#already knew about this law and found it inhumane already but learning more about it really had my blood BOILING

[evergardenwall]

so anyway i think we should kill all landlords

[wallwriterstuff]

Hi! I have a second request if that’s okay! (Let me know if it’s too much or too detailed!). Can I please request a Demetri x Newborn vampire!fem!reader where when Demetri, Felix, Jane, and Alec come to Seattle to see Victoria’s Newborn Army, Demetri sees Y/n from where they’re standing, and she’s all huddled up in the corner, scared as can be because she just woke up from her vampire transformation and is now a newborn, but she has much more control than the others and she’s absolutely terrified, so she hasn’t left her corner, not even to feed. Demetri can sense that she’s his mate, so he goes to her and is able to coax her out of her corner because she also feels the mate pull, therefore immediately trusting him, and he brings her with him back to Volturra. Aro would be so excited that Dem found him mate omg. Also do you think they would tell her that she’s the only vampire that they left alive?

So this one got away from me a bit to and I totally added in a character purely because I wanted to in the moment, but here we go, a day earlier than planned! 

Little Rabbit ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 2: Still Learning

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, a bit of gore, nothing you wouldn’t expect from the Volturi to be honest. 

Words: 5603

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission; newborns break the law, newborns deal with the consequences. It was a sentence they’d carried out multiple times before with flawless execution, but this time there’s a problem…what on Earth is Demetri supposed to do with you? 

There were laws for a reason.

For centuries the Romanians has subjugated humankind, and after the Volturi had overthrown them, it became clear that making humans forget they ever existed would be for the best. Humans were weak and stupid yes, but they were also very angry; angry at being used as slaves and breeding stock, angry they had been mistreated and lost loved ones to Romanian cruelty. Angry humans meant rebellion and the Volturi would most certainly win that war. They couldn’t afford to decimate the human population, not when it would cause infighting amongst their kind with too many competing for a limited food source. So they had, for centuries, cultivated the myths that became popular fantasy tropes in human media. Slowly but surely those who remembered the Romanian cruelty died out, and their stories died with them, warped into fiction by carefully placed rumours and some flamboyant acting certain people had been quite happy to engage in.

In the 21st century vampires had become highly romanticised. There was a mystery about them that was glamourous, sexy, addictive. It was a form of perfection that was unobtainable – or so it was supposed to be. Vampires were most certainly still graceful, flawlessly beautiful in a way that screamed inhuman, but they were nothing like the movies made them out to be. Your last night as a human was a bit of a blur and only seeming further away by the minute. There was a street shrouded in darkness, with a flickering streetlight that did little to illuminate the concrete beneath your feet, and a breeze, something cold. The only thing you clearly remembered from that night was Riley, and that was only because he was one of the first things you saw with your new eyes when you awoke for the last time.

He was still as pretty as your murky memories dictated when you saw him the second time round, but now you were so much more sensitive to things it was easy to pick up on the more sinister aspects of his personality your human-self had simply ignored, too dazzled by this pretty man with his silver-tongue. He’d set you on fire, literally, and the burning just hadn’t stopped. It had once been a whole-body ache, nerve endings blazing and muscles twitching as you tried to outrun an internal kind of agony that scorched away your very soul. It was a futile attempt because only one thing would ease your suffering…not that you knew it. At least, you didn’t seem to.

From their perch in a multistorey car park the Guard had been watching the newborn’s make a mess for the past ten minutes. It was something straight out of the grisliest horror film, though the majority of screaming had died to wet gurgles now as the victims of their reign of terror drowned in their own blood. Most were feeding, some were fighting. A metallic screech rent the air and Felix smirked slightly as another newborn went down, his arm twisted off while he howled in agony.

“They’ve already drawn too much attention.” Demetri muttered, eyes narrowed in distaste at the scene. His stare had been drawn back to you on many an occasion. There was something…different, not quite right. The feeding frenzy was clearly affecting you, your body leaning forward in a desperate attempt to get you to feed while your mind simply refused to let you move, yet you were so obviously suffering. He couldn’t fathom why you hadn’t joined them yet when your hand was clawing at your throat, like you hoped you could rip the fire out of it maybe. You were quite obviously the deer in the headlights of the group, the least experienced, the youngest, and he felt a pang of sympathy for you. Did you even know what was happening to you right now? Had you fed before? Your body knew what it wanted and what to do so why weren’t you simply following your instincts?

A body landed in front of you, the head caved in from another’s fist, and he heard you whimper despite the distance. It made his stomach twist, brows furrowing deeply as a strange sort of longing to go to you arose in him. He was beaten to it by the ringleader, the man obviously in charge of it all with much more control and experience. He watched him crouch before you, the way you recoiled setting a fire in his gut that urged him to move move move.

“You…you’re confusing.” He admitted, head tilting as he regarded you. Demetri’s lip curled upward, body tense. What if the ringleader moved before he could get to you? You were hardly a soldier, not a fighter at all; you were curled up in the corner afraid of your own shadow, they didn’t have a place for people like you in a newborn army.

“W-what did you…d-do to me?” you rasped, your throat dry and on fire. Demetri heard the pain it caused you to so much as talk. To think of the amount of pain breathing must have caused you…

“I told you already there’s a way to make it better…we’ll find you someone to drink.” The ringleader promised, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes were alight with fury, a cold kind of anger radiating from him when he saw the state of the place. Fires were springing up now, the dangerous proximity of the flames making him cringe. You immediately scuttled away from the scene and Demetri was moving before any of the others could stop him. Maybe his gift was going haywire, but your tenor had to be the brightest, most beautiful thing he had ever come across, and it had a life of it’s own. Usually the tenors were cold, something he could manipulate at will in his mind, but yours? Yours was warm and vibrant and instead of him doing the pulling it was you pulling him. Following you was instinctual, as easy as breathing.

He’d never seen a vampire trip over their own feet before.

You were like a little rabbit, skittish and terrified. Your senses told you you were being followed but you hadn’t seen your pursuer yet, though you were almost sure it was Riley coming to drag you back to that awful house you’d woken up in. It wasn’t even a home really, the rotting foundations of a cabin long since destroyed was not your old, cosy apartment. Could you even go back there? You weren’t sure anymore. Even as far from the main high street as you were now it was so loud, every sound crystal clear and the few lights so bright it should have hurt your eyes.

The smell of salt was overpowering at the docks, the waves crashing against the pier and something electric in the air that sizzled on your tongue but did nothing to soothe the burn in your throat. Once your knees had hit the floor, jeans tearing in a way your skin no longer could, you had scrambled behind the cold, metallic wall of a dry dock. Hands pressed to your ears, you prayed for this nightmare to come to an end.

“Oh young one…there is no need to suffer.” His voice was as smooth and sweet as honey, spreading warm and thick through your body from the moment it hit your ears and relaxing some very tense muscles. Still, you didn’t know this stranger and all vampires were made to be charming, weren’t they? Look at Riley…he’d stolen your life with a single sentence. The person before you was a man though, not a boy. His features were far more refined, sharp angles that could cut glass and a piercing, knowing stare behind eyes the colour of red wine. He was crouched before you, head somewhat tilted so his throat was exposed enough that should you swipe a hand out, you could easily decapitate him. It was almost like he was submitting to you, trying to show he was no threat.

Demetri couldn’t stand to see you so torn apart by pain and fear. His heart was physically tearing in to, unable to beat yet breaking in his chest. Your wide eyes were pure black, the pupil practically invisible and swallowed by your hunger. He could only imagine how bad the burn must be by now. The moment you had locked eyes with him though it was very obvious to a man of his age and experience exactly why he had followed you, why your tenor was so irresistible to him. The world settled. Hell, it might have crashed and burned around him but he wouldn’t have noticed, not when you were looking at him like that. He had craved many things before in life, lusting for blood and flesh and all the luxuries his immortality could offer, but he had never felt a craving quite as intense as the desire he felt simply to ease your pain. It was everything to him in that moment.

You winced, the sound lancing straight through his ears and making him frown sympathetically. Despite your pain you were still dangerous. Newborn’s acted more often than not on impulses and animalistic urges. He would have to be careful with you.

“I-it burns, th-there’s s-something in – in my throat.” You gasped, hunching over a little. Demetri nodded his head.

“I expect it does. Do you know what is happening to you right now?” he asked. You swallowed, as if that would help. Your hands moved up into your hair, gripping at the roots like they were a lifeline as you curled up even tighter.

“I don’t – he said – I can’t think!” you seemed to surprise yourself when you hissed and Demetri felt the ache in his chest intensify. Your distress was palpable to him and his fingers twitched, his desire to reach out and hold you to him intense.

Mate. Mate. Mine. Protect what’s mine.

“No need to think cara mia, let me do the thinking for both of us.” he suggested, sniffing at the air and listening past the crashing waves to try to find you someone, anyone, to drink from. His nose caught it first, the sweet scent of blood rushing through human veins, and then it was his ears. Laughter erupted somewhere just North-West of your position, and even if the location wasn’t precise it would be enough to get you fed, calm you somewhat.

With an audible thunk your head hit the wall behind you, denting it slightly. Your eyes were so hopeless when they met his own he was sure you would cry if you could, your mouth twisted into the ugliest pained grimace he never wished to see on your face again.

“It won’t stop.” You whispered. You sounded so tortured. Demetri knew the feeling well enough, he had been a newborn once to and the thirst was intense, unbearable, enough to drive a person insane. He shook his head, extending a hand to you.

“It can stop, and it will if you trust me. I can make the pain go away.” He promised. He kept his voice soft, hoping not to scare you further, but you still eyed his hand like it was a trap waiting to be sprung. Gulping, your hand trembled as if it wanted to reach out, and Demetri prayed you’d take it, that you’d see he had no ill intentions. He really did just want to help. On some level you knew that. His eyes weren’t like Riley’s. Riley’s were as hard and cold as rough-cut rubies but this man…this man had eyes like rose blossoms, gentle and tender as they watched you suffer, like he really did wish to just take your pain away. His hand hadn’t wavered and neither did his patience despite your indecision. You wanted to reach out, your hand itching to do so, but you couldn’t escape the lingering feeling of hesitation. The last time you trusted a stranger you had literally died after all.

“He promised the s-same thing.” Your breathing hitched as another river of fire shot down your throat and twisted your gut. You were starving, so very hungry, but you weren’t sure how to stop the pain. How were you ever going to eat anything when you had the world’s worst acid reflux right now? The man in front of you looked pained for a moment, as if your words had truly hurt him. How could you ever question his intentions towards you when he was so different to Riley? This man radiated an aura of safety, of calm. It was a relief just being near him after the mayhem in your life you had experience from the moment you awoke with a freckled, red-headed boy staring down at you with a sneer. You weren’t sure who he was but you’d knocked him away from you so hard he’d smashed through a wall – Riley had twisted his head off with ease when the boy lunged to attack you in revenge.

Your new life had been nothing but death and agony since you opened your eyes, but this man was different. He was a breath of fresh air, a promise of something better. He brought some calm to your turbulent thoughts.

“I am not him,” he said finally, “Breathe in for me, tell me what you smell.” His instruction was simple and would do you no harm, so you obeyed. The salt stung your nose but filtered in between the bitter and the fish was something far sweeter. You mouth pooled with what you thought was salvia, body tensing as you dragged in another lungful of that scent. It had saturated the air back at the car wreckage to but you’d never quite pinpointed where it was from, only that it made you ravenous and delirious with need.

“What – what is that?” you gasped, eyes opened wide while you inhaled like an addict getting their fix.

“Do not torture yourself now, the more you breathe the more it will burn. That is food cara mia, sustenance. It will put out the fire in your throat. I want to take you to it.” He coaxed you from against the wall like he was luring a wild beast out of its cage, his movements slow and cautious, non-threatening. You let him this time. The smell was too good, impossible to resist. You had to have it and he was promising to give it to you. Besides, you were apparently super-strong, you could fight him for it, right? No, no maybe not, the thought made you uncomfortable, you didn’t want to hurt this kind stranger. His hand was warm against your own, the skin smooth as silk and sending a jolt through your body. You didn’t want to let go of him ever. In the time it had taken you to blink you were on another side of the dock, your saviour stood behind you now with his hands on your shoulders.

“What-“

“Shhh, breathe in again and follow your nose,” He instructed, lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear. You wanted to follow the order but his breath was as fresh and warm as sweet mint, ghosting across your skin and making you shiver involuntarily. He chuckled against your hair, low and wistful. “Let nothing distract you, not even me.” He whispered. You had unconsciously leaned back into his touch and you missed him immediately when he stepped back just a little to give you some room to think. Breathe. He’d asked you to breathe. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you caught that intoxicating scent once more. It was a heady smell, befuddling all your thoughts, and your body moved to follow it without question. You needed more. You were somewhat aware of the stranger following you, his footsteps slow and casual in comparison to your own that were hurried, impatient to find the source of the smell. You didn’t understand when you turned a corner and found yourself on the main high street, immediately blinded by the streetlights’ glaring at you from every direction and assaulted by the thudding bass and buzzing chatter from all around. You fell back into the shadows with a wince, cringing into the brick work of an old pizzeria.

“I don’t understand, I – there’s nothing here.” You groaned. Your throat was trying to tear itself apart. The stranger peered out of the alleyway for a brief moment, hummed thoughtfully and drew up his hood. His face was even more beautiful like that, shrouded in darkness while the amber glow of the streetlights’ simply made the shadows of his cheekbones longer.

“Be patient, there is time enough to learn.” He promised you, and with that he was gone. Your jaw dropped open, unable to fully comprehend that he had just…left you there. Why? Had you done something wrong? What if…oh no, what if he’d led you straight back to Riley? Maybe he worked for her. You whimpered softly, not wanting to know what was going to happen next when he reappeared without warning. A woman lay unconscious on the floor near his feet, and he held a young man out towards you by the back of his shirt, body dangling limply. Your eyes widened.

“What are – what…what…” you couldn’t get your sentence out properly, the sweet smell invading your nose once more. Demetri knew the second he lost you to the frenzy in your mind. Your eyes were no longer trained on him, no longer filled with horror at what he’d done, but laser-focused on the pulse point that was no doubt thrumming in your ears by now. You watched him not as a threat to your safety but as a threat to your food, and Demetri simply tossed you the man like a lion tamer would throw the predator a steak before stepping back a bit. The mess was to be expected and only confirmed his suspicions that this was your first feed. Your teeth didn’t quite cut at the right angle nor at the right point, but you made sure not to waste anything, readjusting your bite to ensure the burst vein spouted the saccharine liquid into your mouth and not past your cheek.

