#we tend to keep our lips parted and purse them while doing the teeth sucking noise to keep it from becoming high pitched

[enigma-im]

Kiss From a Rose

Prompt #6

Subject: Bondage Monster: Forest God

                    Misuse of plants

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A fairy-esque home in the woods has away been a dream come true for me. The strange sense of peace that's accented by the mystic magical feel that only living alone in the woods brings. To wake about every morning to an otherworldly mist that hides the oncoming elk till it's just upon your front porch is breathtaking. Sit on the porch in the early summer days can truly take your breath away while breathing wonder back into you. I love my home, I'm glad I made this choice.

Having moved here in my early twenties was a gamble, especially when one has no money. A gift from my grandmother makes the financial strife a little easier, though just barely. Still have other bills to attempt to ignore along with the need for food. The adventure just began and it looked to be a disappointing one. Thank the heavens things worked out. Found some online work that miraculously fell into my lap and did some jobs on the side. Starting a garden and selling some food for the local market. Made the big bucks online, which sounds kind of dirty. I try not to tell people I make money online. Two things come to mind; Youtuber or porn star and I don’t have the body for porn or the personality for Youtube.

The garden has become my pride and joy since it produced its first tomato. I never knew it was hard until I relied on it for most of my groceries. A person can only eat so many cucumbers before you are desperate for change. Some trial and error later I have grown a wide variety of veggies and fruit. I legit cried when I managed to grow a pretty decent watermelon. That was the turning point in my cabin in the woods experience.

Today is too lovely to waste working inside. A fine day to perhaps sit on the porch, do some gardening, take a walk. I step outside, momentarily blinded by the sun. I straighten my shirt before heading to the garden. I admire the flourishing plants and all its produce. I note the ripening tomatoes and large bundles of cucumbers lining the ground.

I grab my supplies and head to work pulling the healthy ripe veggies. next, I tackle the maintenance, ripping out weeds and pruning the plants.

As I work I feel a tickle on my wrist. A gentle brush of a curling vine drives my curiosity away. Soon a leave brushes my face, curling to cup my cheek with too much force to be considered natural. I cease my shoveling to watch the plant in question. Furrowed brow, pursed lips. Before I give up, another cord glides over my ankle. The sensation continues, the vine sliding up my calf, squeeze me as it climbs.

I snap around onto my back, propped up by my arms as I worriedly watch the plant tickling around my knee. The green rope traces a scar on my shin, petting the slightly paled puckered skin. I let out a shaky breath as my mind catches up, my head dropping to my shoulders as I sigh. Only one reasonable explanation for why my tomatoes might be curling around my leg. Only one person.

"Mawida," I call out slightly amused. A rumbling chuckle is my answer followed by an emerging figure from the debris of the forest floor.

"Got you that time," Mawida laughs as leaves and twigs combine to form his legs. It will never cease to amaze me how his body can coalesce with such ease. Branches, leaves, twigs, flowers, vines, anything found in the forest just comes together to make the god in front of me.

"God of the forest or god of mischief? It seems like someone miss titled you," I answer as I sit up, brushing off dirt from my palms.

"I'm allowed to be more than one thing! I've been called many names, you come up with a few if I recall correctly," He pretends to ponder. I pick at a rock stuck near my thumb before I look up to acknowledge him speaking.

"When have I ever given you a title?"

He steps closer, crouching near my feet," well, just last week I remember you screaming out a few names for me. Calling me perfect and amazing."

I scoff," I never called you perfect, I was merely projecting my admirable skills. You need to pay attention better and stop stroking your ego, love." his face contorted in an unamused grimace, sneering slightly.

"I guess I just have to prove you wrong," he grins. I cross my arms with a quirked brow.

"Oh, yea? How do you plan to do that," I smirk. With no answer, just that grin, I begin sliding backward. I quickly lift my arms and stare down at my lower body. A vine wraps multiple times around my middle and thighs, dragging me back then up towards my home.

I rise from the garden, settling flush against the clinging ivy on the side of the house.

"Let me go, Mawida," I growl. He merely chuckles, stepping closer to my home and I. "Mawida, I'm serious," I try again. The bravado does nothing to him. His steps are fluid as he nears, eyeing me with no hint of subtlety. He shows he doesn't care how blatant his admiration is, he likes what he sees. As he steps closer I sneer at him, he chuckles again.

"I'm but a man in need of his woman. Do not trouble me with false anger, I just wish to worship my lady love. Is that a crime?"

"It is when you keep me bound to the side of my home," I tease. He pays me no mind, reaching out to my body. His gnarled twig and vine-covered hand cups my hip. We both watch as he trails it under my shirt, the vines around my waist loosen to allow him to raise the clothing underneath.

He sets the shirt under my neck, "Hold this for me." before I could answer a tickling feeling trails from behind my head then around to my throat. The vine weaves under and over the shirt, holding it up. His attention rests on my chest, admiring the uncovered skin with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"No bra today," he cocks a brow," Were you expecting me?"

I scoff," Don't flatter yourself." he chuckles before dipping to take a mouthful. My eyes slowly shut while a quiet sigh leaves my mouth. His wet tongue flicks and lathers my nipple, his teeth tugging with a soft grip. My hand strains against the bonds, urging to touch him.

Mawida leads kisses down my stomach, getting distracted with nips and licks on the way. After a few detours, he presses his lips to my hip before curling his fingers into my pants. This sends a jolt of alertness through my body. The small amount of give the vines have I close my thighs shut.

"No, we are not doing this in my garden," I snap. Our eyes meet as I look down at him near my crotch. His arrogant smile makes his raised brow just a bit more annoying.

"oh, do explain why not," he nuzzles my thigh," because I cannot find one reason why we shouldn't."

"Well, just to list the first one off the top of my head, someone could see us," I answer. Mawida takes the time to stand, looking around with confusion. He stops when he faces me again.

"Don't see anyone. Also, we are in the middle of the woods. Can't say that someone will happen upon us," he retorts.

"But someone could come and I rather not have my tits out when they do," I counter. It's not that I don't want to but out in the open adds a level of anxiety. The anxiety is thrilling, everything about this is thrilling, but the realist part of me understands the risk of embarrassment.

Mawida steps closer, resting his body against mine. His leaves caress my curves while some twigs poke into my stomach. He has a warmth, a wet warmth to him. His body reminds me of a greenhouse; vibrant, warm, humid, fragrant.

"I can feel every presence in these woods. I will let you know if someone nears," he whispers near my ear. His deep rumbling voice brings a chill down my spine and a fluttering in my crotch.

"Promise," I whisper back. He leans back with a soft smile.

"Promise," a vine curls a loose hair over my ear," Now can I ravish you?"

I roll my eyes," Ravish? Confident aren't we?"

"well," the vines slowly pull my legs apart as he falls to his knees," I am a god, it tends to come with certain certainties." before I can tease back he rips the crotch of my shorts. The fabric is tossed away without a care as he moans with great exaggeration. His hands grope at my thighs, petting up and down as he admires for a moment. His eagerness lights up his eyes before he leans down.

Mawida buries his face between my thighs, my eyes roll back as his nose bumps against me. His smile grows wide before he loosens his tongue from his mouth to lick up my slick. My hips roll while my crotch throbs. I look down my body to watch him lazily eat out my cunt. His eyes meet mine making lightning strike my spine. Neither of us can look away as he ramps up his attentions. I watch as his hand pets around my thigh and up to where his mouth is. His rough fingers tease around my entrance, watching me bite my lip with eagerness.

He plunges two fingers inside me, curling them as he sucks on my clit. His smile grows as he watches my eyes roll back again. I grunt through my teeth while grinding heavily into his mouth. My stomach flutters as my cunt throbs. His fingers stretch and grow, petting and pressing against my walls with a heated gaze. I pant as I watch, whimpers leaving my mouth.

"Come on," I mumble. My peak is right there. I pull against the binds, the urges to curl my leg over his shoulder to pull him closer or grab his head are stronger than ever. The tugging rubs the vines into my skin, though it's soft it does leave a bit of a bite.

As I rest on the edge Mawida winks at me. The action makes me grin for just a moment. He follows the flirty wink with a soft nibble on my clit, humming as he does. My moan chokes out my throat as everything comes together. I clench my eyes shut and cry out into the forest. I ride his face while gripping the vegetation in a tight fist. He plays me like a fiddle while I flow through my finish.

Once I fall slack against the vines he rises from between my legs. He grabs my thighs, pulling them out from within the bindings to wrap around his waist. Next, he releases my arms and guides them around his neck. I rest against his shoulders while he takes me back into the house.

"Where to," he asks as he pulls the front door open.

"Bedroom," I smirk, "I'm not done with you yet."

His chuckle vibrates my cheek," That's something I like to hear."

------------------------------------------ Last one for this weekend, hope you all enjoyed. Next week we have dirty talking demons, sappy morning ventures, and near drowning.

Complete series

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[imaginesmai]

Jace Wayland-Strawberry

Requested by @online-fangirl (I can tag you FINALLY THANK GOD) and an anon. Hope you like it! I had a lot of problems with the smut part, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do it. I just, there are some characters which are really difficult to write about for me, and I don’t feel confident enough about Jace to write about him. I hope you don’t mind, I’m sorry.

Plot: two assholes feel the right to ruin your day, but Jace isn’t going to let that happen.

Warnings: due to the request, this reader is curvy/overweight. I don’t have problems with writting about this type of reader since I’m too, I’m sorry if you don’t feel indentificated with the type of body. All of us have to be proud of ours body, either if it’s thin, bigger or a fucking potato. Also, people being an asshole to the reader and ‘bullying’

You wiped the few tears that had stuck in your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, trying to spill the remainders of water that still made it difficult to breath. Jace was sitting beside you, leaning casually against the chair and with a smirk on his ridiculous handsome face. Your hand made contact with his arm and he whined loudly; as if you could ever hurt him, the brave and invincible shadowhunter. That was what people must had thought of him; for you, he was just your best friend. And the love of your life who didn’t know you had feelings for him, but that was another story.

“You okay there, berry?” he chuckled, placing a hand on your shoulder. You glared at him although you were trying to not laugh again, after the last attack that had you choking on air.

“Yeah” you wiped your mouth carefully with the napkin, soda all over your face. “I almost chocked to death on my drink thanks to you. Asshole.”

“It’s not my fault that you can’t control your laugher!” Jace teased, throwing his arms back.

When he winked at you, you swore your heart forgot how to beat. That happened every time the blonde man decided to wink, smile, look, talk and, lately, even breath near you. It wasn’t something new; you had been in love with Jace Wayland since you were ten, when he called you for the first time ‘berry’.

You get so red that you seem a strawberry

That was what Jace had said when he had told you that you looked pretty with your new dress. And the nickname had stuck.

“It is! It’s your fault and your stupid jokes” you argued, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Usually, that gesture would make you self-conscious, as it made your breasts look even bigger; still, Jace’s company was comfortable, and you had learnt to be yourself in front of him.

“Sorry, sorry” Jace said. “I won’t, I promise I won’t do it again”

“Sure” you rolled your eyes, not believing him.

Conversation came back to you when Jace commented something about Alec and Magnus, and soon you were both teasing your best friends. It was always like that; you and Jace together, you drooling over the man of your dreams and Jace spending a good time with his best friend.

The place you had chosen to spend the afternoon was lovely. You had been wanting to try it for months, and finally Jace had gotten the hint. You weren’t a shadowhunter, so your schedules were complicated. Not always you could meet, and you made sure to enjoy each second of it when you did.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt” Jace said suddenly, cutting you off. He was looking at you with those puppy eyes that could make you do anything.

“I’m not asking for the waitress’ number” you stated, ignoring the pang of hurt that hit your chest. Jace didn’t have problems in flirting with other women in front of you, and it was what you should do to.

“No, none of that this time” he laughed, and you breathed relieved. You wouldn’t want to be in that situation ever again. “Why would I want any girl’s number when I have you?”

Quickly, your cheeks turned red and you looked away from his blue piercing eyes, finding the cold streets of that November very interesting. For the past few months, Jace had become used to compliment you every chance he got. You knew Isabelle was behind, knowing that you had self esteem issues and that you tended to put yourself down. She had tried to make you see yourself as the beautiful girl you were, yet it wasn’t until she got Jace to compliment you that she finally managed to raise it a little.

“Shut up” you mumbled, fidgeting with the can of soda in your hands.

“Aren’t you the cutest, berry” Jace said, and his hand searched for yours. “Going back to the main event. I do have something to ask you.”

“Do I have to listen to it?” you raised your brow, giving him a shy smile.

“Actually, yes. That’s what you get for being my best-friend, Y/N”

“If there is no other choice”

Jace’s next words were camouflaged with the bell’s door ringing. The place wasn’t awfully full, though it was nearly winter and people loved a hot chocolate with a good muffin. You turned your head to see who was entering and Jace looked over your shoulder; he saw nothing wrong, just a bunch of dudes, and you were glad you weren’t facing him.

As soon as you recognised them, your heart fell to your feet. You had been spending a good time with Jace, laughing and getting a huge boost of confidence; but you knew it was going to get cut short.

“Um, I…I’m going to the bathroom” you mumbled, looking down to your lap and picking up your purse. Your hands were starting to sweat as you felt their stares in your back.

Meanwhile, Jace frowned, not understanding the sudden change of behaviour. Was it something he had said? Maybe the compliment? His mind started working over the last few words that had left his mouth, trying to find something that might had hurt you. He found nothing, and you almost ran to the bathroom, the white door closing behind you.

Jace turned his head and looked to where you had disappeared, the question dying in his parted lips. He looked back to the desk, your soda and the cake you were sharing not so appetizing in that moment.

“Dude” someone said, and the blonde looked up to meet two boys, about his age, with expensive clothes and not so friendly smiles. “You’re Phant friend, right?”

He blinked confused, looking around to look for said person. Only a couple with one little kid and two teenagers were in the coffee, all of them minding his own business. The waitress was checking something behind the counter, and outside no one was looking at them. Jace scratched the back of his neck, not knowing who could they be talking about.

“Uh, sorry guys, don’t know any Phant” he explained.

“No, you know her!” the other guy snickered. “She was sitting here a few seconds ago.”

“I’m surprised the chair isn’t broken”

Ignoring the offensive remark, the frown returned to Jace’s face. The only person that had been sitting in front of him were you, and he knew that your name wasn’t Phant. His eyes narrowed when he finally linked your sudden need to go the bathroom with those douches’ appearance.

“That’s not her name”

The boys made that god awful sniggering sound, that to Jace seemed as if a pig was dying agonizingly, and glanced at each other. Jace felt the need to punch them unconscious, and he hadn’t even heard what they had in them.

“Well, you know. Phant, as Elephant. Are you part of her circus, gothic boy?” Jace’s expression remained blank as the boy talked, his fist tightening under the desk. “She-She’s fat dude. You understand, right? Fat. Elephant.”

“Maybe he only speaks demon’s language” the second guy, who was hiding behind the other one, joked.

Jace’s dark clothes didn’t bother him. The awful, and well too known joke, about his gothic appearance didn’t bother him; hell, he had joked with you thousands of times about how he would join a gothic band. Them implying that he talked with demons, didn’t bother him. What bother him was that he hadn’t known about the ‘Phant’ sooner.

“Where do you know her from?” Jace asked, not giving away his anger.

“We work with her, in the bakery. Check that she doesn’t ends with all those cakes, she has eaten enough for all her life.”

Suddenly, Jace was up and face to face with the guys, who took two steps backwards. They didn’t expect him to look so angry, to be so tall and so damn intimidating. Their eyes widened.

“Think you’re funny?” he glanced down to their clothes; even if they were expensive, they were still wearing the shirt of the bakery, that held their names in tags. Couldn’t be more stupid if they tried. “Douglas, what kind of name is that? Did your mother hate you or something, hm?”

“H-Hey man, we were joking. Don’t take it-“

“And Darren” Jace let out a soft laugh. “Honestly, I’ve never heard such a pathetic names. As pathetic as you. Do you like to mock someone’s weight? To lay out their insecurities?”

By then, the little kid was looking at them while the couple talked about their day, and one of the teenagers was sparing glances at the argument, with a small smile on her lips. Jace sucked in air through his teeth, taking advantage of his superior height; he was fuming.

“We didn’t-“

“Mean it? You didn’t mean it?” Jace laughed bitterly. “What’s the matter, no luck with the ladies so you have to mess with the one you can’t have?”

“No, it isn’t like that” Darren, the second one, answered, feeling protected by his mate’s body; who was shaking as a leaf.

“You lacking in a certain department so you need to feel more mainly?” Jace growled, and heard the teenager snickering behind him. Purposefully moving his arm so that his blade was touching the asshole’s crotch, Jace moved forwards. “Leave Y/N alone. Stop being assholes and fucking grow up. You’re going to look for another job, cause if I see you in her bakery, I’m ripping your lungs out, alright? With my hands.”

Douglas whimpered and Darren tried to find something to say, yet only came out as short and pathetic cries. Jace was ready to push the blade farther into the boy’s crotch when he felt the comforting smell of your shampoo behind him, and your comforting hand on his tensed bicep.

“Jace” you said, keeping your eyes on the ground. People around the coffee were starting to take interest in the scene, and you didn’t want Jace to be in trouble because of you. “Let’s go”

Jace cleared his throat, smiling at you and his dazzling blue eyes lost all the rage he had had moments ago. He placed the blade back into his waist with a swift movement, and place his arm on your shoulder.

“I was having a nice conversation with this guys” Jace’s smile didn’t drop, but when his eyes met the boys they darkened. “Talking about how difficult it might be to find a job this times, right?”

“Y-yeah”

“Well, we better go berry” Jace turned you around and started walking towards the exit, leaving two bills on the counter and telling the waitress to keep the change.

The chill air greeted you when he opened the door, waiting until you were out to walk behind you. Loud voices, car horns and violin music made you feel disorientated for a second, and you pulled your jacket closer to your body. Hugging yourself, you looked towards Jace, who seemed to have something in his mind. Your teeth chattered and your cheeks soon were pink from the cold, the anxiety tears you had let out in that bathroom feeling frozen against your cheeks.

“Your place?” Jace asked, taking a step closer to you. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, wanting you to feel calm and warm. Wanted you to know he was there for you.

You blinked quickly and sniffled through your nose, nodding. The way to your apartment was printed in Jace’s mind; all those times where he had appeared in the middle of the night with injuries and nasty bruises. Movie weekends where you would do nothing more than eating junk food.

Without another word, Jace placed his arm back in your shoulders and started walking, both of you deep in your thoughts.

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Soft Christmas music was heard through the speakers, and Jace clumsy steps in your kitchen. As soon as you had crossed that door, Jace had forced you to sit in the couch; he had helped you change in your favourite pyjamas, enveloped you with blankets and was preparing hot chocolate for you. You heard him curse under his breath each time he burnt himself, and you smiled little by little.

