Anatomy class and you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Through the blog posts that Enid insisted you read, you learned that her name was Wednesday Addams, and she was trying to find the “monster” that lurked in Jericho’s forest.

Your existing interest was piqued after that. The urge to tag along with her pulled at you every time you watched her disappear into the forest, but you tried to ignore it.

Though true crime had always been a passing interest, it wasn’t something you knew quite enough about to be of any actual use to Wednesday.

Still, you couldn’t help but try.

When you asked to join Wednesday in her investigation, you expected a cold and firm no. Instead, she neither accepted nor declined your offer. Simply looked at you, normally dull eyes shining chaotic as lightning, then walked off into the forest, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

Thus began your actual new routine. You’d head to the forest after class, read until Wednesday arrived, and wait until she informed you of her afternoon plans.

If she sat against the tree that you’d begun to call hers, then the afternoon hours would be spent together in blissful silence. But if she didn’t, she would walk past you, only pausing briefly to spare you a glance, extending a silent invitation that you always accepted.

Afternoons that weren’t spent in the serenity of the forest were spent acquiring evidence, gathering information, and sussing out any potential suspects.

Weeks of slow, but steady progress were made (mostly by Wednesday) and you enjoyed every second of it.

She still didn’t offer up much information about herself—her likes and interests (aside from general morbidity) were never so much as alluded to during your time investigating, but you liked that.

In your mind, she was like a puzzle that not many had the patience to put together. But you enjoyed the intrigue, savored the challenge.

You kept much of your own history to yourself as well. If asked you would say that you did it in a bid to make yourself seem more mysterious, but really you just didn’t like talking about it.

The past was something you desperately just wanted to forget and Wednesday excelled at making you do just that, even if she didn’t know it.

Before you knew it, you found yourself falling for her in a way you never had before. But who could blame you, really?

A short, but statuesque figure with eyes like black ice and a constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks that put the stars to shame. How anyone couldn’t be entranced at first glance was beyond you.

Your closeness with Wednesday, even if only for professional purposes on her end, served to further the distance between you and your classmates but you didn’t particularly care. What they feared, you admired and while you could understand their fear, you couldn’t fathom ever being afraid of Wednesday. Even at her most grotesque, she was enchanting.

Stupid as it may be, you’d follow her anywhere. You knew that, once you exhausted your welcome, she would likely discard you, but until then you’d just sit back and enjoy the ride with her.

This sentiment led you to Outreach Day.

To put it simply, Outreach Day was a goddamn mess.

Part of your day was spent in a pilgrim-themed dystopian hellscape trying to find information on Joseph Crackstone, another deep in the forest behind Jericho, searching the dilapidated remains of a meeting house from centuries ago.

Naturally, this culminated in the two of you getting chased by the very monster you were trying to investigate, which certainly wasn’t part of your plans for the day when you woke up, but with Wednesday you never really knew what you were going to get.

Fortunately, your near-death experience wasn’t for naught because you had learned one incredibly important fact.

The monster, whatever it was, was human. It was someone that either lived in Jericho or attended Nevermore Academy with you and Wednesday. Likely, it was someone they had already interacted with, knowingly or not.

That thought haunted you the entire long walk back into Jericho. So much so that Wednesday had to tell you to calm down because you were freezing the rain around you into snow and leaving icy footprints wherever you walked.

By the time you stepped back into the town, you were ready to go to your dorm and call it a night. Thankfully, the day was almost over. The only thing standing between you and your bed was the stupid statue unveiling everyone was forced to attend.

You were walking to the town square when it happened.

Thoughts about the monster’s identity were just starting to abate, boredom taking its place as you entered Jericho proper. Wednesday was beside you, matching your strides perfectly while she talked with Thing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

Even in the middle of the day, the town wasn’t bustling (though when was it ever?). A few residents peppered the streets, going about their day quietly while you and Wednesday passed them.

You idly scanned the town goers, eyes snagging on a woman on the opposite end of the road who looked oddly familiar.

The woman had her head turned, appearing to be on the phone with someone. You watched her carefully, slowing your pace slightly, and when she finally turned her head, it instantly clicked.

Walking down that street was your former foster parent, Mary.

You could remember the day you met her like it was yesterday.

It had been years since you’d been adopted out and swiftly swept back into the system once your last family found out that you were an outcast. You’d been told that someone was finally interested in you again and you were overjoyed to meet them.

Mary was a tall woman with a kind smile and the name of a catholic saint. You weren’t religious, but you figured (hoped) that it had to mean something.

You thought her your savior, your ticket out of the system forever, and she ended up being responsible for the worst years of your life.

When you snapped back to the present, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Wednesday was a few steps ahead, giving you a strange look. You wanted to explain or, better yet, grab her and drag her out of the town entirely, but it was too late. Mary was already looking your way.

Your eyes met and suddenly, you were twelve again. Angry shouts reverberated in your ears, mimicking the way they echoed off the cramped walls of the house. You saw yourself cowering in the face of her anger, shrinking into yourself as much as you could.

There was a flurry of movement, a sharp crack, and even now you swore you could feel the sting of the impact on your cheek.

She hated you, and you could still see remnants of that hatred now, even from across the street.

Distantly, you could hear Wednesday say something, but the sound was muffled by the roar of your blood in your ears. Despite the cool temperature, you were beginning to sweat, heart rate gradually picking up as you stared at the ghost from your past.

Mary hung up the phone and started toward you. That was all you needed.

The last thing you felt was the brush of cold fingers on your wrist before you ran.

You ran and ran and ran, feet carrying you as fast as physically possible. There was no real destination in mind, just away from her.

When the burning in your chest became unbearable, you stumbled into an alley. Your chest heaved and just as you were going to try and catch your breath, your legs crumpled beneath you, sending you careening into the nearest wall. You slid down to the ground and squeezed your knees to your chest.

Clarity evaded you no matter how much you tried to find it. You had seen people you knew in public before, even your other former foster parents, so you had no idea why seeing her was affecting you so badly.

Your heart pulsed endlessly in your chest, blood pumping through your veins like you were moving at a million miles per hour, yet you were frozen, your body permanently suspended in motion. A living contradiction that you couldn’t make any sense of.

The pain in your chest intensified, drawing your limbs in to try and relieve the ache. It felt as if your body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a dying star.

Tears gathered in your eyes, and you were helpless to stop them from streaming down your cheeks as the ache grew.

For an awful moment, you genuinely thought you were going to die.

A flash of movement and suddenly there was something—no, someone in front of you. They crouched before you, their face coming into view and familiar dark orbs stared at you in a way you’d never seen before.

Wednesday.

Relief momentarily cut through your misery. You figured she would find you at some point, likely after the ceremony, but the fact that she was here now made something other than agony bubble in your chest.

Suddenly, you noticed that her lips were moving. She was saying something. You tried to focus your hearing against the chaos, but nothing could be heard over the erratic beating in your chest. Frustration mounted, making you further curl into yourself.

Wednesday moved a bit closer, stopping just short of you so she was the only thing in your line of sight. This time you were just able to catch the tail end of her statement. “-st look at me.”

You complied.

“Identify five things that you can see. You don’t have to say them out loud,” she instructed you, slowly and firmly.

You took in her words, but your eyes never strayed from her.

The first thing you saw was her eyes. So dark that they appear black in most settings, but under direct sunlight they reveal themselves to be the most beautiful shade of brown you’ve ever seen. Second was her hair, the way her wet fringe clumped together, forming short tendrils on her forehead.

Next, you were drawn to the starry sea of freckles on her cheeks. The temptation to try and count them tugged at you. You disregarded it, wanting to complete the task at hand for Wednesday.

Your eyes moved to trace her jaw, number four on your list. It was clenched, the way it always was when she was either angry or worried about something. You briefly wondered which one she felt now.

Her lips were the fifth and final feature you saw. You didn’t let yourself think about them for long, simply cataloged them.

Once you mentally documented all five, you looked to Wednesday, your breaths coming somewhat more consistently.

“Got it?” she asked, voice sounding a bit clearer now. You nodded. She continued. “Alright, now four things you can feel.”

You stiffly unclasped your hands and set them on the ground at your sides.

Surprisingly, the first thing you felt beneath your fingers was the solid frigidity of ice. In your panic, you must’ve partially frozen the alleyway around you. The warmth of the air around you told you that you hadn’t frozen too much, thankfully. You counted the temperature as your second.

Third, you felt the weight of your soaked clothes. The way they clung to your skin pulled a small grimace from you. That segwayed directly into the fourth thing you felt—your wet hair. Droplets of water were still running down the back of your neck from it, making you shiver. Lastly, you felt the rough, uneven texture of the brick wall at your back.

Moving up slightly, you turned back to Wednesday, who was watching you attentively, and gave her a firmer nod. The tension in your chest was beginning to dissipate.

“Three things you can hear.”

Your ears perked and you tried to focus on the noises around you. Even on its busiest days, Jericho was a relatively quiet little town, so it was easy to hear things you normally wouldn’t be able to in more densely populated places.

The first thing your ears picked up was the chime of a ringtone a block or two away. A pop song, the kind that Wednesday detested. Second was a loud giggle from someone that sounded suspiciously like Enid. The sound of it almost made you smile. And third, the clatter of a cup onto the ground and an angry curse that immediately followed it.

Someone must’ve dropped their coffee. Again, you almost smiled. Your heart began to slow in your chest, the ache there subsiding as well.

Eyes returning to the girl in front of you, you nodded.

“Two things you can smell.”

That was easy. Wednesday’s usual scent of old books and incense was present, mixed with traces of wet grass, a reminder of your earlier excursion. Another smell you could identify was the pungent odor of days-old garbage. Your nose scrunched. Of course, you chose an alleyway with a dumpster.

Your posture loosened, muscles relaxing as you sent Wednesday yet another nod.

“One thing you can taste.”

The metallic taste of blood on your tongue almost made you startle. Pain flared in your cheek, an answer to your question of where it came from. You weren’t sure when you bit it, and presently, you didn’t really care.

Swallowing harshly, you gave the girl before you a shaky thumbs up. The firm set of her jaw relaxed as she continued to observe you. You returned the favor, gently resting your chin on your knees as you watched her.

“Who was she?” she asked, tone softer than usual.

Not expecting the question, you blinked. “Hm?”

“The woman, who was she?”

You swallowed. This was never something you wanted Wednesday to know about, but you supposed she deserved some sort of explanation after helping you.

“Former foster parent. Just one of the many people to hurt me over the years,” you admitted with a wry chuckle.

Wednesday didn’t laugh.

The faint sound of instruments caught your attention. It seemed that you were officially missing the unveiling.

“Shouldn’t you be playing?” you asked, remembering Weems’ comment about Wednesday’s cello earlier that day.

“The Jericho high school band doesn’t need me. You do. Weems will get over it.” She maneuvered herself to sit down next to you, bringing her knees up to mimic your pose. The space between you was virtually nonexistent, but she still wasn’t quite touching you, which you appreciated.

A few minutes passed in silence. The lingering effects of your panic began to fade, leaving behind an all-encompassing tiredness that nearly made you slump over.

Beside you, Wednesday sat perfectly still, occasionally sending glances that you pretended not to notice for her sake.

The chill she emanated was too soothing for you to really care about it anyways. You resisted the urge to lean closer, to steal more of it for yourself. But you just further lowered your body temperature with your powers instead.

You rested your head back against the wall. Honestly, just being within such close proximity of Wednesday was nice. You swore you could stay sitting there all day with her if time allowed…

An explosion in the distance made you jump. Concerned, you turned to Wednesday who looked much too unsurprised for it to be a coincidence. Only now did you notice Thing’s conspicuous absence. Brows furrowing, you leaned forward. “Wednesday, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she replied easily, lips quirking at the screams of terror that arose from the town square. Promptly, she stood and tilted her head down at you. “Come on, we need to secure our seats at the back of the bus.”

A soft nod was all you could manage in response. Standing was more of a struggle than you anticipated, your exhaustion so heavy it felt as if it settled into your very bones and weighed your limbs down, but after a few attempts, you were on your feet.