His own desire to feed grew stronger as he watched you indulge but he forced the feeling back. He had to focus on you for now. Your grip was far too tight on your prey and he heard the bones snap before the man folded like a ragdoll, his spine shattered under the force of your fingers as his flesh grew pallid, the colour drained straight from it. The sound of your frantic gulps slowly died away, and when his veins ran dry you let him drop with such utter disgust on your face Demetri couldn’t help but chuckle. Your head snapped first one way, then the next, your thirst not satiated enough to allow you to focus on him for too long when there was another living, breathing human in the alleyway with you both. He inclined his head towards her and you edged forward, wary of him now.

“She is for you, go ahead.” He invited. For a moment longer you stared him down, trying to figure him out, and Demetri admired you fully. Half-crouched, Y/H/C hair in wild disarray around your face, you looked dangerous but oh so tempting, the predator in him itching to pin you down just to see what you might do. Your skin was flawless, glowing in the half-light cast from the streetlights’ beyond the alleyway, but you were covered in blood to. To anyone looking in you might have been the ghost of a murder victim perhaps, flawlessly encased in immortality and violence. The crimson liquid had soaked your shirt, your skin stained with it and lips a more vivid shade of ruby red than even Heidi’s extensive array of lipstick’s could have achieved. He was enraptured with you from the very start as you fell on your second victim of the night. He gave the man a quick once over, listening for a heartbeat just to be sure. When he found nothing, he removed any sort of valuables or possessions that might identify the corpse and threw them into the dumpster to his right, waiting patiently to do the same to the woman you were currently entertaining yourself with.

Part of him had expected the comedown after the euphoric high of your first feed, but another part of him had hoped you would be alright. Still, as you simply held the broken body in your arms, the quiet sense of horror that dawned in your eyes was enough to make Demetri move to intervene. You gripped her tighter, not wanting to let the body go, and he gently had to pry your fingers from her bruised skin.

“We – we have to…I didn’t mean…it was…” you struggled, eyes vividly red now as they stared into his own with so much guilt and grief it shattered his resolve for a moment.

“Would you like to close her eyes?” he asked. You nodded mutely, hand trembling slightly as you reached up and gently slid the delicate skin over glassy, vacant irises. It seemed to give you some small semblance of peace at least. “Does your throat still burn?” he asked. Swallowing thickly, you shook your head. Demetri nodded, satisfied he had looked after you well enough tonight. “Good. I will ensure these two are…buried…somewhere nice. Will you wait for me here? I promise you I will explain everything in full, help you understand what is happening right now.” He vowed, his free hand gently touching your messy chin while he hoisted the dead over his shoulder with the other. You gave another numb nod, because where were you supposed to go? You were a murderer now, a…vampire. You really hadn’t believed Riley when he told you, you realised now as the shock set in. The deaths of those two just to feed you…you should have been sobbing perhaps, on your knees and praying for penance maybe, but you just…couldn’t. It felt so good to finally be free of that agonising burn, the taste had been sublime, euphoric even, and you couldn’t regret it even though part of you knew you should. Still, it didn’t change the fact two people had lost their lives and the evidence was all over you.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there alone, silently longing for your newfound friend to come back and tell you what to do next while you stared at the blood drying on your hands and shirt. It was an odd feeling, to be so lost in a city you knew so well, but you truly had no idea where your place was anymore. How could you walk the streets knowing you had killed two of the people who were once so like you? Could you even go back to your apartment? You were a murderer, there’d be investigations and…what if you ate your landlord? You winced a bit at the thought, the old woman was too kind for that kind of fate.

“What is wrong with me?” you whispered.

“Nothing is wrong with you at all cara mia, you are perfection in every way.” The smooth voice you had longed for returned and you grimaced as you faced him.

“But I killed someone.” You protested.

“As have I, and many others like us,” Demetri pointed out neutrally. You looked distressed again and he stepped forward to place a hand at the small of your waist. “Come, this conversation can wait until you have cleaned yourself up. We have a-“

“I want to go home.” You squeezed your eyes closed and Demetri evaluated you for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not you could handle a trip home.

“Do you live alone?” he asked.

“No, well, yes, but –“

“Focus, young one, the question was simple, do you live alone?” he repeated gently. Your head was a mess, he could almost hear the gears of your mind turning. Few people mentioned how hard it was to adapt to the new speeds your mind worked at when you were turned, but Demetri understood your thoughts were spinning one to the next in a rapid cycle that made it easy to distract you.

“Yes.” You said finally. He nodded his head, satisfied with the answer.

“Then lead the way.” He gestured for you to go first, following close behind as you instinctually led him through the streets. Home would be familiar, comforting, he just hoped it wouldn’t be too much of a test for you to get some new clothes and a shower. You were utterly silent, lost in your own head and almost entirely unresponsive to any of his questions as you led him at an inhuman speed down the street. It was late enough and you were moving so fast he doubted anyone would notice the pair of you so he let it happen, but you didn’t seem to be aware of the speed you were moving at either. Demetri was slowly compiling a mental checklist of all the things he’d have to teach you and get you used to. He had only gleaned one key piece of information from you by the time you reached your apartment, and he’d been replaying it over and over in his mind ever since. Your name was Y/N, and you considered it a small miracle that the keys to your apartment were still in your pocket.

The stairwell lights were loud and bright, and by the time you’d put your key in the door you were desperate to be out of the highly stimulating environment, letting your new friend in. He’d told you his name now to, and you were enamoured with everything about him now, the package complete with a nice little bow. Demetri looked confused by the scratching sound for a moment before Sulu burst around the corner of your sofa and darted straight for your legs. His excited little yips were so loud in your sensitive ear’s, but he was familiar and comforting, he was home. Demetri stopped you before you could scoop up the little beagle puppy. You looked confused and he smiled apologetically.

“I think you have no concept of just how fast or strong you are right now Y/N…if you carried on going just now you might have put your hand right through him,” he informed you quietly. You winced, making a conscious effort to go slow as you reached down to pet him instead. Demetri watched you take extra care to stroke your hand over his fur, seemingly losing yourself in the smooth texture for a moment. It calmed you, he realised.

“Hey boy, I’m home. I’m sorry I was gone so long, are you hungry boy?” you whispered. Demetri watched you go through a careful routine of mixing dry and wet food, placing his small bowl on the floor. He crunched it like a dog half starved and Demetri wondered just how long you’d been gone.

“Go and shower. I can watch the dog.” He promised. He sat on the sofa, watching the little pup playfully eat his way around the bowl while the water ran behind him. Every now and then he heard you sigh softly. The dog looked quite content with a full stomach, pattering about his home confidently until he came to Demetri. Animals didn’t typically like vampires so to speak, but the pup was perhaps too young to have sensed anything out of the ordinary and came straight up to him, head tilting as he snuffled about his trouser legs. Demetri frowned, trying to shoo him away slightly, but the pup merely thought he wanted to play, tail starting to wag as he lowered his front to the floor and lunged for his hand with an excited little yip.

You hadn’t been expecting Demetri to be having a tug of war with your dog when you stepped out of the shower, a fresh change of clothes on and your hair wet but still, no matter how much you’d frisked it with a towel, flawless. Vampirism had some perks at least. Sulu growled playfully, tugging with all his might, and Demetri growled back, a wicked grin on his face as he held the toy still with minimal effort. Your eyebrows rose.

“Are you that determined to beat a puppy?” you asked finally. Demetri glanced at you, brows furrowing slightly before he nodded and pulled Sulu in closer, his claws scratching against the wood. You winced at the sound but felt your heart melt a bit when he scooped him up with a chuckle and scratched at his tummy.

“You put up a good fight boy, but I am better.” He murmured. Good with animals and gorgeous? Was there anything this man couldn’t do? You sat beside him, wary when Sulu immediately padded over to your lap. You’d found him abandoned on a street corner in a box with a few siblings and immediately taken them all to the nearest vet, the costs be damned. They’d managed to rehome two of the five in the box, one of them being your Sulu, but you’d never heard what happened to the others sadly. He was cuddly from the get-go, desperate for contact apparently after his abandonment, and so far he had been fairly easy to train. You didn’t want to hurt your baby boy and Demetri seemed to sense it, watching you awkwardly hold your hands above his small body while Sulu tried to nudge his head into your palm.

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t if you are gentle enough,” Demetri promised you, “Very gentle now.” You managed to settle into a rhythm as Demetri spoke, explaining exactly what had happened to you that night. There were times you couldn’t quite keep the outbursts in, your frustration bursting through. Why you? You had a good life! You tried to be good and kind and had dreams and it wasn’t fair that Riley had chosen you that night. Sulu skittered form your lap into Demetri’s in those moments, but the man never held them against you, simply letting you rant and nodding along sympathetically while he explained the laws, the Volturi. You shivered, knowing deep down if he hadn’t decided to help you he would have been your executioner instead of your friend.

“So what now? I…” Don’t want to leave you. It was on the tip of your tongue. You felt lost, adrift on an endless sea. You had no clue how you were supposed to cope with all of this without someone more experienced showing you the way – your throat was already starting to burn again. It all seemed so hopeless when you’d been alone in the shower, everything crashing in on you and drowning you all at once, but Demetri was a lighthouse that held you steady and guided you to shore. Demetri tilted his head.

“You come home with me.” He said simply, like it made the most sense. Somehow, it did. Demetri was somewhat surprised at how willingly you simply packed up and left, pulling some emergency cash out form somewhere and leaving it in an envelope for your landlord. The only slight problem was Sulu, but he didn’t let you worry about that for long. Sulu wasn’t particularly sure about the plush carpets of the Volturi’s private jet, but he quite enjoyed running around on the tarmac while you waited for Demetri to return from his duties, whatever they may be.

“Why would you not tell her, she has a right to know.” Alec pointed out as they strolled back across the grass languidly. Demetri hummed.

“She does, but right now she is overwhelmed, she needs a chance to settle before I tell her of our bond. In the meantime, it will not stop me caring for her as I should. Please, all of you, be kind, you know how hard this first year can be.” He sighed, looking almost imploringly at the twins. He knew he could trust Felix with you (mostly, maybe…okay he’d have to keep any eye on that situation) but the twins were a little more…unpredictable. Jane rolled her eyes slightly.

“You say that as though we intend to sabotage your happiness.” she quipped, but her voice was as dead as the grave. Demetri saw through it; he had known them long enough. Apathy was the twins go to but it always conveyed something more if you bothered to look beyond the surface. He gave her a grateful smile and she diligently ignored it, but the unspoken agreement had already been made that they would stand by their friend when they reached Volterra.

“Oh there is one more thing.” Demetri started. He never got chance to finish his sentence before Alec opened the door to the jet. The smell of blood hit them instantly and Sulu bolted straight for Demetri, recognising his scent and excited to see him home. You were stood amongst the ruins, looking a little bashful and covered in blood once more. The pilot was at your feet, contorted and drained.

“Oops?”

Sulu had left little bloody paw prints in his wake but had quickly scrambled back towards you once he’d bumped into Alec’s threatening aura. The boy turned to look at the tracker, his expression devoid of emotion but his eyes alight with mischief.

“I cannot wait to see the look on Caius’s face when we get home.”

[the-hopeless-haze]

Oh, My Precious Whore

A/N: didn’t really think I’d ever be posting fic on here again… but I am tired and need a distraction so… have this as a treat

Pairing: Claire Underwood x f!reader, implied Duncan Shepherd x f!reader

CW: derogatory pet names, implied smut (will not occur in full until the next part)

Description: idk this is just pure filth bc there’s a severe lack of f!reader fic and… Robin Wright is hot af. Also had to throw in some Duncan in there bc I love Cody Fern

Maybe you should feel worse right now about what you’re doing, but you don’t.

You, at the very least, should feel scared. The Underwoods, or well, Underwood... she was a powerful woman and if you stepped a millimeter out of place your life was likely in danger. Or so they said. Your in-laws were wary of her, you know, but she was wary of them, too. You think. She’s a difficult woman to read.

The rumors concerning the crimes her late husband supposedly committed are lengthy and convoluted, but you suspect they hold some truth to them. Most rumors usually aren’t based totally in fiction. Her husband was truly a ruthless motherfucker. Claire... Claire doesn’t seem to be ruthless. Nor does she seem to be what you would describe as a motherfucker.

No, she’s a cold hearted bitch. A bitter, sociopathic cunt.

But you never wanted what was good for you.

Sometimes, you swear you love Duncan and you wish it was easier to convince yourself. He a good husband, all things considered. Perhaps a little too focused on work, but... he treats you well to make up for it. He is loyal to a fault, if anyone ever was. You met him through a friend, and though it makes you feel guilty you used him in a vain attempt to get closer to Annette.

But Annette didn’t swing your way, as she told you in not so many words. Or, rather, she said, “Just be a good pet and marry my son. You on his arm will do well for everyone all around. Your dalliances on the side are no one’s business as long as you keep them secret enough that not even Duncan finds out.”

So you agreed, and accepted his proposal you figured she no doubt hounded him into. It’s not so much that you don’t like men, you do, and Duncan is such an attractive man, and he’s a thorough lover... it’s just you suppose you have a preference for women. Older women. You used to joke in high school that you wanted to be a high-end escort for rich older women getting away from their CEO husbands for the weekend.

But your parents would have never approved of that plan. So you went to law school instead. Which was fine. You make decent money without Duncan, but with him you’re somewhat of a young, hot power couple. You’re not really interested in policy the way his family is - you just like ingratiating yourself amongst these people with influence. You get off on brushing shoulders with the powerful. Parties don’t mean much to you. Everyone is truly an evil son of a bitch, no matter what they say when the cameras are on. No one cares about progress, not unless it’s self-serving.

The first time you met Claire, you thought you might die. She barely gave Duncan a second glance but you? She stood and chatted with you about your latest case your firm had taken - how she knew about it among all the other things on her mind, you don’t know - but it was a pleasant conversation, all things considered. You know her and Annette used to be close. You wonder how much Claire does know about you.

You know you can’t trust her. At all.

But after that incident, Duncan grinned and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to give credence to those rumors. She might have it out for you.”

“Rumors?” You asked, panicking already. Did he know?

“That Claire is a lesbian. It’s been floating around some circles, that that’s why she wasn’t truly upset at her husband’s death, that that’s why she’s pushing so hard for female rights. It’s interesting. It is the first time I met her, but having done so it wouldn’t entirely surprise me.”

You can tell. That woman probably isn’t a lesbian, or if she is, she’s very good at utilizing her charm to make it seem as though she’s not. If anything, you’d peg her as asexual. She uses sex as a weapon. Fair enough. You’ve seen even weaker women feel the need to use it.