The tears had disappeared from your cheeks, replaced by a warm and fluffy feeling in your chest. Having Jace with you and knowing that he had faced the people who made fun of you made your day better. You wouldn’t have to see those assholes again, hear how they call you ‘Phant’ and accuse you from eating all the sweets in the bakery. Sun was shinning on you and a sudden rush of confidence hit you.

“Jace?” you called him, and watched as his face appeared in the doorframe. He had his hair pulled back in a bun, his face was strained with chocolate and held his hands up, trying not to touch anything.

He made some humming noise and gave you a smile, encouraging you to say whatever you had in your mind. Problem was that you forgot to ask him how long until the chocolate was done, and let your heart speak for you.

“God, I love you”

The silly smile you had in your face disappeared when his eyes widened, and you opened your mouth in surprise. It was supposed to be a private thought, not something that could escape your mouth. The music became distant and you felt your whole face turn red, your breathing picking up.

“D-Did I say that out loud?”

Jace nodded slowly, your words taking him by surprise. He didn’t expect them at all, used to the shy girl who couldn’t even tell him if he had drawn the rune correctly. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like them, he loved them. But he couldn’t bring himself to react.

“What are you looking at?!” you spat at him hiding your face between your hands and trying to disappear in a ball of embarrassment.

It was not easy to love Jace, not when you weren’t as thin as Isabelle or as pretty as Clary. Even if you liked to fool yourself in your dreams, you knew someone like him, blond, blue eyed and handsome, couldn’t end up like someone like you, plain, boring, fat. Thighs touching each other, bigger chest than most girls and rolls in your tummy that made you shy of show yourself.

You thought back about all those times where someone had told you not to eat that, because you’ve already eaten enough. Or don’t you want to go to the gym? It will be good for you. Boys rejecting you because of your weight, not being able to go to the beach because of your big size, hiding under wide clothes and having difficulties to find them. Small tears pooled in your eyes, and the familiar lump in your throat appeared.

A warm hand raised your chin slowly, and you came face to face with Jace, who had a comforting smile on his face.

“I’m looking at you, berry” he whispered, almost afraid of breaking the peace of the moment. “I’m looking at you because you’re so goddamn gorgeous that you make me believe in angels.”

“Don’t lie to my face” you muttered.

He was used to that answer; when he gave you a compliment, he always got the same, fake anger of sass. Although that time your voice was weaker, and you were looking at him in the eyes. As if you wanted to find out if he really meant his words. If he really reciprocated yours.

“I’m not lying” he chuckled, and placed a hand on your knee. Slowly, he made his way between them, and you noses were touching. “I do think you’re the most gorgeous woman in this world. And I’m dying to prove you, if you let me”

There was no malice in his voice, not hint of joke, as you have heard so many times in people that had ‘wanted’ to meet you. You bit your bottom lip and crossed your arms in front of you to provide much needed comfort. This was the moment where you had to tell him everything, that you had practise with Isabelle so many times. Yet, how do you tell someone that you love him, yet you don’t think you’re worthy of him?

“I, uh, I have feeling for you, Jace. For so long, so long” you chuckled, looking at his eyes shyly. Remembering how your heart sped up every time he was in the room. “B-But I don’t think I’m enough. I’ve never been with anyone, kissed anyone. I’m no-Jace, I’m fat! I’m not Clary, or the thins girls you like! Y-You don’t want me and I don’t enjoy you teasing me.”

You finished your small speech with a sigh, returning your eyes to your lap. You couldn’t bear the realisation of not wanting you in his eyes. Tears that you had tried to keep away dropped down your cheeks, and you tried to clean them with your sleeve.

Jace caught your wrist and searched for you eyes. Once he made sure you were looking at him and not drowning in your thoughts and insecurities, he talked.

“All I’ve ever wanted was you. You’re too blinded with your insecurities to realised that you’re beautiful, berry” he explained, and placed your hand back on your thigh; when he gripped it. “I like you, and I want you to let me show you how much.”

His hot breath was hitting your mouth, and you were tempted to close your eyes, and enjoy the dream. Because you were sure it couldn’t be anything unless that, a dream were the boy you loved was telling you those sweet things. Jace’s nose touched yours and he smiled, admiring every inch of your face. How the unshed tears made your eyes brighter. The small imperfections that made your cheeks even prettier. Your lips trying to fight back a smile, and your nose as red as a strawberry.

Jace adjusted his head and pressed his mouth against yours, making you forget about every insecurity you had. As he moulded his lips with yours, you closed your eyes slowly, bringing one hand to his blonde hair, fearful of doing something wrong. He pushed you a bit backwards and his hand found its place on the back of your neck.

You kissed until you couldn’t breathe, he kissed you until you were giggling between his arms, and that night he worshiped you as the goddess you were in his eyes.

Because his strawberry deserved all of that and more.

“D-Did I say that out loud?” & “All I wanted was you” From my prompt list  Fluff

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[pascalpvnk]

20 from the prompts list please

This didn’t end up the way I wanted it to…I hope it’s still okay ahh (masterlist is linked in my bio)

3.1k of some fluff with some pretty shitty angst

20: “Protective is different from being possessive!”

With one final swipe of mascara, and a last minute decision of a glossy lip, you’re about ready to go. Even though you’ve been looking at yourself in the mirror for about an hour, you haven’t had the chance to fully take in your appearance until now. You have to admit it; you look pretty good. Correction, really good.

There’s nothing crazy happening tonight so you’re dressed up for the part. A loose, low cut top is tucked into your favorite pair of worn jeans—the ones that really accentuate your figure the way you want—and a pair of Converse solely for comfort. Well, that is after you looked up how to properly dress for a night out. The key points you picked out were to know your setting, to feel good, and be comfortable. All three of which you definitely aced.

It’s been a while since you’ve had time to go out with work being up your ass all the time. In the times when you had some peace in your life, you wanted to spend it at home either alone or with your boyfriend. You’ve been trapped in your cycle of work, Shawn, and sleep that you’ve neglected your friend group more than you could’ve ever imagined. But tonight is your night. All of your guys’ night and you’ve been giddy about it since it was planned.

The bedroom door slowly opens and Shawn pops in as you shamelessly continue to admire yourself in the full length mirror. He plants himself behind you, peering over your left shoulder and drinking in your reflection. His stare finds yours and his lip slips its way between his teeth. He sucks in a breath and finally allows himself to touch you. You feel his fingertips trace up along your spine and delicately run across the silver chain adorning your neckline.

“Mm..you look gorgeous, honey,” he compliments, leaving a chaste kiss at the base of your neck, covering the cool metal.  “Do you have to go?”

You chuckle at your needy boyfriend, who would cling to you like a koala if he could. “Yes, Shawn. We’ve had this all set for weeks. And I want to get out of the house for once and not have to be in work clothes.”

“Maybe if you stayed, I could help you get out of these clothes.” Shawn gently wraps his arms around your torso and sways the two of you from side to side, his breath hot in your neck. 

Don’t fall into his trap. Of course you would love to stay and have a steamy night with him at home, but you have plans. Plans with people you haven’t seen in forever. The people that you’ve been neglecting more and more since you’ve let yourself become used to your routine. You never wanted that to happen and you’re definitely not allowing it to continue. 

“As tempting as it sounds, it’ll have to be another time. I’m not flaking on my friends again.” You let your arms rest on top of his, rubbing the pads of your thumbs against his skin.

“Maybe when you get back?” Shawn buries his nose into the crook of your neck and shoots doe eyes at you through the mirror. The temptation to give into him is very strong, but you just can’t.

“Yes, maybe, but I’m making absolutely no promises. I’ll probably be back a little bit after midnight so I might just wanna go to bed. I can only for sure promise cuddles tonight if you’re down,” you smirk, fully knowing that Shawn has never turned down cuddling and probably never will.

“I’d say that’s a deal.” His voice is muffled by your shoulder, but you can see the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles. It’s crazy how this man can turn you on in a flash but then you blink your eyes and he’s the cutest person to grace this world. Saying you’re lucky to have him is such an understatement.

The two of you bask in the silence and presence of each other for a moment. It’s intoxicating, really. The level of intimacy that you share is otherworldly; something you’ve never shared with another person before. Honestly, you could stare at his beautiful self for eternity and never become bored. And what’s even better is that you know that he feels the same way about you, and you couldn’t dare to ask for anything more than that. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he pouts, bringing his chin up to rest against you. His arms slightly tighten around you, like he was going to lose you if he were to let go. 

You gently spin around in his hold and place your hands on his chest, “I’ll be back before you know it. It’ll only be a few hours and then you’ll get the cuddles I promised.”

“Okay. I might call Brian and some other guys and see if they wanna go somewhere or play video games,” he shrugs. You’re aware that he doesn’t like being alone, so this isn’t odd. At least he’s not pleading for you to stay.

“Look at you being social,” you beam. “I really gotta go, though. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.”

After patting his chest a couple times, you stand up on your toes just to give him a peck. His frame leans down to capture your lips into another, longer kiss, humming into your mouth. He’s really not making this easy, huh.

“Text me when you get there too, yeah?” Shawn tells you once he pulls away. “Just wanna make sure you get there safely.”

“I can definitely do that. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies with the cheesiest grin plastered on his face. 

Shawn turns to grab your purse for you. With his back to you, you can tell that he’s reaching inside. Not questioning him—completely trusting that he’s not digging for information—you let him search for whatever he’s set to find. He turns back to you and comes up with a stick of gum along with your tube of lip gloss.

“You’ll wanna reapply, babe,” Shawn smirks, popping the gum into his mouth. That’s when you see his lips shining from your gloss. A giggle escapes from you when you take it from him. He plants one last kiss on your forehead and lets you on your way.

You arrive at the sports bar and immediately hear the droning sound of sports announcers on the televisions and drunk patrons reacting loudly to them. Quickly, you grab your phone from your pocket and shoot Shawn a text, letting him know that you arrived safely, before searching for your group. 

It takes mere seconds before the overpowering cheers of your friends completely fill your ears. Your wide eyes find their table, all three of them waving in your direction. There are already multiple empty shot glasses on the hardwood and you can tell that they’re already way ahead of you. This is what I get for being late.

“You made it!!” Rubie exclaims. “I was about to drink your shots but I did not! Here you go, lady. You’ve got some catching up to do, alcohol-wise and in general.”

She pushes three glasses towards you and you take a seat next to her in the round booth. You immediately feel a weight lift off of your shoulders and for some reason, it’s easier to breathe. After settling in, you greet Aila and Milo. 

“So how’s life been treating you? It feels like we haven’t seen you in forever,” Milo pouts, taking a sip of his beer. The guilt of not seeing them has been eating away at you but now you feel kind of awful. You let the first shot of what you now know is tequila glide down your throat before answering his question. 

“It’s been okay, but I feel really bad about not spending time with you guys. There’s really no excuse-“

“Hey, you’re okay,” Aila interrupts. “We’ve been busy too and all of our schedules don’t always line up. But we’re all here now, so I think we should celebrate that.”

That’s Aila. She’s always been the mom friend and you’ve known that since you two were little. Her role is completely necessary since Rubie is rowdier than hell and you and Milo both tend to be emotional wrecks. You make a mental note to thank her later and just show her that you’re appreciative of her in general.

The four of you talk more while you finish the other two shots and some lighter stuff until you start to feel a buzz. Your “superstar boyfriend,” as Rubie called him, was brought up into the conversation a couple times, followed by a “you lucky bitch” and an “I’m so single” or something along those lines. You honestly do feel lucky to have him, but it’s nice to have some time away and you weren’t really planning on talking about him. Then again, you talk very highly about him and it makes you kind of miss him.

“Helloooo,” Milo is stretched across the table and waving his hand in front of your face. “You left us and went to a completely different dimension and I’d like you to return please.”

“Sorry,” you mutter into your glass. Stop thinking about him and just live in the moment, dammit.

The food that Aila had ordered for all of you finally arrives and your mouth starts to water in an instant. In that same instant, Rubie is speaking with not much of an indoor voice because she’s excited to “finally fucking eat something.”

As you all dig in, Aila’s eyes keep wandering behind you. Her cheeks turn rosy and she puts down her fries.

“Either that guy behind you is checking you out or is checking me out but I can’t tell,” she tells you, her eyes adverting to her plate. 

“Well one, he can only see the back of my head and two,” you pause as you start to turn in your seat, “he better be eye fucking you because I’m tak-”

You cut yourself off and stare at the redhead at the bar. Unsurprisingly, you see a head of curly brown hair right next to him. Brian, your boyfriend’s best friend, points at you and nudges the broad shoulder to his left. Quickly, you turn around to meet three pairs of very confused eyes.

“Do you know him?” Milo asks. “He’s kinda cute, not gonna lie.”

“It’s Shawn’s best friend, and he saw me and I think they’re coming over here,” you spit out. 

It shouldn’t bother you that he’s here, in fact it’s probably a complete coincidence, but it’s supposed to be your night with your friends. The friends that you’ve put off hanging out with because you’ve always been with him.

“Ohhh,” he responds. “Well it’s okay. The more, the merrier, right?”

The rest of your friends agree with him just as the two men approach the table. Shawn looks so happy and surprised that you’re here that it has to be a coincidence, right? He was just looking for a place to hang out with his best friends and it just happened to be the same place that you took yours. It happens. 

“Hi, honey. Fancy seeing you here,” Shawn chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You introduce him and Brian to everyone and offer for them to sit down. Shawn is now squished between you and Brian, whose eyes are lingering on Aila for maybe a few seconds too long. 

Everybody converses with each other, but you can’t help but feel an unsettling feeling in your stomach. There’s almost no way that out of all of the bars he could’ve chosen to go to, he picked this one. It’s the most public one in the area and it’s a decent distance away from your home. The bad feeling settles deeper and you’re worried that the alcohol is also contributing to that. You excuse yourself to go to the restroom and Aila and Rubie insist on going with you. 

Once inside, you pull your hair back and run your hands under the cool water of the sink, dabbing your neck to try to help you cool off.

“Are you okay, hun?” Aila rubs your back and you look at her through the mirror. “I can take you home if you’d like.”

“No, I should be okay. I just needed a breather. Super stuffy in there, yunno?” You give her your best attempt of a smile. Aila nods and takes a step back. 

“I may be a teeny bit drunk,” Rubie slurs, “but I know for a fact that you were just fine until you realized your superstar was here. Trouble in paradise?”

“Rubie!” Aila scolds in a whisper. The drunk girl just shrugs and waits for you to answer. Quite frankly, you don’t know how to answer. Yes, you two are doing great and you haven’t fought much but sometimes it can be suffocating. You didn’t really realize that until you were with your friends. It feels like he’s stuck in the honeymoon phase whereas you want to move on to the next level of the relationship. It all confuses you so much because you do love him so, so much, but you were so happy to finally be away from him. 

“I think everything is okay…it was just supposed to be our night as friends. It’s not like I don’t want him here, it’s just hard to explain, yunno?” You fish around in your purse for your lip gloss, feeling the need to retouch it. Aila agrees with you and so does Rubie, although you don’t think she caught anything you said. 

Confusion hits you like a truck when you find one of Shawn’s wireless earbuds on your purse. Not just one, but both and the case is nowhere to be found. Now, you know for a fact that you can track them, since you’ve had to do it for yours before, but it only works when they’re not in the case. You’re not one to assume, but with everything that’s happened tonight, it’s the only thing that makes sense to you.

“You know, I’m actually not feeling too hot. I’m gonna tell Shawn that I wanna go home. We need to do this again soon, I really had fun,” you shove your findings back into your bag. With no questions asked, they just nod and you lead them back to the table. Shawn is quick to his feet to let you back into the booth, but you stop him short.

After explaining yourself, well lying really, the two of you go home, leaving behind your confused friends and Brian, who was elated to have more time to chat with Aila.

Shawn tries to make conversation with you in the car, but you brush him off and stare out the window. And man, is it the longest twenty minute drive you’ve ever experienced. The air in the car is thick. Not even the quiet music could help you calm down. You’re internalizing your anger but with each passing second, it grows within you. You can’t believe he would go out of his way to do all of this. To ruin your time with your friends. You’ve never done that to him once.  

Once you’re inside your shared condo, you immediately kick your shoes off at the door and throw your coat on the back of the sofa.

“What the hell,” you dig into your purse to find his earbuds and hold them up for him to see, “are these doing here, Shawn?” 

“I must’ve dropped them in there, or I asked you to carry them for me? I don’t know,” Shawn responds, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I never use this purse on a regular basis, and I just got it out for tonight. They’re not mine because mine are on my nightstand. You put them in my purse before I left and tracked me.”

“I was just trying to protect you, hun,” he mumbles, dropping his head so you can’t see his eyes. 

“Protective is different from being possessive! I wasn’t in harm’s way. I was with a group at a bar and guess what, Shawn. I’m a fucking adult and I can take care of myself.” Your voice raises, and you aren’t sure if you meant for that to happen. There’s no going back from here. 

“I was not being possessive,” he defends himself poorly. It’s clear that he doesn’t appreciate your tone, but you don’t appreciate the way he’s treated you tonight. 

“There is a thin fucking line between being protective and possessive and you crossed it, Shawn! You followed me to the bar and you sabotaged my time with friends that I haven’t seen in months. If I did that to you, you would be livid. Don’t give me bullshit responses because you did something wrong and you don’t want to admit it.”

“Honey, calm down, it was a mistake,” he says after a minute of silence. “I shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

For a second, you contemplate on arguing him for telling you to calm down, but you decide that it isn’t worth it. He seems sincere and you don’t wanna make him feel worse.

“I accept your apology. I don’t want this to come in between us, but I want to be alone right now.”

You move to your shared bedroom, and prepare for bed. Every emotion is running through you, and you don’t know how to deal with it other than isolating yourself. Either that, or blowing up in his face, which isn’t some you want to do again.

“But what about our cuddles? You promised,” he whines, clearly trying to find a way to stay with you. Shawn’s tall frame blocks the doorway, his eyes locked on you.

“I feel like I’ve gained the right to break that promise the second you broke our trust. Just because I accepted your apology doesn’t mean I don’t still feel hurt,” you inform him. “I’m going to go sleep on the couch.” You try to push past him but he makes you come to a halt. 

“No, please stay here. I fucked up, so I’ll go sleep on the couch. I love you and you didn’t deserve any of this, I’m sorry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Shawn gives you a light kiss on the forehead just before he leaves you alone for the night.

[satans-helper]

Between Us // Part II

Pairing: Danny Wagner x (F) Reader

Word Count: 2167

Warnings: hand stuff; mouth stuff; over-the-clothes sex, basically; allusions to threeways (obviously) 18+ read at your own discretion

So I had to continue on with Danny & Sam, it’s just that Sam may have fallen behind momentarily. I’m always thirsting after Danny but lately it’s been unquenchable. Not to worry, though--Sam will be back! 