The moment you gained a semblance of stability, Wednesday snagged your sleeve and tugged you out of the alley, her grip gentler than you’d expect as she guided you back to the bus. You didn’t miss the joyful spark in her eyes at the chaos unfolding around the town.

When you arrived at the bus, the door was wide open and your companion wasted no time hauling you both inside, immediately making a beeline for the back row. She stopped in front of the seats you occupied on the ride into Jericho, dropping your sleeve as she stepped aside for you to sit.

You gave her a tired smile, grateful that she was giving you the window this time, and collapsed onto the seat. Wednesday slipped in right after you, sitting noticeably closer this time. Close enough that her arm lightly rested against yours.

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you didn’t dare point it out. You just rested your head against the window and closed your eyes.

The slow arrival of other students and staff barely registered, your focus altering between the events of the hour prior, and the comfortingly cold weight of Wednesday’s arm pressing against yours.

The bus ride back to school passed by in a blur and you were being pulled off the bus by Wednesday before you even realized it had stopped.

In a similar fashion, Wednesday dragged you by the sleeve to your dorm, all but shoving you toward your closet once inside.

“Get changed and get some rest. I will return in a few hours after I deal with something,” she said, eyeing you as she edged back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, concerned that she would try to continue investigating by herself. Wednesday turned to you, and for a moment you were convinced she would tell you that “what she did was none of your concern” or just leave altogether without a word, but at the last second her demeanor shifted.

“It’s nothing to do with the monster. I won’t be putting myself in danger in any way, you have my word,” she assured you, tone firm. There was no room for argument, and if you were being honest, you were compelled to believe her anyway.

You nodded slowly. “Ok.”

She held your gaze for another second then turned and strode out the door. You stayed standing in your spot until her footsteps faded completely.

Fatigue weighed on you once more and that was enough motivation for you to quickly shower and change into dry clothes. You abandoned your discarded uniform in the bathroom to dry, halfheartedly trudging to your bed and flopping down on it.

Scattered thoughts littered your brain, taking you from one turbulent topic to the next. Crackstone, Wednesday’s vision, the monster, Mary—until Wednesday herself came up and instantly everything else was irrelevant.

You thought about the way she treated you today, how she helped you, how she touched you. It made you much happier than it ought to.

As your eyes slipped shut, you wondered about where she could be. You just hoped she was safe.

Finally, your exhaustion overtook you, thoughts of Wednesday sending you into a deep slumber.

Hours later, you were woken by a sharp knock on your door.

The harsh sound nearly sent you tumbling out of bed. You were half-tempted to not answer it, but Wednesday said she’d be back later and the last thing you wanted to do was keep her waiting.

So you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, smiling when you were met with Wednesday’s usual deadpan stare. She walked past you into your dorm, not bothering to wait for an invitation she knew you’d give her, and while you shut the door, you took the chance to look at her.

She appeared unharmed. Her uniform, now dry, was perfectly situated as always and not a single hair on her head was displaced. She looked as if she’d just returned from a peaceful walk through the woods, but something told you that was far from the truth.

Wednesday walked over to set her bag down on your desk, carefully slipping something out of it before turning to face you. She beckoned you over and you complied.

“I was told to give this to you.” She extended an envelope in your direction.

A brow raised as you took the envelope, inspecting it closely. You never got mail, so you were immediately suspicious, but it looked harmless enough. A simple, white envelope, entirely blank besides the small writing of your name on the back.

Curious, you ripped it open and to your surprise, it was a letter from Mary. The scrawl was messier than usual, almost panicked, but the handwriting was distinctly hers. You read through it slowly, your initial apprehension turning to disbelief.

The letter detailed all of her transgressions against you and how genuinely, unerringly apologetic she was for hurting you.

Under the body of text, her name was written in a red ink so dark, you’d think that it was blood… And there was a smudge of crimson at the bottom of the page. As if the ink had been crudely spilled onto the paper.

You knew you shouldn’t be finding enjoyment in this. Frankly, you should be terrified but the feeling that bloomed in your chest was the furthest thing from fear.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked, jaw set in determination. The look in her eyes told you that if you said no, she would go back to Mary and make her write another one. If she was still alive that is.

“Yes, it is,” you said, dumbfounded, “but you really didn’t need to do anything, Wednesday.”

“She deserved it,” she retorted, a touch of hostility in her tone. A beat. Then, “You said there were others. If you give me their names, I will hunt them down and seek retribution on your behalf.”

The declaration shouldn’t have made your cheeks warm, nor should the bloodthirsty look in her eyes, but it did. It was equal parts horrifying and charming—the perfect cocktail of emotions to get your heart racing.

Maybe Wednesday was starting to rub off on you more than you thought.

“That…won’t be necessary,” you said slowly. You knew you should just leave it; you really did. But you couldn’t help yourself. “How exactly did you find out where she was staying?”

The ghost of a smirk appeared on her lips, all traces of hostility replaced with blatant self-assuredness. “I have my ways.”

Her blatant cockiness pulled a laugh out of you, the first of the day in fact. You wondered if you were imagining the relief in Wednesday’s eyes at the sound. Turning back to the paper, you sobered a bit.

“Wednesday, seriously, thank you. This is more than most people have ever done for me,” you admitted. The ethics of whether you should be thanking her be damned, this was a touching gesture in your mind. Shameful or not, you were going to properly thank her.

The sudden emotional vulnerability seemed to catch her off guard, eyes widening slightly. But she caught herself quickly. Her eyes darkened a bit and her smirk softened, turning into something suspiciously akin to an actual smile. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Another wave of warmth rushed through you, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible on your cheeks. It struck you that this was the first time you’d ever seen a (possibly) genuine smile on her face.

With that, the room lapsed into silence and like always, you let it sit between you.

She, too, let the quiet linger, holding your gaze with a confidence only she possessed. For just a moment, her eyes flicked downward, the movement so fast it was nearly imperceptible.

Nearly.

It was over just as quickly as it began and by the time you properly registered it, Wednesday was straightening up, dark eyes fixed on yours once more.

“Our investigation will resume tomorrow assuming there are no more unplanned interruptions. Meet me in my dorm after classes tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, still trying to figure out if what you saw was real or another possible figment of your imagination.

She headed for the door, and you panicked. You wanted to say something, anything to get her to stay for just one more moment. But nothing came to mind (nothing you had the courage to say, anyways).

Suddenly, she paused, turned to face you once more.

“Good night.”

You smiled. “Good night, Wednesday.”

A final nod and she was out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Again, you stayed there until the echo of her footsteps was no more. You looked down at the letter in your hand, pursing your lips. Reluctantly, you set it down on your desk. You would unpack all of your feelings regarding it later. Now, you had more pressing things to deal with.

For the second time, you flopped onto your bed, but this time, sleep was the last thing on your mind. In its place was the girl that chilled you with her presence mere minutes prior.

The smile on your face was immovable, as if it were permanently etched into your skin. You replayed the conversation over and over again in your head, highlighting the moments before she left.

You wondered, maybe pointlessly, if she could possibly like you back… Either way, you supposed it didn’t really matter now.

Even if she didn’t feel what you did, today’s ministrations proved that she at least cared for you on some level. That simple fact was enough to send you into a high unlike any other.

The idea of her actually reciprocating your feelings only propelled you further, your giddiness threatening to swallow you whole as you lay in your bed.

You spent the remainder of your night in a quiet daze, your mind consumed with nothing but familiar obsidian eyes and an addictively deadly smirk.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega #cryomancer is easily one of the coolest words i've ever seen btw #like look at that shit. it's awesome #oh and no offense to anyone named mary btw #i knew a very nice girl with that name #it was just the first thing i thought of while writing-

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thus-spoke-lo · 2 years ago

Text

Pain Management // Trafalgar Law x afab!reader // NSFW/18+

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Series Masterlist // AO3 Link // Playlist

Chapter 7: Experimental Treatment

Chapter Summary: After nearly getting caught in the throes of hidden passion, Law has insisted your relationship remain purely professional. The best solution, you decide, is to attempt to avoid him at all costs, which proves to be difficult when a night of alcohol-fueled mistakes leaves you in pain again--a pain you know only your devoted doctor can heal.

Chapter CW: afab reader, no pronouns used; gendered pet names [ex. "good girl"]; extremely dubious consent; emotional and sexual coercion/manipulation; abuse of authority [doctor/patient]; Stockholm syndrome-like behavior in reader; alcohol use [reader]; vaginal fingering; oral sex [reader receiving]

WC: 6.5k

The exam room haunted you as you walked by it each day, your gaze settling upon the door, wondering if he was waiting for you in there, if he was left wanting and empty with every passing afternoon that you never set foot inside that room. Your fingers brushed the door handle, wondering if Law was working in the small office just inside, sitting at his desk expectantly, biding his time until you graced his doorstep and pretended like nothing happened, nothing at all. Did he sit there in the flickering light, expecting you to lay there in the sterile quiet and let him slide his gloved fingers inside you, while a strained silence hung in the air?

The thought of him giving in again—letting that barrier of professionalism come crashing down as it shattered over you like glass as he surrendered to the feelings and desires that seemed to have tangled around him the same way they did you—was intoxicating. But it wasn’t worth the risk—it wasn’t worth feeling your heart ache over and over again every time you donned that thin, itchy gown, chasing after the pleasure and relief that he held in the palms of his hands.

So you avoided that room, and you avoided Law as much as possible. Despite the fact that your body didn’t hesitate to remind you that you needed treatment—you needed him—and it taunted you with dull stabbing pains, firing warning shots directly into your lower half, you kept away. The near-unquenchable thirst still left you feeling parched every time you passed him in the halls, every time he caught your eye across the dining hall, every time he came to give you orders, his expression caked in guilt and an unsettling glint of longing in his eyes, but you kept away.

As the days passed, there was something you needed to prove: you needed to prove to yourself that you didn’t need him, that you never needed him, that any glimmer of desire or something deeper—something you wouldn’t name—was just a holdover from that silly crush from long ago on the Sunny, compounded by his ability to provide you with the respite that you’d sought for so long.

Yet it became clear, despite how you filled your hours working yourself to exhaustion and rabidly devouring every book in the library, that you were too far gone to be distracted, that your infatuation would not relent. Law still had your very existence in his hold, both in pleasure and in pain—his low voice still echoed in your ears, his kiss still lingered on your lips, his touch still reverberated in the hollows of your bones, his perverted interpretation of affection still enveloped you in a kind of warmth, as gentle as the sun-dappled ocean waves. No one would study your body the way he did, no one would kiss you in the dark with such fiery longing, no one would touch you with such reverie the way he would—this you knew for certain.

As you laid on the floor of the library, a textbook balanced on your chest, you wondered how long ago it was that Law had felt it, too—how long ago the seeds of some invasive emotions had started to grow and try to find the sun. Was it when you boarded the Polar Tang that afternoon as you waved goodbye to the only family you knew anymore? Was it the first time he slid his fingers inside you in the solace of the exam room—or was it the night you spent in his bed, trembling and desperate for his help? Or had it always been there, ever-present since your gazes met that first day on the Sunny? Perhaps it was then that the wildflowers had bloomed inside you both.

It was, mercifully, only a few more days until you’d be port-side for a short while, Bepo told you as he shuffled papers around on the table nearby. He tilted his head and looked down at you, your body prostrate on the carpet, your eyes fixed on some distant spot on the ceiling, and asked if everything was alright in a tone that said he already knew the answer. You assured him that you were fine—always were, always would be—and reached up to pat his plush hand, telling him that you were just going a little stir-crazy and you couldn’t wait to get a some sun. Bepo nodded and hummed, accepting your answer for the moment, not quite convinced but knowing better than to extend the conversation any further.

Some time away from the vessel would be beneficial, you reasoned; surely the island would be expansive enough that you could put some distance between yourself and Law’s claustrophobic presence aboard the ship, letting you breathe in something that wasn’t him for the first time in a while. You would extract yourself from those brittle vines that still bound you, tear them apart with your hands if you had to, even as they pierced you flesh and threatened to envelop you again even as you ripped them out by the roots, and let them burn away in the heat of the sun.