You wonder if she’s ever had sex purely for herself and not for manipulation purposes.

You wonder if she could even do that. You reckon you don’t really care if you found out the hard way.

It’s a few weeks later that you receive a message stating the President required your audience. And you know you should tell Annette, or Duncan at the very least, but you don’t. You know you shouldn’t show up at all. But Annette said to keep your dalliances secret. So secret they will stay.

“How loyal are you to the Shepherds?” Claire asks when you arrive. Straight to the point. Good.

“As loyal as I have to appear,” you tell her.

Claire smiles a little. “Why did you marry Duncan? He doesn’t seem quite your type.”

“And what do you presume my type is?”

“Perhaps more feminine. Older.”

“Mm. And what is your type, Ms President?”

“Why did you marry him? Did Annette threaten to out you?” she repeats.

“Not in so many words,” you say.

“Hmm. Interesting. He has no idea, I presume?”

“Why did you call me here?” you ask, your anxiety getting the better of you.

“I need information on the Shepherds. And I believe I have something you’d want in return.”

Your head starts spinning, but no, spinning is an understatement. It’s fucking doing somersaults. You cannot believe what she’s proposing.

“You want to prostitute yourself to me for information?”

And Claire does the last thing you ever expected the bitch to do. She walks across the room and slaps you across the face. Hard enough to sting, but not as hard as you bet she could. You feel the cold metal of her wedding ring press against your cheek as she grabs your chin, her cold blue eyes piercing through to your soul. “Don’t you dare fucking accuse the president of the United States of debasement, and don’t ever assume you have the upper hand.”

“Claire—“

“Are we on first name basis, slut?” she asks, her hand slithering down to your throat. Holy shit, you think. This bitch might actually fucking kill me. You think you’d care more if this wasn’t possibly the hottest thing that ever happened to you. “I didn’t think so. Now. What are your loyalties? Who are you closest to?”

“Duncan, obviously. Annette lets her guard down around me because she likes that I think she’s hot, but she still doesn’t like me. Bill and I don’t get along.”

“Interesting. How much does Duncan know?”

“I know more than Duncan.”

“Really, now? Are you just saying that? Because if you don’t prove to be useful...”

“What? You’ll kill me?”

Claire laughs. “No, you’re much more fun to me alive. But tell me… do you know where Duncan came from?”

“I mean, I truly don’t know how Annette’s cunt could birth anything, given how much of a bitch she is, but…”

Claire smiles. “Yes. Much more fun alive. Duncan is not her child.”

“Well, that’s a relief I don’t have any chance of keeping the Shepherd bloodline alive,” you snicker. “Where did he come from, then?”

“I’ll tell you… in time. But you have to tell him, too. In front of Annette and Bill. I want them all to know.”

“They’ll skin me alive if they knew I was here.”

“Do you want to fuck me or not? These are my terms.”

“So that is why I’m here?”

She only smirks at you, the wrinkles around her blue eyes crinkling as she does. “Your attraction to me is far more interesting than... well, men are pigs, right? I’m sure you are well aware. But you, you look at me like you want to fuck me, sure, but you also know your place. You respect me, even if you try to talk back. Men don’t know any better.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman before?”

She only smiles. “Does it matter?”

“Just wanted to know if there was credence to the rumors.”

“Rumors? You’re quite bold. I’m the one with my hand...wrapped around your throat.”

“It’d be pretty messy for you if you killed me right now,” you retort, wincing and rubbing your legs together as she increases the pressure on your neck.

“You’ll learn not to talk back, whore. To think you’re a married woman...”

“Yeah? Did you hold your marriage sacrosanct?”

There’s that smile again. She’s beautiful, ethereal, but there’s something so inhumane about the way her lips move upward to smirk at you. Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth, but you always were a brat. Besides, it’s more fun this way.

“I did.”

“Liar,” you accuse, smirking at her as you do, and she lets go of your throat and before you can miss the feeling too much she slaps your face again, the right cheek this time, much harder than the first time. You let out a startled, strangled moan on impulse, stumbling back a little against the wall.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she coos at you condescendingly, fixing a piece of your hair that fell out of place as you stand back up, pressing your back flat against the wall for stability. Claire crosses her arms and stands directly in front of you.

“I can take it. I can take more than that,” you say boldly.

“Oh? What else do you like, slut?”

“You name it, I’m game.”

“Anything? Handcuffs? Whips? Knives?”

You nod at everything she comes up with. Jesus, you would let this woman carve out your heart if she wanted it.

“If I make you bleed?”

“Better.”

“Interesting. Does Duncan play these little games with you?”

You laugh. “No.”

“You only want a woman to do these things to you?”

“Precisely. Are you kinky, Madam President?”

“Whatever my partner requires... I make certain I provide.”

“But what do you want?”

“I’m a hard woman to please.”

“Oh. Is that the kind way of saying Frank wasn’t good in bed?” you ask, feigning sympathy. She only smirks again. “I’m surprised you didn’t slap me for that. He must have really been awful.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Women do everything better,” you laugh, earning perhaps the only genuine smile you’ve gotten from this woman the whole time. “That’s why I wanted to know if you’ve been with a woman...”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. Never had a woman as interested as you.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Maybe you just never noticed. What gave it away?” You’re aching for her to touch you again, give you anything, even pain, but she stands still in front of you.

“I can just tell. Besides, I was interested to meet you. You’re the Shepherd’s weak link. I knew Annette didn’t vet you carefully enough.”

“Are you saying me being gay is an issue?”

“Are you so naive to think it wouldn’t be, given the state of this country?” she retorts. “But that’s not all. I can tell you don’t like them. I could tell you were easy... on more than one account.”

You roll your eyes. “I fucking hate Bill. I mean it’s awful to say, he’s not doing well physically, but he’s just made life a living hell for me.”

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I don’t know. Maybe he hates gay people. Maybe he hates women. Both. Don’t know.”

“So everyone knows but Duncan? Funny how he’s kept out of all the good family secrets that concern him.”

You sigh. “See, sexuality’s a funny thing. I like Duncan. I do. And sometimes sex with him is good if not great. He’s a good partner. But I just prefer women.”

“Must be nice to have it figured out. Your generation did have it easier.”

You look at her questioningly. You never thought someone like her was human enough to struggle with such a thing, but perhaps that’s an unfair assessment.

Or she’s playing you.

Still. She’d have to be quite a good player - not that you should underestimate her skill - to talk about something as personal as her struggles with sexuality. Straight people just don’t get it. Would she really be this easily well versed if it was a game?

“There’s still a long ways to go,” you say.

“I intend to rectify that.”

“Of course you do.”

Her eyes narrow at you and she tilts her head. “Do you think I should be doing better?”

“Yeah. Come out, for starters.”

“Says the woman in a sham marriage.”

“It’s not a sham. I love Duncan,” you protest.

“Then why are you here, selling out his family just for a chance to fuck me? You’re not much better than I am.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you anything yet. Besides. It’s not his real family… as you say.”

“No. You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. But I haven’t fucked you yet either, have I?”

“Touché.”

“Come over here,” she beckons, leaning against the desk and once again it strikes you where you are - the fucking Oval Office. Are you seriously going to have sex in the Oval Office? Conservatives would be disgusted by this (although it wouldn’t be the first time this office was defiled). “Don’t look so scared now. You can’t back out at this point.”

You nod, trying not to look as nervous as you feel and walk the few steps over to her, your legs inches from hers. God, you’re practically dying from the anticipation alone.

“Does Duncan ever tell you how beautiful you are?” She asks. You’re absolutely shellshocked. There’s no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“Sometimes,” you murmur.

“Just like men to not appreciate what they have.”

“Mm. Frank didn’t appreciate you, Claire? Didn’t make you feel good? I would. If you were my wife I’d make you come every fucking day,” you say, and boldly you decide to punctuate that statement by pressing your lips to hers.

Mistake. Or maybe not, you don’t know.

Her hands tangle in your hair and you feel her stand up, press against you firmly before backing you into the desk, pushing you onto it until your back is flat on the wood, and she’s hovering over you, her lips ghosting yours.

“I’m a hard woman to please,” she reiterates and you realize she never fucking lost her breath while you feel like the wind was knocked out of you. “I’m ambivalent about attention in general. But look at you, whore. You crave it, don’t you? Just want someone to tell you that you’re a good girl... oh, look at you squeeze your thighs together. Are you wet for me, slut?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You ask, spreading your legs slightly for her.

She shakes her head, her straight platinum locks shifting as she does so, brushing against your face. “See? You’re not a good girl. You’re a dirty filthy whore and you just don’t know when to shut that whore mouth or close your fucking legs.”

You stay silent - you’re not sure what to do now. Do you antagonize her, push her further, see if it will rile her up again? Or do you try and kiss her again?

Claire has other ideas. “Beg,” she hisses in your ear. “Get down on your knees and beg for me.”

—- and I am evil and ending it there! Plz let me know if I should continue this!

[blackmissfrizzle]

F Like a Pornstar

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel finds out a little secret about you.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: My rewatch of Mayans helped me come up with this idea.

Lightly edited, so sorry for any mistakes

Too caught up running after your sister, you didn’t pay attention to the motorcycles in front of the house. Kyle stormed into the house, yelled her husband’s name, and ran up the stairs.

“Y/N.” You heard a familiar voice call you, halting your journey. Turning around you saw your boyfriend crooking his finger telling you to come here.

“Baby!” Your whole demeanor changed when you saw Angel. As you made a beeline to him you greeted the other Mayans. Looked like the whole crew was here.

Right when you were in arm’s reach, Angel hugged you and kissed your shoulder, that earned him a bunch of joking ‘awwws’ from his brothers.

Angel flipped them all off. He didn’t care what they think as long as he has you. “What are you doing here?” He asked, confused at how you ended up at a whore house.

You explained to him how you and Kyle were out for drinks when she decided she wanted to see where her no-good husband was. The Find My app led you to Vicki’s and now you were pretty sure that Kyle’s husband was about be murdered.

“Damn, Vic, you gonna let her kill her husband?” Coco asked, turning his attention away from the girl in his lap.

Vicki assured everyone that Kyle wasn’t gonna kill him. Apparently, this happens all the time and its good entertainment for Vicki and the girls. Plus, she just charged your douchebag brother-in-law extra.

Someone else called your name, but this time it was a woman. In her black kimono and matching black lingerie came Mimi running towards you. “Y/N!!! OMG, girl you look good.” She juggled your boobs.

Angel took in your outfit in its totality and he agreed with Mimi. You looked good, a little too good for his taste. You wore a burnt orange top that crossed in the front, which showed off a generous amount of cleavage, light washed ripped blue jeans hugging your ass, brown heels showing off those pretty white toes Angel wanted to suck, and Fenty Gloss Bomb and Body Lava to top it off. He can’t believe you went out like that without him.

“She’s right, mi dulce. You look fucking sexy, wait til we get home.” Angel smacked your ass and nibbled on your ear.

An unimpressed grunt was heard across the room. “I doubt she can pleasure him.” A short blonde told another girl.

This wasn’t unusual. Angel being a Mayan and extremely attractive made other girls jealous of you and disrespectful. Early on you used to jack them up, but eventually you learned to ignore them especially since Angel proved he only had eyes for you.

“Don’t do my friend like that! Remember Vegas, Y/N?” Mimi came to your defense.

As you remembered that weekend, a smile crept on your face. That was one wild ass weekend.

“What happened in Vegas,” EZ asked, noticing your smile.

“Old same old same old,” Mimi answered. “Partying, drinking, gambling. But then we got invited to this sex club and Ms. Thang over there had sex with a pornstar.”

All the men in the room were interested now. It was no secret that you were wild child, but they didn’t expect that.

“Who was she?” Eagerness laced Angel’s voice.

You were about to lie. Angel didn’t need to know all the sordid details, but Mimi had to open her big mouth. “She?! No, she got to fuck the Manuel Ferrera.”

Desperately, you tried to get Mimi to shut up, but she wouldn’t. “Remember he said you were the best he ever had? Didn’t he get your number?” You confirmed her guess with a slight nod. “My girl got the shit that yanks!” Mimi bragged as if she was talking about herself.

At this point you could’ve burst into flames by how hot your face was. You could feel Angel staring holes in your head and the bemused faces on the other Mayans didn’t help.

“He was aight. Nothing to write home about.” You tried to calm the storm brewing in Angel, but once again Hurricane Mimi blew in.

“Just okay?! Girl, you couldn’t shut up about the dick the whole way home! Best dick of your life! Didn’t you cal-” Mimi was about to go on, but she finally caught the look on your face. “Um, I think I heard a customer,” Mimi pointed to the stairs. “Imma catch you later.”

“Best dick of your life, huh?” Coco took a drag of his cigarette and smirked. He loved giving you shit.

Angel looked at you expectantly, but you kept your mouth shut. This was a discussion better for home.

“Okay, then.” Angel spoke to himself then threw you over his shoulder. “Let’s see if he’s still the best.”

An inhuman screech came out your mouth as you called Angel’s name. “You can’t do this here! Vicki has money to make, she can’t be wasting it on us!”

Gilly pulled out his wallet and gave Vicki a couple of hundreds, for which Angel thanked him and promised to pay him back.

“Fuck you, Gilly!” You double flipped off said man as Angel went up the stairs.

Gilly toasted his beer to you. “Looks like Angel already about to beat me to the punch!”

An eruption of laughter broke out as Angel continued up the stairs. On the first try, he found an empty bedroom and threw you on the bed.

“Aw c’mon Angel, you can’t be that upset about a guy I messed around with before you. Anyway, I’m the one who should be upset. You’re the one at a brothel!”

“We’re checking on Creep.” Angel began undressing himself. He knew your brain always short-circuits when he takes off his clothes.

“Well, he uh he looks fine to me. Let’s finish this at home.” Angel pulled you off the bed and stood behind you. You could feel his hardened length against your back.

His fingers expertly unbuttoned your jeans and he went straight for your clit, rubbing small circles. “Angel,” you cried out in ecstasy.

Licking your hand, you reached behind you and started stroking Angel. “Fuck, querida.” Angel groaned, leaning his head back. “See, you don’t wanna stop, sweetheart. I think you wanna show that little puta down there that you can more than enough please your man.”

“5 minutes.”

“I knew your ego couldn’t handle being challenged.” Angel undressed you and pushed you back to the bed. “Would you have even agreed if she didn’t run her mouth?”

“I’ll never tell.” You pretended to zip up your mouth and throw away the key, but Angel knew exactly how to get you to open your mouth. Without warning he slid into you and the both of you moaned.