Also, thanks to @mountainofthesunn for encouraging me to finally use the word “balls.” I couldn’t do it on my own. 

---

Making threeways with Danny and Sam a regular occurrence hadn’t been a plan for any one of you but, since the first one, they kept happening. Well, it was a lot of work, so it actually happened twice since, but that was three times more than you’d ever expected. Despite it being a lot of work and always a little clumsy, all three of you learning as you went along, the threeways were really fun.

You, Danny and Sam actually became your own unit. None of you ever declared that you were all in a relationship but that’s often how it felt. If you thought you’d spent a lot of time with them before, now was like being attached to both of their hips. All of you had even agreed on a rule: no sex without all three of you present. It was totally unorthodox, you knew that, and you all sort of laughed when Sam had proposed it, but it made sense to avoid hurt feelings. 

That rule did have its difficulties, like when you were watching a movie with Danny and feeling particularly horny. You’d actually hoped Sam would join so you’d all be able to have sex but he had other plans, leaving just you and beautiful Danny on your couch, you paying more attention to him than the movie itself.

“Sam never specified what counts as sex,” you said suddenly, unable to take the ever-growing need any longer. Danny looked too good. He had his hair half-up and was wearing a deep purple button-down shirt--half unbuttoned--with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was watching the movie with such focus that he turned you on even more. You wanted that focus on you.

He turned to look at you with his brow slightly furrowed. “Huh?”

“We never talked about what ‘sex’ means,” you went on. “Like, is that fucking? Or does hand stuff count? Mouth stuff?”

Danny chuckled, blushing. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

You were aching. “We can make out, right?”

“Yeah. Do you want to?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Yeah. It’s never been just us two--do you want to?”

Danny answered by leaning into you and cupping the side of your face, gently pressing his lips to yours. He kind of tasted like Coca Cola and the scent of whatever new cologne he’d been wearing only added to his allure--you quickly pushed him back against the couch and straddled him, placing your palms flat on his exposed chest.

You never broke your kisses as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, his groin right under yours, his bulge pressed up against you through his jeans. You couldn’t decide who was a better kisser, Sam or Danny, because they both had their own styles that you loved. Sam was more eager to use his teeth on your bottom lip or even to scrape your tongue; he was a little more chaotic and it led to things escalating pretty quickly. Danny moved more slowly, always seeming to want the kisses to last a long time, and tended to follow your lead.

This night was no exception--when you deepened the kiss, Danny followed, and soon your tongues were meeting and you were grinding yourself into him, wrapping your hand around the side of his neck while his hands were on your hips. With the friction he was getting hard underneath you and it took considerable self-restraint to not get down on the floor and get his dick out; instead you slowed down, remembering the rule you’d all agreed upon, though you were getting wetter by the minute.

Danny was actually more willing to continue, because he pushed you down onto the couch and got on top of you, his knee between your legs. He left one more long kiss on your lips before working his way down your neck, lingering on your throat to suck while his hand traveled up your shirt.

You stopped yourself from moaning, instead saying, “Wait, Danny--we should stop here.”

He exhaled and looked at you. “The rule?”

“Yeah, I mean, if Sam were here, it’d be different,” you said. “But we can’t break it, even if we don’t know exactly what it means.”

Danny nodded, sucking in his cheeks a bit. “What if we keep all our clothes on? Does that count?”

“Well, we can still have sex with our clothes on,” you replied, entertained by his persistence. “So I think that would break it.”

“What about over our clothes?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “Okay,” you agreed. “I don’t think over the clothes would count. But we tell Sam everything, okay?”

“Okay.”

You chuckled and reached for him, bringing him up to kiss again, your mouths moving together softly and slowly like when you first started. Eventually your kisses became deeper, with you sucking on his tongue and his hand squeezing your breast as he let you, then his hand was moving between your legs and slipping under the waistband of your leggings. 

You broke away from his mouth. “Over the clothes, Danny.”

“You’re wearing underwear,” Danny replied and sat back on his thighs, starting to run his fingers up and down your covered center. “It doesn’t count, right?”

You whimpered quietly, reaching back with one arm and grabbing the pillow behind you. “I don’t think so,” you affirmed and reached with your free hand to try and peel away the rest of Danny’s shirt, then stopped yourself. “Damn it.”

He chuckled. “I can leave it unbuttoned.”

“You better,” you insisted, whimpering again when he added pressure with his fingers, causing you to ache more, a dull pulse beginning inside you. 

You took in his image--his long hair flowing over his shoulders, a couple of loose strands hanging in his face even with some of it pulled back; the familiar look of concentration on his face; his lips pursed slightly, those soft, pink lips; long, dark lashes above his eyes that you could never articulate the color of; the taut muscles of his chest and abs, skin shockingly smooth before the dark, full happy trail that your eyes lingered on before moving to his crotch, his bulge more evident than before.

Danny leaned into you, pressing gentle kisses on your neck as he kept rubbing, the up and down motions becoming circular and a little faster, his forefinger and middle finger running over your clit with every rotation. 

“So warm,” he said quietly against your skin, then drove his knee deeper between your legs, spreading them. “Really wet, too. Huh.”

You laughed a little, running your hands down his sides. “‘Huh’ what?”

“I didn’t realize you’d be so into me,” Danny said, moving his hand from your center to the inside of your left thigh, tracing gentle lines with his fingertip. 

“Why not?” you replied, tilting his chin up to look at him. “You’re so hot.” You pulled him in closer and kissed his jaw, moving your lips down to his Adam’s apple. “And you’ve got a really big cock.”

He groaned softly. “Don’t say that. I’ll get too worked up,” he warned, going back to rubbing circles over your clit with his right hand, his left squeezing your breast.

You muffled your own moan by sucking on his throat again, your hand tightening on his side, his skin warm and firm. “That feels so good, Danny,” you said and reached your other hand down to his crotch, fumbling to unbutton and unzip his fly. 

A quiet, low moan emanated from his throat but he continued working on you, his fingers over the fabric creating such raw friction over your clit that your hips started bucking a little, another whimper sounding from your chest. 

Danny shimmied down, burying his face against your neck, his fingers pressing down with a little more firmness, your unrelenting wetness dampening them. You swatted his fly out of the way and cupped his erection through his boxers, running your hand over its length as he ran his fingers down your center, back up, then resumed the circular motions. Your breathing was getting heavy--ragged--and you squirmed on the couch instead of bucking up against him, the electricity rising inside you.

Danny kissed your neck, starting at the base of your throat, softly working his way up, letting himself linger below your ear, then kissed your mouth hard. You inhaled a sharp breath as you both got into the rhythm again, your mouths and tongues almost synchronized, and the electricity was growing.

You latched onto the back of his neck, your fingers clasping him, and arched your back a little. “Oh my god--keep going,” you begged, heat rising rapidly inside you, your face flushing, your heart pounding. You came then, digging your nails into the back of his neck and tearing your mouth away from his to moan and gasp freely, all while Danny slowed his fingers and placed a haphazard kiss to the corner of your mouth.

He ran his fingers back up and down slowly and with gentle pressure, you still pulsing and quivering beneath his touches. “I wish I could feel that,” he said softly.

You let out a final, quiet moan, starting to catch your breath again, and sat up against the arm of the couch. “You did that, Danny,” you told him, running one hand through your hair. “Let’s switch positions.”

He smiled and you did, him sitting in the center of the couch, his arms laid over each side before you moved between his legs, kneeling on the floor. He brushed your hair back and let his hands linger on your scalp as you kissed down his chest, down his abdomen, his happy trail brushing against your lips. Then you knew how it felt, not being able to really get at him--still, you were going to take what you could get, so you worked your hand gently over his hard-on through his boxers, a tiny bit of precum already leaked onto the fabric. 

“You’re so hard from that,” you teased, tugging away his jeans as much as you could without breaking the rule, just enough to get more adequate access. He chuckled and you smiled up at him before looking back down at his sheathed cock and pressed your mouth against it, warming it with your lips.

“Oh,” Danny breathed, running his hands through your hair again. 

You slowly moved your mouth up to the head, suctioning your lips to it and sucking, pressing your tongue against it as your hand stroked his shaft. Keeping his balls cupped in your right hand and your left on his thigh, you sucked with more urgently, getting him as wet as you could given the barrier of the cotton boxers.

Danny was moaning almost inaudibly above you, but when you moved your hand from his thigh to his lower abdomen, you could feel how much harder his breathing had become, your hand rising and falling more rapidly as your mouth and tongue worked over him. You looked up and he had his head back against the cushion, biting his lip, his hair a mess around himself; you lightly dragged your nails down his happy trail, just teasing right at his waistband, and sucked harder, nudging the tip of his head with your tongue.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m getting close,” Danny declared, looking down at you with bright, eager eyes. “Go harder.”

You squeezed with your right hand, feeling how warm and full he was, and sucked even harder on his head, a sharp suction sound coming from your mouth before you mouthed down his length, occasionally dragging your teeth carefully across, testing the waters. A little to your surprised, Danny moaned and bucked his hips, his fingers digging in your hair, pulling you down further. You sucked and tongued your way back up to the head, putting all your energy there once again, determined to make him cum. With one more buck of his hips and frantic ushering of your face into his crotch, he did, shuddering and hissing, throwing his head back again. 

It was a hot, wet splotch on his boxers and you licked and sucked what you could, Danny’s hands relenting on your head and your mouth easing gradually away from him, just lingering to lap at his taste.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he uttered, lying lengthwise on the couch with one leg dangling off, resting his right hand over his chest.

You situated yourself between his legs, lying your head back on his stomach. “That was hot,” you agreed, the wetness pooled in your underwear probably a perfect match for the mess in Danny’s. “It was a good compromise”

“Yeah, it was,” Danny said, his fingers starting to play with your hair. “When do we tell Sam?”

You smiled to yourself. “Next time we’re all together. I’m sure he’ll get jealous and wanna join in,” you said. “Which is great, right?”

Danny sighed, incidentally bringing your shoulders up and down, chuckling quietly. “He should’ve been here.”

---

Tagging @mountainofthesunn @bigthighsandstupidguys @camomillacatalina @kiszkawagnergvf

Let me know if you are over 18 and want to be added to the smut tags! Or any tags ~

[purpleswans1]

Family Reunion

Another piece of my Villain!Izuku AU for villain month. The prompt this time is “Enemy of my Enemy,” and it actually takes place after my published outline ends. Sorry if things are confusing here, you should understand things more when you read Saturday’s fic.

Read also on FF and AO3

“Hey, Dabi? Can we talk for a sec?” Izuku asked.

Dabi turned to the de-facto leader of their little villain group. “Sure. What’s up?”

Izuku waited until the others had all gone upstairs before continuing. “I’ve been contacted by a potential new recruit. Because of who he is, I figured it would be best to talk to you before inviting him to move in.

A new recruit? Already? Still, Dabi wasn’t sure why Izuku wanted to talk to him about this. “What’s his name?”

“Shoto Todoroki.”

A baby sleeping in his mother’s arms. A toddler looking at his hands in terror, the right one covered in frost and the left one wreathed in flame. A child trembling in exhaustion and pain. A boy’s face covered in bandages and glaring up with hate-filled eyes.

Dabi took a deep breath. “Endeavour's son?”

Izuku nodded. “If you don’t want him around I’ll understand. I’ll just tell Shoto to stay at UA and act as a spy. But if you could bear with us… I think it would do Shoto a lot of good to get out of that place.”

“Does he know we’re the ones who attacked his father?”

Izuku smirked. “I suspect that was our main selling point.”

Huh. Looks like the kid hasn’t been brainwashed by the old man after all. “Okay, bring him in.”

Izuku looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My issue is with Endeavour, not his kid. Besides, it sounds like little Shoto has some daddy issues.”

Izuku pursed his lips, seemingly not convinced. “Alright, if you say so. If nothing else, this will give Shoto a chance to explain himself.”

Dabi smiled -- genuinely enthusiastic for once -- and said, “I’m looking forward to that.”

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

Shoto Todorki felt like a sheep in the wolf’s den. Which did make sense; what was a child of the #1 hero doing around villains? What was he doing asking to join them? Well, that just proved how little they knew.

“Guys, this is Shoto Todoroki. He’s offered to join us,” Izuku said, introducing him to the waiting wolves.

Everyone in the room, with the exception of Izuku and the little girl playing on the floor, stared at Shoto like he was a freak.

Well, they weren’t wrong, but it was still uncomfortable.

“Izuku, wasn’t that guy at the UA sports festival?” one of the girls -- the brunette -- asked.

Izuku nodded. “Yes. Until today he was a hero student at UA, but please listen to what he has to say before you judge him.” Izuku turned to Shoto and motioned for him to speak.

Well, it's now or never.

“My father is Endeavour and I hate his guts.”

That got their attention, but now that Shoto had started he couldn’t stop. It was just like at the sports festival, when he poured his heart out to a stranger her now knew was a villain. Only now, this wasn’t a trickle of hate leaking through the damn; it was the flood he was determined to let loose and share with the world.

“He’s obsessed with beating All Might, and decided to have a successor that would be stronger than him. I don’t know if any of you have heard of quirk marriages, but my father married my mother for no other reason than her quirk. When my quirk came in, father started a brutal training regiment. I was only four years old. It was painful for me, but stressed out mom out even more. She was already cracking under the strain of living with a man she hated, but she finally broke one night when I found her talking on the phone. She screamed that my left side was unsightly and poured boiling water over it.” Shoto reached up to touch his scar, both to indicate that was when he got it and because he was remembering how much it had hurt.

Nobody else tried to speak.

“It hurt, what my mother had done to me, but I knew my father was the one to blame. He’d driven her to the breaking point, and once it was done he shipped her off to a mental hospital and swept it under the rug. At first I was determined to become a hero without using my flames, the quirk I’d gotten from my father, but I met Izuku and he showed me another way. The only reason my father was able to get away with all that he did was because society put him on a pedestal simply for being a strong hero. I want to help you change that aspect of society, and I definitely want to help you kill my father.”

Shoto finished his story, putting his hands in his pockets. Nobody spoke for a long time.

An oddly familiar voice broke the silence. “Well, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Welcome to the Quirk Revolutionaries.” The speaker was a young man covered in burn marks.

The lizard-like man looked at Shoto. “If Dabi thinks it’s fine, then I have no objections. My name is Spinner, by the way.”

The brunette girl came forward. “I’m Ochaco Uraraka. It’s good that you’re able to join us, Shoto.”

“I’m Toga!” the blond said. “Oh, Izuku, I’ve got to try his blood! Can I cut him?”

“Not right now Toga, we should let Shoto get settled in first.” Izuku leaned into Shoto’s ear and whispered, “I’ll explain later.”

Shoto nodded. There was probably a lot he’d need to get caught up on.

The little girl got up from the floor and ran to Izuku. She hid behind his leg, casting a cautious glance at Shoto.

Izuku noticed her and placed a comforting hand on her head. “Do you want to introduce yourself to Shoto?”

The girl was painfully nervous, so Shoto took the initiative. He kneeled down so he was eye level with her. “My name is Shoto. What’s yours?”

“I’m Eri,” she said shyly.

“Izuku found Eri in a bad situation,” the scarred man -- Dabi -- explained. “Since he’s such a sucker for sob stories, we’ve been looking after her.”

Oh. Shoto should have been surprised to find a child in a house full of villains, but for some reason it never crossed his mind.

Dabi clasped his hand on Shoto’s shoulder. “It’s getting late. How about you guys get Eri ready for bed while I talk to the new guy?”

Izuku frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Take care of the little princess,” Dabi insisted.

Shoto gave a small nod. He didn’t understand everything that was going on, but he didn’t want Izuku to worry about him any more.

“Well, if either of you need anything, just holler.” Izuku cast one last glance at Shoto before leading Eri up the stairs, with Uraraka, Toga, and Spinner trailing behind.

Once they were gone, Dabi stood in front of Shoto, sweeping his eyes over Shoto’s entire body. It made him feel a little uncomfortable.

“You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you, Shoto.”

That was surprising. “Have we met before?”

“When your quirk first came in, you were so scared. Mom and I both told you to keep it hidden, but Dad noticed anyway and dragged you away to start training.”

Shoto sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Who… Who are you?”

“I’ll admit, I was a little relieved. With you as the old man’s perfect successor, I finally got a chance to have a childhood. For the first time I could remember, I got the chance to spend time with Natsuo and Fyumi and act like a real older brother to them.”

Shoto realized what he was saying. Tears blurred his vision. “Big bro Touya?”

Warm arms circled Shoto in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry for leaving you behind, Shoto. I needed to get out of that house, but I should've… I knew it would make things harder for you, but I left anyway. Can you ever forgive me?”

Shoto’s arms came up to return his brother’s hug. “Big bro… I thought you were dead. I can’t believe…”

“Shhh. It’s my fault; it was the only way I could think of to get the old man off my back. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m just so glad that you’re here now.”

Tears fell from Shoto’s eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, big bro. You were just doing what you needed to do. I found my own path, and now we’re together again.”

Dabi -- Touya -- squeezed harder. “Thank you, Shoto.”

The two brothers stayed like that, just holding each other, for a while. That is, until a new voice ruined the moment.

“So, you two are related I take it?” Izuku stood a few steps up, in full view of the brotherly embrace.

Dabi looked up. “Are you saying you expected this?”

“Well, your quirk works similarly to Endeavour's, so I always thought it was a possibility. I heard Shoto’s story long before we met, so I knew that his family had a good reason to hate him as much as you do. Not to mention, your hatred of Endeavour was awfully personal, so it made even more sense for you to know him or Shoto personally.” Izuku explained.

Dabi snorted. “You know Izuku, you’re pretty scary when you do stuff like that.”

“It’s just a part of my charm,” Izuku said. “By the way, there’s a spare bedroom for you Shoto. I should warn you, Eri tends to crawl into bed with whoever’s awake when she gets a nightmare, so don’t be surprised if she visits you in the night.”

“Come on, let’s get you settled in,” Dabi started to lead Shoto up the stairs.

“Thanks, big bro Touya,” Shoto said.

“Eh… I don’t mind if you call me that when we’re alone, but I’d rather you call me Dabi around the others, okay?” Dabi rubbed his neck. “I’ve put a lot of effort into reinventing myself after I got out of that place.”

Shoto considered this. “Maybe I should pick a new name for myself too.”

Dabi laughed. “Sure, kid. You might want to run it past Izuku; he’ll probably have a bunch of ideas for you.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

83. Have you ever wanted to have sex with someone but knew you couldnt for any reason? Why?

Once Bitten || Accepting

“No.”

The single word and the way she says it is both true and disingenuous at the same time.