----------

The sound of your peace being disturbed came in the form of a man’s voice: “Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”

You glanced up from the room-temperature ale you had been nursing for the last half-hour to see that the stool next to you was suddenly occupied. He ran his fingers through a mess of pitch-black hair, his temples streaked with white, before resting his hand beside yours on the bar-top. His thumb brushed against the side of your palm, emphasizing his request; you bristled, having half a mind to pull the knife out of your boot and lop off the offending finger, maybe make a nice show of shoving it down his throat while you were at it. You closed your eyes and inhaled to the count of five, out to the count of ten as you thought better of it—sure, you were in a shitty mood, but the last thing you needed was to attract the attention of any Marines to make it even shittier.

You ignored a sudden sharp twinge in your abdomen that made your leg jerk, and took a moment to look the stranger over more closely. He was long and lean, his striped shirt hanging open, exposing the hard slab of his belly; his shirtsleeves were rolled up, the fabric straining against the bulge of his biceps. A mishmash of tattoos covered the sun-kissed skin of his arms and chest, winding down his forearms to his fingers and up his rib cage, snaking around his neck and ending at his sharp jawline.

Warmth invaded your cheeks and your core, and you settled your chin in your hand, tilting your head at him sweetly as your smile softened. “Sure pal, why not?”

He sauntered over to the other side of the bar and leaned in to chat with the bartender, his hands moving rapidly in front of him as he spoke. If you squinted just right, letting the alcohol do some of the work, you could almost see Law in this lanky stranger as sudden, inescapable thoughts of your captain’s tattooed fingers drifting down your waiting body, a smug grin on his face as he buried them inside you to the knuckle wandered through your mind. Dammit. You would not allow him to wrap his thorny tendrils around you, not when you had a good-looking stranger right here at the bar with you, wanting to buy you a drink.

The tall man cozied back up to you and slid a glass of something dark and foreboding in front of your face. “Drink up, hun.”

Be careful with your alcohol intake, Law’s voice echoed in your head, chiding you after he’d seen you getting sloshed with a few of your crewmates, his hand wrapped just a little too tenderly around your wrist as he spoke. Alcohol is an inflammatory, it could make your condition worse. You wouldn’t want that, would you?

You smiled at the stranger, catching your guilty reflection in the murky liquid before raising your glass in the air. “Shall we toast?”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He snaked an arm around your waist, letting his fingers rest on your hip. You felt every muscle in your body tense; this man’s rough touch was nothing like Law’s, but you supposed he’d do just fine anyway. “What should we toast to?”

“Hm. To new friends?”

“To new friends.”

You steeled yourself and downed the glass in two gulps, the bitter swill burning away whatever remained of your hesitations.

“Whoa, slow down there, hun, that’s meant to be a sippin’ drink.” A nervous chuckle punctuated the end if his sentence.

“Is that so?” you grinned, licking the bitter fluid off your lips. You’d only just imbibed but he looked even better already in the dim light of the smoky tavern.

“I suppose not then,” he shrugged as he downed his own glass in an instant, coughing as the last drops hit his tongue. “You, ah—you want another one?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Maybe take it slow this time?”

You placed one hand in your lap, pressing your fist into your clothed flesh to try to mitigate the pain growing in your belly, hoping you could will a different ache to bloom for the tall stranger. “I’m not exactly one for taking things slow.”

----------

You awoke in darkness, roused from fitful sleep by a dream that was already melting away into puddles of colors and shapes as you reluctantly opened your eyes. Consciousness was, regrettably, followed by a sudden feeling of emptiness, a thudding sensation behind your eyes, and a searing pain in your lower abdomen, like a hot knife being dragged through your organs.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you sat up and groped at your surroundings; inexplicably, you seemed to be in your own bed, as you noticed the softness of your blanket between your fingers and the stiff, over-starched sheets rough against your bare legs. You fumbled for your bedside lamp, the click of its switch echoing in your throbbing skull, and dug through the table drawer for your bottle of medication. The bitter tablets went down roughly with a swig of warm canteen water, a delicacy for the hungover, and you flopped back on the bed, closing your eyes as you tried to cobble together whatever bits and pieces you could recall from the prior evening.

That man—now him you could remember: the man who was Law but wasn’t Law, whose colorfully inked hands had roamed over your shoulders and grazed the back of your neck while he plied you with sweet words and bitter alcohol. He had settled your tab and invited you back to his room, saying he had more liquor and more treats that would help you unwind, that there was more of you that he wanted to explore, and it was best done in private, away from the prying eyes of pirates and townsfolk. He had left before you, yelling that he was in room seven—or was it six?—and that he’d be waiting for you, smirking at you over his shoulder as he walked out.

After that is where things fell apart, memories beginning to burn away like alcohol vapors. You had slid down from your stool, the floor feeling further away than you’d remembered, and tottered off towards the door, winding through smoke and the piercing sounds of laughter. Outside, the sunset was too bright and the breeze was too cold for your thin shirt. You couldn’t recall the direction of the inn, and optimistically wandered off westward, one foot in front of the other, while the treads of your boots seemed to catch to on every irregular stone and slippery rock. Despite the fuzziness of your recollections, you did vividly remember pitching forward at one point as the toe of your boot became stuck in the road, your hand launching out in front of you to stop yourself from eating shit and landing chin-first on the street.

Yet something stopped you: a firm grip around your waist, pulling you backwards into a familiar warmth, a sweet smell of spice and musk invading your lungs, long arms wrapped around you in some sort of gentle embrace. A heated voice asked you where the hell you had been, suddenly softening as you were asked how much you’d had to drink, if you were okay, if you were in pain. And then there was nothing until, briefly, softness surrounding you, the feeling of being held aloft. Then the memories stopped, a video feed cut off without warning.

It had to have been Law—you knew that smell, those hands, the tensile strength of his arms. This was the last thing you needed—god knows what you’d said to him when you were blacked out. If only you’d listened, if only you’d paid attention to your body and to Law’s insistent words, he wouldn’t have had to track you down as you wandered through unfamiliar streets, wouldn’t have had to hold you like you were some fragile thing ready to break while he admonished you with a gentle sweetness. If you had only drowned your depression in chocolates or a new pair of boots or too many cups of overpriced tea, then you wouldn’t be in this mess, regretting every drop of that damnable swill that had burned in your belly with each new, overflowing glass.

Your ruminations were interrupted by an insistent knock at your door; you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, mumbling a “Coming!” that banged around in your skull. Before you could answer, as the ache behind your eyes thumped away, the door creaked open, and the unmistakable silhouette of your captain appeared. He stood in the doorway, his shoulder pressed against it, looking not at you but somewhere past you.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, head cocked to one side.

“Oh—oh no, I just woke up,” you grumbled as a sharp spasm hit your lower left side.

“You missed breakfast.” He held up a metal thermos, something sloshing within it. “I brought you some coffee, thought you might need it.”

“Breakfast?” You pressed your palms into your closed eyes, holding them there until constellations formed behind your eyelids. “How long was I out?”

“A while.”

“Shit.” You ran your hand up your bare arm and it was then that you recalled another detail—you’d been wearing long sleeves the night before, remembering how you’d pulled them down over your fists to fidget with the seams as that stranger asked you the kind of questions that made your cheeks burn. “I guess I managed to change my clothes at least.”

Law shook his head. “Ikkaku dragged you into the shower to try to sober you up, made sure you had a change of clothes before she and Bepo got you into bed. Not without a fight, apparently.”

You managed to smile for the first time since waking at the thought of poor Ikkaku having to cajole you into the shower. “I’ll have to make it up to her later.”

He stood just inside the doorway, his hand still gripping the tumbler of coffee as he stared at you. “So…may I come in?”

“Sure, yeah, of course.” It was a wonder that he’d even bothered to ask.

He closed the door behind him and walked toward you, setting the thermos down on your bedside table before he helped himself to a seat at the end of your bed, the mattress shifting under him as he crossed his legs and hunched over; you scooted up a little further on the mattress in response. Discomfort hung in the air as he began to fidget, his long fingers idly playing with a string hanging from the hem of his jeans.

Finally, he spoke, his gaze still focused on your bedspread. “So…how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.” You chewed on your tongue, distracting yourself from another stabbing pain. “Headache is pretty nasty.”

“I see. Well, the coffee should help. Do you need any medication?”

“Coffee is usually the best medicine for me,” you laughed nervously. “Thanks, though.”

He quickly glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “So that’s all? Just a headache?”

Law could read you effortlessly, knowing your every tic and tremor, every change in tone or shift in pitch. It was as though could sense the pain radiating off you, on a frequency only he knew. You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “That’s all. Never been better, captain.”

He sat for another moment, then leaned back, his head settling against the wall, his eyes fixed on some point on your ceiling. “I know you’re lying.”

“And how is that?”

“Because last night, you said you were hurting.” He turned his head to look at you finally, his expression worryingly neutral. “You said you were hurting, and you wanted me to ‘fix you.’ I don’t imagine it was just a headache you wanted me to fix for you.”

You glanced at him before staring back down at the thermos that you twisted in your hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of that.”

“Of course you don’t, you were blackout drunk,” he spat, each word more raw than the last. He paused for a moment

., balling his hands into fists and pressing them against his thighs. “You know you shouldn’t drink that much.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I know it gives me flare-ups.”

“As your physician, I just wish you’d have taken better care of yourself. At least pace yourself if you’re going to drink. Is that so much to ask?”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be sure to drink more water next time, doctor.”

“Tell me then—was it worth it?” Law glared at you with a cold, quiet kind of hostility, as he seemed to find the iciness of your tone impossible to ignore.

The urge to spit venom back at him—to tell him you wouldn’t have been drowning your sorrows in too much alcohol and the distinct possibility of a stranger’s touch if it weren’t for him and his arbitrary walls that he kept building and rebuilding between you—but you bit the inside of your cheek and stopped yourself, knowing it would only hurt you more to spill your secrets and then be rejected again.

You looked at your hands as they trembled slightly in your lap. “No.”

“What were you thinking?” He shook his head as he spoke. “You made yourself sick. You could have gotten hurt—shit, you could have attracted Marine attention.”

“I know.”

“If you know, then why?”

Because I was hurting, because I was suffering, because you won’t admit how you feel about me—because you abuse your power and position to debase me when I’d be all yours if you only just asked. I’d be yours forever if you would only let me in...

“Because,” you said as a frustrated sob hitched in your throat and you forced it back down, “I was bored.”

“Bored?” He snorted. “You drank so much you had a flare-up and had to be carried back to the ship—because you were bored?”

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “I was upset. And I wanted to drink until I couldn’t remember why I was upset.”

He quirked his eyebrow up. “And why were you upset?”

There was no answer that would satisfy either of you, not without more poison being spilled. Instead you remained there, still and seething, anguish in your heart and a throbbing pain growing ever more torturous in your lower abdomen, and let the silence envelop you both. Law chewed on his lip as the quiet started to become unbearable, and you observed the nervous twitches of his muscles—a shift of his hand, a bounce of his leg.

His expression relaxed the longer you held out, and he eventually sighed and shifted in his seat. “You haven’t been by for treatment like we agreed on.”

“I’ve been busy,” you muttered.

“But we’ve made so much progress. I don’t want to see you backslide.”

“I’ll handle it just fine. Don’t worry.”

“It’s my job to worry,” he said, his voice lowering, as his hand crept across the covers and his fingers began to move up your foot. He traced the curve of your instep with his thumb, pressing into it with insistent circles, the tension you held there beginning to release.

“Please…” you trailed off as his hand moved up your foot.

“Please what?”

“Please don’t do that.”

He pulled his hand back, set it next to your leg. “Why not?”

“I—I can’t do this again.”

“Oh, but I think you can.”

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured, a soft tremble coming through in your voice.

“Just let me help you.” A glimmer of something insatiable shone in his eyes—something that you’d seen only after that night in his room, something you’d seen when you’d make your late-night visits to his office and he’d defile you in between piles of paperwork. “Let me make you feel better. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course, you know it is,” you sighed, the words almost coming out in a whine.

The corners of his mouth raised up in a subtle grin. “Then be a good girl and let me take care of you.”

Good girl—words you coveted, the words that set your soul ablaze, that made a deep and burning desire start to build in your core. Good girl—words he knew from that first day on his exam table that would keep you held tightly in his grasp. Good girl—a soft whimper tripped off your tongue as you squirmed in your seat; it was too easy for him, and you folded as easy as a piece of paper.