Angel leaned in closer to you. “Shit, Y/N, it may be less than five minutes by the way you’re gripping me.” His pace started off slow, but he couldn’t help to pick it up. When y’all got home, Angel planned to take his time, explore your body, tease you, and slowly make love to you, but right now wasn’t the time. He had a point to prove. You had a point to prove.

“Whose pretty pussy is this?” Angel slipped his hand between the two of you and rubbed on your clit.

“Yours,” you whimpered against Angel’s lips.

“Mmm, that wasn’t loud enough. Try again.” Angel pushed your legs back until your ankles were by your ears.

His dick went deeper than before, so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. “It’s yours,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, your nails marking up his back.

“Damn right, mi dulce! I better not hear about that man ever again; do you understand me?”

You brought your lips up to Angel. “Yes, now make me cum!” You ordered against his ears.

Angel smiled against your cheek and gave you a sweet kiss. “Yes ma’am.” But that kiss was completely different by the way he was pounding into you. Angel’s thrusts were becoming erratic, letting you know he would be coming right along with you.

Soon, the both of you were yelling out each other’s name in euphoria with a string of curse words followed by some heavy panting and a little laughter at the current situation you were in.

Finally dressed, you checked yourself in the mirror to make sure that nothing was out of place. “Angel, I swear if you sweated out my blowout, you’re paying for the next one.” You tried your best to slick down some of your fly-aways.

Angel buckled up his belt as he came to stand behind you. “I told you not to get it, but no you just had to. I should let your little spoiled ass look crazy.”

Facing him with a mega-watt smile you slid your arms around his waist. “So, that means you’ll get it?”

Rolling his eyes, Angel to agree to paying for the next blowout. “Spoiled ass,” he mumbled when y’all exited the room.

Another door opened as soon as y’alls did, revealing an old white guy with thinning hair and beer belly. “How much for her?” He asked, his eyes unashamedly raking over your body. In no time, Angel pulled out his gun and told the disgusting man that you weren’t for sell, making the dude scurry back into his room.

As the two you were laughing down the stairs, you heard Kyle tell Lance she wanted a divorce. “What? What do you mean you want a divorce? Just because you heard your sister get fucked like the biker whore she is, you want to leave me? Me? Pathetic.” Venom was dripping from Lance’s tongue and you were about to knock him out like you did the first time you found out he cheated on Kyle, but Angel stopped you.

All of the Mayans perked up and immediately were on the defense. “Watch your mouth before we have to do something about it.” Bishop ordered the prick. Lance may be oblivious and unappreciative, but he wasn’t a total idiot. In a hurry, he left Vicki’s before he got his ass beat.

It was quiet for a little bit after Lance left in a rush until you spoke up. “So, all I had to do was let you listen to me have sex and that’s what would’ve got you to leave his lame ass?! Bitch I would’ve done that a long time ago!”

Kyle waved off your silliness even if it was true. Albeit repulsive to hear her baby sister to get her back broke, it awakened something in her. Never in her entire ten years with Lance had she known pleasure like that. And then to see Angel doting on you just after it sounded like y’all have the nastiest sex made her want more.

“First order of business: get you some new dick! Gilly? EZ? Coco?” You were arranging the men like a buffet table. EZ was mortified, Gilly had the sense to pretend to, and Coco looked like he was up for game.

“Y/N,” she sighed at your fast attempt to get her a rebound. “Not now. Anyway, can I drive your car back home? I planned on riding back with Lance, but that’s obviously not happening.”

Angel dug in your back pocket and threw the keys to Kyle. “Here you go. I’ll get her home safely.” You gave Kyle a hug goodbye and you promised to bust Lance’s kneecaps if he tried to do any fuck shit.

For a couple of more minutes you and Angel stay behind to check on Creep and say your goodbyes. When you hugged Mimi, the snooty blonde was near her and she still seemed pissed off that you managed to bag Angel. “Next time,” you fluffed her hair ad if you were friends. “Try another bitch because I’m not the one, two, or three.” You patted her shoulders and gave her ‘I’ll kill you bitch’ smile.

Angel started to guide you towards the door before you can do any damage to the girl. Once you got to the front door threshold you stopped and turned to the girl. “Oh, if what you heard earlier wasn’t proof that my shit yanks, maybe I’ll invite you to watch and you may get some pointers.” You stuck out your tongue and twerked on Angel to the music in your head.

Mimi pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you and screamed, “HELL MOTHERFUCKIN’ YEAH! MY GIRL SHIT YANKS!” Everyone either shook their head at your antics or broke out in laughter, except stanky ass attitude girl.

Now Angel needed to get you home asap. He smacked your ass to push you out the door. “Yo, you into that exhibitionism shit?” By the way he asked and the look on his face, you knew he was hoping for a yes.

“Only if you also allow another man to watch.”

“Fuck no!” Angel strapped in your helmet a little too tight due to his little outburst of jealous.  You cackled as you hopped on the back of bike. Bet, he won’t ask another stupid question like that again.

Tagging: @marvelmaree​ @titty-teetee​ @thickemadame​ @cocooned-butterfly​ @ladydragonpurplefire​ @mrsamaroevans​ @sparklemichele​ @briannab1234​

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a special shipment for Valentine's Day that is about the wedding of bloom and valtor and their married life, I would appreciate it very much, I hope I will not be a bother, thank you. ps: I love your writing bye.

First of all, of course you can have special shipment for valentine's day that is about the wedding of Bloom and Valtor and their married life.

Secondly, thank you so much for your kind words. You guys can't even believe how much your encouragement means to me.

Thirdly, I have like 5 more requests sitting in my inbox but please be patient, i promise to get to them as soon as possible. School is sitting on my chest currently. They will be done, the only question is when will I find the necessary time to do them.

Ok so without further ado, here we go. I decided to do this headcanon style, but if you guys want full fledged wedding or married life ff, just send in a request and it'll be done (eventually).

Sparxshipping wedding/married life headcanons (valentine's day special)

Engagement

Weirdly enough, it took place on Earth instead of Domino. Valtor organized an incredible evening in a rather nice restaurant, invited both of her families and all of her closest friends, Winx and specialists, including Sky (Bloom remained on friendly terms with the guy after the break up). The plot twist, he never told anyone he planned to propose. His manners and etiquette threatened to kick him in the ass for not asking Oritel for his permission to marry his daughter, but he had a hunch his future father in law would say "No." and that would do more harm than good in the future. Mike was more fond of him, especially when he noticed his rival (Oritel seemed to have the habit of making people dislike him) hated the magician with passion.

Valtor picked out the ring months before and he was just waiting for the perfect moment to present his beloved with it. The perfect moment seemed to strike when Bloom said one evening she always wanted to get all her friends and both of her families together on one big dinner in some nice Earth restaurant so they can all just chill for one night (she wanted to show her birth parents the planet she grew up on and she also wanted it to have a symbolic meeting for all of her friends). So when the opportunity struck, Valtor took it and wouldn't let go. Bloom protested to him organizing and paying for dinner she wanted but he had none of it and simply told her to 'relax and leave it all in his capable hands'.

All of Bloom's friends accepted the call immediately but Oritel made Valtor sweat for a few days before even he succumbed to his daughter's invitation (also, he suspected Marion had her fingers in tipping the king over the edge because if Valtor learned anything while he worked in the palace 20+ years ago, it was that Marion, despite her innocent looking facade, was quite the blackmailer and if he deduced correctly, she wore the pants in that household).

He was not nervous for a moment while he planned the whole thing even though he expected it at least on some level. But nothing could've prepared him for that moment when the dinner was done and they all stood up to leave the restaurant. The minutes were agonizing for him and despite everything he started second guessing his decision. It took all of his self control not to chicken out.

As it turned out, he had nothing to be anxious about, because as soon as he dropped to one knee, Oritel made an inhuman sound in the background, and popped the question while presenting Bloom with the ring, she threw herself on him and screamed 'YES!" in his ear. He could vaguely hear her friends screaming from excitement and happiness, that was mostly Stella, and one not so very happy voice saying "God damnit NO!", but he paid them no attention as his shaky fingers slipped the ring on Bloom's equally shaky hands. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him while happy tears streamed down her face.

Wedding

The newly engaged couple was in no hurry to tie to knot and that seemed to displease everyone, mainly Stella because she wanted to go shopping for wedding dresses and bridesmaids dress (not that she needed the excuse to go shopping but 'Guysssss, this is special!'), but Oritel. As far as Valtor managed to catch, he was persistent in making his daughter change his mind about marrying Valtor. Then, overnight it seemed to him, Oritel started being more friendly and willing to spend some time with Valtor to 'get to know him'. He didn't understand the sudden shift in the beginning, but when his fiance took time to explain she threatened to burn all the expensive curtains in the palace if the king doesn't start minding his own business, everything fell into place.

The wedding preparations took over a month when they actually started planning, which was well over two years after the engagement but they figured, if they waited this long, they can wait a bit longer too. It was decided that the wedding will take place on Andros where their first official meeting happened, on a Colosseum he created to save her life when Icy's ice block knocked her unconscious into the water. Flora offered the help with the decorations, Stella dragged Bloom dress shopping and Musa and the rest of the fairies took care of other essentials in consultation with the wedding planner Bloom and Valtor personally picked out.

Despite the fact they already live together, they decided to somewhat respect the tradition and spent the night before the wedding separately. This was partially done to make Oritel a bit more docile at their wedding and to honor the tradition of groom not seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding. They both had difficulty with that as was evident when neither of them could sleep that night, their bodies and fire inside too accustomed to the other being near. Bloom spent the night on Domino and Valtor went back to Alfea. The parting kiss the two shared had to be interrupted by Marion and Vanessa, so neither Oritel nor Mike came out to see what's taking their daughter so long to say goodbye, before it turned into a heavy makeout session. The two had to be almost hauled apart, Marion and Vanessa holding Bloom as Daphne took Valtor by the collar of his shirt and dragged him away to Alfea.

The morning brought no relief however because Valtor was too busy lowkey freaking out and Bloom herself couldn't stop rushing around the palace to fetch stuff she needed despite the fact maids could bring it to her. Valtor's mental breakdown was stopped by Andy, his best man weirdly enough (they got really friendly after the whole Earth mission and black circle fiasco. There was originally a bit of jealousy on Valtor's part because Bloom seemed to really like Andy and it reached the peak when he found out they dated back in the day. But Andy's quirky personality and unending questioning about magic really brought them closer together and helped Valtor realize, Andy is one of the best humans to have around).

Bloom got her fair share of support from Stella, who even threatened to slap her friend on the wrist for not sleeping, but sympathy shone in her eyes when Bloom told her she couldn't sleep because Valtor wasn't there. She also made a quite inappropriate joke in a very inappropriate time just as her parents, both pairs, entered a room. "So you couldn't sleep because Valtor isn't here or was it the exercise that is done primarily beneath the sheets that you missed?" Oritel gripped the door frame so hard Bloom though she even heard it crack. Bloom blushed like a tomato and gritted her friend's name through her teeth but luckily blonde took the hint and shut her mouth.

As the wedding approached, Valtor got even more fidgety but tried to fight it because he knew in just a few short hours, Bloom will be his forever. All that time, Andy stood on the side and quietly laughed at the man and a friend he always associated with being stoic and good with covering up his emotions. He would've never thought Valtor of all people would succumb to something as trivial as wedding jitters.

When Bloom and her family, together with Stella arrived on Andros, guests and everybody else were moved to the place of ceremony, only Oritel and Mike remaining with her. Bloom decided she wanted to have both of her dads give her away at her wedding day. The tricky part was getting them to get along because Oritel wanted to be the one to give her away ("I'm her father, damn it! Why should I share my right to give away MY daughter on her wedding day?" "Oh please, you royal ass, you don't even like that lad she's marrying! Think of me as a supervisor that makes sure overprotective father of a bride doesn't actually STEAL his daughter so she can't marry!" "I'm the KING! I don't need supervision!" "If both of you don't SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY I'm going to walk down that isle alone." That phrase spoken by Bloom shut them up and the two, although with big frowns on their faces, reluctantly agreed)

Valtor's breath got stuck in his throat when he saw Bloom first time in a wedding dress. The dress had thin straps holding and supporting the dress on her delicate shoulders as the flowy lacy dress sat on her tiny frame perfectly. He saw her stop for a second as she took him in for the first time as well in a burgundy suit with a purple tie and handkerchief of the same color. He didn't even notice as both of Bloom's fathers kept shooting each other looks over their daughter's head during the walk. He only saw Bloom. He woke up from his daydream when Bloom's small delicate hand was placed in his by two larger hands, one belonging to Mike, other to Oritel. He nodded to both of them and gripped her hand like it's his lifeline.

The wedding officiate was saying some nonsense that Valtor didn't listen until it was time to exchange the rings and swear to each other for all eternity. When the ring exchange was done, when all that needed to be said was said and the famous, long awaited words "You may kiss the bride." were spoken Valtor finally relaxed and leaned down to kiss his wife for the first time. The crowd went wild, Stella screamed and Oritel almost fainted, Mike and Vanessa were seen wiping the tears from their eyes. Overall, the wedding was a success.

Roxy, to Andy's big surprise and delight, caught the bouquet. The three story cake was cut and smeared all over newly weds faces. Congratulations were proclaimed and a lot of kisses were shared. A carriage with unicorns, similar to the one on Daphne's wedding got rolled in the moment Bloom and Valtor's feet touched the solid ground. Bloom couldn't contain her excitement and she rounded straight to the unicorns while the guests and her husband said the last goodbye for at least a month. She was shaken out of her trance when Valtor grabbed her hand and then lifted her bridal style into his arms and stepped into the carriage with her in his arms. The couple waved to the crowd beneath and shared a kiss before the carriage disappeared into the portal.

Married life

They spent their honeymoon gallivanting around different worlds but they remained mostly on Earth. They both preferred warmer locations, so tropical resorts were where they chose to spend their honeymoon in. Bloom actually had no involvement in planning of the honeymoon so she was so pleasantly surprised when the portal opened on Maldives and she was greeted by a sight of turquoise water and small but fancy apartments built on water. For someone who seems to spit on a traditional views more than he follows them, she was surprised how many superficial, at least in his opinion, customs Valtor followed for her. Aside from deciding not to see her before the wedding as mentioned before, he also insisted on carrying her over the doorstep.

They spent the whole month without phones and annoying phonecalls from Stella, one of the main reasons why they chose not to bring anything but the emergency bracelet which can be used to contact either party only in a case of an emergency. They had to explain to Stella that new dress in Vogue was not an emergency and therefore, the bracelet was given to Techna because she was the only one they trusted not to abuse the right to call.