She also doesn’t look up at Anakin as he quietly drops the question, all sharp edges and shot through with that specific kind of anxiety that is endemic to him, predicated on the experience of how other people treat him; either listening and completely disregarding his genuine need for guidance or clarification, or...ignoring him altogether and misunderstanding what it is he’s looking for. Anyone else, anyone not her, would have decided he wants to know out of some twisted sort of vengeance for the myriad questions she tends to ask at the most inopportune times. For the curiosity that sometimes eats her alive and knowing he won’t deny her an answer even if once given it isn’t nearly close enough to what she’s specifically trying to ask but is absolute truth all the same. It’s complicated. The way they dance around each other some days. Because they have to, because there isn't any other way to get by.

There is something very noble in his small acts of self-betrayal. In the way that he reaches into himself and pulls out parts of himself for her to examine. Turn this way and that under the bright light of scrutiny, see the lustre that exists in even the smallest kernel of his wishes. Which, she notes and not happily, have over the years dwindled down to a handful of sweet and simple things. How she hates that they have taken the rest from him. She wishes she could give them back to him. One by one. But she's just as powerless as he is. So tightly bound by rules that it's so hard to even breathe. The best she can do is to still herself. To carefully gather up the things she doesn't say and spread them out before him, let him pick and choose which he would like to keep.

Emerald shifts from dark to light and back again in a single flare when she finally looks up, dares to grace his visage with a questioning gaze. Brows knitted above her eyes. Mouth pursed just so. Makes the way the tip of her tongue probing the space between her upper teeth and the inside of her lip unmistakable for anything else. A thing she sometimes does when her thoughts become treacherously deep. When she's reluctant to divulge whatever she might find in them.

She's trod these paths that stretch out before winding back on themselves in an uncultivated mess of would-bes and mights with Anakin before. Usually under a controlled indulgence of alcohol and sugar that was only permissible under the auspices of a mission or investigation. And far, far away from the walls of the Temple. Similar but different now because the focus is on specifics about herself, about her reasonings behind it. And she's already put one foot forward with a single word. Turning back isn’t an option.

"No."

She begins again. She could ask him what his definition of sex is. They could set up artificial parameters, constructs that pass for qualification into this arena but it would hardly matter. Their only reference about it came from holovids and carefully hoarded novels, at least she thinks so. From sublimely ridiculous flower petals and wine, soft music and candle light to near animalistic acts of brutal sensuality, the only goal of which was to find release in whatever fashion it could be obtained. Expanded only by furtive whispers between clan-mates the few times they gather in leisure when they aren't being overseen by their Masters. Sex isn't explicitly forbidden by the dozens of codified rules of the Order but love is. It is attachment at its purest. Attachment is forbidden because it leads to fear and jealousy, to selfishness which is the root of all things in the Dark Side.

"To be honest? Sex doesn't interest me in the least. It's bio-mechanical, a simple physical act, instinctive enough that any animal can do it. The idea of it ~impractical, impersonal~ only for some kind of occasionally unobtainable gratification...just feels gross to me. For decades we have wrapped ourselves up in tunics and under-robes. Outer layers that swallow us whole and obscure our skin, make us one and the same, like a uniform. Not only do I not like the idea but also...it sort of scares me...to just strip down and use someone else for this purpose. 

“For years, I thought maybe it was because I might not be compatibly built, though eventually that myth was dispelled. But I still don't want to be groped and pawed at. To lay down and spread my thighs and hope that in those seconds and minutes I can derive some kind of pleasure with someone I wouldn't sit and eat with, whose name and face I only know in passing. That sounds like a nightmare to me, Anakin. I couldn't do it. Would rather go for self-gratification if it came down to it."

She shudders almost delicately, but in a rare moment, she withdraws from him, from the conversation, possibly even from herself. Her elbows drew closer to her ribs, and she enfolded her hands into the bell sleeves of her robe, not unlike he's done a thousand times. There's no evidence that she's twitching in the sheltered dark, or plucking at the seams or herself but maybe the worst part of it is that she shrinks from him in the Force. Thins out like a wisp of smoke, more ephemeral than she can possibly be, closed off.

Her lips half purse. Hesitation. A lick of nervousness so ripe that as it sweeps up her spine and makes her flesh burn under its auspices, so too does it threaten to reach across the bond they have always shared that it might immolate him, too.

Her breath hitches despite how hard she tries not to let it, and she slowly sucks in her lower lip until it becomes nearly perforated by the points of her teeth, the mild pain of her own nip reminding her to let it go.

“There is...someone I want to...I want to make love with. And that’s the difference, isn’t it? It’s more than being naked. It’s slowly unwrapping so that inch by inch there are no more boundaries. There is already love and connection and an ocean of feelings recognised and never spoken of, but there. Known. Every attachment, fear, scar, beauty. Every hope and desire reciprocated, the act itself of delving into one another is because there’s already no separation but the physical. A lick or a kiss is only words made into touch. Finally surrendering to the passion and the need to join together is because we can’t stand to be two different beings, that it hurts NOT to be one entity, where you forget where one starts and the other ends.

“I can all but feel it sometimes, the trembling of a gorgeous, long fingered hand writing broken Huttese poetry across my skin. I can taste the suns and the salt on his skin, the sting of copper because of a tiny bit too indelicate bite. Or the way his bliss eases down into the back of my throat, the way he looks when he glances up from the apex of my thighs so careful, so afraid that something isn’t right because all we want to so is share this boundless joy. Of his hands on my hips, as I’m looking down at him through strands of my hair as we finally come to that moment, every question and desire we’ve ever had about to be answered and there’s no secrets, no walls, just the purity of us in the physical and in the Force and....” And she realises that as she speaks, she’s picturing it in her mind. So starkly vivid, so exact down to the smallest detail that he cannot possibly not share the image of it. And her face...falls. Eyes damp and crystalline with the horror of saying it out loud where she could be overheard, over-felt. Mouth parted in vague horror that makes her breath reedy sounding in the strangled way it comes out of her and the sudden disruption in the Force that can only be described as a panic so close to total systems-collapse.

“But..a.h.....ah... You know...you know the reason that can’t be, ever. We are Jedi and it isn’t permissible and ...uh.” To her credit she tries to recover herself, eyes darting anywhere at him while waves of shame and fright continues to roil through her.

“We...in the general term, of course. I wasn’t meaning you specifically...just...” Liar. She did mean him. Has always meant him. Cannot imagine anyone else she would share something so intimate with, or would want to, even across a thousand galaxies, spread out over the most infinite of time. And how can she even know he’d feel the same way? Anakin is sought after, maybe for all the wrong reasons, but the Republic loves him. Those few people he considers his closest friends, love him. If he wanted to...he could have whomever or whatever he wanted. “Well, I mean, you asked...and...” She suddenly finds herself praying to the Force, to her four moons, that she’s stricken dead right there on the spot before he can say a word and kill the dreams she has.

[kinglybella]

Insanity (2)

A/N: Ahhhh finally the part 2 is here...Please don’t kill me because it took so long >.< I have to write this when I can in my spare time D: Also I have an ovarian cyst that is eating my ovary (not really)....so Yeah... ENJOY! <3

AU!: Psychopath!Yandere!Minghao, Psychiatrist!Reader, Doctor!Jun

Warnings: Blood, Murder, Self harm (Mentioned), Cussing, Major heartache, light smut (basically bed humping....you’ll see)

Description: You never realized how stressful and dangerous your job as an asylum psychiatrist could be till a patient, Xu Minghao, gets admitted for murder. Your co-worker Wen Junhui insists the man is dangerous and needs to be locked away. However, something draws you near Minghao. But can you break free before it is too late?

~ Admin Bella

“There is no such thing as ‘too insane’ unless others turn up dead due to your actions.”  

 ― Mahatma Gandhi 

YOUR POV

Your lips melded to his sweetly. Your hands grabbing everywhere they could, his hair, his shirt, his back. You wanted to be as close as possible. Not even remembering how you two ended up like this, you fell back against the bed. Nails digging into his skin, creating half moon shapes into his pale skin. More. You wanted more. His mouth moved down to your jaw, then your neck. Marking you as his and only his. His teeth lightly bit down into your flesh, causing you to arch your neck and whimper.

“Please” you pleaded, though you weren’t entirely sure of what you were pleading for. You just wanted more of him, in any way you could get it.

“Be patient, baby. I am sure you can do that for me.” he whispered huskily into your ear. Again, you whimpered. Completely submitting to him. He lowered himself, nipping at your chest. Popping the buttons open of your clean, white button up blouse before pulling back, his hands grabbing and squeezing handfuls of your body. Your breasts, your behind, your thighs...

“Time for some fun~”

You jumped awake at the sound of knocking on your door. You looked around in a panic, dazed from your confusing dream. Slowly you gathered your surroundings and calmed down, pulling the sticky note off from your cheek. You fell asleep at work. Sighing, you got up to answer the door. The knocking giving you a headache. You pulled the door open grumpily, looking up at your annoyance. 

“Took you long enough. Why are you here so early?” Jun asked, furrowing his brows. His doctor’s coat over his shoulder casually. His question triggered your dream and anxiety took over. You couldn’t look him in the face. Cheeks flushed, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I fell asleep while looking over a- You know what? It doesn’t matter. What did you want?” you sighed, wanting him to leave quickly so you could run to the bathroom and splash water on your face.

He shrugged and smirked. Please don’t smirk at me right now. You thought to yourself, the smirk cursing you to remember the lips that caressed your body in the very confusing dream. “Y/N? Wow, I wish I could see whats going on in your head that makes you space out so often” he tsks, shaking his head.

“Sorry, just a weird dream I had, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I actually want you to leave so I can freshen up before my shift starts” you began shoving at him to move out of the doorway.

“Damn, someone is grumpy today.” Raising his hands in surrender, he cheesily saluted you before walking off to his own office, whistling a small tune.

Closing the door and leaning back against it, you replayed your dream in your head. You can remember the attraction you felt to him, the desire. But one thing picked at you. You could not make out his face. Its like you were lusting after a blank surface. You felt disgusted with yourself, but you have no clue why. You sighed softly before grabbing your coat and leaving your office to freshen up.

Your shift started as normal. You tended to your patients, checking in on them and seeing what their next step to recovery should be. You quietly sat in your chair of Room B, waiting for the nurse to bring your next patient before everyone goes to lunch. The door clicked loudly as the nurses dragged in an annoyed Minghao. Roughly they shoved him down into the chair, he snarled before spitting into one of the nurse’s face. The angry and disgusted look of the nurse caused Minghao to erupt in maniacal laughter.

“Nurses leave us. I wish to speak with Mr. Xu alone.” You thought Minghao would respond better if the nurses were not in the room, however, you had guards watching the security cameras if something goes wrong. The nurses grumbled while leaving, the one nurse grabbing a tissue from the desk, wiping his face.

“Minghao, why are you annoyed?” You asked calmly, setting your clipboard on your lap.

“What makes you think I am annoyed?” his laughter calmed down, settling into the chair. “I think i am in a pretty good mood.”

You clicked your tongue and write a quick note. He seems to find whatever mood he is in, what we call “annoyed” or “frustrated,” to be his good mood. After you wrote your note you crossed your leg over the other one, eyeing him carefully. He looked paler than yesterday. Dark circles under his eyes. He must not have slept well.

“Minghao, how are you sleeping? Cause if you are sleeping poorly we can give you a nightly sleeping medicine.” You smiled friendly, clicking your pen to make the note.

“No” he said plainly, a smirk on his face. The smirk taunting you. Immediately you were taken back into the dream, the man’s lips ghosting over yours. His body against yours, making you feel every, single inch of him. Dammit!  Snapping yourself out of your fantasy, you realized you were awkwardly paused, staring at Minghao. “Like something you see?”

“No! I just...Please, Minghao. Let’s keep this professional.” forcing a smile, you shifted in your chair.

“Mm, but I don’t like our current arrangement” He tilted his head at you, leaning forward in his chair. “You know what I do like?”

“What is that?” you immediately regretted asking.

“Your tits.”

Sighing softly, you shook off his comment. “Minghao, have your thoughts of self harm or harming others ceased? Or are they still ongoing.”

“Do you always talk of such boring topics? Let us talk of something interesting!” he stretched slightly in his jacket, his black hair falling into his eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then, Mr. Xu?”

“God.”

You raised an eyebrow but asked him to continue.

“Do you believe in God?” he asked, leaning back in his chair again.

“I don’t know exactly. My views are complicated. Why? Do you believe in God, Minghao?” you were honestly curious now, what was he getting at?

“Yes. I believe God made all of us.” He calmly said, looking up to the ceiling. Or maybe the Heavens

“I...did not know that. We have a church-”

“ He made us as puppets for his amusement, and I am just giving him a show.” he smiled at the Heavens. His eyes dark with mischief.

You swallowed hard, your shock turning into horror as you shakily grab your pen to write more notes. His eyes scared you, it was like he had you pinned in an imaginary corner, strangling you. His eyes gave away that that any moment, he could attempt to kill you.

“Stop fucking writing my every movement!” he shouted and a fire lit in his eyes. In this moment you were truly scared of him and of your job. You carefully thumb the arm of your chair, feeling the button to signal help. He huffed loudly, shaking his hair out of his eyes. You could see him chewing on the side of his cheek, his eyes boring into yours. You felt frozen, he had you stuck, and it terrified you. You pressed the button, your chest heaving slightly as you tried to get your breathing under control. As the buzzer rang out in the room and nurses flooded in to take Minghao away, he smirked.

It was then you realized, he was testing you.

MINGHAO’S POV

She did it.. Hm, she isn’t very strong. We’ll have to work on that. He thought to himself as the nurses pulled him up and began escorting him back to his room. He carefully looked back at you, the smirk never leaving his lips. You were trembling, and he enjoyed the effect he seem to have on you. You were his own little play toy, and he refused to give up without a fight. He winked at you, as you blindly followed the nurses out the room, watching him be carried off. However, when you were no longer in his line of sight, boredom took over and his chewing on his cheek increased. Coppery blood touched his tongue, and his lips were lightly stained. The nurses sighed in and shoved him into his room.

“Stop biting yourself or we will need to put something in your mouth, Mr. Xu. I doubt you want that.” The kinder nurse explained softly, however the other nurse, the one Minghao had spat at, had already left.

He smiled widely at the nurse, tugging within his straight jacket. “When will I be released from these binds?” He asked, tilting his head at the nurse. Walking backwards, he sat down on his bed.

“When your behavior improves, but that is up to the doctors and your therapist, Mr. Xu.” the nurse said before leaving. Having to tend to other patients. 

His mind never left you. How scared you looked, all he did was yell and your mental wall came crumbling down. How meek. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes with a small smile. His fantasy of you grew more and more. The way you pursed your lips when making notes of his behavior. Your lips drove him crazy, he wished he could just thumb at your bottom lip. Then you would suck his thumb into your mouth, your eyes staring into his as you swirled your tongue. He wanted to break you and build you up at the same time. He wanted you to be like him.

Just the thought made him shudder in pleasure. He could feel himself desiring you. His body responding to his imagination, he gently moved around so he was laying on his stomach. Pulling his knees up slightly, he lowered his pelvis down onto the bed, a low gasp leaving his lips. Slowly he rocked himself against the mattress. Eyes closed, imagining you below him.

Clawing at his back, scratching bright, red marks that would later scar. Making you scream as he thrust deeply into you. Your moans echoing through the room as he pinned your hands to the bed.

His face was buried into the bed, low moans and pants escaping his plump lips as he ground himself into the mattress. Pleasure taking over every section of his body. His hips began to stutter, his release was getting closer and closer. Ready to push him over the edge. But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t perfect. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him. He snarled in irritation as his orgasm began to drift away. Again he lost himself in his fantasy to get what he desired.

“Cum for me, Minghao. Please.” you would whisper into his ear, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. Your fingers knotted into his midnight black hair, tugging gently on the locks. Making him growl lowly and thrust harder into you. Then it snapped, specks of white light clouded his vision as ribbons of his release spilled within you.

You were his, and anyone who dare tried to take you, would simply have to disappear.

A deep, husky groan signaled his end, his hips rolling into the bed as he prolonged his high for as long as he could. Eventually he rolled over onto his back, sitting up slightly to look at his sweat pants, he chuckled at the wet spot clearly seen. His cum seeped into the material. Laying back with a soft thump, his hair messily strewn about against the pillow. Staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts were poisoned by you. He wanted you to himself, and that meant he needed your trust. But first, he wanted to destroy the outcome of your dirty, little secret

YOUR POV

With wobbly legs, you carried yourself to your office. Part of you wanted to fill the form to request Minghao to be seen by someone else, and the other part of you knew he was your patient and you had to deal with this. Unlocking the door to your office, you heard footsteps behind you. Swallowing hard, you turned around to face Jun.

“Hey..” you whispered.

“You look scared, why?” he furrowed his brows. “Did something happen?” He placed his hand on the small of your back, motioning for you two to talk in your office.

“Just a patient got a little...feisty. It caught me off guard is all. I am fine.” You gave a small smile to reassure him before walking to your desk to put files away. He does not seem to believe you though as he narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know how well I believe you, especially with that Minghao fellow.”

Raising a brow, you paused in your actions and looked up at him in surprise. “How did you know I was with Minghao and he caused this?”

“Jeez, Y/N, why are you so uptight. I saw your schedule and Amanda told me you were in with Mr. Xu just a bit ago.” He shook his head, sitting down on your couch. “Y/N, are you sure you are okay? You are acting odd.”

“I am sorry, Jun. I just don’t feel right, I guess.” Sighing, you sat down next to him, putting your head in your hands.

“You need a vacation. Being here day and night isn’t good for your mental health. Take it easy, okay?” He gently put his hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly.

You smiled at him, genuinely feeling grateful for him right then. “Thank you, Junhui. Maybe I should take a few days off.”

“You should. Go home, stay in your PJs, watch some stupid TV. Hell, go to a bar and get laid.” He wiggled his brows at you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“That is something you do, Jun” you rolled your eyes and chuckled. Shoving him off from you in a playful manner.

“Mmm true, but hey! At least I’m not uptight.” With a wink, he stood up slowly. “I gotta go, but I’ll come by later for lunch.” 

You waved at him with a small smile as he left. You adored Jun, he was always there for you since you got here. He annoyed you, yes, but you loved him as well. He seemed to always know what to say to make you feel better, either by being stupid and making lame comments, or help talking you down from any sadness you were feeling.

It was then you heard an uproar and a low alarm rang throughout the halls, breaking you out of your thoughts. You realized the alarm tone, and panic filled you. It was a code red alarm.

Someone was murdered.

[maedarakat]

Markless - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - https://maedarakat.tumblr.com/post/179727743843/markless

Chapter 2

Hiccup looked wretchedly at the ground, not wanting to be here.

Chief Stoick stood beside his son, the silver  in his beard more prominent in the light of the lodge fires, than they ever were in the daylight.

He had a look of anger to him, though it wasn’t directed at the blond twin in front of them.

Tuff stood - or rather knelt - on the stone ground before his Chief and Clan Elders. He sported a bruise on his face that was only promising to encompass his eye with time, plus other marks that suggested he’d answered for more than his share of problems at home already.