“Just—fuck, just give me an hour and I’ll come to the exam room, okay?” You started to get up, to do anything to separate yourself from him and gain some measure of composure, but your movement was halted—he gripped your ankle, pinning your leg to the bed.

“No,” he said, his breath suddenly growing uneven. “We’ll do it right here.”

“Here?” You swallowed. “But you said—you said we had to go back to doing it in the exam room. You said it was—”

“Unprofessional, I know. I know exactly what I said.” He lingered on you, his grip tightening on your ankle as he spoke. “But we can make an exception, just this once, don’t you think? I would hate to make you wait any longer if you’re in pain. Don’t you want me to take care of everything for you?”

That delicious condescension of his—it tasted like honey on your lips. It was hard to look at him, the way his gaze bore right through you, leaving you feeling vulnerable to him with nothing but depraved desire through your veins.

“Okay.” You nodded at him, convincing yourself more than Law that this was fine. “We can make an exception.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. He held his grip on your ankle for a moment longer as his eyes drifted over your body. “Before we start, though—may I ask you something?”

Your head tilted slightly to one side. “Ah, sure, I guess.”

“Did you know someone on the island?” His gaze darted between your lips and your eyes, as though he was searching for something in your expression.

“What—what do you mean?” you stuttered, knowing precisely what he meant.

“When Bepo started leaving with you, you were talking about how you couldn’t go because you needed to meet a friend. Do you know what that was about?”

Unsteady little breaths left your lungs as you tried to come up with something—anything—to obfuscate the truth. “I don’t know, I don’t really remember much. I’m sure I made a lot of new friends while I was drunk, maybe someone wanted to take the party to another tavern or something.”

“An inn.” He stared you down, his jaw set, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “You said you had to meet someone at an inn.”

You looked away with shaky breaths. “I really don’t remember anything. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, I was just curious.” He released your leg from his ever-tightening grip, and you noticed red marks, perfectly finger-shaped, on your skin.

He watched you undress with the same lurid fascination as he had on those late night in his office, scanning your body as you slid your shorts and panties down and scooted back against the head of the bed.

“You know,” he said, his voice lowering almost to a whisper, as he started to move towards you, “I think tonight would be a good night to try a different approach. Call it an experimental treatment.”

“Why is that?” Your breath quickened and your trembling hands grasped the sheets as you tried to ignore the hunger written in the lines on his face. “Why do I need this—experimental stuff?”

He wordlessly crawled up the bed, pushing apart your legs with a swift and forceful motion; he pressed a knee to your heat to keep your thighs separated, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your sensitive core. He placed his arms on either side of you, caging you in place, and lowered his face close to yours, your noses nearly touching, his warm breath drifting over your skin as he stared at you for a moment. For the first time since you’d stepped aboard, there was something in his eyes that almost frightened you.

“Because,” he said in a low growl, “I want to make sure it’s very clear to you—you need me. You need what I can do for you—what only I can do for you. No one else knows your body the way I do. No one else would know just how to touch you the right way like I do. No one could ever make you feel as good as I do—no one. Do you understand?”

You nodded along with his words, every one of them something you already knew to be true in your deepest depths. “I understand, doctor.”

“Then say it.” He reached up and stroked your face with an unsteady hand, holding your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Tell me you need me.”

“Doctor, please…” you whispered as you grasped his wrist, weakly trying to pull it away.

“C’mon—say it for me, won’t you?” The words came out in a whine, as if something in him would never be satiated unless you said it—not unless you told him the words he needed to hear, the words you wanted to say. “Be a good girl for me and say it—I know you want to.”

You moved your hand up his wrist and placed it on the top of his, pressing his clammy palm against your cheek, and a sigh rushed from your lungs. “I need you. I missed you.”

“I know you did.” He smiled, his lip twitching, as if trying to admit he missed you too. “Now let me take care of you. I’ll make all that pain go away.”

His hand cautiously trailed your jaw, his fingers tracing soft lines down the contours of your neck. He reached down and grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, pushing it up over your quaking body; he started gently kneading your breasts in his large hands, lowering his face down to flick his tongue over one of your pebbled nipples.

You started trying to scoot up the bed as arousal flooded you. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

“I told you already,” he spoke against your skin, planting soft kisses and bites across your sternum. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do,” you said as you held your breath.

“Then just relax for me.” He closed his eyes and sighed into you, his mouth beginning to trail down your belly, down further as his teeth scraped against the plush curves of your hips. He laid down on the mattress on his stomach, sliding his arms under your upper thighs, and his soft lips kissing your chilled flesh as he moved closer and closer to your center. A gasp caught in your throat as he moved his way up higher and promptly nuzzled into the downy softness of your mound, rubbing his cheek and facial hair against you as though he were trying to absorb your scent—or as though he was trying to mark you as his own.

You gasped a shaky breath. “Doctor…?”

He shushed you, his breath hot against your center. “Don’t worry—you’ll feel better soon, okay?”

His lips met your waiting slit and he kissed you, just as eagerly as he kissed your mouth in the dark of that supply closet, his tongue lavishing every inch of you, tracing the length of your cunt from bottom to top again and again. A needy whimper clawed its way up the back of your throat, and Law responded with a muffled sigh of his own. His steely eyes roamed over your shivering body and your slack-jawed face; he looked a way you’d never seen, like some feral beast, wild and ravenous.

“Law, please…” you whimpered, not knowing what to say to him—you wanted it, you wanted him, and the way he smothered your cunt with messy abandon, sucking at your labia, his face rubbing against your thigh now and again, was utterly intoxicating.

The sound of his own name hitting his ears seemed to accelerate Law’s ferocity. His dark lashes fluttered as he grinned at you, still with a mouthful of your cunt. “You don’t have to beg for it, you know,” he muttered into your skin, a soft chuckle following. He tilted his head so he could better work your puffy lips apart, and you shivered at the sensation of warm spit beginning to pool between your legs, slowly trickling down your skin and mixing with your slick to leave you obscenely damp. The realization that Law was excitedly drooling all over you, panting and faintly moaning into you, made you clench and pulse.

You jutted your pelvis up and greedily rocked against his mouth, a display you knew would haunt you later when you had to look him in the eye over the dinner table, but one that seemed only perfectly sensible in the moment as he quickly brought you closer and closer to the edge of pleasure with every voracious movement. You glanced down and let out a shivering breath as you noticed him grinding his hips into the mattress as his tongue darted in and out of your drenched hole, his own sounds of pleasure growing more ravenous and hungry as he relentlessly lapped at that tender bundle of nerves, pulsing and twitching with every flick of his tongue.

He moved one hand out from under your thigh and carefully eased two fingers inside you, crooking them upwards as he stroked your pulsating walls, delicately urging you towards ruin. You reached down and gripped his hair, soft black strands twirled between your fingers, as you keened quietly and said his name under your breath, over and over, every whimpering murmur seeming to consume him more and more. At once, the room began to whirl and you choked on your own shuddering breaths as the tension in your core compounded, leaving you teetering just on the edge of your release. You nearly climbed up the bed, gripping the sheets to pull you up, trying to escape the electricity that was running through you, but his free hand gripped your hip with a resilient force and kept you pressed against his mouth, as though the idea of parting from your heat was unbearable to him.

Law’s tongue traced circles over your clit, long slow movements as he pumped his fingers in and out of you with expert ease, knowing precisely what movements would make you give him your prettiest whines and your deepest groans. His own breathing became labored as he felt how you started to tense and your muscles threatened to snap with every fluttering lick. Your grip on his hair became firmer, and your thighs began to close in on his head, as everything felt like too much all at once—his tongue, his fingers, his delicious moans, the incessant grinding of his hips as he pleasured you. You squeezed your eyes shut and tipped your head back against the pillow as you reached your peak with a sudden painful urgency, your body convulsing with glorious spasms that radiated through your core and outwards to your limbs, powerful enough to leave you gasping for breath as you quietly sobbed.

As the last waves of your orgasm ebbed and a few errant teardrops rolled down your temples, you opened your bleary eyes to see that Law was now kneeling between your legs with his hands at his sides, sitting back on his heels. He looked magnificently disheveled, his hair tousled from the grip of your frantic hands, an animalistic glint in his eyes, his facial hair saturated with your slick and his saliva. As your gaze drifted downwards, the unmistakable outline of his hardened cock strained against the thick fabric of his jeans, twitching now and again as he surveyed you from under the hooded fall of his lashes.

He set his hand on your knee, and you felt just how he trembled, how his palm was cool to the touch, how every shivering breath he took vibrated his entire arm. “Has—has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you cum?”

You nervously laughed and felt a deep heat rising in your cheeks as the words shamelessly emanated from him. “I can’t say anyone has.”

“Well…you are.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as his eyes wandered over your body. “It’s—it’s mesmerizing. The way your skin starts to tighten up. The way your lips part as it starts to hit you, and your jaw opens just a little more as it takes you completely. The way you—the way you clench your eyes shut, even if just for a moment, as it hits you. You—you look like you’re in this state of bliss that I can’t—I can’t get enough of. The way you’ll grasp for anything around you—the bedsheets, the table—”

“You.”

“And me.” He shivered a little as he spoke. “It’s—it’s fucking addictive.”

Law’s mouth hung open a little as he finished speaking, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you, still shrouded in a thick fog of lust. You sat up and knelt in front of him, bracing yourself with one hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension that had settled in the sinew of his neck. Your other hand drifted up to cup his cheek, and you tenderly stroked his face with your thumb, pressing your forehead to his, wordlessly urging him to close his eyes and drink this moment in with you, savor it, hold it in and never let it go. There could be more, you wanted to tell him—more moments like this, freely given, no longer extracted by sweet coercion under a degree of duress. You closed your eyes and quickly inhaled as you gave him a soft kiss, barely pressing your lips to his, just enough to taste yourself on him.

“I don’t know what to do. All of my thoughts about you are—are beyond inappropriate,” he began to ramble as your lips left his, his voice quavering as he spoke. “I’m just—I’m so distracted. I can’t think about anything else sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” you said, tilting your head at him, inviting him to share more of his despondency. “That’s how it is for me too. I—I can’t think, I can’t eat, I can’t even sleep some nights. You’re just—you’re all there is.”

A shivering sigh slipped past his lips as he closed his eyes and pressed into your touch, his hand settling on top of yours as your palm trembled against the hollow of his cheek. He turned his head, let his lips ghost against the delicate skin of your wrist, his teeth just grazing you slightly.

“Law, come on.” You let the hand on his shoulder slip down to his chest and could feel how his heart hammering away in his ribcage—for you, just for you. “Come on, please. Please.”

It was as if you had roused him from some sort of stupor, his body quickly stiffening under your touch. He grasped your wrist and pulled your hand away from his face, letting it drop at your side. He clasped his hands over the back of his neck, and a panicked shudder seemed to grab ahold of him.

“I should go,” he whispered, hastily moving off the bed. He pulled the bottom of his shirt to his mouth, wiping off the evidence of his transgressions, before he stumbled to the door.

“Law, please, can’t you just stay?” You started to get up to follow him. “Just this once?”

“I just need to think for a while. I’m sorry.”

You wanted to stop him—you wanted to scramble across that small space and clutch him tightly, hold him close to you, beg him not to leave again and to stay, just stay, let himself indulge. What was so hard about giving in, when someone so clearly adored you, cared for you, could barely do anything but be irrevocably preoccupied with you? But you feared it would only make him pull away again, retreating further and further into his solitude, leaving you, as always, standing alone.

He stood with his back to you, one hand on the door handle, the other on the wall. “Come to my quarters tonight. Late. Make sure no one sees you.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. And tonight, you can come to my room. And we’ll—we’ll sort this out.”

“Promise you won’t change your mind?” you whispered after him as your voice broke and a sob caught in your throat.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, a melancholy smile still on his lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can’t promise you anything right now.”

#lo writes #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law smut #law smut #one piece smut #trafalgar d law x reader

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dyns33 · 3 years ago

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Upon a dream

Dream x reader, being idiots, as always

Morpheus was truly the best boyfriend in the world. Romantic, poetic, attentive, tender, passionate.