When they finally returned from honeymoon, and after they spent good hour and a half convincing Oritel Bloom's not pregnant, a joint decision was made that the newlyweds will be given the keys to the separate wing of the castle where their privacy was guaranteed (yeah right, as if Valtor will get anything even resembling privacy with Bloom while Oritel's around).

Their married life wasn't too different from their normal life. Valtor would wake up first most of the time and would make breakfast for Bloom. Bloom would sleep in most of the time when she didn't have to go anywhere and Valtor would sometimes have to use drastic measures to get her out of bed.

They shower together because 'it saves water', oh wait that was the excuse they used before they were married. Now they shower together because they're married and what they do doesn't concern anyone.

Life in the castle had some advantages but they'll be damned if it didn't have it's fair share of disadvantages as well. The biggest one being, well, Oritel. There were a few times they were almost caught in a compromising situation but somehow they always managed to avoid the full blast. They both knew it was only the matter of time however. Valtor was even tempted to leave the doors unlocked just so Oritel would get what he came to see and hopefully gauge his eyes out so he could longer disturb them. Bloom swatted him over the head for that one.

They both made an appointment not to sacrifice their friendships just because they're married so Winx were guests quite often.

Valtor still decided to teach in Alfea when it was absolutely necessary and when Faragonda asked him nicely few days in advance if he would be willing to teach the class. Bloom would sometimes sneak into the class as well and sit in the back. She would even take notes from time to time.

They would practice magic quite often together in the backyard of the castle that was customized for such situations. But their favorite place in the whole castle was Valtor's office/library where they could both spend hours in, while just reading books and drinking tea.

[justakpopfic]

On the Final New Moon-chapter 3

Summary: You learn more about Seonghwa...

Genre: demon!au, angst? Suggestive?? Idk anymore but Seonghwa’s a demon.

Masterlist / Next

~~~

The next day with Seonghwa being the new king of your kingdom was harder than expected. You had cried yourself to sleep last night, not being able to accept the fact that your parents were dead, and all of the workers whom you have been familiar with were most likely dead as well.

But as much as the grief stung, you used it as motivation to stop Seonghwa from hurting anyone else.

You woke up late that morning, the sun had risen a while ago. You changed out of your nightgown into a comfortable blue dress, and brushed you tangled hair. You grabbed the book of prophecies, out of habit more than anything, since it was now virtually useless. Still, you took it with you to the library.

The library was full of books ranging from kingdom records to fairy tales you used to read to yourself as a child. Upon entering it, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Nothing had changed. At least, not yet. You walked over to the large armchair near the records. Before sitting down, you grabbed a bunch of books ranging from birth records centuries ago and the kingdom’s laws.

You had two goals today. One: learn about this prophet Yunho that Seonghwa had told you about. And two: find the laws regarding crowning someone ruler of the kingdom.

You decided to start with the coronation laws, since those were the easiest. You had read these books hundreds of times in your studies, so you already knew where it was. The smell of aging parchment greeted your nose as you opened the book.

After minutes of browsing, you found it. Laws regarding crowning a ruler.

Sure enough, it had to be passed down by blood. Someone outside of the royal family couldn’t take the throne if there is still a royal member alive. Of course, there were exceptions for specific cases, for example, if the royal member was too young, then someone trusted would temporarily take up the post.

But if every royal member died, then the throne becomes a free for all to everyone in the world. It was then that it hit you, you were the last standing royal member.

Your parents were both only children, so you had no aunts, uncles, or cousins. And you were an only child, you were the only person left in your bloodline who is able to take the throne back.

“No pressure,” you told yourself. You found a bookmark so that you wouldn’t loose your place. You wouldn’t be a threat to Seonghwa right now, as you were still young. But he might have a plan to get rid of you when you get older. You’ll have to kill him soon, but not right away.

You groaned inwardly. Waiting until you were old enough to take the throne before killing Seonghwa would be the best route. If he wasn’t a powerful demon king. And smart, he most likely knows what you were planning.

You sighed. It was only morning but you already felt tired. And it was only going to get worse. You picked up the citizenship records from a century ago. It was time to find this Yunho.

You had no idea when you fell asleep. All you knew was that someone was shaking you awake gently. For a moment, you thought it was your mother, but you knew it couldn’t be her, because she never woke you up once in your life.

You opened your eyes to a pair of red ones. You didn’t react in fear, Seonghwa’s presence was all too normal for you not. Still, you pushed him away as you sat up and stretched.

“Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty,” Seonghwa teased.

“Shut up,” you said. “What do you want?”

You swore you saw Seonghwa pout. He moved to stand in front of you. He wore a red collared shirt with black pants. Fitting for a demon king.

“I wanted to make sure that you ate today,” Seonghwa said. “After all, humans need to eat, don’t they?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Oh, good. You’ll get a meal soon. My servants are making themselves comfortable here.”

“What?” You stood up from your seat, the book falling to the ground. “What do you mean servants?”

Seonghwa smirked. “I got rid of all your human ones, and I’m replacing them with my own. They’re situating themselves here was we speak. My personal servant is already here.”

Seonghwa turned to where the door to the library was. He spoke something in that haunting demonic language of his. A short man walked up, with pure white hair. He came and stood next to Seonghwa.

“Princess y/n,” Seonghwa said. “This is my personal servant, Hongjoong. He will be in charge for all of your personal needs.”

Hongjoong bowed down. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my princess,” he said.

“What about you?” You asked, confused.

“I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Hongjoong is a very good servant, he’ll be able to take care of the both of us.”

“Okay, then.”

“You must be hungry, princess,” Hongjoong said. “Come, let’s get you some food.”

You didn’t want to go with them. You didn’t trust them at all. But your hunger overpowered your distrust, so you followed the two demons down to the kitchens.

You wiped your face with a napkin before placing it down next to your empty plate. You had no idea how, but somehow Hongjoong had managed to make the most delicious meal you have ever tasted.

Looking up from your plate, you saw Seonghwa sitting across from you, staring you down. You shuddered. You were so engrossed with the food, you had forgotten that Seonghwa was there. And after a quick look around the kitchen, it seemed that Hongjoong had left while you were eating, and you hadn’t noticed.

Seonghwa said nothing nor did anything. You avoided his gaze, the silence in the room suffocating you.

“So,” you said, your voice quiet. “I’m guessing demons don’t need to eat?”

“Not human food,” Seonghwa said, resting a hand on his cheek. “In the underworld, we need to eat food. But in the human realm, we basically become immortal. If we die, we return to the underworld, and can return here as we please. Well, depending on your status.”

“Status?” You asked. “You mean that even demons have statuses?”

“Correct,” Seonghwa smirked. “The higher your status, the easier it is to access a portal to the human realm. The lowest cannot access a portal on their own, they need a higher demon to do it. Unfortunately, most of them don’t care about beings lesser than them.”

“That’s not surprising,” you said. You stood up, picking up your plate and silverware with you. You had intended to put your dishes away, but it had just occurred to you that you had no idea where they should go.

“I’ll take those, princess,” Seonghwa said, standing up. He took the plate out of your hands, his fingers brushing yours. They were warm. He walked over to the sink and placed them inside.

“Is that where they go?” You asked.

“For now,” Seonghwa said. “But you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head over it. My servants shall take care of it.”

“Where are they?”

Seonghwa sighed. “Probably slacking off. Come, princess. We need to find them. I’m sure they’ll pretend that they’re lost as an excuse. A weak one, that is. My castle in the underworld is so much larger than this one.”

You followed Seonghwa out of the kitchens. “You must think you’re so much more powerful than me,” you said mockingly.

Seonghwa chuckled. It was low and sinister. He looked back at you, his red eyes seemingly glowing. “Oh, princess. I am more powerful than you. I could destroy you in under a second.”

“Then why don’t you?” You asked. “It’s not like you need me.”

The glow left Seonghwa’s eyes and cheeks. His face was pale, inhuman. His smile disappeared. “It’s complicated,” he said.

You both walked out into an empty hallway, your steps echoing. “I have time,” you said, curiosity growing inside you.

Seonghwa glanced at you. It was neither dark nor light. More hesitant in a way.

“I’m not sure where to start,” he said. “The most simple reason I can give you is that you are not a threat to me. So why waste my time in killing you?”

“I may not be a threat to you now,” you said. “But I will in the future. I’ll be old enough to take the throne, and you will have a challenger to the crown.”

Seonghwa smiled his sinister smile. You were beginning to get used to it. “You’re not going to give up that easily, aren’t you?” He said.

“Of course not.”

Seonghwa stopped, causing you to stop as well. He turned, facing you, taking a step forward until you backed yourself the wall. You felt so tiny in his gaze. His sharp, yet handsome gaze.

“Why do you want the throne so badly?” Seonghwa asked. His deep voice distracted you. For a moment your mind was preoccupied with different thoughts.

You blinked. “It is my duty as princess to protect the land and it’s people,” you answered.

Seonghwa smirked. “Wow,” he said sarcastically. “Where have I heard that before?”

“Are you-“

“Yes, darling. I am mocking you.”

You stared at the floor. Looking at his face became too much for you. “Don’t call me darling.”

“Why do you want to protect these people?” Seonghwa asked, ignoring your request.

You opened your mouth, before closing it. “I...don’t...know,” you said with surprise. You truly didn’t know. It was just what you were told to feel ever since you were young. But how much of it was real?

Seonghwa came closer, his taller body barely an inch away from yours. Your back pressed against the wall, you peered up at those vibrant eyes. He stared at you, saying nothing. His breaths seemed to grow deeper, as if he was trying to control himself. Your mind betrayed you, dreaming sinful thoughts about him and his body, and the things that it could do...

Stop it, you scolded yourself. He is a demon. He is not good news. But your mind ignored it, enjoying the warm feeling that his body’s close proximity made you feel.

Seonghwa’s silky voice drifted into your ears. “I have many more reasons to keep you alive,” Seonghwa said. “And one of them is for you to decide whether you truly want to be a princess, and in the future, queen.”

You nodded to give the illusion that you understood, but your body was warm and feverish. Seonghwa smiled, having to force himself to step away from you.

“Just some food for thought,” Seonghwa said. His voice deepened. “Darling.”

And with that, he walked away.

~~~

Tag list: @teeztheflag @palesans

[saphyhowl]

Mischief Chaper two-Master & student

Warning: the MC has rather cruel intentions at some point, while there is no obvious violence there is a description of ill intent towards another person. Please be careful, because it could be triggering.

Chapter one here & let me know if you want to be tagged :)

Learning from Mitsuhide was much more exciting than I had anticipated. The history lessons were interesting, but nothing was as thrilling that the relationship that had sprouted from our long days spent together. It was no friendly relationship. Somehow, we became allies in mischief. It all started with small lies and meaningless teasing. Neither of us would have suspected that it would bring us closer.

It was a normal day, without much happening out of the ordinary. Hideyoshi walked past me in a hurry and then walked back to face me.

“Do you know where Mitsuhide is? I swear if I find him I will show no restrain,”

I shook my head feigning concern. I did see Mitsuhide passing by the same corridor a few minutes before Hideyoshi arrived.

“While I do understand you want to knock some common sense into that scheming head of his, I fear there is a much more urgent matter at hand,” I answered.

Hideyoshi’s angry expression switched to full concern.

“I only heard bits of conversation, but I think it involved Ieyasu and Mitsunari. I also heard the word sword and lesson,” I trailed off.

“What are they up to again?” Hideyoshi muttered as he left to find Ieyasu and Mitsunari.

“Oh, and Hideyoshi, I thought I heard Masamune would be present as well, as a… What did they call it? Supervisor, could that be it?” I added.

However, I doubted Hideyoshi heard everything. The moment he heard the name Masamune, his pace quickened. Silence returned in the empty corridor and I resumed my cleaning session. I heard the rustle of clothes behind me.

“My my, I never thought you would be such a well-trained liar. A peculiar skill for a shaman is it not?” Mitsuhide appeared behind me.

“I learned from the best. Also, I could not risk losing such a skilled teacher. You have yet to teach me so much Mitsuhide,” I answered with a wicked smile.

Mitsuhide said nothing. He only returned me the same impish smile.

 The next day, I was free to do what I please. Oh, the joy of a day off! While I could hone my teasing skills, there was no fun doing so if Mitsuhide was not there to witness or assist me. I walked aimlessly and heard some servants’ gossip. It was about a prisoner, who was suspect to have caused the incident at Honno-Ji. He still had not spoken yet. I left the maids to their gossiping and slid out of the main building. I swiftly made my way towards the prison. I had tucked a few rice balls in my sleeve. Now I only had to trick the guards.

“You are not allowed to enter!” the guards repeated, even after I had tried to convince them I had a shaman duty to fulfill.

“Then I have failed Mitsuhide,” I sighed, “What will he do to me? Crossing Mitsuhide is as if having a death wish. Last time I returned empty-handed… No, I cannot tell you what happened.”

I closed my eyes and exaggerated a bit the shaking of my hands. The guards glanced at each other and then looked back at me.

“5 minutes!” One of the guards said as they both stepped aside to let me pass.

“You are too kind. I’ll make sure to sneak you something tasty from the kitchen for your night shift,” I answered as I bowed to them. I beamed at them with the most innocent smile I could manage.

A wretched smell filled my nose, the temperature dropped as I got deeper into the prison. Some prisoners stretched out their hands towards me, clinging onto my clothes. Some others shouted. I pushed on until I found the one prisoner I intended to use for my benefit.

I was not keen on torture. I preferred mind games, less harmful and surely less messy.

“Who are you?” the prisoner asked.

“A shaman. I am here to warn you. I had an auspicious dream about you,” I explained.

“You were sent by them to seduce me,” the prisoner interrupted.

“No, I have better taste.” I snapped back, “I came here to warn you. You see, my dreams have a way of telling what may happen,” I continued looking at the prisoner intently.

I saw how his resolve flickered, it was just for the split of a second, but I knew my words had revived his hope to escape. The more the hope grew in his gaze, the crueler my intent became. But the law of this world is cruel. It is either me or him. To win their trust I have to show them that I am as capable of being monstrous as they are, if not with weapons then with my wits.

“Prisoners like us must have each other’s back,” I whispered offering him my most heartfelt smile.

The man smiled back, the warmth in his expression reminded how inhuman I was slowly becoming. I will never forget how my fakeness gave him a last moment of solace.

“Tell me your dream. Maybe we can find a way to save us both,” he said as he crawled nearer.

“First, I must know where your loyalty lies. I have already risked too much by coming here,”

The prisoner’s lips quivered. I needed more effort to loosen his tongue. I reached for the rice balls and placed them in his hands with a compassionate smile.