Stoick cleared his throat, clearly not relishing any part of this, unlike the rest of the Thorston Elders - who looked like a pack of smug children sucking on sweets.

“Tuffnut Thorston. You are before us today to answer for your recklessness, concerning the Skrill. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

Ruffnut and Madge were silent, fuming - the former having had to be held back from decking someone earlier, while they were dragging in her brother.

Tuffnut shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured, almost too low for Stoick to hear.

The Chief frowned. “What was that?” Stoick asked.

“Nothing, Chief. I have nothing to say in my defense, or anyone else’s. I have no regrets.”

A murmur of confusion hummed through those assembled. Tuff was usually one to spout nonsense, but this time his words perched on the border of defiance.

There was no alarmed correction or backtracking, but rather a resigned expression on the boy’s face, which made Hiccup’s gut drop.

Tuffnut had been acting strange for a while, talking only to dragons and at times dodging even his own sister’s company. It had been worrying, but Hiccup had been busy with dragon problems if his own - too busy to ask why Tuff was withdrawing from their normally tight-knit group.

He should have taken the time, but he hadn’t … and now here they were.

Hiccup grit his teeth, giving Tuff a desperate look.

Say something, apologize, anything. Dad can’t help you if you don’t even act sorry, Hiccup wanted to shout at him.

Tuffnut said nothing else however, as the High Elder began formally listing the charges against him. He closed his eyes, slightly trembling.

Hiccup had tried all night and morning to talk his father into intervening for his friend. Both Stoick and Gobber had assured him at each attempt that the Chief had honestly tried.

“It’s a serious thing this time, Hiccup,” Stoick had sighed, placing a block of ice against his temple.

He’d clearly just returned home from a shouting match with someone in the Thorston clan; they had an annoying penchant for talking circles around him when they wanted to be right.

“This isn’t like tipping yaks or hanging buckets of live hagfish over doorways. The Skrill could be a deadly weapon if the Berserker clan finds it, and so the blasted Thorston tribe Elders have decreed that the boy is a traitor to the entire village. It’s not something I can ignore - they’ll whip the rest of Berk’s clans into a frenzy if Tuffnut isn’t punished.”

“But what are they going to do to him, Dad?”

“Well, the good news is that they aren’t going to be permitted to execute or exile him.”

When Hiccup blanched, Stoick had reached out to put a comforting arm around his son.

“They need the Chief’s permission to do such a thing, and believe me - the Thorstons know they don’t have it. They know they’ll pay dearly if they disobey, and the same goes for any ‘accidents’ that may occur. I believe I got my point across in that regard at least.”

Stoick growled the last part, but he hugged his son against his chest briefly and fiercely. Hiccup allowed it, relaxing into his father’s embrace and swallowing hard.

He hadn’t really known until now, what the Thorston clan was like beyond surface appearances. He was hating every bit of new information he found out.

“More than likely, Tuffnut will be given a thrashing. As the heir to the Chief of Berk, and as the boy’s teacher in the Academy … you will also have to attend and witness it. I’m sorry, son.”

Hiccup hadn’t balked or refused, knowing why. The more eyes on the beating, the more pressure would be on the Thorston clan not to take it too far.

Regrettably, he knew he couldn’t take Toothless with him; convincing a dragon to sit still while one of his human friends was beaten was just not going to happen.

“We can be there for him afterwards,” Stoick was offering now, voice low and quiet. It shook Hiccup back to the present.

They had dragged Tuff away from them, over to a stone dais.

Though he wasn’t struggling, the clansmen were uncaringly rough as they forced him to lay across the cold rock on his stomach - as though he were chattel, instead of one of their own.

Tuffnut’s eyes lost their glazed look as one of the men gripped his hips. For a moment, he looked truly panicked as his tunic and vest were carelessly pulled away, but the men didn’t strip him any further than that - stopping at his belt.

As they tied his wrists and ankles down with corded rope, Tuff didn’t bother to protest - just going limp and letting it happen.

Hiccup could barely watch, but the skin not hidden by his friend’s long hair captured his horrified gaze.

Tuff’s naked back sported evidence of prior beatings, some as fresh as last week. They were old - faded and healing, but Hiccup thought suddenly and wretchedly of all the times Tuff had refused to go swimming with them.

This was not right. No doubt Hardsell would mete out his own draconian idea of punishment later, yet here Tuff was about to receive an already unfair amount.

Hiccup barely suppressed a shout of protest and glanced over at his father, not surprised to see that Stoick’s great hands were clenched with rage - as though they longed to crack a few skulls open to let common sense pour in.

The boy barely had time to take a breath before the implement - a corded flail used for threshing grains - slashed down across his bare skin, with a force behind it that made Hiccup flinch.

Tuff’s entire body jerked, wrists and ankles pulling hard against their restraints.

He didn’t scream at first, hiding his face behind his hair and choking down his pain. The first lash was followed by another, and then another - gradually building up in unimaginable suffering.

Under the steady unchanging torment of the blows, Tuff eventually began to whimper and struggle against his bonds - his noises of pain involuntary and frantic.

This was awful, having to watch this. He couldn’t imagine having to live it.

For a moment, Hiccup considered pursing his lips and whistling for Toothless to come charging in, but then there really would be some deaths occurring.

He couldn’t do that - not to the dragons, not to his father and his friends who trusted him, not even to the Thorstons. Not after all it had taken to convince the entire village that dragons were good.

Hiccup’s hands were as tied as his father’s in this matter. He hoped - prayed - that Tuffnut could understand that, and maybe forgive him.

Finally, after what seemed like excruciating hours, the last blow fell, crisscrossing the other bruising welts on Tuff’s back. He gave another heart wrenching yelp and lapsed into quiet moaning, face pressed against the cold stone.

Longreach Thorston, who had doled out the punishment, coiled up the flail before carrying it off. He’d been wearing a faintly amused smirk on his face the entire time he’d been beating Tuff; Hiccup had dearly wanted to punch it off his face.

When nobody in the clan moved to untie or even check on him, Ruff ducked out of her weeping mother’s arms to run to her brother.

She didn’t get far; Hardsell yanked her back by the wrist, yelling at her to stay put. Ruffnut looked ready to let fists fly, but her mother pulled her into another fierce hug, whispering calming words.

Hardsell ignored both wife and daughter and started menacingly toward his son where he lay on the table.  Stoick was already on his feet, glaring quietly as the man undid his bonds.

When finished, he yanked Tuff up by his arm. Tuffnut yelled in pain, clearly in no condition to be manhandled.

“Thorston,” Stoick growled, as the man all but flung the boy toward the Chief’s throne. Tuff stumbled to crash to his hands and knees and curled forward, panting and whimpering in agony.

Hardsell bowed his head to Stoick. “My Chief, I offer you an apology for the actions of this useless wretch. I am ashamed and mortified at his behavior.”

Hiccup literally had to bite his tongue to keep from saying what he thought of Hardsell’s behavior. Stoick’s face resembled a thundercloud.

“Take your son home, Hardsell, and tend to his wounds kindly,” the Chief growled. “Tuffnut has been punished more than reasonably for his actions. According to your own clan’s rules and customs, and according to Berk Law, he is now forgiven the deed - by all of Berk.”

“Without even apologizing?” Hardsell asked, feigning surprise. “Does being whipped like a dog excuse him from showing remorse like a man?”

He gave his son a light kick. “What have you to say to the Chief?”

Tuff curled into a tighter trembling ball, but said nothing. Stoick grimaced as the rest of those witnessing began to talk among themselves. Hiccup realized that Hardsell was aiming to rile them up.

What right did a scrawny Thorston kid have to disrespect Stoick the Vast? Was the Chief of Berk really going to let him off for endangering the entire village without an apology?

“Go on, boy,” Hardsell sneered, giving him another kick. “Tell your Chief how sorry you are for releasing the Skrill straight into the hands of our enemy!”

The boy grit his teeth, taking a breath to try and steady himself before lifting his face. His expression wasn’t one of contrition. Rather, there was a cold calm to his expression that seemed out of place considering all that had happened to him.

“But I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry even a little.”

Tuff’s voice had been quietly defiant, but the silence that followed it was deafening.

Stoick frowned, taken aback. “And why is that?”

“Because I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yes, you did,” Hiccup interjected, unable to stop himself in his growing horror. Of course his friend was angry; it had been a brutally unfair punishment - but he was only going to dig himself a deeper hole by lashing out.

He could try to save Tuff from himself at least.

“Tuff, listen - the Skrill is yet another thing Dagur obsesses over. By letting her loose, you’ve only endangered her to being captured and subjugated by the Berserkers.”

“I let her out of a block of ice,” Tuff pointed out. “Dragons are like chickens - hardy to cold weather, but they can’t thrive in it. You can’t just keep a dragon imprisoned in ice because they might be politically dangerous.”

The hall broke out into shouting and angry outbursts. Hardsell made as if to cuff the back of his son’s head, but Stoick stopped him with a glower.

“Tuffnut,” Hiccup groaned. Despite his worry for his friend, he couldn’t help but be exasperated. “What aren’t you understanding about this? If Dagur has a dragon, he could burn our entire village to the ground!”

Tuff only shook his head. His eyes were glazed with pain, but they were focusing better now.

“He won’t. Dagur’s greatest strength is his Armada. If he attacked on a Skrill, then he’d just be one inexperienced rider, alone, on one very cranky dragon - who probably has a bad cold and needs a warm nap and some hot soup. Dagur knows better than to try and take you down in your element, Hiccup. He’s not stupid, you know.”

Blunt as always, Tuff had a point - but at this time, it was the wrong one to have.

Hiccup shook his head, frustration boiling over. “No, Dagur’s not stupid, but he is insane. He’s deranged and violent - and not someone who should ever have a dragon!”

The sudden flash anger in Tuff’s eyes surprised him.

“I don’t think you get to decide that, Hiccup Haddock. Dragons are not dumb innocent weapons that need to be locked away. If the Skrill chooses him, that’s her choice. If Dagur bonds with the Skrill, like you and Toothless did - isn’t that what we should want?”

“Thor, no! Why on earth would we ever want that?!” Hiccup exclaimed. Had his friend completely lost his mind?!

“Because maybe bonding with a dragon is exactly what Dagur needs to change?” Tuff snapped back, sounding equally incredulous. “You try to make everyone else befriend dragons to change their minds - why is Dagur so different? If he befriends a dragon, it will be easier for him to forgive us for hiding secrets from him!”

Shocked gasps followed his words, but Tuff went on regardless.

“The Berserkers were our allies once. We should want them to be our allies again! If we had just reached out to Dagur and his tribe from the beginning and told him the truth, and maybe tried to help him understand -“

“Enough!” Stoick roared. Hiccup winced. This was a sore spot for Dad and he truly wished Tuff hadn’t prodded at it.

“Dagur the Deranged is a menace to this island and to our very way of life! The Berserker clan has made it abundantly clear that they have no interest in remaining allied with us!”

“Well, that’s because nobody can have an alliance based on lies, Chief,” Tuff snarked back.

There was an immediate hush, which anyone in the hall could have told him meant he was now treading on very thin ice.

“Excuse me?” Stoick visibly bristled, but Tuffnut wasn’t halfway done.

“Imagine the concern you would have had, if some other chieftain’s kid had befriended all of dragonkind first! You would have shown up at Oswald’s door with all the ships in your fleet if you’d heard rumors of Dagur flying a Night Fury and taking down the Red Death!”

Well … to be fair, Tuff wasn’t wrong …

Stoick sighed irritably and ran a hand down his face, attempting to calm his ire. “This isn’t open to discussion, Tuffnut. What’s done is done, but for now, Dagur the Deranged is our sworn enemy.”

“He doesn’t have to stay the enemy! We’ve had a bad start, sure - like I said, because of all the lying - but if we try again, say it’s our bad and that we’re sorry, we could probably still - “

Stoick didn’t allow Tuff to finish, grabbing the boy’s shoulders and lifting him to his feet to give him a couple of hard shakes - startling him into silence.

“Are you fully aware of what you are saying, Tuffnut? After the punishment you just received for quite possibly delivering a Skrill into their possession, you are taking the side of our enemies, the Berserkers?”

Stoick’s tone was exasperated as well as furious. “Due to your actions - which I perceived as thoughtless rather than engineered - your own kin believe you a traitor to Berk! Your words are not helping to raise you above such suspicions.”

It was true; any pity Tuff’s lashing might have stirred in the hearts of the Thorston Elders was replaced now by hostility and mortified fury.  

Hiccup felt a twist in his gut; he had to shut Tuff down before anything else happened to him.

“Need I remind you, Tuffnut, Dagur is crazy. Think of all the times he’s gone after our dragons! He nearly killed Toothless!” Hiccup interjected.

“Need I remind you, Hiccup, that the reason Dagur went after our dragons at all was because we made him believe Berk was still plagued by wild dragon attacks. Also, you made him believe that you saved his life from a rabid Night Fury. Don’t you think it’s possible Dagur was trying to make himself a better ally based on all the false information we gave him?”

Tuff was clearly in a lot of pain, but the way he spoke and held himself belied that. He didn’t seem to care at all that his own clan was furious at his words. Rather, Tuff ignored their dark looks, looking at Hiccup and Stoick with actual disappointment and bitter anger.

It was like an infected wound had been lanced; all that he’d ever wanted to say pouring out into his words like clean blood.

“It’s easier - isn’t it - to think Dagur wasn’t trying to keep up the alliance, because then you don’t have to admit to yourself that you betrayed him. You called Dagur a fool for trusting you, Hiccup. You broke his trust, and lied to him. He called you brother and you spat in his face. Don’t you see? None of any of this had to happen! Dagur didn’t have to become our enemy - it was just easier to let him become one.”

Hiccup gawked at Tuff, at the fury in his voice. He’d never heard Tuff argue so passionately about anything before - certainly not to his father’s face, and not on behalf of a Berserker.

He wondered uneasily if there was something big he was missing - about all of this.

Whatever Hiccup was starting to piece together was broken apart by Hardsell coming out of his shock first.

The man gripped Tuff’s hair and shoved him down, kneeling on the boy’s welted back to pin him cruelly to the ground. As Tuff hollered in agony, a dagger’s sharp edge viciously pressed into the soft skin near his temple.

The cheers from those assembled, his own kin, made Hiccup feel sick to his stomach. He started forward immediately, dead set on shoving Hardsell away from his friend, but his own father put an arm out to stop him.

“Say the word, Chief, and I’ll have this traitorous brat’s ear off for showing such disrespect in the house of Thorston!” Hardsell vowed.

Tuffnut gave a yell, and seized his father’s wrist, trying to push the dagger away from his face. Hardsell dropped it and instead raised his fist to deliver a blow that Tuff had already tensed up to receive.

“Tuffnut Thorston!” Stoick thundered suddenly, and the anger his voice filled the lodge, quieting the budding uproar.

Hardsell stood up immediately and backed away, awed despite himself.

Tuffnut gave a ragged gasp as the weight left him, but appeared to fall apart under this new and unexpected onslaught. He looked up in pained terror, starting to hyperventilate.

Hiccup glanced up at his father and then back at Tuff, heart breaking.

Stoick’s hand had been forced; he now had to be a Chieftain rather than the father-figure his friend so desperately needed right now.

It was a protective measure more than anything; if his father didn’t make Tuffnut appropriately sorry, he may very well get brutalized by his own clan.

Unfortunately, while Hiccup understood well enough, that didn’t mean Tuff was going to see it that way. Even with all the destructive pranks the Twins had carried out, Stoick had never turned the full force of his anger on either one of them before - and it was a force enough to make even the most hardened Viking quake in his boots.

“Raise your head and look me in the eye. Apologize to me, to all of Berk for your treacherous words, and swear your loyalty to this village and its Chief,” Stoick’s voice thundered.

At the sound of Hardsell’s boots storming toward him again, Tuff gasped and scrambled up on to his hands and knees.

“I’m sorry,” the boy managed between frantic gasps for air, tears falling freely. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry …” His expression was one of confused anguish and it hurt to look at.

Stoick’s expression did not - could not afford to - change, even as Hardsell kicked Tuff in the side to prompt him further. Tuff whimpered, eyes welling up as he continued.

“I’m sorry, I won’t ever - I - I thought you’d listen - even if you don’t agree, like you listen to Hiccup -”

“Swear your loyalty, brat!” Hardsell roared and kicked Tuff again, harder. The boy cried out and hid his face, whimpering something intelligible.

“Swear that the very next time you encounter that deranged Berserker whelp in battle, you will slaughter him like a boar and lay his steaming entrails at your Chieftain’s feet!”

Before Stoick could snap at the older man to hold his peace, a hysterical scream burst out of Tuff, as though he was being tormented by unseen beings. There was desolation and raw fury in the boy’s voice, unlike anything Hiccup had heard before.  

Tuff curled his aching body forward before Stoick and Hiccup, and viciously sunk his teeth into his own forearm. His body shook with the effort of keeping still and quiet through the sudden frenzy, eyes wide and spilling over with rage and misery.

Hiccup had seen the same look in the eyes of many a cornered wild dragon - especially the injured ones.

He stood frozen in horror for too long a moment, having never witnessed his friend like this before.

Was Tuff ill? Had he been driven insane? Considering the way his own family had been treating him, that couldn’t be too far fetched a notion …

“Tuffnut,” he murmured softly, trying to soothe his friend. Unbidden, the pity in his heart crept out into his voice.

The boy only cringed down further, hiding his face behind his hair in humiliation, muffled screams giving way to heart wrenching sobs.

Gods, no, Hiccup thought wretchedly. He hadn’t meant to make it worse …

It was many shaking breaths before Tuff calmed down enough to pull his arm away from his mouth. The bite marks were vivid and red, already bruising around the edges. He looked pale, exhausted and sick.

“I … I swear loyalty,” Tuff whimpered unevenly after a few moments. His voice was brittle but clearly heard in the shocked silent hall. “I swear … I swear by Odin, I will be loyal, Chief.”

Stoick moved forward to give comfort, but Tuff flinched away like a startled cat, scrabbling backwards out of range until he collided with Hardsell’s legs. He cowered there, panting hard and refusing to look at either of them.

The pained sorrow that flashed across the Chief’s face felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

Hardsell looked satisfied, as did quite a few others in the Thorston clan. It was horrible of them, but at least it meant Tuffnut should be relatively safe tonight.

The man bent down to yank him up, slinging Tuff’s thin body carelessly over a shoulder as though he were worth less than a sack of meal.

Stoick and Hiccup watched together, mute and miserable, as Tuff was carried out of the lodge, the boy’s expression worryingly blank and distant.

———

Tuffnut had let himself slip into a haze brought on by pain and exhaustion. He watched the ground go by as he was carried to their home; bare ground turning to wooden steps which turned into the unswept floor of the kitchen.

He just wanted to be left onto the floor of his room so he could crawl under his bed and sleep for a decade.