If he had been real, he would have been truly wonderful.

But unfortunately such a perfect man couldn't exist, and so it was normal that Y/N only met him in her dreams.

During one of her nocturnal wanderings, she had found herself in a huge library, his library, and even if he had been surprised to find her there, he had not chased her away, allowing her to explore, showing her the castle, chatting at length with her.

It had been a beautiful dream, which she thought she would quickly forget. But she had dreamed of him again the following night, then every other night.

She was trying to convince herself that it was no big deal.

Her life wasn't so terrible, she had her family, her friends, her job, her hobbies. There were plenty of people who remained celibate all their lives and were perfectly happy being alone in front of the television, eating ice cream and imagining an ideal lover who would visit them in their sleep.

Nothing special.

"My love, you seem troubled tonight. Far from me. Are you alright ?"

"Yes, Morpheus. Excuse me, I'm just tired." Y/N apologized with a smile, snuggling into his arms to forget her worries, and the fact that he wouldn't be there when she woke up.

"Good. That's what I'm here for. You can rest in peace, I'm watching over you. What do you want to do, my love ? Lucienne would be happy to show you new books, Cain and Abel wish to tell new stories, Matthew asks for gossip from the waking world. We can also walk in the gardens, travel to the other side of the galaxy, or stay in bed. Tell me, my love, I am at your command."

"You're adorable. Anything is fine with me, as long as we do it together."

"My sweet." he whispered, kissing her.

As always, it was difficult for Y/N when she opened her eyes and found herself in her bedroom, alone, in her cold bed, just like when she went to sleep.

It was absurd, she repeated it to herself every time she was about to fall asleep, but a simple dream managed to make her feel things she had never felt in her entire existence. The human brain could really be fascinating. And dangerous.

Depressing.

Because even if she was terribly happy when she was with Morpheus, she was just as sad when she left him and returned to reality.

Several times, she had thought of talking to a doctor about it. To find a solution. But Y/N didn't really see what it was going to solve.

They were only going to tell her that she felt lonely, which she already knew, and that her dreams were trying to fill that void.

The only thing she could do was seek the company of real people when she was awake.

It was not easy.

If Y/N had been able to get a real boyfriend, she would have done it a long time ago.

And it was worse now, because no one could ever be as good as Morpheus. She was really in love with him.

In love with a dream, it was really depressing.

There was also this ridiculous idea in the back of her head, which kept telling her that it wouldn't be very proper to cheat on him. Even if he didn't exist.

He didn't exist. Morpheus didn't exist, he wasn't waiting for her in her dreams every night, he would never magically appear in front of her, and if he loved her, then he would understand that she was looking for someone to spend her life with.

After asking her friends for advice, one of them offered to introduce her to a charming man, with whom she could get along well. It was less risky than meeting a stranger, because they could tell he was a good person.

And if she didn't like him, it would be fine, she would find other suitors.

Désiré was indeed a charming man. Funny, kind, seductive. But during the whole evening they spent together, Y/N only thought of Morpheus.

When their hands touched at the end of the meal, she quickly pulled it away apologetically. He looked a little offended, but he didn't say anything, forcing a smile.

"It seems to me that I am not up to it." he sighed when it was time to part ways. "I don't like to lose, but I know when I'm not... wanted. Which doesn't happen often. He's lucky. He doesn't deserve it."

"... I don't understand what you are talking about."

"Oh, darling. I think that's the part I find the funniest. He'll be pissed that we had dinner together, but I can't imagine his reaction at all when he finds out why we had dinner together. "

"It's late, I have to go home."

"You're right. Sweet dreams." he purred, throwing a kiss at her.

Y/N did not try to understand what Désiré had meant. No doubt he had drunk too much alcohol during the meal, and he had guessed that there was someone else in her heart.

Going to bed, she relaxed thinking that she was finally going to find Morpheus and his marvellous kingdom, after this long day.

The throne room was horribly empty and cold when she materialized there. Sitting on the steps of his huge staircase, Morpheus watched her with an impassive face.

"How was my brother-sister ?"

"... Your what ?"

"Desire. You were with them all night. At first I thought I had to step in, that they were going to try to hurt you, but... Matthew told me you asked to have dinner with them. A "date". You asked your friends to find you a 'date', several 'dates'. So I'm not enough for you ? You don't love me anymore ? Are you making fun of me ?"

"Morpheus." she sighed sadly. "Of course I love you. I love you more than anything."

"But not enough to be faithful."

"Oh, I knew my mind would go to that ground, it's really not fair."

"... Your mind ?" he repeated slowly.

"Listen, I love you. But you're not real. It's just a dream. I can't wake up every morning to be reminded that this isn't true, that I'm alone, not loved, and the only times I feel some joy are during my sleep, with a being that my subconscious has invented. You are perfect, and the more time I spend with you, in this fabulous world, the more I cut myself of the real world. It's not healthy."

“It is true that it is not good for mortals to live in the Dream. But that does not mean that it is not real. That we are not real. You... You really don't know who I am ? You really don't know it's not just a dream ? It's never just a dream."

"Morpheus... Don't make me hope in vain."

"I told you to go on dates in the waking world, boss. Just because you always say you exist doesn't mean the lady is going to believe it's true."

The little raven trembled a bit when his master looked at him, flying away to rest on Y/N's shoulder, where he would be safe, for the moment.

"Maybe I should have listened to you, Matthew. But it's not too late. Desire also showed me that our love was strong, they couldn't do anything against it. I just have to make up for my mistake."

Slowly, Morpheus stood up, approaching Y/N, who didn't know what to make of this dream. It really wasn't like the other nights.

He caressed her cheek tenderly, before kissing her like every time she was going to have to leave soon.

"When you wake up my love, I'll be there and you won't have any reason to be sad, or look for another partner."

"Don't make me..."

"This dream is over."

Jumping up in bed, Y/N first looked at the window, seeing that it was still dark. She then looked at the time, which made her sigh. It was still very late.

"Good evening my love."

This time, in addition to jumping, she screamed, falling off her bed. Immediately, a man came running to her side, asking her if she was alright and helping her to sit on the mattress. He had the voice of Morpheus. And his face.

No, it was impossible.

"Well done, boss. Subtle. She wasn't scared at all."

"Silence, Matthew. My love, forgive me, I told you I would be here."

"... I'm still dreaming ?"

"No."

"So this is it, I'm crazy."

"You are not in my younger sister's domain, I can assure you. I should have explained a lot about myself to you more clearly, I should have visited you in the waking world earlier. We were so happy I was not thinking, as soon as you appeared in front of me I only wanted to be with you and I did not see that I was hurting you. I apologize. My love, I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, king of dreams and nightmares, prince of stories, and I am very real."

"... You are real." she said softly, touching his face to make sure he really wasn't an illusion. He closed his eyes when her fingers touched his skin, turning to make them pass on his lips. "All this time, you've been real. And I almost dated another man. You must hate me."

"I wasn't thrilled by this news, but there was a misunderstanding, so I forgive you, if you promise me never to do this again, and to stay away from Desire."

"His name is Désiré, and okay."

"Desire is my brother sister, my sibling. Another Endless. They wanted to have fun with you, at my expense, but your feelings were strong and sincere, preventing them from manipulating you, and proving to me that I had no reason to be jealous."

"But you were still a little jealous."

"No."

"Boss." muttered the raven, poking its head out of its creator's cloak. "Boss, you're really bad with girls. You always have to say yes. Yes I'm jealous, but I trust you, I love you, I don't deserve you and I'll do anything to be worthy of..."

"Thanks Matthew, you can go back to the Dreaming now."

"I'm a good wingman, I think it's safer if I stay."

"My love and I are together for the first time in the waking world, at night, in her room, on her bed."

"... See you, boss ! Madam ! Be good !"

The raven disappeared back into the cloak. Morpheus waited a few moments, as if wanting to make sure he was gone, before laying sensually on top of her, suddenly looking a bit taller, his shadow enveloping the entire room as a sort of purr emanated from him. Y/N wondered if she was really awake.

"So, my love, what do you want to do ?" he asked, as he asked her every night.

"Hmm... I'm too tired to go out. It's a little late to read, watch a movie or even dance. So what could we do ?"

"What, indeed ?"

"Is the king of dreams sleeping ? Is he dreaming ?"

"No, and no. But I think about you all the time, to the point that it interferes with my work. A lot of people often dreamed of you, because I wasn't concentrating enough."

"Are you willing to sleep with me ? I mean, sleep sleep. I'm really tired. But if you're here tomorrow morning... You know."

"It would be an honour for me to watch over you while you sleep. I already do it every night, but to hold you in my arms while you are asleep. It is the most beautiful proof of love and trust. Not many people realize that there is nothing more vulnerable than a sleeping being. Thank you for this gift, my love."

Smiling, Y/N snuggled up to him after being settled under the covers. She would have liked to listen to his heart before falling asleep, but obviously he had none. He didn't need it, he wasn't human.

They would talk about that later, and the consequences that implied.

But now she was tired, and happy that Morpheus was really there, in her bed.

"Are you really not going to sleep ?"

"No. I'm going to beg my father for the night to pass faster, so that it's morning and we… You know."

Y/N would also ask him about his strange family when she was better awake. In the meantime, she fell asleep peacefully in the arms of Morpheus, who sang her a lullaby while stroking her hair.

#sandman #the sandman #dream #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #tom sturridge

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lmsforuniversity · 3 years ago

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Are you looking learning management system in Canada? ELL Technologies provides the best Learning Management System For University.

#Learning Management System #LMS #Learning Management System For University #LMS for university #Lms for primary school #LMS for school #Class management software for language #Language course library #SAAS for language teaching #Language education #Language teaching solution #Language teaching software #lms english speaking practice

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openeducat · 4 years ago

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What Features Should a Library Management System Have?

Libraries are the best places to nurture young minds. Libraries are knowledge houses holding generations of information that is being passed down from generation to generation but there isn’t a need for them to function traditionally any longer. With the advent of technology, the educational front is getting a complete revamp including the educational institution libraries, all thanks to the library management software. In earlier times, it was always quite a daunting task for librarians to manage hundreds of books, their issuance, and record keeping. So, here we have a blog for you to explain the online library management tool that can transform old libraries into digitized automated libraries functioning much more efficiently than before.

Library Management System Software Features:

When installing a school library software, you must check out if it has the following features.

1) Media Circulation:

The circulation of the library is the link between the collections of the library to its readers. The issue/return facility manages the use of books by the readers ensuring that readers have the availability of the right books at the right time. The media circulation is responsible for issuing books to the readers, maintaining track of the books distributed to the readers including what is overdue and what is returned.

The automated circulation system replaces the manual system in which library software is used to keep a record of the registered users, what books have been issued to whom, what is returned when are the returning dates, and what is overdue.

2) Detailed Tracking:

Physically locating books can be quite challenging at times, therefore, the library management software assists the librarians with the help of a detailed tracking facility. It keeps a track of everything the library owns, and also maintains a track of issuance, re-issuance, returns, and overdue.

3) Barcode Support:

The open-source library management system uses a barcode system to impart a unique identity to books. The barcoding is done on the basis of the book title, author, topic, and date of publishing. This can help to identify books in a better manner in larger libraries with great multitudes of readers.

4) Automated Reminders:

Another must-have feature of a library management tool is that it should be able to automate reminders for book returning, thereby, making the job of the librarian easy and helping readers.

The tool should also be able to generate system reports automatically on the performance of the library.

5) Library Cards & Penalties:

An automated circulation system has replaced the need for issuing borrowers or library cards. They have a provision or feature to generate and print bar-coded identity cards (ID) for each member, the details of which are maintained in the database of the software.

Besides this, the library management tool should be also equipped with the facility of collecting penalties or late fees from readers who fail to return the library assets on time after reminders.

6) Media Acquisition & Cataloguing:

The integrated library management software utilizes a web-based catalogue that represents the book collections and the journals possessed by the library and their availability. The users can access the books from anywhere. The tool also keeps a track of all the registered users. The catalogue management helps to maintain tracks of the books and journals that are available in the library and it also helps to arrange them or categorize them as per their title, subject, author, and date of publishing for the ease of readers.