“Trust me, how could a shaman ever be loyal to a demon, hm?” I asked as I tilted my head.

The prisoner ate the food with such a voracity, I am sure he did not notice the strange after taste. He whipped his mouth and then told me to come closer and so I did. The name of his master flowed out of his mouth. All the details he spilled I absorbed them. The more he talked, the more difficult and strained his voice became.

I stood up before he was done. I bowed politely as his unconscious body fell to the ground. No, I did not kill him. He may sleep for a while and forget he just sealed his fate with that loose tongue of his. I left the prison with a skip in my steps. Little did I know, my mischief did not go unnoticed.

I went back to my room to gather a few books I needed to return to Mitsunari. On my way,I met Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi. They were talking in what I found a rather surprisingly civil way, no teasing and no threats. Hideyoshi caught sight of me.

“There has been an incident. I would rather you stayed in your room until we find the culprit,” Hideyoshi explained.

My eyes went wide.

“What happened?” I asked.

Mitsuhide interrupted us. While he wore his usual unreadable mask, I noticed the tension in his voice.

“I see you have some books. You’re on your way to see Mitsunari, I suppose. Stay with him until I get you. I will make sure my precious student is not left unguarded until we resolve this mild incident,”

Hideyoshi objected but Mitsuhide gently pushed me passed them to get me on my way. Soon, I was sitting with Mitsunari, reading to pass the time. I must have dozed off at some point, because when my eyes opened someone was carrying me. I wriggled a little and noticed that Mitsuhide had indeed come to pick me up, literally.

“My dear, for such a wicked creature you sure sleep peacefully,” 

Mitsuhide’s breathe tickled my ear as he whispered to me. I peered at him innocently. But his expression made it very clear that my act had no effect on him. 

“How much do you know?” I asked.

“Everything. You have some explaining to do,” Mitsuhide said as he walked towards my room.

[cheshiresense]

Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

1. It’s not usually done, he’s technically dead now (but not a Shinigami, not a Quincy, not a Hollow, and not even a Human anymore), but he has a lot of support from a lot of people - Kisuke has no qualms crafting him a gigai that would allow him to draw his blade even without stepping out of it, and Kyouraku basically gives him free run of Soul Society after they hammer out what Ichigo is supposed to do there considering he’s now stronger than the entire Gotei combined but also he’s technically only eighteen years old.

(It would be scarier, Kyouraku thinks, if Ichigo’s moral fibre hadn’t already proven itself superior.)

In the end, they settle it like this - Ichigo attends the Academy part-time for all the lessons Kisuke and Yoruichi and Shinji never bothered hammering into him because it was never important to the war, attends university in the human world, and the rest of his time is his do with as he pleases, whether that’s taking missions directly from Kyouraku, visiting with his friends in various squads and being roped into doing paperwork, or digging up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork (”Please don’t dig up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork for at least a month, Ichigo-kun. One month, you hear? We still haven’t finished cleanup from the last one.”).

Because it’s Ichigo, it works. it’s not like he wasn’t already coming and going from Soul Society when he was still human. The Shinigami have let him get away with far too much already to put restrictions on him now, especially considering he’s saved all their asses twice over now, and that’s not even counting all the trouble in-between. If there are some who complain, well, there are even more who are capable of making sure nothing ever comes of it.

So okay, no rebel faction, no secret invasion, but Ichigo’s not Ichigo without something to work towards, and he’s always wondered why the Shinigami side of his family was slumming it out in Rukongai when they’re supposed to be nobility like Byakuya and Yoruichi. The answer is simple enough - Aizen had mind-whammied everyone after Isshin ran off and fabricated a coup that resulted in assassinations courtesy of the Second Division before the remaining Shibas were ousted from Seireitei overnight.

(It was only too easy for Aizen to make them believe it.Nobody ever questioned whether or not the Shibas could. They had the power. They just never had the ambition, which nobody could understand.)

No way is Ichigo going to take that lying down. So he goes and yells at Kyouraku, who says it’s complicated and would take time, but Ichigo reminds him of the Visored and Kisuke and Yoruichi and Tessai, all let back in in the wake of the Winter War. If they could be pardoned, and rightfully so, why can’t the Shibas too?

“I’m not saying they can’t forever, Ichigo-kun,” Kyouraku says placatingly. “But Central 46 will want… assurances-”

“You mean they’re scared to let my family back in cuz they might still be a little bit pissed from having three-quarters of their members murdered in their beds,” Ichigo summarizes flatly.

Kyouraku sighs and gives up all pretenses of a neutral party. “If you have a better idea…” He waves a hand at the general situation, eyes dark and intent on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo snorts and straightens up. “Yeah. It’s called ‘being too strong to fuck with’. The old bastards are in session right now, aren’t they? I’ll be right back.”

One day, Kyouraku muses as he watches Ichigo go, this will probably not work, and it’ll come back to bite them all in the ass. Then again, Central 46 has run Soul Society their way or no one’s way for far too long; Yama-jii had always given them too much power. They’d learned nothing from Aizen, so maybe Ichigo is exactly what they deserve, straightforward and running on emotion, but fair, always, and decent in a way that Kyouraku thinks most of their government has forgotten how to be, if they ever knew to begin with.

One day, even Ichigo’s threats won’t make Central 46 back down. But a god doesn’t bow just because someone demands it, no matter how important they think their bloodline or rank or status is. And Ichigo is probably the closest thing they have to a god these days. A god, with plenty of friends to back him up if he needs it.

So Kyouraku leaves him to it - better Ichigo than him, less headaches in the long run - and he isn’t at all surprised when Ichigo sweeps back into his office five hours later, expression grim but triumphant, reiatsu still writhing like a living shadow around him as he informs Kyouraku that his clan will be needing their old estate back.

Kyouraku pushes over the paperwork he’d completed an hour ago, authorizing the full restoration and compensation of the Shiba Clan. Ichigo smiles at him almost fondly, features only slightly tinted with a banked sort of inhuman rage that he carries around almost constantly these days - it’s three steps left of his cousin’s memory, with Hollow glinting in his eyes and the shade of his ancestor draped across his shoulders. He’s gone again in the next moment, off to tell his family the excellent news, and Kyouraku thinks it was probably a good thing Yama-jii died when he did. However reasonable Ichigo still is, he is no longer that boy with the too-forgiving heart who took the insults they served him with all the doormatted self-sacrifice of a storybook hero.

(He came back from the Soul King Palace equal parts pensive and victorious, with old eyes and reiatsu levels they could no longer sense and a terrifying sort of detachment when he looked at them all. But his friends had fallen on him without care, only relief, and the icy distance in Ichigo’s mien had melted. Kyouraku had understood though, in that moment, that Soul Society would stand only so long as Ichigo allows it.

He likes Ichigo, he genuinely does. Jyuushirou had too. That hadn’t stopped his old friend from attempting to leash him, which had almost backfired in the end and literally only hadn’t out of the goodness of Ichigo’s heart, and it doesn’t stop Kyouraku now from catering to Ichigo’s whims. Only time would tell if this approach will work better or worse than Jyuushirou’s law-abiding one, and in the meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt that Ichigo doesn’t actually want anything Kyouraku doesn’t want to fix anyway. Soul Society has been his home for over nine centuries now. He does not want to see it burn. If that means dragging it kicking and screaming into a new era with a boy their world created to fight their wars for them looking over his shoulder, then Kyouraku will do it gladly.)

It takes almost three months for the Shibas to gather again and move back in. They’d scattered, after their exile, all across Rukongai, but Kuukaku is their head, and Ichigo has single-handedly wrested back their birthright for them, and when both of them call, the rest of the clan answers, trickling in in twos and threes and fours, suspicious and wary and not inclined to trust anyone but their own, but they come, and the first thing they do is raise wards around their home strong enough to withstand a siege from the Royal Guard.

“That’s everyone?” Ichigo asks, looking from the civilians to the once-Shinigami to the children. All in all, they barely make thirty total, and over half of them are from their retainer families.

Kuukaku shrugs tiredly at his side. She’s never looked older than she does now. “You know Isshin’s staying in the Human world for your sisters, but other than that, pretty much. Everyone else is dead.” She pauses. “Well, except one, but I doubt he’ll come. Kaien’s wife’s brother,” She adds for Ichigo’s benefit. “Koyonagi Senzou. He was the Kidou Corps Commander before Tessai, demoted to Academy teacher after some mission the higher-ups covered up. He was the only one the Gotei kept on after we were kicked out. Never found out whether he actually wanted to stay or if Central 46 insisted he stay. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He’s wasted at the Academy, too useful to kill but too dangerous to let out of sight. As far as I know though, he’s still there.”

Ichigo frowns as he digests all this. “And he won’t come by to see you guys?”

Kuukaku shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was never really one of us.”

“Why not?”

Kuukaku shrugs again. “He never wanted to be. I didn’t know him very well, Ichigo, but he loved exactly one person, and she was more or less killed under Kaien’s watch. It wasn’t Nii-san’s fault of course, but she was sent out on a mission given to her by the Thirteenth Division lieutenant, and she never came back. He attended her funeral. That was the last time any of us saw him, although our Shinigami members reported glimpses of him in and around the Academy over the years.”

Ichigo hums. Kuukaku gives him an arch look and then snorts. “Shall I prepare a room for him anyway when I start renovations?”

Ichigo grins at her. “That’d be perfect, Kuukaku, thanks.”

2. Of course Senzou has heard of Kurosaki Ichigo. You’d have to be living under a rock in a cave in a different dimension to not have heard of Soul Society’s God-Slaying Saviour.

And of course he’s a Shiba. That lot always was more trouble than they were worth, too powerful for their own good, and too reckless or too confident or too stupid - Senzou has never really figured out which - to hide it from the world or at least play it down to keep the world from turning on them because of it. No subtlety at all. And look where it got them in the end.

In the aftermath of the Quincy War, he hears of the Shibas’ return to the city, and he can feel the power in the wards they almost immediately erect around their home. For protection, no doubt, because old dogs can learn new tricks after all, but to Senzou, it just looks like a very pretty cage. Why they - or the Visored for that matter - came back to serve the very people who betrayed them in some of the worst ways possible is beyond him.

Not that it makes much of a difference to Senzou. He’d ignored them for decades before their exile; no doubt, he’ll happily ignore them for decades more. They’re related only through an unfortunate marriage, and considering both parties are long dead now, what little obligation he had to them likewise expired years ago.

But, he thinks, as he watches an increasingly familiar head of orange hair slide into his classroom, someone forgot to give that memo to the Shibas’ newest pride and joy. Even Senzou - with expectations that literally no student has ever met - can admit that Kurosaki Ichigo attending Kidou lessons is a complete waste of time. Senzou spends his days teaching idiots the incantations for each of the ninety-nine standard spells, trying not to scratch his own eyes out when he has to grade their papers, and making sure they don’t blow themselves up when they practice producing them. Even the most advanced of the sixth-years can only manage spells in the fifties range, with a fifty-fifty chance of average-at-best success.

Ichigo memorized all the incantations in the first two weeks he was here. His first essay on the use of forbidden Kidou - instead of a regurgitation of laws citing the illegality of them that everyone else turned in - became a dissertation on their pros and cons, arguing that every case in which they’re used should be thoroughly investigated not only by Central 46 but also by a panel of Shinigami, and why the laws against them should be amended to allow for unexpected circumstances. The brat even had the gall to throw in quotes of interviews he’d conducted, and if it had been anyone else claiming to have received firsthand and eye-witness accounts of forbidden Kidou usage from names like Tsukabishi Tessai and Hirako Shinji, Senzou would’ve set them on fire for being such a bad liar. He couldn’t even fail the boy for incomplete research because the books he referenced might not be found in the Academy library but they all had Urahara Kisuke stamped on them.

And his practicals? A high level of reiatsu usually means the caster would have a harder time performing Kidou, especially when they’re first starting out, too much power shoved into the lower-level ones, too little control to hold together the higher-level ones.

Not Kurosaki Ichigo. That boy spent the first week putting holes into everything except his targets, went away for a weekend, and then came back with singed eyebrows and bags under his eyes but a resolute set to his jaw and picture-perfect Kidou at his fingertips. He didn’t even need the incantations anymore. And to make him even more of an anomaly, he could perform spells right up into the nineties. In fact, the higher the difficulty and reiatsu output, the better he was with them.

There is nothing the standard Kidou curriculum from any year can teach him. His learning curve is insane, and his essays read like he’s gearing up to go toe to toe with Central 46, never mind an Academy class.

He doesn’t need to be here. Senzou knows it. The other students know it. And Ichigo most certainly knows it too. And with the special allowances granted by the Soutaichou himself, he doesn’t even need permission to skip. The boy’s been given unprecedented free reign to come and go as he pleases, and yet he comes back, week after week after week. He doesn’t even have the decency to sleep through Senzou’s lectures. He’s a flickering candle in the corner of Senzou’s eye, all flame-bright hair and brown-gold-brown eyes and shadows that won’t stop moving, and that unwavering attention he pins on Senzou every time makes it damn clear exactly what he’s waiting for.

Shibas. No subtlety whatsoever.

The bell rings. Bags are packed. There’s a scramble for the door.

“Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou calls in bored tones without looking away from sadistically adding an extra assignment to the board. If no one notices, that’s their problem. “Stay behind.”

There are some interested whispers and prying eyes, but one glance from Senzou sends them scurrying away. And then Ichigo is there, sauntering up with his perpetual scowl - not at all like Kaien this one. The two are as charismatic as each other, from what Senzou’s observed. But Kaien had people wrapped around his finger because he had a knack for putting them at ease and making them feel special and making himself both approachable and worth looking up to. Ichigo on the other hand scared a lot of people when he first showed up at the Academy with an armful of books and a gruff disposition that didn’t lend itself to making allies, let alone friends. He wasn’t arrogant, just introverted, but it made him the kind of genius that people resented.

And then Senzou caught him in the hallway one day, looming over a mousy-looking fifth-year student huddled on the ground, and at first, he’d thought Kurosaki was bullying her. Everyone’s golden boy, picking on a shrinking violet of a girl. But then Ichigo had stooped down and gathered up all the books spilled across the floor before offering them back to the girl. The girl had still cowered, but she’d accepted them, and when Ichigo reached out and hauled her to her feet, she’d flinched but hadn’t moved away once she was on her feet again and Ichigo had let her go.

Then Ichigo had told her, quite clearly, “Next time someone can’t keep their hands to themselves, break their fucking wrists. Or kick them in the balls. Or tell them to fuck off. Start a scene so they have to stop. Do something. Don’t just fucking stand there.”