Hardsell didn’t take him to his room, however. Tuff hitched in panic as soon as he realized his father - still carrying him - had started down the stairs to the cellar.

Not without first slamming and locking the door behind him.

Of course it wouldn’t get to be over.

Tuff whined miserably; he didn’t want another beating. Though in retrospect, after the way he’d just talked to the Chieftain of Berk, he supposed he should consider himself lucky to be alive.

Hardsell would be pressured by the rest of his kin to further punish him, even if he wasn’t already the draconian type. There was slim chance of getting to go to bed anytime soon.  

He let out a tired sob as Hardsell reached the bottom of the cellar, all but dropping Tuff onto the ground. The man ignored him for a moment to toss dried fir branches and a log onto the embers in the cellar woodstove.

When the flames took, Hardsell stood up and fetched a razor strop from where it hung on a nail in the wall. Tuff turned his face away, swallowing hard.

“Well, boyo, since your back can take no more, we’ll pay attention to your lower half. I’m thinking twenty should suffice for that display. No doubt your grandparents would insist on double, but that would kill a weakling like you.

“Get over here,” Hardsell ordered. He pointed to the ground before him and Tuffnut whimpered.

He made himself move to where Hardsell pointed, unable to hold back his tears.

“Remove the rest of your clothes. By Odin, I’ll stripe you until there’s no doubt on anyone’s mind that Thorstons do not condone treachery or disobedience.”

Tuff froze in utter horror. He had kept his Mark hidden for so long, had even stayed out of the usual mischief to avoid the situation he was currently in.

“Please, please - no, I’ll never do anything wrong ever again -” he begged, despite knowing it was hopeless. When his father wanted him punished …

“NOW!” Hardsell barked. Tuff hitched, panicking. He couldn’t - he couldn’t obey; he would be in so much more trouble if he did. Tuff shook his head frantically, heart hammering, and tried to retreat to the corner of the cellar. If his father lost his temper, maybe he’d just beat him and forget the order to strip down?

Hardsell chuckled darkly and yanked him out of the shadows, forcibly stripping the rest of him. Tuff struggled unthinkingly, but he was no match for a man who towered three heads above him. When even his small clothes were torn away, Hardsell shoved him toward the worktable, all but throwing him across it.

There was a long horrible silence, and with sickening certainty, Tuff knew the Skrill on his hip was exposed, illuminated by the fire. Nevertheless, he clung to the foolish hope that his father would just whip him and not notice.

Of course he hoped for too much.

Hardsell gripped a handful of Tuff’s braids, yanking his head back enough to slam it hard against the table.

He yelled, nearly biting his tongue bloody.  Hardsell did it four more times, making the boy see stars. The strop came down next, blistering skin and raising yet more welts until Tuff could hardly breathe for screaming.

Only when his voice gave out did Hardsell let his body drop to curl on the filthy ground and moved away from him. Tuff wasn’t sure how long he laid there, injured and too dazed to form a thought, before the man returned.

This time he was dragged over to the woodstove and kicked until he lay on his unmarked side. The Skrill was exposed to the radiant heat, but Tuff couldn’t stop his shivering.

“A tattoo?” Hardsell sneered incredulously, looming over him. “You actually had the nerve to get a tattoo of our enemy’s crest?”

Tuff whined, not sure that was better or worse than the truth.

“How long have you had this?”

“S-Since I was f-fourteen, but - but it’s not a - ”

“That long, truly? Well, boyo, I have to say - you certainly know how to appear the traitor. Stoick granted you far too much mercy, but when he learns of this, he’ll understand a father’s duty.”

Tuff just whimpered, covering his face with his hands. This was bad, this was so very bad. Between his fingers, he saw Hardsell pull something long out of the now blazing wood stove. His pain-addled mind recognized the red glowing end of the family brand and fear howled through him, making his heart pound.

“If you want to wear a symbol on your flesh, boyo, then I’ll be happy to provide you with a far superior one.”

Hardsell advanced and Tuffnut choked out a wail of protest, scrabbling for the thin promise of safety beneath the worktable. It was a futile effort; his father seized Tuff’s leg and dragged him back out.

“Hold still,” Hardsell sneered, wrestling him in place and pinning him to the ground. Tuff felt a sudden searing agony over his Mark and could not hold back a ragged shriek.

Mindlessly he tried to break free, only for his father to keep him down, cruelly holding the brand in place.

After many excruciating seconds, Hardsell pulled it away and hovered, still pinning Tuff down as he appeared to look over his handiwork.

Though it was over with, Tuff continued to cry out, as the agony of his burn could not seem to end or even lessen. Every nerve in his body felt frayed and worn with pain. He couldn’t move an inch, only able to trail off into weak hiccoughing wails.

Shaking, Tuff closed his eyes tightly and tried not to be present.

Had Oswald been anything like this toward to Dagur? Had he hurt him? Beaten him?

Was that why Dagur had killed him?

“Lie there as long as you like, whelp. I dare say the jail will be less comfortable, or perhaps the thrall boat, or hangman’s noose  - whatever the Elders decide. Can’t say I’m not relieved. You never were going to make me proud.”

Hardsell got off him and tossed the brand into a corner of the cellar.

A kick to his welted back made Tuff lose the battle against his gorge. He retched what little he’d been given to eat that day and curled into a miserable ball, hoping his father would make good on his promise to just leave him here.

The man couldn’t seem to help himself however, offering one last insult as he turned to depart.

“Only makes sense you’d throw in your lot with that deranged Berserker. I can’t wait for the day Stoick’s son kills him in battle. Dagur’s head may very well hold less brain matter than yours - I may have to split it open myself to see.” Hardsell threw carelessly over his shoulder.

It was a foolish thing to say.

Injured and sick as he was, Tuff felt a sudden uncontrollable rage pulse through him - hotter than the brand that still smoldered in the corner.

Without a thought, he used the worktable to pull himself to his feet and seized a maul - one of the many scattered tool heads in the cellar that had yet to be fitted to a new handle.

The solid metal made a very satisfying noise as it collided with the back of Hardsell’s skull.

The man lurched, staggered, and fell to his knees.

With a primal scream, Tuff lunged, snatching it up where it had fallen. He slammed into his father from behind, knocking Hardsell flat. With all his strength - a strength that seemed nearly god-given with the force of his anger - Tuff smashed the maul again and again against the back of his father’s skull.

“You won’t touch him! Leave him alone! He hasn’t done anything to you - leave him alone!” Tuff punctuated each word with a blow, hitting the man with everything he had in him.

By the time exhaustion finally cushioned his striking hand, Hardsell lay deathly still - dark blood coating the back of his head and shining in the firelight.

In the shadows, it was hard to tell whether the man’s skull had caved in. Tuff knelt over him for several minutes, breathing hard and hitching. He wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or elated.

He wondered how Dagur had felt afterwards. Lost? Scared? Relieved? Had he been as proud of dispatching his father as he’d claimed to be?

Tuff dropped the bloody chunk of metal and staggered toward where he left his clothing. Dressing again was agony but he had to leave here, as soon as possible.

With pure adrenaline, Tuffnut pulled his battered, aching body up the stairs to the kitchen and fumbled to unlock the door. He took a second to thank the Gods - Loki, mostly, since the trickster god was probably the only one who’d hear his prayers now - that the key was left in the lock.

Finally, Tuff pushed open the door and nearly fell against the person in front of him, who’d been waiting on the other side.

She caught him by the elbows before his terrified recoil could make him fall backwards down the stairs into the cold dark, pulling him further into the kitchen.

“Come on,” was all Ruff said, and Tuffnut sobbed aloud with relief when he recognized her voice in the dark.

Holding her brother’s hand, she pulled him outside through the kitchen door. They ducked beneath the windows, evading discovery by the light within. Ruff yanked him along whenever his steps faltered until they got to the dragon stables.

“We have to go,” she said, leading him to their dragons’ stall.

Barf and Belch had already been fitted with their saddles and bags. They churred with concern at Tuff, Belch sniffing him over carefully. The dragon must have picked up the scent of blood and burned skin because he growled lowly, immediately folding Tuff beneath a protective wing.

Tuffnut tried to soothe his dragon with caresses, hands trembling, but of course Belch wasn’t having it. The dragon’s eyes were slit thin with fury as he attempted sniff out the person responsible on Tuff’s clothing.

Ruff didn’t allow time to be wasted however, yanking Tuff over to his saddle. She helped him climb into it before mounting Barf.

In moments, the Zippleback was flying the Twins away from Berk, both heads in rare agreement that this was no longer a safe place to call home.

——-

“Gods, bro,” Ruffnut muttered, looking him over.

They had found a cave on a remote sea stack island, far enough from Berk that it would be a pain to track them to in the dark. It was a good thing; Tuff could barely sit another minute in the saddle.

“He really did a number on your Mark.”

Tuffnut closed his eyes in guilt, despite the lack of accusation in Ruff’s tone.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, swallowing. “I should have told you.”

Ruff shook her head, and looked at him. “I can’t be mad at you right now. Yeah, I wish you had told me, but I also understand why you didn’t. I mean … Dagur. At least all your weird behavior makes sense now.”

She had rinsed his injuries with cold comfrey and lavender tea, likely packed by their mother. Madge had also packed salve, which Ruff was now applying to the blistered raw area on his hip.

The brand, used by the family to mark boars for breeding stock, had left a vicious circle of charred skin. However, Tuff felt immense relief once he saw that the Skrill’s image was untarnished -  re-appearing above the damaged skin, as dark and perfect as the day it had first shown up.

“You won’t be in trouble for being here, will you?”

“I’ll be fine. If anyone asks, we both went after the Skrill - because we felt it was the right thing to do. But you aren’t going to make it back.”

“I … I’m not?”

Ruff shook her head, moving on from Tuff’s hip to tend to the cuts and welts all over his body. “You’re not safe there anymore, not with your Mark. It’s better if the family thinks you’re dead.”

“… I think I killed our dad,” Tuff admitted. His sister just snorted and rolled her eyes.

“He’s a Thorston, which means his skull’s as thick as a boulder. You might’ve dented it a little, but probably didn’t actually kill him. Not to say he won’t be mad as hell if he wakes up though. All the better for you to stay out here than go back and deal with him.”

“… you aren’t coming with me?”

Ruffnut looked at him, and he noticed that despite her casual tone, her eyes were wet. “I can’t, Tuff. I can’t follow you. Dagur is your soulmate. You have to go find him. Honestly, he’s the best option you have.”

Tuff felt a swell of racing panic which swiftly gave way to grief. He’d never really been on his own before, but his sister was right - even if Hardsell was alive, he couldn’t go back to Berk.

He also couldn’t expect Ruff to give up her life just to take care of him. Her soulmate was likely back on Berk; how could he fairly ask her to give up her future for the sake of his own?

She wiped at her eyes and finished tending his wounds in silence. As she put away the salve and linens, Tuff sat up and gingerly pulled a clean tunic over his head.

He knew what he had to do, but he felt lost and adrift.

“Hey,” Ruff said softly, offering her hands. He took them and she helped him to his feet, keeping him steady when his balance faltered.

“You know you’re going to be okay, right? Just trust yourself. The Gods gave you that Mark, bro. They did it because out of all the people in the world, they knew that Dagur would need you. You’re his, and he’s yours. So stop messing around feeling sorry for yourself and go get him already.”

Tuff looked at her and nodded, pulling her into a tight hug. Ruff returned it warmly, taking care not to aggravate his injuries.

“We might … we might have to fight on opposite sides,” Tuff managed after a long moment, during which he’d tried and failed to swallow his tears. “But I would never do you any harm, sister.”

“I know that,” Ruff assured him. “So I’ll go easy on you next time we meet in battle. I’ll only break your arm, or a leg or something.”

Tuff snorted with laughter and Ruff joined in as they held onto each other tightly.

The bittersweet moment could only last so long, and at length they let go.

Tuff turned to Belch as Ruff started packing up her supplies. He murmured low gentle words to his dragon, stroking Belch’s snout. The Zippleback churred softly, eyes full of sad understanding.

“I’m sorry I can’t be your rider any more. I need you guys to listen to Ruff from now on, okay? Both of you protect her.”

He removed his saddle from Belch’s neck and the dragon gently headbutted his chest, allowing Tuff to give him one last scratch behind the horns.

Ruff took her own saddle off Barf’s neck, allowing him to compete with Belch for affection - purring loudly as he gave Tuff a neck hug.

By the time the Zippleback had finished with their goodbyes, Ruffnut had secured her new place between the two heads, allowing her to maintain control without a second rider. She gave him a lingering look, then a smile of encouragement, before giving her dragon the signal to take off.

Tuff watched her fly away until she and their dragons were no more than a speck against the night sky. He picked up his saddle, bundling the tack and wrapping it carefully before placing it in a sack with the bit of food and salve that Ruff had brought along for him.

There was a small village of fishermen on the next island over; he could see the twinkling lights from their home fires. Perhaps he could play the friendly tourist for a bit until he found out where Dagur was headed next. It would be simple to coax a wild dragon to take him there.

He took a deep breath, banished the worry and doubt from his mind, and started walking down the narrow path toward a small herd of Gronckles.

One of them, a green and brown male with yellow eyes, looked up from his meal of limestone and growled uncertainly. Tuff grinned sweetly and held out his hand.

“Hey there, come on. I would never hurt you or any Gronckle - my friend Meatlug wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

The dragon sniffed the air, wary of a trap, but when Tuff offered a piece of sandstone lying nearby, he happily bounded over to take it.  Tuffnut pet and fussed over the Gronckle until he was purring like a contented housecat. By then, the dragon was perfectly willing to give him a ride to the village.

See? Tuffnut thought, giving himself a much needed pep talk. You got this. If Ruff didn’t think you could do it, she would never have left you in charge of yourself.

He didn’t bother with the saddle, just pulling himself carefully onto the dragon’s back and holding on with his thighs. It was only a short distance to fly, and hopefully he wouldn’t fall off into the ocean for lack of strength.

Hopefully.

[truemanblack]

A/N: ew I lied I ended up writing more, and I’ll probably have part two up tomorrow!

The Marriage: Part One prologue

Since agreeing the week has been harry running around at any chance asking me “Are you sure?” When brushing my teeth, eating my breakfast, or even dragging myself through the door. Today was rough, when studying film, a lot of the guys are “cock out” as if they’ve seen every movie on the planet. I spent my day fighting about how French films are way better than any American film – because it’s true. I was pooped, and I was hoping Harry would have had dinner ready by the time I got home.

He’s a goddamned mind reader. Harry was probably the most thoughtful person I knew. Dinner was already on the makeshift kitchen table (haters will say a coffee table). I kicked off my boots, threw my bag on the ground and ran towards the glass of wine on the table.

              “Hello to you too,” Harry laughed picking up my bags and hanging them on the hooks. I gave him a small wave and taking a long sip of the wine. Harry was a decent chef, maybe not the best, but he could make a good spaghetti and meat sauce – which is all he makes. Harry took a seat next to me and put on The Office – he was buttering me up.

              “What did you do?” He took a seat next to me and took a sip of his wine. Harry would always butter me up when needed something. Last time I had to call of a date with a girl for him since he didn’t have the heart. Or the time before that where I had to go do a return for him because he was in the store for too long and felt the need to impulse buy.

              “Hm?” He always does this, his eyebrows were up, he was slightly smirking, something was up. His lips were pursed on the wine glass as he glanced over at me. His stupid smug face, he wanted something from me.

              “Harry…” He laughed before turning to me whilst he raked his fingers through his hair. I continued to glare at him and his face softened as he turned his body towards me.

              “I’m just,”

              “If you fucking ask me if I’m sure again, I’m not going to marry you and I’ll ship your ass to Switzerland.”

              “Okay Meredith,” He laughed before switching the television to some food documentary. ‘I just don’t want you doing this because you know it’ll help me. You always put other before yourself.”

              “I proposed to you, so obviously I’m okay with it.” He sighed with an ‘okay’ and we sat in silence. I was fully engrossed about this guy explaining about how he built his restaurant from the ground up I hadn’t noticed that Harry was staring at me.

              “What?” I laughed as he knuckled at his eyes.

              “So how is this going to go down?” He paused Netflix and I sat back. “Like courtroom or Vegas?”

              “I feel like if we’re going to keep it on the downlow we could just go to Vegas, have a quick drive through Elvis wedding, then come back and spend months with immigration.”

              “But what would we say?”

              I cleared my throat before crossing my legs in front of Harry. I flipped my hair and put his hands mine. “Harry and I,” I pretended to tear up, “We have known each other for years and I couldn’t see my life without him. We just couldn’t go on living an ocean apart and I knew it was brash but – when you know you know.” I sniffled, and I could see Harry smirking.

              “Okay, but what about divorce?”

              “Wow not even a tear from my words and you want to divorce me.” I put my hands back in my lap and he moved closer into me.

              “Amelia, I’m serious. Like you can’t be married to me forever.”

              “Well we have to be married for at least a year,” I shrugged.

              “Really?”

              “Yeah, it’s too fucking obvious if we just divorce a week after you’ve cashed that green card.”

              “Okay, well, it’s expensive.”

              “We don’t have kids, nor a house, it’ll be cheap for us.”

The night went on with small things about getting married, we both agreed it’ll be hilarious to have an Elvis marry us. Since it was just a Monday night, and I tended to get home late due to the debates with the male’s in my class. My head was in Harry’s lap as we attempted to watch ‘You’ve Got Mail’ for the millionth time. His fingers are massaging my scalp, I could feel my eyes getting droopy. We were at the part where Meg Ryan’s character was telling Tom Hanks how she loved fall and freshly sharped pencils. I hummed as Harry talked about the first time he saw this movie with his mom and how he kept giving her sharped pencils (sounds just like him). He convinced me to go bed, which I hated since I had to be up early.

+++

I woke up to the sound of Harry starting the shower. The one thing I hated about living with Harry is that he was consistent. Every morning – on the dot – he would wake up at five thirty am and go out on a run. He would be back an hour later to shower. Our shower was loud, the pipes were old, and they creaked when you took the first shower. The pipes were at the back of my head, so I heard them rattle and screech every morning, I didn’t need an alarm clock. After his shower he would make a smoothie, and I would lay in bed until he would somehow drag me out of bed to eat something. The blender was louder than normal today, maybe it was the migraine I was getting for forcing myself to stay awake last night.

              “Pet, get up.” Harry opened my door and peaked in and I put my duvet over my head. I heard my door creak open more and I heard his heavy feet in my room. The weight of my bed shifted as I felt a tug on the blanket.

              “Don’t you dare.” I mumbled as Harry tried to make his way under the blanket.

              “Darling, I made you a smoothie.” He sang putting his weight on me. I laid on my stomach and he laid on my back.

              “What color is it?”

              “It’s like dark pink.”

              “Are their banana’s in it?”

              “No, I know you hate them.” I hated him, he made a good smoothie today which meant I had to get up. I pulled the blanket back and saw his big grin. He was so smug, he knew what he was doing.