Besides this, the library management system also makes it easy to acquire new books and add them digitally in addition to deleting old and irrelevant books.

Conclusion:

From the above article, you have a thorough idea about what is an online library system and what are the best features that you must find in them before installing them for your educational institution.

#OpenEduCat ERP Software #library management software #online library #integrated library management system #open source library management software #school libraries #school software #school ERP #school management system #online education #Education ERP Software #Education ERP Solution #student management system

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paperstarwriters · 2 years ago

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A Little Game of Tag

Shy!Muriel x Shy!Reader

Warnings: lots of kisses, extreme fluff, a few hickies and shyness to a frankly ridiculous extent. It's kinda silly but I think its cute :3

Summary: You want to kiss Muriel, but you're too embarrassed to do it normally. Unfortunately (Fortunately?) he is too. In an attempt to get used to giving and receiving kisses, it all blooms into a silly little game between the two of you.

Inspired by @vivifromnowhere in their post asking for a shy MC to go with Muriel

[A/N]: Look, look. I intended to post this a lot sooner but I struggled a lot with the ending lol Idk. I might go back in and change it? Or maybe I'll just write a different version for the ending or something Idk... Anyways, as mentioned in the Warnings, the fic is kinda silly, but I think it's cute lol.

Masterlist | The Arcana Masterlist

Word count: 8,277

─────・✿・─────

It didn't start out this way.

In the beginning of your relationship when Lucio was just recently defeated, it had taken a lot of courage for you to manage pressing a kiss against his skin. You did so once when you first celebrated the battle, and he kissed you back with enough longing in his touch that you could have sworn that the people around you could feel the heat radiating from your face. Luckily for the both of you the crowd and the chaos of their celebration quickly tore your attention away, but you couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to kiss him.

You just really, really, really wanted to kiss him again. Only, you weren't sure if you would be able to manage walking again if he kissed you back the way he did then.

So, you came up with a simple solution. All you needed to do, was kiss him and scurry away before he could kiss you back. You'd make up some excuse as well. Some reason to leave so that you wouldn't have to linger on the feeling of his lips on yours and so he wouldn't have the chance to chase you down.

...not like that wasn't enticing. But you don't think you'd be able to survive any of that afterwards. If you didn't spontaneously combust from the contact, you'd probably end up as a molten puddle on the ground.

Plus! You didn't want to pressure Muriel or anything either. He blushed with just about as much ferocity and heat as you did. If you couldn't survive this you didn't want to press the burden onto him. That was a valid excuse wasn't it? You were being considerate of Muriel's boundaries too!

Surely over time you'd eventually grow used to it, you'd grow more courageous with your kisses and you'd be comfortable enough to accept kisses from him. ...That's what you told yourself at least.

You followed your initial plan to a tee, pressing a kiss against his cheek and feeling the warmth bloom under the scrutiny of your lips. And then you pulled away and scurried out of reach, mentioning something about leaving to do something. You didn't expect your mind to be so frazzled amidst your escape, and so you weren't sure if you had said that you'd feed the market or go shop at the chickens. Either way it was blatant nonsense, and—even worse—as time went on you were getting no more used to these kisses.

Every time you pulled away, Muriel fixed you with the most agonized expression he could manage amidst the red of his face, futilely reaching to grab you before you slipped away. More than once you've considered lingering by his side in order to appease his desperate longing. More than once did the burn of embarrassment, and the sudden agonizing ache in your chest drive you away from his reach.

Since your attempts to cool that burn of embarrassment had since failed, you considered whether or not you wanted to continue for a while. It was something you had been pondering as you sat with Muriel by the fireplace. He was carving something out of wood, and you were... Well, you were trying to read over some magic text Nadia had lent you from her expansive library, but you were too stuck in your head to really focus on any of the words. Apparently he had been pondering over something as well.

"Do... Do you not like it when I kiss you?" he asked, tearing you away from your thoughts.

And just like that, your fluttering heart dropped from your chest. "I—what? No! No, no. I just—I wanted to practice kissing and all because the last time we kissed I swear I was about to pass out and—not in a bad way though, I just felt really inexperienced and you know that I struggle a bit sometimes and it's in the kind of same way that you do, I swear but I just— I didn't mean—"

Muriel leans towards you as you ramble, and just as you're about to apologize he presses the most tender fluttering kiss against your forehead, evaporating any and all thoughts with the heat he ignited on your face. Something was pressed into your hand as he did but you were too busy trying to keep your brain from evaporating that you couldn't tell what it was or why he gave it to you.

Far too soon, he pulled away. His face seemed as bright as yours was warm, the pink reaching all the way up from the tips of his ears and down to his neck and chest. Instinctively you reached out towards him, but he slipped away from your reach and scrambled for the door, just barely managing to toss an excuse before he left.

"I'm— I'm going to go get more wood!"

And just like that you were alone by the crackling fire. You wanted to raise your hand, cover your face to hide the shock and embarrassment, hide the warmth that radiated off of you, and just hide in general, but his carving sat heavily in your hand and although you still felt dizzy, you chanced a glance down at it.

A tiny little bear statue holding a tiny little heart. It looked like he was going to carve something into the heart, some words or something, but it remained unfinished.

If you had to guess, you'd imagine the word was "sorry"

You're glad he didn't finish that. You didn't want him to be sorry for kissing you.

Kissing you... He had kissed you....

The idea was still settling into your mind, and after you carefully dropped the carving somewhere in your lap and away from the fire, you hid yourself behind your hands and died. Soul withering away from the heat of your blush.

And that was how it all started.

You'd be passing by and you'd give Muriel a quick kiss to his cheek or to his forehead if you could reach it, and you'd scamper away before he was able to grab you.

And of course, Muriel would do the same to you.

You don't know why, nor do you know how, but your little method to train yourself to give and receive kisses quickly bloomed into a little game of tag filled with furious blushing, tampered down with soft giggles and featherlight chuckles. And sometimes if you were particularly surprised or surprising, or if you had just narrowly escaped, there would be loud laughter, and a race to the door. It became the sign of your escape. If you managed to get out the door you were free, left alone as the other glared on, sometimes pouting, or sometimes looking starved. In the forest, rules were a little more lax. Usually you'd let each other scurry off until they were out of sight, but sometimes if a chase ensued and getting out of Muriel's sight seemed nigh impossible you'd have to be the one to reach the hut first.

It was silly and fun, and it made the game comfortable to play.

It didn't stop you from blushing though. It didn't seem to stop him either, his cheeks still tinted pink with every kiss you pressed against his skin.

And then months into your little game, when you had once managed to kiss him twice before your great escape, Muriel had mentioned how unfair it had been when at the start of your game, you had kissed him so many times and how he never really got the chance to get you back for that.

At the time you had laughed and insisted that he was kissing you more than you did to him, but Muriel didn't seem to agree.

"What, do you want me to just sit here and take it?" you had so foolishly asked.

Comparable to the look of longing Muriel had given you so long ago, a dark look of temptation crossed his reddening face. If he wanted you to sit stock still for him to kiss you all over he had successfully already frozen you in place.

Instead he coughs a little and looks away his lips wobbling around his words, but taking no heat away from their meaning.

"No... I... I had something else in mind...."

He pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear, his lips just barely fluttering against the warming flesh.

Your brain was roasting over the fire of your face, and you were certain your heart had just beat free from your chest. By pure habit alone you reached out to grab him, but with a red face and an alarmed but gleeful look in his eye, Muriel escaped your grasp and ran outside, something about watering the firewood only barely thrown over his shoulder.

Left on the floor of the hut you once again curled up and died.

You weren't exactly sure what you'd call it after that point. Better? Or Worse? On the one hand, these kisses felt fantastic. Pressed up against sensitive skin and always followed by a look so tender and sweet that you were pinned in place an left unable to even move. Save, of course, for your arm feebly reaching out with no true ability to grab him. On the other hand you were struggling to press even a few kisses into those very same spots.

Needless to say Muriel had quickly made up whatever amount he was missing and more, over the next few weeks with every kiss he'd press against your shoulder or neck, or once even on the inside of your wrist. And with each kiss, you had been left stunned and frozen in place, only ever able to stare him down longingly as you reached to grab him, your legs too liquefied to try to chase after him. Even the memory of those kisses alone had hurt you so horribly that it took you far longer to plot how to kiss him back before you could actually work up the nerve to do so, and by then he'd have already attacked a new spot against your skin and unleashed a new fog upon your mind.

Muriel had begun to enjoy his newfound power and he grew bolder with his kisses, satisfied with the look you'd give him and how you'd weaken at the feel of it. He blushed back brightly in turn, but you could see the look of delight on his face as he watched the effect he had on you take hold.

You were half driven by spite when you went to get him back.

Waiting and watching, you sat with a keen attention on Muriel even if you never directly looked his way. Silently, pretending to be immersed and slightly frustrated (so that you wouldn't seem suspicious for not moving much) with a passage in your book and you awaited for a golden opportunity.

Muriel was working on some small project using plants to colour the wood of his carvings. He had explained it in depth before, but he had done so after coming back inside, from kissing you along your neck. From the pleased look he gave you as he explained, you knew that he knew you picked up none of it. Whether it was because he wanted to watch your reactions, or because he wanted you to ask him about it again or something, you'd never really know. All you knew was that you had an excuse to talk to him about it now.

So you did. You asked what he was working on, and though he teased you a little for not remembering what he told you before, he was quick and eager to explain the project to you, and in reply you gave your own ideas. He was aiming to replicate some of the painted carvings he saw from some other scattered members of the Kokhuri that you met in your travels. Many had mentioned how they used newer or different herbs than what was traditional due to the new lands that they wandered along, and many others mentioned how technically it was traditional to use what was available. Swept up in his excitement, you mentioned herbs you had read about recently that might be useful not only in colour, but also for their magic content, and you offered to go to the market to fetch some herbs that might not currently available in the forest, but were familiar to Vesuvia.

And little by little Muriel's attention was torn between you and his project. Which, admittedly, was not what you were planning. You thought he would have focused a bit more on the project because you were mentioning it, you hoped he would have looked to that more, but instead he was turning to you, eager to hear of your contributions and things you had researched before.

So when the opportunity finally arose, when he finally lingered looking at the herbal concoctions he was working on more than he was looking at you, even for a few moments, you seized the opportunity.

It was a kiss to the column of his neck. Just like what he had given you plenty of times in the past... Only.... In your haste, your kiss had been a little sloppier than you had intended. Your teeth had brushed against his sensitive skin, and your tongue had gotten a taste of his skin. You practically bit him, and in reply, Muriel made a sound, torn between a moan and a whimper.

Shocked, you pulled away prepared to apologize for your roughness while also ready to scramble away from him. Torn between the two you froze, no words coming from your mouth as you stared at him, just as frozen in place as you were, staring at you with a beet red face, wearing an expression that you could call awe or horror. You would have liked to say it silent between you, but between the rapid beating of your heart in your ears, and your heavy breaths matched by his own, it felt much to loud instead.

He made no attempt to grab you as you fled.

No, his attempt was far more comparable to a bear hug. One you only barely dodged as you fell back onto your butt and scrambled away, faced with that intoxicating look of desire the entire way of your graceful exit out. You didn't manage to make any excuse as you slipped past the door, and hid against the outside wall. There was no way you were going to do anything anyways with the way your heart was still beating furiously or by the way your legs had refused to work for you again.

Hell, all you wanted to do in that moment was walk back in and see what'd happen if you pressed a kiss back onto the spot that you had bit, like an apology, or maybe even somewhere else along his neck, like along his collarbones or at the swell of his throat, or maybe to the his ear where he had kissed you before. Maybe that sort of tender spot, right behind his ear. You've heard some stories talk about kissing people there. Wasn't that a vulnerable part? How would it feel.... Your own fingers trail up to brush against the soft skin imagining the feel of his lips brushing against your skin.

...You could understand how he had gotten so swept up in kissing you again and again in these tender spots. It was addicting. Even just thinking about it. Where you wanted to press your next kiss, where you wanted to target him again, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

Even now you were tempted to slip back in and give him another kiss.