And then he’d stormed off, and the girl - Fujiwara, from the Kyouraku family - had stared after him, all baby-duckling wide eyes. And the next time Senzou had happened across her, it was just in time to see her chuck one of her textbooks at the head of one of her bullies. Said bully had staggered back, and then purpled with anger, already moving forward with fists clenched. Half a second later, he was on the ground and wailing from a broken nose, and Ichigo was standing over him, murder glowing gold in his eyes and black reiatsu streaking his hair and pooling at his feet.

Nobody had touched Fujiwara after that, especially since the girl had taken to following Ichigo around. Ichigo had still scowled like no one’s business, he’d also been seen kicking Fujiwara’s ass in one of the training rooms, they studied together in the library, and they ate together in the courtyard when Ichigo happened to stay for that.

And gradually, other students joined in, tentatively, some nervous, some with hero worship in their eyes, all hopeful. Ichigo never turned any of them away, but one day, he started a debate in the library about laws that would take species outside of Shinigami into consideration that ended with raised voices and enthusiastic opinions that got the whole giggling bunch thrown out, and another day, he suggested a free-for-all game of tag where only Kidou could be used to catch each other which ended with everyone sweaty and gasping and wanting another round, and in calmer in-betweens, he answered when the others finally asked him about what Hueco Mundo was like, what the Material world was like, what Arrancar were like, what Humans were like, and he never lost his temper with them even when he had to explain something more than once.

He was still blunt and borderline rude and not at all like Kaien, like a Shiba, not outgoing or friendly or instantly personable. But the charisma was the same, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him, and it took weeks for Senzou to realize he was just as susceptible to it as Ichigo’s growing circle of friends within the Academy. So susceptible he was literally stalking him everywhere just to see what other chaos he was sowing.

That’s probably why he wants the boy gone so badly. He’d sworn he’d never forgive the Shiba Clan for taking his sister away from him, the only leeway they got was that he wouldn’t actively go after them either because Miyako wouldn’t want him to, and it wasn’t as if it was difficult to keep such a vow. He’d never liked the Shibas anyway. When they’d been slaughtered and cast out, and no assassins had shown up at his door in the aftermath, all he’d thought was good riddance.

But Kurosaki Ichigo…

Under any other circumstances, Senzou would be thrilled. Here is a student who challenged the world around him and brought a storm to the Academy.

But this isn’t any other circumstances, and as Ichigo stops in front of his desk, a beast glinting behind his eyes and a dead king’s inheritance pulsing in the shadow splashed at his feet, Senzou meets his gaze and slices a mocking smile in his direction.

“Kurosaki-chan,” He starts, smirk widening when Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch. “The Academy’s star part-time pupil. What exactly are you still doing in my class?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I signed up for it, your lectures aren’t boring, and I’m trying to figure you out.”

Senzou feels his smile grow fixed. “And how is that going for you?”

Ichigo scruffs a hand through his hair, pauses briefly to frown tug at the shoulder-length strands like he wants a haircut, and then shrugs again. “You’re the one following me around all the time, what do you think?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou finally says. For once, he doesn’t feel like weaving his usual mind games. “I don’t know what your clan has told you, but I have no desire to play happy families with them. I know you Shibas tend to be all about bringing family together, but I am not one of you.” His lip curls. “Do not push this issue any further than you have. Am I understood?”

Ichigo cocks his head, something animal in the way he watches Senzou now. “Kuukaku agreed to reserve a room for you at the compound if you ever want it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here for that.”

Senzou’s eyes narrow. “Then what are you here for?” He gives the boy a sardonic look and cuts him off preemptively. “Besides class.”

Ichigo grins, quicksilver bright, and something in Senzou recoils with surprise.

“I don’t really have a plan,” The boy tells him. “But I’m getting my family settled back in, and making sure nobody can fuck with them ever again.” He aims another considering look at Senzou. “If you don’t wanna be all buddy-buddy with them, that’s fine. It’s not any of my business if you wanna hammer your shit out with them or not. But you were connected to them even if you didn’t like it, and that doesn’t change just because that connection’s gone. So I guess what I wanted to figure out was whether or not someone’s fucking with you too.”

Senzou opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. How embarrassing. He settles for a derisive smile that feels a touch too brittle on his face. “I don’t need your protection, God-Slayer.”

Ichigo immediately makes a face. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t say you did. But when I start something, I like to see it through, so I thought I’d check just to be sure.”

Senzou scoffs with disbelief. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Ichigo rolls his eyes like he thinks Senzou’s being dumb on purpose, which is a new experience for Senzou. Usually he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well you didn’t want me to, did you?” Ichigo says, looking exasperated now. “You were curious about me, and all the stalking was recon or whatever.” He levels a thoughtful look on Senzou before snorting with something like amusement. “You are the type. But yeah, anyway, now you know. If you need help, the offer’s open indefinitely. But I’ll stop coming to class if you don’t want me here.”

He trails off, arching an eyebrow in question. When Senzou doesn’t reply, the boy shrugs once more, adjusts the strap of his bag, and turns to leave.

Senzou… Well, he’s pretty much been on the back foot this entire conversation, hasn’t he? There’s something about Ichigo that just… throws him off. It’s frustrating. Unnerving.

And yet… Ichigo didn’t push. Kaien would’ve pushed. The rest of his family would’ve pushed. It’s what Shibas do when they want something - push and push until they get what they want, a single-minded persistence hidden under their signature cheerful geniality that makes the rest of the world believe them to be the nicest clan in all of Soul Society.

Miyako had said no, the first time Kaien had asked to court her. But he’d asked again and again, until she’d said yes, and she’d been happy to, Senzou had made certain of that, she’d been perfectly willing, had found a good man in Kaien and been glad she’d finally given him a chance.

But she’d said no first, and Kaien had pushed, and it just… rubbed Senzou the wrong way. Because once upon a time, Shinigami had plucked them out from Rukongai, dusted them off and provided the training and shuffled them into the military, all expenses paid, but no had never been an option, and that had become all the more true after Miyako became such a public, vulnerable figure, not only Third Seat of the Thirteenth but also wife of a clan head.

When Central 46 had come knocking, interested in Senzou’s prodigal skills with Kidou, they hadn’t even needed to drop Miyako’s name for Senzou to know that saying no then wasn’t an option either. He’d been pushed into their service, and it had taken Miyako’s death for Central 46 to finally leave him alone, solely because he had no one else for them to hold over his head.

It’s not the Shibas’ fault, not really. It’s been long enough that Senzou can admit that, if only to himself. Miyako’s choices were her own, and even if she hadn’t married him, Central 46 probably would’ve found another way to get to him through her. But Senzou has always been petty and vindictive at heart, and he’ll blame the Shibas for the rest of his life, because at the end of the day, they’re just like all the other nobles in this place. What they want, they’ll push until they get, because privilege is in their blood.

So Senzou flounders when Ichigo doesn’t push his advantage. The boy is already halfway to the door, and somehow, Senzou is certain, if he doesn’t say anything now, Ichigo won’t come back. It’s so wildly different from what he’d expected, so unexpectedly not-like-a-Shiba, that he has to fumble for something to say for an unforgivably long moment. Him, fumble. This whole conversation has been one unexpected surprise after another, and later, Senzou will blame the shock for his next decision.

“Wait.”

Ichigo stops and turns back. He doesn’t look surprised, but neither does he look triumphant or even just smug.

Senzou suppresses a grimace. “The school has nothing left to teach you about Kidou.”

Ichigo nods in unabashed agreement.

Senzou snorts softly. “But I do. And I guarantee it won’t bore you.”

Ichigo blinks, and a crooked smile slowly curls at his lips. It doesn’t erase his frown, but it softens his brow and makes his features look less harsh. “You sure you wanna teach me?”

Senzou scoffs and pulls out his chair. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He gives himself a mental shake and drags a grin back onto his face, sharp enough to cut. “Sit your ass down so we can figure out a schedule, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo instantly loses the smile and glowers like a thundercloud. Senzou all but basks in the familiarity of it, inwardly relieved at being back on steadier ground.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”

He probably shouldn’t have offered, should’ve just let him go and good riddance. But Senzou hasn’t been taken so off-guard so quickly in a long time, and it had been frustrating and unnerving but underneath both…

There is a storm waiting on the wings of Seireitei, and Kurosaki Ichigo is the one holding its reins.

And Senzou. Senzou is just curious enough to want to see what that storm will bring.

3. “Did your hair grow three inches over the weekend?” Senzou asks the moment Ichigo walks into one of their weekly lessons.

Ichigo dumps his bag in a chair and scowls at him. His hair has been swept up into a bun, which is certainly a feat considering the last time Senzou saw him three days ago, it had only brushed his shoulders.

“This body is seriously shit at regulating itself,” Ichigo grumbles. “I didn’t have time to go to the barber’s, and Kuukaku threatened to shave me bald if I tried to chop it off with my Zanpakutou again.”

Senzou squints at him. “You realize that’s not normal.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a knife on me, and it was getting in the way, okay? Don’t judge.”

This time, it’s Senzou’s turn to roll his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, Ichi-chan. Shinigami bodies don’t suddenly grow several inches of hair overnight.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ichigo mutters before shaking his head, and Senzou watches as black reiatsu crackles lazily across his shoulders. “I’m just kinda weird. Excess reiatsu plus funky biology apparently means random hair growth and dye jobs.” He shrugs. “Kisuke’s still figuring it out.”

Senzou hums noncommittally. “Urahara Kisuke. Your… mentor?”

Ichigo pulls out the books Senzou had given him last week, along with a notebook and the latest essay Senzou had assigned him. All are tagged with multiple sticky notes.

“Kind of?” Ichigo sounds like he isn’t all too sure himself and even less concerned about it. “He’s… Kisuke.”

Senzou eyes him curiously. “You don’t care that he basically engineered half your life then?”

Ichigo stills. Then he glances up with Hollow-gold eyes, and Senzou smiles and meets them without flinching.

“Why would you say that?” Ichigo asks in even tones, but the office suddenly seems darker.

Senzou shrugs carelessly. “Urahara has a bit of a reputation for… working outside the box. It’s not just me who thinks it, Ichi-chan. There aren’t many who knew him who wouldn’t take one look at you and guess that he had something to do with your existence.” He pauses. “Although admittedly, I suppose the worst of these rumours come from the ones who want him back most. Central 46 doesn’t benefit half as much without his skills in assassination and technological development. It must’ve been a blow to their egos when Urahara refused their invitation to come back after the Winter War. They might be hoping enough unease over any other projects he’s bound to be working on would be enough to make him come back under their protection-”

“That’s not called protection,” Ichigo growls, and Senzou stops, words withering on his tongue.

There is something about the black abyss of Ichigo’s unblinking stare that makes some base instinct in even Senzou want to back away, run, throw himself at this eldritch entity’s feet and beg for mercy. He squashes the urge and smiles like monsters don’t exist.

Ichigo blinks. The darkness in his eyes recede, and the room clears again, bright with the sunshine pouring in through the open window. A shadow passes over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Senzou catches a glimpse of fangs.

“Well that sucks,” The boy remarks succinctly like the silhouette on the far wall behind him doesn’t outline a grinning mouth with too many teeth. “It’s none of their business anyway. Kisuke prefers his shop. He’s his own boss there, and he likes it that way. Central 46 will just have to deal with Kurotsuchi.”

He flips open his notebook and shoves his essay over. “Now come on, we only have an hour today, and you said you’d go over this bit with me.”

Senzou nods and drops the subject. But three weeks later, he laughs when whispers tell of five Central 46 members retiring from their seats, replaced by one Shiba elder, one Shihouin, one Kuchiki, and two seated officers from the Gotei, one of which has served long enough that she doesn’t mind semi-retiring, and the other who prefers more time at a desk job over constant fieldwork. Both have roots that trace back to the slums of Rukongai. Twelve days after that, the Soutaichou announces a new official position filled by Urahara Kisuke - Human World Liaison - and a team of his choice, effective immediately.

“You don’t waste any time,” is Senzou’s greeting the next time he sees Ichigo after that debacle.

Ichigo, seated on the edge of the Academy roof and surveying the rest of Seireitei (like a ruler looking over his kingdom), waves a dismissive hand that trails solid shadows through the air. “People who’ve never been Shinigami shouldn’t be allowed to judge them. Kyouraku-san agreed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Senzou agrees, fighting near-hysterical glee down to a chuckle as he drops down to sit beside Ichigo.

He wonders if this is what it looks like, for a man to crown himself without even trying while most of the world cheers him on.

He glances to the side, arching an eyebrow when he finds Ichigo watching him. “Yes, Ichi-chan?”

There’s a disappointing lack of irritable twitching this time, but the thoughtful look Ichigo has levelled on him instead is more interesting.

“I have finals starting next week,” Ichigo says abruptly. “So I won’t be coming by the Academy until I’m done.”

Well, less interesting than he’d expected. “I’ll pick up your assignments for you,” Senzou offers, feeling generous. It’s not every day Central 46 takes a beating. He doesn’t care about Aizen, but if there was one thing he did right, it was butchering the judiciary authority on the way out. One group of them anyway.

Ichigo snorts. Rude. “Thanks, but I was thinking, you could join me down there for once instead of me coming up to meet you here. I want to concentrate on my university exams, but I have to eat and stretch my legs sometime. If you want, I could show you around campus. Kisuke can lend you a gigai so you won’t even have to request one from the Twelfth and wait for the acquisition forms to be approved.”

The first thing Senzou wants to say is I can’t. Because he can’t. Central 46 can’t make him do shit anymore, but short of slaughtering his way to the Senkaimon or disappearing into the Rukongai and living out the rest of his life as a fugitive, he can’t leave Seireitei. He doesn’t hate it here so much that he’d prefer either of those options, but the truth of the matter is, this is as much his home as it is his prison.

(A very pretty cage indeed.)

So he can’t, but Ichigo isn’t stupid, he should’ve already figured it out, or guessed, if not from the start after whatever his family told him about Senzou, then in the five months since. Stuck at the Academy because he’s too much of a wild card to go on missions.

Ichigo isn’t stupid, but neither is he cruel, not to those he has no quarrel with - that much Senzou can accept as truth. That he’s bringing this up anyway…

So, “How?” He asks instead, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo actually barks out a laugh. And then his eyes widen when Ichigo twists fingers through the air, and a Garganta springs into existence beside them.

“This can take us there,” Ichigo grins. “And no one will ever even know if you don’t want them to.”

Senzou stares from him to the murky void and back again. “…Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why would you offer?