              “I’m not gonna like it if you trick me and it’s green.” I pouted pulling the hair tie off his wrist and making a bun on my head.

              “You didn’t talk to me for three days after I did that.”

              “You loved it.”

              “You said it not me.” Harry quickly got up after his smart remark and I followed him. I never had classes on Tuesday since I had night classes on Monday. I knuckled at my eye as I took a seat on the stool at our breakfast bar. Harry was extra joyful this morning, and I had no idea how someone could be happy in the morning.

              “What do you have planned today?” Harry poured me a big glass of the smoothie then handed me a bagel. “Anything exciting?”

              “Why?” Once again, Harry was buttering me up. He shrugged while I squinted at him. “You’re just being super nice to me usually you’re out of the door by now.”

              “Exam day, I don’t need to be there.” Harry was a TA for an English professor on campus, so he usually was setting up the class or grading papers by now. Instead he’s standing shirtless in our kitchen with sweatpants that hung a bit too low on his hips. I’ve gotten used to seeing him like this and held back the constant blushing when we first moved in. Harry lived with a guy before me and didn’t care about his appearance. The first morning he walked out he was just in his boxers – hard none the less – and had no idea I was up. The next day he came out free balling in sweatpants and I could see the entire outline of his dick. I think after seeing me beet red for a week he learned to dress around me. Though, I got myself in through as well when the only pajama shorts I had left were ones that showed my entire ass. It was a learning process.

              “I have to write a paper, will you proof read it?”

              “I have a day off and you want me to work.”

              “Would you expect anything less of your fiancée?”

              “No, I wouldn’t,” He laughed then rested his forearms on the counter and leaning into me more. “I was reading into the immigration thing, we’re gonna need proof we’ve been together for quite some time.”

              “We have a lot of photos together, we live together, we practically are attached to the hip.” I shrugged taking a long swig of my smoothie. “I think that could be enough.”

              “I have a journal,” I smirked trying to shuffle back a laugh, “Shut it. I write about you sometimes.”

              “How dumb I am, and how much I annoy you?” I rose my eyebrow and he shook his head and sucked in a breath.

              “Yeah, and how happy you kinda of make me.”

              “Just kind of?”

              “Just a little.”

              “Damn, I thought I meant more to you. I’m your fiancée!!” I put my head in my hands for dramatics and I could hear Harry’s dry laugh.

              “Shut up, I think a few of the entries could count, I know you don’t write in a journal.”

              “I write in a journal! Just not as often as you.”

              “What do you write about?”

              “Food, mostly.” I admitted. And he smirked moving closer to me. His hand was on the counter in front of me and his nipples and I had eye contact. “Once I wrote about you, but I was drunk.”

              “What does it say?”

              “Harry is an idiot.”

              “I’m not shocked.”

              “What did you write about me?” I gazed up at him with a big grin hoping it would let him leak his dirty laundry.

              “How much I hate that shit eating grin of yours.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I feared

Mod Gotham says: The morning after turtle soup...

Daylight knifed through Claire’s heavy eyelids.

 The ship rolled – and so did her stomach – and she found the bucket helpfully left beside the berth, just in time.

 Her arm and head throbbed in time with her racing heart.

 When had they made it to the berth? The grain of the polished wood floor dug into the still-healing sores on her legs. Why hadn’t she treated them properly last night?

 She looked up, blinking, squinting – saw her shift sprawled across the table at the center of the cabin.

 Ah. Bloody Yi Tien Cho and his bloody delicious turtle soup…

 The door burst open.

 Twin shrieks – Claire Fraser in indignation, Marsali Fraser in surprise.

 “What the bloody fucking hell do you want?” Claire croaked.

 “Where are yer clothes?” Marsali demanded.

 Claire crossed her arms – as best as she could – over her chest. “Over there – I’d be grateful if you could fetch them. Your…Jamie must have been in quite a hurry to leave them over there.”

 Marsali tsked as she crossed the room, picking up Claire’s shift and sliding it over her shoulders. Feeling very much like a child, Claire huffed – but was thankful for the help getting back into the berth.

 “You don’t happen to have any water, do you?”

 Marsali drew a waterskin from her basket. “I do. Fresh – we found a spring back on the island. And some hardtack, from the kitchens. I let it soak in water first, just as ye showed me when we left Scotland.”

 Claire awkwardly patted the empty space on the berth, and Marsali gratefully sank beside her, helping Claire drink from the waterskin, then crumble the hardtack into bite-sized pieces.

 “Thank you,” she said after a while. Feeling slightly more human. “Thank you for looking in on me.”

 She turned – slowly, carefully – to face the girl – woman! – beside her.

 “Ye’re welcome,” Marsali replied carefully. “I – I’m happy to have ye back. Daddy was – weel. He wasna himself, wi’out ye here. Fergus and I tried to keep him straight – ”

 Claire smiled. “Brave of you to try. But thank you. And I know I owe you an answer, from our chat last night – ”

 “Dinna fash. Fergus – it was fine last night. We’ll be fine, until ye’re well enough.” Her eyes shone.

 “But Marsali, even once can be enough – ”

 Two raps at the door – then Yi Tien Cho’s gray head peered through.

 “Honorable Wife – I have come to look at your arm.”

 Claire sighed. Marsali quickly left the half-full waterskin and bowl of damp hardtack on the bunk and scurried out of the cabin. Yi Tien Cho carefully approached the berth, holding a green glass bottle and fresh bandages.

 “May I?”

 Claire nodded, pushing up the sleeve of her shift. He knelt before her, swiftly unwrapping the bandage on her arm to examine his eight neat stitches.

 “How does it look?”

 Yi Tien Cho lay a gentle hand at her elbow, and produced a bit of mirror from a deep pocket. “Can you see for yourself?”

 Claire craned her neck – sure enough, he had positioned the mirror to perfectly show her the wound. It was inflamed a bit – that was to be expected. But no pus – no obvious sign of infection.

 “I wash it again with the alcohol. A few more days until the stitches come out.”

 She nodded. “I agree – thank you.”

 He set down the mirror, uncorked the bottle, dampened a clean rag, and gently, gently dabbed at the wound.

 She hissed – but held still.

 “Thank you again for the wonderful soup last night,” she grimaced through clenched teeth. “It – it certainly took my mind off the pain.”

 “I can make more, if you like – still have half the turtle in the kitchen.” He corked the bottle, folded the rag, and set both on the table in the middle of the cabin – so that she could tend to herself later, she realized, touched at his thoughtfulness.

 “Thank you, but make sure the men get some. They deserve it, after all the hardships they’ve endured.” She sat back against the wall, folding her legs over the edge of the berth, hissing as the fabric chafed her sensitive skin.

 Soft as a butterfly’s wings, Yi Tien Cho’s fingers skimmed over the still-healing sores below both of her knees. “You too have endured much hardship, Honorable Wife – for the sake of the man you love. You deserve more than anyone here.”

 Tears suddenly welled – and she grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers in silent thanks. He only met her eye for a brief moment – squeezed her fingers back – then stood, hands sliding to her wrists.

 “Your pulse is too shallow. I make you a tea. And also a poultice for your legs. The damp air, it is not good for healing.”

 She smiled, so thankful for this strange, generous, gentle man.

 “Thank you. Thank you for looking after me. I know Jamie appreciates it.”

 “And you stay here. In bed. I’ll find your husband, let him know you awake now.” He glowered at her, as much as was possible. “No walking. No going on deck. You stay.”

 “I will. I’ll be careful.”

 He nodded – and bowed – and padded out of the cabin.

 The deck heaved once more, and Claire leaned her head back against the wood of the cabin wall, in pain and disoriented and yet strangely content.

 As she had many times before, she turned inward. Taking stock of her body – from her toes, to her stinging shins, to the bruise forming on her thigh where she’d injected herself with penicillin, to the strained muscles in her back where Jamie had bent her over last night…

 Jamie. Where the bloody hell was he? There were plenty of footsteps abovedeck, and shouts periodically filtered through the ceiling. Two days to Jamaica, Father Fogden had said. That would mean at least one more day and night before she had to rejoin humanity…

 She didn’t realize she had dozed off until the bolt scraped firmly into the lock.

 “Sassenach? Are ye awake?”

 Her eyes flew open – her head full of sand – and she clutched the bucket for dear life.

 Jamie flew across the cabin, setting down a bowl somewhere on the floor – bracing her back as her stomach heaved, careful of her injured arm.

 “Ye didn’t react this way to the sea on the earlier part of our journey.”

 She spit into the bucket, wiped the back of her mouth, and glared up at him. “That’s because I wasn’t bloody hung over, was I?”

 Christ, he was so beautiful when he smiled.

 “A rough night then, was it?”

 She pushed the bucket away, and he swiftly lifted it to the floor, settling on the berth beside her. His hands sought and found hers, big thumbs caressing her knuckles.

 “I haven’t been this hung over since the day we married.”

 “And such a bonny day it was, too.” He kissed her cheek, then pulled back, twining his fingers through hers.

 A long moment passed.

 “Yer skin feels cooler this morning. I – I dinna mind stabbing ye wi’ the…penicillin if ye need.”

 “Yes, I do feel much better. But I shouldn’t need another dose – I’ll see how I’m doing tonight.” She paused. “Why couldn’t you do it, Jamie? I’ve seen you do so many things, but – ”

 “Because I ken it hurts like the devil, and…weel. I couldna hurt ye, Claire.”

 Her brow rose skeptically. “Even when you know that it would help me be well?”

 He pursed his lips. “I – I could never stand it, knowing I caused ye pain. And especially no’ after everything we’ve endured, these past weeks.” One hand gently cradled her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet his. “God, Claire – I was so afraid…”

 She shifted closer, melting against him.

 “I was on the island for two days…all alone…terrified I’d never see you again. Or that I’d be too late, and have to bury you…”

 “No!” he whispered urgently against her temple. “No, Claire – I would *never* do that to ye. Never.”

 She clutched the front of his shirt with her good hand, anchoring herself to him. “Can you stay here, today? With me?”

 He kissed her forehead. “Aye. I came upon Willoughby on my way here – he asked me to help ye wi’ a paste for yer legs.”

 She shifted back, throwing her legs over his lap. Jamie brought her shift above her knees, and cursed at the welts.

 “How did I no’ see these yesterday? What the hell happened to ye, Claire?”

 “Ants. Lots of them. And it’s better than a few days ago – Mamacita had quite the healing touch.”

 Jamie reached for the clay bowl on the table, setting it on the berth and taking a scoop with the tips of his fingers.

 He sniffed skeptically. “Smells like…garlic and honey?”

 Claire purred with pleasure as the mixture cooled her aching skin.

 “That’s exactly what I would have done. Both are excellent at preventing itching and inflammation. Did he provide fresh bandages as well?”

 “Aye – I suppose I wrap you all up once I’m done?”

 “That would be lovely.”

 Gently he massaged her legs, rubbing the mixture in a soothing clockwise motion.

 Claire enjoyed the simple pleasure of his touch – and watching him at close proximity.

 “I’m so sorry,” he said, after a long while. “I – ye shouldna have had to endure this.”

 She ruffled his hair. “I chose to.”

 He sighed, wiping his hands on a rag before wrapping the fresh bandages on her legs. “I ken that. But it doesna mean that I canna wish things had been different.”

 “I love you.”

 He stopped then – looked up, and met her eyes. Quickly – but no less gently – he wrapped her other leg, then gathered her battered body to his chest. Cradling her. Shielding her from the world.

 “Do ye remember the first time I held ye like this?” His voice was low – deep. Thick with feeling.

 She nodded, sucking on his neck. “I had just finished doctoring you. At Leoch.”

 He swallowed. She dug her nails into the base of his skull.

 “That’s the moment I fell in love wi’ ye, Claire. That – that feeling to love, to cherish. To want. To protect. It’s never changed. Never gone away. Not once.”

 Now she used her teeth on the long, stubbly column of his throat.

 “I canna live wi’out ye. I won’t – ”

 “You won’t have to,” she breathed. “Not ever.”

 She tilted her chin, and he kissed her, framing her sunburned face in his work-roughened hands.

 Then he tugged the shift over her shoulders, and stood so that she could watch him slowly shuck his shirt and breeches and boots. Nestling skin on skin, Claire lying against the wall on her left side, Jamie facing her, his back to the cabin and his legs carefully wound through hers, they shared breath and wine and space. Fortifying themselves in each other. Making time stop.

[rageagainstthemarine]

Do Not Reach Beyond the Sky (10/?)

Warnings: None Tags: Canon-typical violence, Freeform, Retelling, Original Characters, Additional Tags Pairing: None yet Characters: All of them

Fahleon Lavellan is several things, a Dalish elf, a deserter Warden, but Herald of Andraste is not of them. The Creators have played a cruel trick if anyone is to believe he played some part of the Conclave even if the evidence is a rift-sealing mark on his hand. Where he does fit, he doesn’t know and isn’t fond of finding out.

Previous|Current|Next

"We're descending the valley," Cassandra warned when the rocky slope of the Hinterlands turned steep and muddy. There were signs of fighting even here, higher in the hills: scorch marks that raked the grass and clawed up the bark of trees, glaciers big enough to look out of place even in Fereldan's winter, and the faint screech of metal on metal from some fight not yet far off. It made Fahleon's fingers around his bow twitch. The further they followed the path the worse the signs became. Ashes were still hot and, in some places, fires still crackled to consume what was left of hovels and the animals trapped on the land.

It was altogether...underwhelming. Cassandra had stressed the matter so harshly he'd come to expect piles of corpses, some still walking from the possession of one demon or another. For templars to be slaughtering the innocents out of just the fear of magic use. His armed burned more with the presence of rifts than it did from the use of his bow - the only demons they'd encountered so far only dropped from the tears in the air like flies. And the flies were more numerous.

Not that all the druffolo droppings Fahleon stepped around where attracting them or anything.

Maybe this had been a bad idea, he thought, as he scraped dung off the bottom of his soles while Cassandra and Varric wooed the horsemaster into working with them. There were several no's followed by a series of choice words that he couldn't help but nod along with. It was a good thing to keep him out of the room while they spoke - Fahleon didn't think he could keep himself from telling Dennet to walk away while he still had the chance. They could find horses anywhere, really, now that everything was on fire. There had to be another farm somewhere left abandoned from the fighting they could steal a few mounts from. Fahleon was no halla keeper and a horse was no halla but the...anatomy was still the same. He thought. Hoped.

Varric slapped a piece of parchment against his thigh and Fahleon prayed before he peeled it from the dwarf's fingers to get a look at it. Jagged lines and squiggly curves mirrored a crude version of some of the pages he'd glanced at in the war room. A map, then, with just a few more marks added to it. Fahleon flipped it upside down before handing it back.

"You just love making friends, don't you, Smiles?" Varric chuckled without humor and rolled the map up.

"The horse master has refused to work with the Inquisition," Cassandra clarified. "But he did say there were errands we could run to make him...more persuadable."

"Is that what we do now?" Fahleon felt himself make a face that matched her furrowed brow and down turned mouth and cleared his expression into something more resembling boredom.

"If it gets us his horses, it is what we do." Fahleon let out a breath through his nose. "We've been...asked," Cassandra, continued, through tight teeth, "to chase a pack of wolves from the farmland and secure several areas in the valley to make way for watchtowers."

Varric waved the map and Fahleon snatched it from his grasp to glance at again. He eyed one of the wigglier lines. It looked a bit like the hill they'd passed on the way to get here.

"Let's get started."

He wouldn't say he was enjoying his work with the Inquisition, Fahleon thought as he let another arrow fly at a rabid wolf. He wouldn't say Cassandra was a warrior worthy of her sword even as she finished the beast off with a swing that took its head off at the shoulders. There was a howl from deeper in the cave followed by an unholy screech he was, unfortunately, growing accustomed to. A demon had taken shelter within the cave, but Fahelon's hand stung with only the smack of his bowstring against his fingers with no static that came with coming close to a rift. He grinned, all teeth, and marched inside, arrow nocked.

He half expected to find Tamlen stalking behind him, and with all the noise Solas and the rest made as they made their way into the cave, it could have been. He almost believed it, too, when the demon fell under his arrow and his snarl sent the rest of the wolves running deeper into the caverns. One less threat to the camp, one more day for the clan - but Tamlen had fallen from a similar arrow and there were dozens, if not hundreds of more demons to fell before his clan was safe. Fahleon let out a breath and turned away from the sight of Varric clearing out several rotten knapsacks left behind from some unlucky refugee. He felt a familiar tension settle between his shoulders and he rolled them with a soft pop. He added a frown to his face for good measure.

"The last watchtower should be just above this cave," Solas said, and Fahleon pulled out the map to mark his own line within the others drawn on the picture. It was...probably in the right place.

He found Ada perched on a tree just outside the caves and called for her to settle on his shoulder. Her talons dug in deep to the leather that protected him from her, and he worked one leg free to tie off the map. Another whistle and she took off in the direction of home. He pursed his lips. Would she go to Haven or to Skyhold? He'd find out, later, but he'd get the horses he was owed well before that.

They were less skittish than the ones they'd rode down the mountains with, and the horses moved easily though the carnage of the mage-templar war. What was left of it. The fade rifts had taken over and both sides had turned to fend off the demons that poured from them before they focused on killing each other again. If only the Chantry could see them - there'd be no need for any of this Inquisition business. He could go back to the Free Marches, Cassandra could stalk some other innocent soul with threat of death and Solas could bother someone with a longer attention span. He hadn't thought of what Varric could do in the meantime, but he had plenty of time - all of it was wishful thinking in the end.

Fahleon shook his hand out after the rift was closed. His fingers felt slimy, greasy, with magic and he wiped it on his leggings. He raised a brow when the templars turned to him. He rolled his eyes and unslung his bow a second time. The templars didn't look much more inclined to meet them in a fight, either, with their shields held low and their helmets left behind. Foolish of them, in the end. Demon, templar, innocent - so long as they stood in the way he had no resolve to yield. Fahleon drew his bow flush against his cheek through the sting of his fingers and let it loose to wedge in the naked skin of the neck of the closest man. Solas through a wave of magic at them before they could scramble for their helmets and Cassandra picked up the momentum. The mages they stumbled upon on their way to the Crossroads met a similar, if more messy, fate, and Fahleon knocked his leggings free of ice against the low stone walls that ringed the refugee camp.

There were cries of help - that he ignored - complaints about hunger and cold and pain - which he also ignored. Names were shouted from one corner of the camp to the other as loved ones sought each other out in the aftermath. Fahleon kept his gaze forward and his steps quick through the mud made from rains as much as blood. The others were not as determined, and he found himself alone after a winding path around cots and low tables towards a stash of supplies overseen by a red robed woman. The great, rising sun that made up most of it was similar enough to the Grand Chancellor's for Fahleon to pick out Mother Giselle within them.