Gods, you really wanted to though. You wanted to kiss him again and again and again and again. You wanted to kiss him with those chaste tender kisses pressed against his cheeks and forehead again, you wanted to kiss up and down his throat, along the line of his collarbones, on his shoulders. Everywhere. You wanted to kiss him everywhere.

But your heart was still racing and your legs were far too shaky to walk with, so at the most, all you managed was a feeble glance around the corner of the door, looking back inside.

Muriel sat with his face buried in his hands. What little patches of skin were visible, namely his ears and his neck, were coloured a red so bright he nearly looked like he was glowing. Inanna sat nearby, nearly rolling her eyes as she watched him, clearly already long used to the both of your shenanigans. She didn't look concerned at the very least so you were certain Muriel's reaction wasn't anything bad.

Inanna saw you first, and you were certain she had mentioned something through her familial bond with Muriel, because he splayed his fingers and glanced your way, and fixed you once more with the most starved look you have ever seen on his face. It didn't last long though. The look of hunger was quickly overpowered by embarrassment and back he buried himself into his hands his face somehow becoming an even brighter red.

The embarrassment felt contagious and you quickly yanked yourself back behind the corner. Inanna's unimpressed "whuff" was loud enough even from where you sat.

You wanted to kiss him more. To go back in and kiss him again, and again, and again, and yet you sat outside trying to shoo the warmth from your face and fight the urge to bang your head against the wall.

It took almost an entire day before the game started up again.

Although you still felt wobbly from the memory of your little nibble, you still managed to press a simple kiss against Muriel's cheek. Though it made him jolt a little from the contact and blush furiously, Muriel was more than coherent enough to attempt to grab you. And though your legs still trembled a little, you were more than capable enough of dodging. You wouldn't exactly say you were 'coherent' though.

Filled with the need to just smother him in kisses you had every chance to just stand still and let yourself be caught by Muriel. Find out what he'd do to you if he caught you. Find out what you'd do to him if you stayed.

And yet you still dodged and evaded. You still ran. Why? You didn't know. Out of habit perhaps, or out of a desire not to loose this endless game, or maybe out of a still lingering feeling of embarrassment. Which is right? You don't think you'd be able to tell, but as you slip once more out of the hut, you find the urge to change the game somehow. You wanted to, but you weren't exactly sure how you'd do so.

Over the next few days, the game went on without any change. Besides, perhaps, the combination of those sweet kisses along your cheek or forehead as well as a few along your neck or against your ear. It had you absolutely spinning with every kiss and telling by the way Muriel looked at you, it did for him too.

Sometimes, there would be simple mundane moments where he'd lean in for a kiss and suddenly he'd press one against some sensitive patch of skin slipping away as you'd squawk at him and flailed around with no real attempt to grab him. Other times there would be moments that had the both of you blushing so hard the heat rivalled that of the fireplace, and you'd lean in for a kiss almost aiming for the neck or some other sensitive spot, only to press one quickly to his cheek and pull away before he realized what you had done. Muriel tended to pout for a while after that, which only made you quicker to land another kiss onto his skin.

Eventually, of course, Muriel had kissed you back. Just before bed when he was preparing to get some more firewood, he pressed a kiss against your neck and with more purpose than you had when you kissed him, he grazed his teeth ever so slightly against the tender flesh—and even went so far as to give you a little bite, pulling away before coherent thought could re-enter your mind. Left alone in the bed, you sat there blushing for what felt like several hours, and when Muriel eventually returned to the hut, and returned to your side, all you could do was bury your face in his chest.

It felt both safe and exposing, but above all else it felt warm, growing even warmer still from Muriel's own rising blush.

Even after all this time, it was a little embarrassing to share a bed, but more than anything else, it was familiar. It reminded you of when the both of you were first struggling to open up to each other, of days in frost laden forests when sleeping together was needed to keep yourselves alive in the night while you slept.

Familiarity and warmth were plenty enough to help you relax, easily luring you to sleep.

Though, just before you slipped away into unconscious, Muriel planted another kiss to your forehead. In the sleepy state you were in, you couldn't even manage to reach for him.

In the sleepy state you were in you didn't even realize you were already holding him.

On and on and on the game went.

Even if you'd never know where his next kiss would land, you couldn't help but feel like your little game had reached a stalling point. It wasn't necessarily as a bad thing, but you could feel your hesitation in moving forward seem to permeate your every kiss. In a way you supposed that it did, because your eyes had such a nasty habit of straying.

You wanted to kiss him.

Your lips pressed against his, you wanted the world-ending kiss he gave you those many weeks ago. A kiss that could drown the noise from the crowd, and bring the world to a halt. The kiss that had asked for so much while giving with equal measure.

The kiss you had started this entire game for.

You wanted to kiss him.

If your urges were obvious Muriel made no indication of knowing, so you sat and stewed in your feelings for as long as you could manage. Muriel kissed you many times in the span of your thoughts tearing every thought in your mind to shreds each time, but you couldn't bring yourself to kiss him back when all you wanted to do was to kiss him and feel just how soft his lips were against your own.

You... You could now though, couldn't you?

You've kissed him so many times and he's kissed you so many more times back. Sure, you've always needed to back away for some space but you could do that now too right? You could just kiss him like it was a part of the game, and then eventually you'd work up the courage to linger to maybe give you a kiss in return, or to allow you to kiss him over and over and over again. Or even for longer.

And you'd be able to do it without being so... Embarrassed.... Without feeling the need to escape or hide.

...Right?

A sudden weight beside you on the bed tore you away from your thoughts. Although he had sat down slowly, the shift in the weight and how close he was sitting still managed to make you nearly tip over onto his lap. You had just barely managed to adjust and lean away but it still had you a little flustered regardless.

Muriel on the other hand didn't seem to notice. He didn't look your way, as he sat, instead staring off into the distance before his eyes eventually sank onto the floor. Though you could only see his profile you could tell he was worried, brows drawn and furrowing together, and his lips torn between slipping beneath his teeth and curling into a pout.

When he finally did look at you, it was with that same anguished look he made when you first started your little game.

"Are you okay?"

Although confused you nodded. Did you not seem okay? Did something happen? Were you supposed to not be okay?

Muriel continued, "it's just.... It's been a while... Since...." You were going to scramble for all the things you hadn't done in a while, but the redness in his cheeks and his hesitance already made you suspect— "You haven't really... Kissed... me for awhile. Even if I've been.... Kissing.... you..... Are you.... Is everything okay?"

Had it really been so long?

"I'm fine! I'm—I've just been thinking a lot about... Some things." An understatement perhaps, but even as you said it, your eyes betrayed you, wandering and flickering to his lips, half chewed in worry and half twisted into a worried pout. They looked tender and sore, wouldn't a nice little kiss make them feel a bit better...?

"Are you....... Is there something wrong...?" he continued to press. "If there's a problem I could try and help."

Again he bit his lip and you watched half entranced as his teeth sank into the plushness of his lower lip. It truly looked so soft. You just wanted to...

Your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting the full force of his worry and concern.

If you could just muster up the courage, you could wipe that look clean off of his face, you could press your lips against his and ease any worries he had had. Make up for all the lost time that you had spent not kissing him. And maybe you'd stay too.

Of course, kissing away problems didn't really fix them.

You stood from the bed, and Muriel watched you go, the concern in his eyes deepening until you smiled.

"I'm fine. Really Muriel I was just... I was kinda caught up in thinking about.... In, uh, thinking about your... Kisses."

Once again, his concern grew stronger.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No! No, I don't— I mean, not really. But that's not in a bad sense of any sort or anything I just—I mean—! You know how we run away......? Ah, no but that isn't the point, I don't want to stop kissing you and I don't want you to stop kissing me I swear I really—"

You could see it this time. Watching him so closely as you rambled you saw how he leaned in, prepared to kiss your throat or your cheek or something in the vicinity.

But you also saw his smile. Small and tiny, you wondered just how many times a kiss against your skin had included his smile pressed against you.

Kissing you made him happy. He loved you. He loved kissing you.

In a burst of confidence, you beat him to the punch, and kissed him before he could kiss you. Your lips pressed against his, the world-ending kiss you had so desired.

There was the smallest little gasp against your lips before he relaxed a little, and if you lingered any longer maybe he would have leaned in and returned the kiss to you. But your face was growing hot and you were getting dizzy, and whether by habit, by embarrassment, or by a need to stick to your original plan, your legs itched with the urge to run. So you pulled back, and you skittered away once more.

It wasn't a far distance between the bed and the door and in any other circumstance you might have been able to make it in only a few steps.

But he called you, and you hesitated.

“No, no please. Don’t leave.”

The sound of his voice was so nearly a whine, practically begging you to return to his side, killing the urge to run before you could make even a full step away. It was just a moment's hesitation, just a second, but that's all he needed.

And for the first time since the start of your little game, you were caught.

His hand caged your wrist first, keeping you from moving any further. Then, with his free hand as quick as the first, he grabbed you just above your elbow and pulled. With two hands it made it easier to hold you down, prevent any chance of escape. With two hands it made it easier for him to yank you back towards the bed, back to his embrace, and most importantly, back to his lips on yours.

It was your turn to gasp at the contact. Your turn to melt as his arms snaked around you, one around your waist, and another cradling your head, caging you against him as if to keep you from escaping again.

As if you could escape, with the feeling of his lips on yours making you melt against him.

As if you wanted to escape.

Trapped against his chest, with no ability nor will to escape, you could do nothing but reciprocate everything he was giving you even amidst the dizzying feeling of warmth that permeated your face and chest.

It was strange; even though you were still blushing madly, even though your mind was melting in your skull, you couldn't help but feel calm and relaxed under the scrutiny of Muriel's lips against yours.

There was no panic, no concern worry or fear. There was just you and Muriel kissing each other, and relishing in the feelings that such a tender kiss could bring. He loved you, and you loved him. So, so much. And with the gentle caress of his lips against yours, you could feel it. You could feel how hungry he was for your affection, and you could feel how much he was trying to give in turn. Hopefully he could feel you too. How much you wanted this, how much you loved him, how much you adored every moment you spent with him and every kiss you had pressed against his skin.

So caught up in the kiss, you had almost forgotten to breathe. Thankfully Muriel didn't, and when he pulled away, you managed to gasp as he pressed his lips back down against your skin.

His hands slipped from their hold on you to wrap around your waist burying you in a hug as he spattered kisses against your cheek, trailing down towards your neck. With every kiss you could feel his certainty, retracing every kiss he’s lovingly planted on you before with the added calm and languid motions that more time allowed. He nibbles along your neck even more, toeing the line of biting you as his teeth sank almost teasingly into your skin. Not enough to hurt or even make a mark, just enough to know it was there. It made you whine, just a little, and that made him do it even more.

And amidst it all, he watched you. With eyes wide open, only fluttering closed to savour your reactions or the taste of your skin, all with a small giddy smile slowly growing wider and wider on his lips.

It didn’t take long before you were cupping his cheek and trying to guide him away from you, eager to have a taste of your own. At first he pouted, not wanting to be separated from your skin, but the pout quickly vanished as you leaned in and pressed your own kisses against his neck and chest.

It was easier than you expected, although… perhaps you had just been over-thinking things, or perhaps you truly had been able to get used to his kisses at least on some level…

Or perhaps it was just him. Muriel, the very same cause of your rapid heartbeat, was also what made kissing him and sticking around to kiss him more easy.

You knew Muriel. And even more than that, you knew that he loved you, and you knew that you loved him.

This… this was just another way to show that wasn’t it? Gently biting at his neck enough to make him whine, and then kissing over the tiny injury as if apologizing for hurting him, even if he loved the feeling. Spattering kisses over his chest, tracing scars big and small with the faintest brush of your lips against his skin, kissing his shoulders, broad and scarred, and kissing the tips of his ears as if trying to encourage the red of his blush to spread all the way there. Spattering kisses all over his face again, atop his eyelids and on his nose, around his lips, teasing him with the offer of another chance for him to kiss you…. That was all just a form of showing love, wasn’t it?

And when Muriel pulled you back him, cupped your cheek with the calloused pads of his fingers and palm, so gently pulling you in to slot his lips against yours and kiss you with the agonizing hunger of a man who’s been teased and deprived of this for months—that was just a means of showing love as well, wasn’t it?