"Don't let them touch me." A man occupying one of the cots, wounded or sick, snarled as vehemently as he could through the rasp of a dry throat. "I won't let a mage-"

"These are good men, men willing to help you. Let them tend to your wounds," the Chantry woman said - a gentle reprimand. Fahleon crossed his arms.

"Mother Giselle." He didn't ask.

"The Herald of Andraste," she said, returning the gesture with a slight dip of her head. Fahleon snorted and he narrowed his eyes when her lips curled into a small smile. "We seldom have the choice in what decides our fate, but it is what we do with the hand He gives us that makes who we are. Not what others perceive us as."

"Is that one of your songs?"

Her smile twitched. "Not one I know, if it is at all. I will not presume to know what the Maker intends for any of us."

Fahleon rubbed at a temple. "You wanted to see me."

Mother Giselle smiled the same little quirk of her lips again. "Yes, I did not ask you here to debate with me. I know of the Chantry's denouncement - and I am familiar with those who voice them. Some of them are simply grandstanding in the hopes of increasing their favor with the Chantry to become the next Divine. Others are truly terrified of what happened, of who you are, and what might mean for them. After so many good people were senselessly taken from us..." She motioned for him to walk and he followed her through the camp.

It wasn't any more impressive the second time, and the far corner of the medical tents was a worse corner than the others. It smelled like piss and vomit and the mud sucked at his feet and chilled his toes even within his boots, but he appreciated the privacy the stench afforded.

"That's their reason? They're afraid so they'll make everything worse?"

"My point is," the Mother explained, chided, " is that they do not know the real danger. You must convince the remaining clerics that you are not the demon they should be fearing." Fahleon scowled. "I only mean that they have heard frightful stories of you. Give them another story to believe in. You do not have to convince all of them - just enough to make them doubt. Their power lies in their unified voice, as you have seen. If you take that from them, you will receive all the time you need."

"You want me play into their trap. They want me dead already."

"You are no longer alone."

Fahleon cursed. He'd leave that bit of advice out of the report he gave to Cassandra when he was finished with Mother Giselle. Even then, he'd give it out of earshot. Creators, Varric could have likely heard it already. Let him say what he would - he'd ignore it. Whatever the dwarf had in store for him, it wouldn't affect the next stage of the Inquisition. Because he was not only going along with the charade, but was making plans for it, too. Fahleon dragged a hand down his face. He'd leave that bit out, too.

The Mother dipped her head again. "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana with the list of names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. I honestly do not know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us... but I hope," Mother Giselle admitted, and Fahleon would have called her fearful from the way she clutched at the the symbol that hung around her neck. "Hope is what we need now, more than anything. The people - they will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no other. You could build this Inquisition into a force that will deliver us. Or destroy us."

Fahleon cleared his throat and turned when that infuriating smile was back on her face.

"I will do what I can for now. It is not much, but it is all I can provide for the moment."

His thank you was short and unvoiced, but a nod sent her back to the cots to calm the wounded that still required healing, magically or otherwise. He didn't watch her leave, but scanned the refugees for a familiar face. A familiar voice spoke in his ear, unsettling close, and Fahleon shoved Solas away from him before he could finish. The mage brushed it off.

"Was her advice helpful?" he asked, as he smoothed down his tunic. Fahleon rolled a shoulder. Whether the list of names provided anyone willing to hear them out wouldn't be determined until Mother Giselle reached Haven with it. It would take time, still, even after that to set the meeting up.

All in all, it was stupid question.

"Then it's been decided that we'll head back to Haven to regroup," Varric grumbled. Fahleon heard a complaint behind his words. Cassandra shook her head above him like the shadow she was - ever present and always darkening the mood.

"It will be some time before any more can be done," she said, as Fahleon had thought. "We will talk to Corporal Vale to see what we can do for the people here."

Varric cursed an impressive string of words and Fahleon raised a brow. Maybe they could be friends.

[feelingdylano]

Attention (Theo Raeken Imagine) ~Smut~

(A/N: Usually I leave my notes for the end, but I thought to switch it up for this one lol here’s the long awaited Theo Raeken smut. I went easy on it, I was gonna go a bit more rough at it, but I decided maybe I should just go with something simple. This is barely my second smut that I’ve actually worked on, but first one to post. Obviously by the title, the idea was sparked from listening to Attention by Charlie Puth. A little summary before hand. (Y/N) and Theo dated for a while before he decided to break up with her and betray the pack. He’s been a pain in the ass to her ever since.)

Warnings: Rough sex, spanking, some choking, daddy kink, some jealousy?

            The iridescent lights bounced back and forth from wall to wall as the electronic beats continued to fill the air. Various of smells intermingled with one another, much like the bodies that continued to move and sway along with the rhythm. I wrinkled my nose as the sudden pungent smell of cheap perfume and vodka crept its way into my olfactory senses. At my side, Kira laughed and continued to press her body against mine as I ran a hand through my hair, bringing my attention back to the girl with a grin while we continued to dance.

           “Happy we dragged you out to this?” she asked over the loud music.

           “I’ll definitely be happy once I find myself a nice piece of arm candy,” I spoke closer to her ear.

           “What about him?” Her eyes flicked over to the tall Devenford prep freshman standing just a few feet behind us.

           “Brett Talbot?” I asked, raising my brows in slight surprise. “He’s a fishy!” (The term we tended to use on freshmen.)

           “Younger, but definitely a looker,” Kira laughed. “And actually, I think he’s a Sophomore now!”

           “Hmm, well then that’s definitely a game changer,” I smirked, turning back to the boy as our eyes connected. He smiled before taking a sip from his red solo cup, keeping his cool stance next to his group of friends.

           “It’s been months since you’ve been out in the game,” Kira spoke up again while I kept my gaze on the boy a little longer, testing the waters. “I think it’s time for you to get back out there and have fun!”

           “Oh, I definitely plan to,” I said, turning back to her as I placed a hand to her shoulder. “How do I look?”

           “Like a super model,” she smiled before giving me a playful wink.

           Taking in a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders before turning back and making my way toward the boy.

           “So, are you just gonna stand around looking too cool for school?” I asked, stopping myself just a few steps away as I crossed my arms. Brett seemed to chuckle as he held onto his drink, not bothering to say a word before I looked him up and down seductively. “Or are you going to ask me to dance instead of gawking?”

           The boy’s brows raised in slight surprise as he pursed his lips before nodding and placing his cup down.

           “I’ll definitely ask you to dance,” he smirked, taking a hold of my hand and leading me to the typical house party dancefloor.

           I bit my lower lip as Brett turned me to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck while his hands gripped my waist and tugged me closer to his body.

           “A little eager there, aren’t we?” I smirked. “We’re not even on a name to name basis!”

           “I’m pretty sure you’ve heard about me,” he smiled. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have caught my name coming up in a conversation between you and Kira.”

           “Ah, I forget, the hypersensitive werewolf hearing,” I said, my brows raising slightly as I chuckled along with him. “I’ve heard about you from Scott and Liam.”

           “It’s a shame I haven’t heard about you though,” Brett gave a small shrug. “Would have been nice to know Scott had such an attractive beta in his pack.”

           “Make that human beta,” I winked playfully. “I’m just your typical human involved in the supernatural.”

           “A human,” Brett’s expression lifted in amusement. “And you think you can handle a big bad werewolf like me?”

           “I’m pretty sure I can,” I lowered my voice, biting the corner of my lip seductively.

           “Not likely,” a voice suddenly interrupted.

           My whole body froze as I turned to find the one and only Theo Raeken settle himself next to us, arms crossed.

           “(Y/N) talks a big game, but when it comes to it she doesn’t pull through,” the Chimera seemed to shrug. “But if you’re looking to waste your time, then by all means, go for it.”

           “What the hell are you doing here, Theo?” I hissed through gritted teeth, my eyes squinting into a deadly glare.

           “It’s a high school party, do you really think I would miss it?” He seemed to mock with a laugh, his blue eyes landing on me. “Plus, I heard you might be here, so I thought, what would annoy (Y/N) the most?”

           My jaw locked as I pulled away from Brett, my fists clenching as the furry inside started to boil over. He always knew how to push my buttons.

           “What the hell are you doing here, Theo?” A new voice seemed to growl.

           “I came to join the fun,” Theo shrugged as he turned to the alpha. “Do I need to hold out my hand and say I come in peace?”

           “Doubt that’s the case,” Stiles rolled his eyes as he pushed his way forward. It was as if the whole pack was being summoned.

           “C’mon guys, we’re still teenagers,” Theo forced a smile. “Can’t we just have one night where we all get along?”

           “You’re not welcome here,” Scott grumbled, his own muscles tensing.

           “Scott, it’s okay, I can handle this,” I spoke up, taking a fist full of Theo’s jacket and leading him into the hallway.

           I looked around, making sure we were alone before I dropped my hold on him.

           “What the hell is your problem?!” I finally let out as I shoved him. “We had an agreement!”

           “But how can I resist that cute little hot head of yours?” Theo smirked as he tried to reach out for my waist. My brows furrowed even further in anger as I slapped his hands away.

           “No, you’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” I retorted, crossing my arms as I glared. “The agreement was if you stay the hell away from me, you don’t get your head ripped off.”

           “You really think I can stay away from you though?” He bit his lower lip as he managed to snake his arms around me. “I mean, look at you. You’re still as gorgeous as ever.”

           My breathing hitched as Theo drew closer to my face, his hot breath brushing against my lips while my hands moved up to his chest.

           “Don’t do this,” I whispered, one of his hands reaching for the crook of my neck. “You don’t want me. You made that perfectly clear.”

           “What if I changed my mind?”

           I looked up into his clear blue eyes, feeling myself melt under his hold like I used to. Before I knew it, we were locked in each other’s lips, clutching at each other while our bodies begged for more.

~

           Theo grunted as I slammed him against the door, shutting and locking it in the process while we continued our heated make out session. His hands roamed and felt up my thighs, his fingers firmly gripping me before I leapt into his arms and wrapped my legs around him, not bothering to part from his lips.

           “God, I missed you,” he huffed while I moved down to his neck the minute he slammed me against a drawer for support.

           “Shut up,” I grumbled, roughly biting his neck and sucking on it briefly while I pulled him out of his jacket and quickly worked my way down to the hems of his shirt. Theo eagerly threw his articles of clothing before gripping at my body lustfully. I threw my head back and let out a moan as he moved down to my neck and shoulders, nibbling here and there. This only seemed to increase his desire as he gripped at my thighs once again, moving our place onto the bed. He laid me down with ease, his lips roaming from my mouth to my jaw and neck as I let out even more moans while his hand reached for my core. I could feel myself growing damper before I managed to flip him in my place, straddling his aching hips.

           Theo tried to work quick, attempting to pull me out of my dress, but I simply pulled away with a playful smirk, my hands pushing his wrists down.

           “Not yet,” I breathed out. My eyes flickered over to the nightstand, something catching my interest for a moment as a lightbulb went off in my head. Quickly snatching the item, I kept a tight grip on one wrist before locking it in one handcuff.

           “What the hell?!”

           “Shhh,” I hushed, lowering myself and kissing his lips gently. “Do you trust me?”

           Theo didn’t respond, instead, he allowed me to continue my work as I pulled on his other wrist and cuffed him to a pole of the headboard. I moved my lips from his mouth down to his jaw and finally his chest. Theo let out a moan in pleasure as I neared his hips, my hands gently tracing over his throbbing bulge. However, I pulled away and hoped off the bed, adjusting my dress in the process.

           “That was fun, but like I said, we made an agreement, Theo,” I sighed, making my way toward the door. “Now, stay the hell away from me.”

           “Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” He demanded, tugging at his wrists.

           “Well, I never got to finish my dance with the cute werewolf,” I shrugged, smirking slightly as I opened the door. “Face it Theo, I’m over you.”

           His chest heaved up and down as his muscles tensed and his eyes gave off that brilliant yellow glow.

           “The hell you are,” he growled, the handcuffs snapping off as he rushed his way over to me. This time, the door shut with my body slamming against the cool surface. A giggle escaped my lips as he gripped my thighs and swept me off my feet once again, his lips roughly finding their way to my own.

           My body fell back on the mattress as we both worked quickly, stripping out me out of my clothes while keeping our lips connected. Theo gripped at my lacy bra, snapping it with one hand before latching himself onto my breast. My head fell back as I moaned in pleasure. However, I gasped as Theo quickly reached down for my panties, pushing them to the side as his fingers worked their magic, only increasing my moans.

           “Oh god,” I breathed out, my hands sliding down his back, nails digging at his skin as he continued his motion. Theo gently nibbled down on my nipple and my eyes shut in pure ecstasy, feeling myself only grow wetter between his fingers. My breathing became uneven and I could feel my heartbeat quicken its pace as he moved onto my other breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as Theo managed to slip in a finger, pumping in gently at first before moving onto two fingers. My head tossed back as I let out an even louder moan. He always knew how to get me going.

           Pulling myself back from my high, I quickly reached down for his throbbing bulge, rubbing my thumb against it before slipping my hand down his pants and gripping at his full length. Slowly, I began to stroke while Theo continued to play with me, having his own fun. Biting my lower lip, I felt a surge of pride as I felt his pre-cum fill my fingertips. He wanted it just as much.

           “God, (Y/N),” Theo groaned, pulling away from my breast. This gave me my opening as I pushed him off and managed to throw him onto the mattress. Theo huffed as I moved quickly and stripped him of his jeans and boxers, my hands and mouth hungry for more.

           The boy seemed to shudder as I quickly took him all in one fell swoop, bobbing my head rhythmically over his rock-hard erection.

           “Oh, God,” he moaned, throwing his head back into the pillows this time while I continued to roll my tongue, wrapping my fingers around him, and pumping him in the process. Theo looked down, his hands reaching down for my head as I continued my work, bucking his hips while I did. “Yes, baby. Don’t stop.”

           I moaned through my work, feeling my core literally aching for attention as he twitched in my mouth.

           “What? You want it baby?” Theo asked, a smirk crossing his lips as I finally pulled away, attempting to catch my breath.

           “I want more,” I huffed, biting my lower lip lustfully.

           A gasp ripped through my chest as I was suddenly tossed back onto the mattress, Theo’s hands firmly gripping at my thighs before flipping me over on my stomach. Quickly bringing my knees up, I pressed my upper body against the pillows, while Theo pulled me out of my panties and aligning himself with my wet opening.

           “You sure you want it baby?” He asked, teasing me with just the tip.

           “Give it to me, daddy,” I begged, turning over my shoulder, facing him as I bit my lip. This only seemed to drive him over the edge as he quickly slipped himself in. His thrusts started off slow as he tried to adjust himself to my tightness. However, it didn’t last as I moaned loudly, his rhythm turning forceful and eager.

           “Oh, Theo!”

           “(Y/N), fuck,” he huffed through his thrusts. “You’re so tight baby.”

           My hands gripped at the sheets, feeling myself shudder in pure ecstasy as he continued his motion. Theo tightened his hands around my hips as he poured out his sexual frustration in the act itself. I shut my eyes and moaned as he pulled a hand away and smacked my ass with just enough force to send waves of pleasure through my whole body.

           After a few more strokes, I pulled myself away from him, turning my body so I could face the boy. Reaching out for his neck, I crashed our lips together before a hand snaked its way down to his still throbbing member. I gave him a few pumps before he pushed my hand away and quickly thrust himself back inside me, not wanting to waste any time.

           “Harder,” I demanded, reaching for his free hand and placing it over my neck. Theo took the hint as he adjusted himself and tightened his grip only slightly. I shut my eyes in ecstasy and arched my back as he filled me in deeper, his hips following orders as he slammed into me. Theo groaned in pleasure, shutting his eyes as he focused his energy in not giving in just yet. The talk only grew dirtier from there, only reminding me of how much fun we used to have during our late night “study sessions”.

           “Fuck, daddy,” I moaned as he lowered himself to my ear.

           “You like that baby?” He asked, moving his fingers only slightly so his lips could brush against my skin, giving me goosebumps. My legs trembled, but I merely whimpered in response as he continued to pound against me.

           “Show me just how much you like it,” Theo smirked, pulling away and teasing my opening.

           “More,” I begged.

           “Not until you show—”

           He didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence as I tackled him down, pushing him against the mattress and letting my mouth take over as I bobbed against his erection. My tongue swirled and I could taste myself before giving him my ultimate special move. Theo gasped and gripped the sheets.

           “Fuck!”

           However, before he could reach his peak, I pulled away and quickly straddled him, my hand guiding him into my wet core. Theo bucked his hips as I slowly slid down, taking in every inch with ease. Adjusting myself, I finally allowed myself to relax and start bouncing up and down. Theo grinned and groaned as he reached up for my breasts, roughly kneading them while I continued to move my hips.

           “Theo,” I moaned as he began matching my rhythm, running a hand through my hair. The chimera dropped his hold on my breasts and lowered his hands down to my hips and lower back. I shrieked as my ride was cut short the minute he pulled my body over his. My lips crashed against his while his hands roamed down to my ass once again, his hips taking over motion this time. Knots started to form at the pit of my stomach and I knew I was going to reach my climax soon.

           “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—”

           Theo picked up his pace as he moved down to my neck, sucking on it as he gripped at my ass a little tighter. I shut my eyes as he reached my sweet spot, rubbing at it frantically with his own dick.

           “Don’t stop,” I shook, feeling myself clench. “Fill me up, daddy.”

           “God,” Theo huffed, pulling away from my now bruised neck. He always loved when I talked that way.

His pounding only grew fierce, pushing my body to the limits. I was getting closer to my long-awaited climax. My toes curled and I only wished for sweet release. However, after a few more strokes, I felt the knot burst and my body tensed up for a moment, feeling the relief washing over me.

           “Fuck, (Y/N),” He muttered, before he started to slow down. There was a groan and before I knew it, I felt his hot cum fill up my walls, making me moan one final time. We both tried to catch our breath before I finally rolled over and plopped myself next to the boy.

           “I forgot just how amazing the sex was,” Theo panted with a chuckle.

           “So amazing it made up a lot of great stories,” I said, turning to him.

           “Like the time we did it out in the Lacrosse field,” Theo nodded.

           “And the time we did it in the school pool,” I added.

           “And every room of your house,” he smirked, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me over his chest. “How about we do that again? Maybe give our relationship another shot.”

           I took in a deep breath as I stood myself up and started to get dressed.

           “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Theo asked, once I finished.

           “Because Theo,” I breathed out, finally turning to him. “I meant what I said earlier. Even though this was fun, I’m over you. Besides, you just did this for attention. And maybe because you just hate the thought of me being with someone new.” I paused as I reached the door. “We still have an agreement. Stay the hell away from me.”

           With that, I took my shoes in hand and walked out of the room, leaving him behind much like he did when he decided to betray me and my friends. That night was the last I saw of Theo Raeken. But as I said before, at least a great story came out of it.

Part 1 / Part 2