It was... Just an expression of love and you didn't need to be overthinking or—

Muriel pulled away from you, and despite everything, you pouted at the loss of contact, digging your fingers into whatever fabric or flesh you could get a hold of, fully expecting him to try and run away. In reply, Muriel held you just as tight, pressing his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

"You're shaking," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

Oh.

... Were you okay? You felt dizzy and you didn't think you'd be able to stand after this, just collapse into a pile of very warm goo. Yet, even despite that you could still feel the overwhelming urge to pull him back in and answer with another kiss. Could you actually survive that if you did? All those other kisses had felt so good... If you kissed him again would you have the same clarity he had to eventually pull away?

"Ah. Uh... It's... Nerves. I'm just... I feel both so excited and so nervous at the same time!" you squeaked out the last bit, biting your lips to try and hide the grin from crawling up your face.

Watching Muriel's face go red, and the corners of his lips wobble you wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to hide the very same thing.

“I...Me too," he confessed, chewing a little at his lip. "I... I've wanted this for so long."

"really?"

You couldn't help it at that point. No matter how much you bit your lips you could already feel the ache in your cheeks at the force of your smile. As his eyes darted up and down, glancing at your lips before darting back up to your eyes, he was quickly succumbing to the same fate.

"Y-yeah. Ever since our kiss in the colosseum... Your idea was better though."

"You had a plan too?"

"... Mhm... I was... I was going to try and practice by kissing you while you were... asleep—or at least really, really busy. Just... Sometime when you wouldn't notice or something." At this point you didn't think Muriel's face could get any redder from his blush, but as his eyes fluttered shut and he began to chew his lip, still smiling a little despite his embarrassment. "I was trying to figure out a different plan though since I wanted to know..." For a moment he faltered, his eyes fluttering open to look at you, his embarrassment growing stronger under your scrutiny. "...I wanted to know if you liked it."

Oh. You doubted that your face could get any warmer either, but you still pulled yourself back a little attempting to shield your face from his scrutiny with your hands. Similarly, Muriel was turning away, and hiding his face behind the crook of his arm, still determined to keep one hand around your waist as if he still worried that you'd still try to run away.

"well..." You peeked out from behind your hands, seeking Muriel's attention to try and gauge his reaction. Feeling you shift in his arms he did the same. "I uh... Feel kind of bad now. I always just assumed but...did you like it?"

Muriel's eyes grew wide.

Suddenly, even if Muriel had given you the most pleading and starved look with every kiss you gave him, even if he reached out to you after every kiss—even if he had returned your kisses after some time, and even if you still had the his gift of a little bear holding a heart in your possession—you couldn't help the instinctual fear that maybe, just maybe—

"I loved it," he whispered. Then softer, pressing himself against your neck instead of his arm, "...I love you."

You squeaked at the feeling quickly sputtering out your reply. "Me too—I mean, I love you too! And it! I loved the kisses— I loved your kisses. I just..."

Muriel pulls back, that wobbly look of worry and concern settling back on his face all over again as if he had felt something amiss in the pulse along your neck. With all the patience you've ever given him and more, Muriel waits for you dragging his hand up to your cheek, and waiting for words to eventually bubble free. He heard that you wanted to say something, now he's just waiting for you to say it. Only, you don't think you have anything to say.

For once, you don't think words can solve your problem.

You lean closer towards Muriel, offering yourself in the silent little way he did just moments ago. Without a single sound, he knows what you're saying loud and clear. His eyes grow wide at the notion, before they settle back into that starved look he had been taunting you with. In the same way you had bridged the gap between you, Muriel now did the same, crowding into you until he was tipping you onto the bed—until the both of you were lying side by side. Though Muriel held you close to keep you from escape, you held him close in hopes that he'd be able to feel what you could not say. That he'd be able to feel the rapid beat of your heart, or the lax nature of your muscles, or how comfortable you feel slotting yourself up against him, or how you can't help your wandering hands or—

Something knocks against your side a few times, hitting your back and ribs hard, before it scrambles on top of you barking all the way. Black fur crowds your space, and as Muriel squawks at the intrusion, you nearly tumble off the bed from your surprise, if not for Muriel's arm still wrapped around you.

Partly fueled by shock, and partly fueled by the strange one sided argument Muriel was having with Inanna as she wormed her way between the both of you, you began to laugh. You could feel Muriel's hold on you tighten just a little at the sound, and as you peered over the mass of black fur that sat between you, you could see the tiniest little smile on his lips, growing wider with every glance your way. Gods this was ridiculous. But...The whole thing was ridiculous, wasn't it?

Eventually Inanna settles herself in the centre of your hug, and though Muriel sighs at the interruption he's still smiling as well. It's an uphill battle to stomp down the corners of his mouth to convey his irritation to his familiar—an animal with an emotional and magical link with him—but he fruitlessly tries regardless, eyes snapping to you every so often, crumbling his attempts each time, while his cheeks grow even pinker with every passing glance.

It takes you a moment, far too distracted by his teeth sinking into his lips and the wonky curve of his lips, but Inanna had been talking to Muriel, and apparently she was mentioning something about you... Or well, the both of you.

"She's...she's telling us to get a room."

As if contagious, your own face picks up warmth, and you promptly find yourself fighting the same battle against your smile. On the one hand, you couldn't help the giddiness of your sucess, of being able to kiss Muriel so much, of that overwhelming sense of love that you could finally convey to not only him, but apparently everyone in the room. On the other hand... Embarrassment burned thickly across your face and shoulders, wedging itself down your throat where it had failed to burn.

Had the both of you been doing too much? Did it seem too... Too much to an outside eye? Was it something you shouldn't have done? Should you have asked Inanna to leave? Your mind spins with possibilities and confusion only adding to the disorienting state that your embarrassment was already granting you, any and all attempts at glancing Muriel's way in an attempt for help failed miserably as the two of you either quickly averted your eyes, or you both lingered on each other, the look of longing and delight somehow making you both feel worse.

Feel worse, and yet embarrassingly hungry to be even closer once more. Muriel still held you, albeit much more loosely with Inanna now between you, but he still held you and didn't seem intent to ever let you go.

Eventually, Muriel clears his throat and refocuses his attention on Inanna, visibly trying and failing to keep his eyes from flickering back to you.

"You could've gone outside yourself you know You don't have to stick around and... And watch."

In the most offended manner you've ever seen from a wolf Inanna whips around to stare you down silently asking with her bright eyes and pointed stare if you agreed as well. Not trusting your own voice, or your control over your lips you nodded furiously, hiding your smile behind your hand. You couldn't help it. Even amidst the embarrassment, Muriel's fingers dug into your hip, a distraction and a reassurance at once.

Inanna stares at the both of you for a moment, before she lets out a grouchy whuff, absolutely glaring the both of you down, before she finally slips from between you. In the same way water fills any given gap, Muriel pulls you back towards him, closing the distance between you, before Inanna promptly begins to separate you once more. Biting at your clothes she tries to drag you out of bed, drag you away from Muriel, though she's quick to rectify her mistake when she jumps back onto the bed and begins to furiously headbutt Muriel from behind.

In that manner, silent even to Muriel, save for her grunts and whuffs, Inanna herds the both of you towards the door, and proceeds to headbutt the door open when she decides that the two of you take far too long to open it yourself.

Ah..... When had it started raining?

Thick as a curtain, the downpour looks as if the hut had suddenly been relocated beneath a waterfall. And it's noisy too. Even if you had closed the door, the thud of rain against the stone and wood and the trees all created a cacophony of noise near impossible to ignore. And yet, so...preoccupied...you managed just that.

Your blush returns with a vengeance, though you aren't even sure if it had ever left in the first place, and in an attempt to maybe escape the heat, you step out into the coldness, reaching out into the rain. It's as heavy as it looks, only a hint lighter than the force of a waterfall. Despite that, standing beneath the tree, you remain protected from the downpour. A tree alone wouldn't have been able to protect you, but one enchanted, with carvings around it's trunk and charms dangling from its branches, it's doing it's best. Still, it's a pretty feeble protection, perhaps you could improve it somehow. You let your mind wander for a few minutes thinking of improvements you could add to the enchantments. Things that you've learned about that could be used next time downpour this heavy occurred, however rare it may be.

Just about to share your plans with Muriel, when the door slammed behind you. Both of you you spun around in horror mind racing between confusion and fear. Was that the wind or did—

You catch sight of him before you can even make your assumption.

Staring at the very same door as you Muriel looks far more betrayed than you had felt, his cheeks still pink tinted despite it. On the other side, Inanna barks loudly. In reply Muriel groans, and though he has no one to hide from Muriel covers his blush with a hand.

"She says she'd let us back in when we cool off."

....Oh.

Whatever progress you had made at cooling yourself off dissipates at Muriel's—or well, Inanna's—words. Even if it was true, even if the heat between the both of you had been.... Well..... Even then.... Your mind flooded once more. What had it looked like? Did you really seem so ravenous? You felt so but did it really look that much like...? Or did Inanna just have enough of the both of your nonsense? No, no surely it couldn't have been that... Right? She wouldn't just kick you out of the hut and lock the door without....? Speaking of, did Inanna even lock the door? Sure it was magic activated and she could have, but you didn't see the glow or—

"Are you okay? You're shivering."

Warm arms pull you into an even warmer chest, once more holding you tight against him, resting his face on the top of your head. Pressing a kiss into your hair.

Another kiss...

One you could return.

Or well, try to at least. When you tried to turn in his arms shuffling a little to try not to step on his toes in the process, Muriel only held you tighter against his chest still expecting you to try and run away. You couldn't exactly blame him for that though. If it were you, you'd probably do the same.

Instead, you revel a little in the warmth and the possessive little squeeze he gives you when you finally settle down, the second kiss he gives you, this time pressed to the very tip of your ear, taking the chance to enjoy it while he can't see your face, and the odd expression you surely have there. And yet you still itch to return his kisses in some way. With no other area of his body easy to access for you, you slip your hands up to one of his own, trying to coax it from it's grip around you and into your own hand, where you could raise it up to your lips, and press a kiss to his pulse, or his palm, or his calloused fingers or...

You can feel Muriel's grip grow ever so slightly tighter against you, keeping your back flush against his chest and letting you feel how he seems to grow warmer and warmer with every kiss. But with every caress you give him, and every kiss you plant on his arms and hands, Muriel readily gives you another to your ears or the top of your head, or your cheeks or your neck or your shoulders or....

With his arms looser around you now, you took the chance to turn back towards him, immediately burying yourself against his chest and pressing a kiss there, regardless of his shirt. You tried to hide your face for as long as you could, but you were eager to get your lips on his skin once more, and soon you were puling him by his cheeks down for you to reach, and he was holding you up by your waist, eager to reciprocate whatever you'd give.

Regardless of the rain or the wind, it was warm.

It'd probably take a while before you cooled off enough to go back inside...

After all, you wanted to get used to this warmth... Perhaps you should practice a little bit more.

✦✧✦✧ (Bonus!) ✧✦✧✦

Inanna stared at the door for a few minutes from where she laid nice and warm in front of the fireplace, awaiting the return of the both of you. Surely you wouldn't linger out in the rain for too long.... Right? Admittedly the comment she made was really just a joke. Revenge really, since the both of you had thought to kick her out into that rain, but she didn't intend for either of you to linger out there so long. She'd expect at least one of you to come banging on the door begging to be let back in, but the silence was deafening.

She waits for a few more moments, before she gives up and sighs, settling back down onto the floor and absorbing the warmth from the fireplace. It doesn't seem like you'll be back until you're both soaking wet and freezing your butts off and it'll be up to her to warm you both back up again, especially since both of your bodies are severely lacking fur.

She doesn't worry too much about the cold and wet though. You'll return when you grow tired of playing chase like little pups, and when you do, well...She didn't lock the door.

...

Hopefully one of you realizes that eventually.

#the arcana #muriel #muriel x reader #the arcana x reader #muriel x mc #the arcana muriel #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel the arcana #muriel the mountain man #muriel the hermit #muriel x apprentice #muriel x you #muriel x shy reader #x reader #reader insert #Paper Tells Tales

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