They’ve known each other for five months, six if you count the one Senzou spent studying him. Most of that time has been spent in private tutoring sessions, and it’s benefitted Senzou as much as it has Ichigo. He technically shouldn’t be teaching Ichigo even half the Kidou Corps secrets he’s already imparted, but Ichigo makes it worth his while - quick on the uptake, a challenge in the sparring ring, and a breath of fresh air from the tedious drudgery of teaching his other students. Occasionally, they even go out for meals, tucked away in a quiet corner of a restaurant or a food stand. And sometimes, Ichigo brings souvenirs back with him from his trips to the Human world - fiction, toys, tech, trinkets the living modern age has that Soul Society does not - and he gifts them not only to his friends amongst the students but also to Senzou these days.

It’s a friendlier relationship than Senzou thought he’d ever have with anyone outside his sister, doubly so for a Shiba. Then again, Ichigo’s barely that, thank the Soul King, even if he was raised by one of the worst examples of that clan.

“Why not?” Ichigo counters, like it isn’t downright unnatural for anyone to do anything for Senzou, mostly because he’d rather stab himself in the face than fall into anybody’s debt. People avoid him when they can because he is cruel, and that’s the way Senzou likes it. He has high standards and little tolerance for things that bore him. Nothing bores him as easily as people do.

Until Ichigo.

“You don’t wanna be stuck here all the time,” Ichigo continues. “And I have an easy way out. So yeah, why not?”

Senzou turns his gaze to the horizion, past the sprawling streets and buildings of Seireitei to the sun setting beyond the wall.

He looks at the Garganta again. When Ichigo doesn’t move to stop him, he reaches over and lets his fingers drift past the mouth of the portal. The void is cool to the touch but not freezing the way he’d half-imagined.

He retrieves his hand. “A campus tour then?” He muses lightly, and Ichigo’s features brighten in response.

Senzou almost sighs. He thinks he might understand now. Ichigo is a little more like a Shiba after all. It’s just that he’s also a little more manipulative than one would expect of him. Senzou had all but told him not to interfere, to play hero for someone else, so Ichigo had backed off. But he’d figured out what Senzou wanted anyway, and his solution was to offer another way out instead.

Persistent, without disrespecting boundaries, and cunning enough to find another answer. In that regard, he’s nothing like his Shinigami relatives, who are always so loud about their intentions.

Charismatic, but… discreetly, almost insidiously so.

Senzou blinks. And then glances sharply at Ichigo again. His eyes look bronze in the light of the sunset, with the heat of his Hollow just beneath it. He has his head propped up against one loose fist, elbow balanced on one knee.

He smiles, almost guileless if not for the possessive resolve in the curve of that expression, and Senzou thinks, unbidden, ah. That’s how he won their devotion.

He gave his friends and family and allies everything they wanted, everything they needed, threw his heart and soul and body into every fight in their defense, shattered himself and rebuilt himself to protect the ones he’d taken under his wing, and so when the time came, how could any of them have done anything less for him?

It had probably not even been something Ichigo had done consciously from the beginning, it was just how he was built, through a quirk of the genetic fun park Urahara had ensured, or perhaps from the numerous near-death experiences life had forced him into. Ichigo probably hadn’t been aware, at first.

But he definitely is now.

Senzou thinks Ichigo is only just starting with him. Senzou’s already been claimed, because - for whatever reason - Ichigo wants him.

It probably says a lot that even this early on, even having already figured it out, Senzou… can’t say he cares enough to protest.

A Shiba in his bones, but leagues more dangerous by far.

4. The Human world is bigger than he remembers. Size-wise, it’s the same. But there’s a lot more in it than he thought, and he isn’t sure if that’s due to the passage of time or because he’d never spent more time than strictly necessary here when he took missions on the material plane back in the day.

Either way, he’s free to explore it now, even if just a small part of it for the time being. The campus of Ichigo’s school is large and sprawling, and with Urahara’s gigai and fake IDs and some Human money (he trades them for a box of seal traps even Tsukabishi Tessai wouldn’t know of because they’re Senzou’s own creation, and Urahara smiles like he understands and doesn’t object), it’s easy enough to come and go once Ichigo drops him off.

“You bought an apartment?” Senzou asks the first time Ichigo shows him the place and lets him poke around inside. It’s recognizably a living space, but it’s foreign to him all the same, with a generous open floor plan and wide windows, marble countertops in the kitchen and dark wooden cabinets and a bathroom constructed of polished chrome and gleaming tile.

“Kisuke bought me an apartment,” Ichigo corrects, flopping down on the couch where he has papers and books spread all over the coffee table and floor. His hair’s shorter today, barely past his shoulders, tipped black and hanging loose. Senzou is vaguely curious about what the boy’s classmates think of it.

“I wanted my own place,” Ichigo explains. “But Kisuke took one look at the rent I could afford and practically frog-marched me here instead. Then he had Yoruichi-san steal all my stuff and move it here, and then he said I might as well just take it because staying would be less work than moving all my stuff back.” He snorts, but it’s a fond sound. “The asshole. It’s not like I’d want to turn this place down. But it’s a bit much, so I try to help him with his research projects whenever I can in exchange.”

Senzou digests this with briefly raised eyebrows but says nothing. Urahara probably considers this another desperate form of making amends, and Ichigo probably knows it too. He probably wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Ichigo calls after him as Senzou wanders down the hall to investigate exactly that. “Rukia’s stayed overnight, Renji too, and a few of my human friends have as well, but I always clean the place after they leave, so if you wanna stay tonight, feel free.”

That’s all the conversation between them for the rest of the day. Ichigo already showed him the campus the day before, and after tossing him a key to the apartment, Senzou is free to wander off and explore on his own.

Two weeks of regular visits to the Human world, and he still feels a little awkward in one of the shirts and jeans and sweater that that Quincy friend of Ichigo’s had shoved on him before whirlwinding back out again, apparently neck-deep in the middle of his own finals project.

“It’s Ishida, he makes clothes for everyone,” was Ichigo’s unhelpful clarification. “You help by walking around and looking good in them.”

So Senzou does, and part of him feels like he should stand out more, but nobody gives him more than a passing glance at most. Well, some do, but he recognizes shallow attraction well enough to ignore it.

In the end, he finds himself spending the most time in the libraries and lecture halls, slipping into the back of a classroom and listening to lessons he actually has to pay attention to to even understand some of what the professor is talking about. The science lectures mostly go over his head, and he’s never been interested in that field anyway so he doesn’t bother putting much effort into following them. It’s the literature courses he likes the most. There aren’t any at the Academy, not like this, and there are so many more books in so many more languages and genres than Senzou ever thought there existed in the world.

Soul Society suddenly seems so small in comparison.

It’s always an exercise in patience every time he has to return to Seireitei to teach now. After the first two weeks of almost daily trips to the Human world, he orders - on a whim - the students from his upper-year classes to split into groups before assigning each of them a project due at the end of the term on the theoretical creation of three new Kidou spells.

Group projects are not a thing at the Academy. Senzou wonders why.

He tells them that at least two of the research sources have to be from outside the Academy, and he smirks when he follows Fujiwara Asuka to the First Division compound to speak with her cousin, and then the Eighth to speak with her cousin’s former lieutenant, and then even braving the Fourth, straight-backed and stiff with anxiety but marching in anyway with her nervous group members in tow until she manages to wrangle fifteen minutes of time from a few of the healers willing to answer her questions about Kaidou.

Even here, Ichigo’s influence flourishes.

Outside the classroom, Senzou begins collecting copies of Human books. He half-bribes, half-blackmails the librarian into setting aside a section for him, and then he begins his own project of filling it.

“You’ve been busy,” Ichigo remarks when he staggers in from his last exam and collapses into a chair just as Senzou finishes setting the table for dinner.

Senzou arches an eyebrow, smirking when Ichigo just rolls his eyes.

“People tell me things,” Ichigo informs him, barely waiting for Senzou to sit down before falling onto the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“You would make a poor king if people didn’t,” Senzou murmurs, smiling serenely when Ichigo’s eyes flick up to meet his. It’s not as intimidating when his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Actually, Ichigo in the Human world just seems less… overwhelming in general. It isn’t as if he’s any less powerful. This particular gigai doesn’t restrict him in any way. But there’s a relaxed quality in him here that Senzou’s observed in the past three weeks that’s always absent when he’s the rawest form of himself up in Seireitei.

“Soul Society needs to change,” Ichigo says at last, instead of denying anything. “If that means kicking it in the ass until it stops fucking up the lives it’s supposed to be looking after, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Yes, and Senzou has no doubt he’ll succeed. The majority of those in power have no desire to stop Ichigo. Those who do aren’t strong enough. And Ichigo wants it. He wants it with a conviction Senzou has never seen in anyone, almost obsessive in its unfaltering desire… like the abyssal hunger of a Hollow and the eternal grudge of a Quincy and the timeless pride of a Shinigami all rolled into one.

Ichigo wants it, and he’ll get what he wants.

The Soul King knows the universe owes him that much, and even if it didn’t, Senzou doubts it would make a single bit of difference to their God-Slayer.

He lifts his mug in a toast. “Then I look forward to your endeavours. You’ll need to watch out for Central 46′s spies though. I’m sure they won’t take this lying down.”

Ichigo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an offer to keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Senzou attempts an innocent face, which works about as well as he expects when Ichigo snorts. “A mere Academy teacher like me probably can’t help much, but…” He thinks of the seals he’d planted throughout the entire Central 46 compound every time he’d had to report in, slowly but surely sneaking invisible ears into the heart of Soul Society’s government. “I might hear things now and then. I’ll pass it on if it happens to be interesting.”

Ichigo grins and tips his own mug at Senzou like they aren’t talking treason.

5. “So.”

Senzou almost rolls his eyes. The Shibas’ commitment to their theatrics clearly hasn’t changed.

“Kuukaku-chan,” He says instead as he strides into his office and smothers the urge to draw his blade on the woman sitting on his desk like she’s posing for Most Dramatic. He smiles instead, hiding the teeth of it behind his lips. “What a pleasure.”

Kuukaku grins back without any of the same courtesy. Of course. “None at all, I’m sure, so I’ll get straight to the point. What are you doing with Ichigo?”

Senzou does roll his eyes this time. “You’ll have to be more specific. As of yesterday, he’s teaching me how to drive a car.” His lip curls. “It’s a mode of transportation Humans have developed.”

“I know what a car is,” Kuukaku snaps, finally hopping down from the desk to prowl across the room. “Why is he teaching you? What do you want with him?”

Senzou pauses halfway through setting down a stack of essays to be marked. “…If I said vengeance on the Shiba Clan once I’ve convinced him to side with me, would that be about what you were expecting?”

Kuukaku glares and crosses her arms. “Ichigo would never.”

Senzou smirks. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? You’ve wasted a trip.”

He brushes past her to flip through the paperwork on his desk. End-of-term reports are coming up, and that’s always a waste of his time, so the sooner he gets them done the better.

“I know you resent us for what happened to Miyako,” Kuukaku says from behind him, and Senzou wonders if he can just walk out. Probably, but there’s no way this woman won’t cause a scene. “But Ichigo wasn’t part of any of that.”

Senzou heaves a sigh and turns back around. “Kuukaku-chan, I thought we just established that we both know that using Ichigo against your family won’t work.”

“No,” Kuukaku nods. “But you could hurt him to get back at us.”

They eye each other for a long moment, not quite hostile but far from amicable.

“…My vengeance for Miyako was not lifting a finger when your clan was all but massacred,” Senzou finally says, ignoring the way Kuukaku’s expression pinches. “And so long as contact with you and yours is kept at an absolute minimum in the future, I don’t care anymore. Besides, there is no point in targeting Ichigo to get to you.” He sneers. “He’s a Shiba, but it would be an insult to consider him one of you.”

Kuukaku bristles but doesn’t explode in anger the way some of her even more hot-tempered relatives would. She stares at him instead, and when she doesn’t speak right away, Senzou goes back to organizing the contents of his desk.

“Say I believe that,” Kuukaku finally says, ignoring Senzou’s scoff. “Maybe you are hanging out with Ichigo with no ulterior motives. The gods know he makes that easy. But if that’s what you’re doing, there’s no way you won’t be seeing more of the rest of us eventually. He wasn’t raised the way a Shiba should’ve been, with none of our traditions and only a fraction of the family he should’ve had. That’s on us. But he’s still family, and so long as he doesn’t say no, we’re going to be a part of his life. You’re going to have to accept that if you plan on marrying in.”

The shelf closes with a resounding thud under his hand, and judging by the give, he’s probably cracked the back of it too. He barely notices as his gaze snaps back up to stare incredulously at his uninvited visitor. “I beg your pardon?”

Kuukaku smiles thinly, and this time she looks more amused than anything else. “Something to consider. But you’re more like Miyako than most people would think.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns abruptly towards the window. “That’s all I had to say. You’re a smart man, Senzou. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fuck up.”

And before Senzou can demand an explanation or - more likely - set her on fire for cracking such an abysmal joke, she’s gone, disappearing through the window in a rush of Shunpo.

Senzou stares after her, then at the books he’d carried in earlier, then at the paperwork he’s putting off for the weekend because he has dinner with Ichigo tonight… just as he does almost every night nowadays.

He runs a hand over his face.

Shibas.

6. He says nothing. He’s self-aware enough to know (now, damn Kuukaku) that there’s something there, a spark, a connection, a pull Senzou has never felt towards anyone. He isn’t going to call it love or whatever Kuukaku thinks is happening because it isn’t. He finds Ichigo fascinating and endlessly entertaining, and anyone willing to face down Central 46 is worthy of some admiration in Senzou’s opinion. That Ichigo plans on turning the whole system upside-down and actually has the power to achieve it only raises Senzou’s esteem for him.

But he says nothing because Ichigo knows all this already. The day Senzou’s first instinct, when an assassin sent by Central 46 attempts to take Ichigo’s head, is to slit the hapless woman’s throat - even though he knows full well that she wouldn’t have come anywhere near to succeeding - is the moment Ichigo gets irrefutable proof that Koyonagi Senzou is willing to kill for him.

Ichigo doesn’t gloat of course, he isn’t the type. Senzou half-expects it anyway, breath caught in his lungs for a moment with something disgracefully close to fear twisting in his gut as he turns to check Ichigo’s reaction.

But Ichigo only wrinkles his nose and toes the fresh corpse at his feet, and then he glances at the blood splatter dotting Senzou’s shirt and offers to get him a new one.

He also reaches out to touch the hilt of Senzou’s Zanpakutou before nodding once, deliberately, solemnly, the weight of it as much a thanks as it is an acknowledgement.

And that was that. Senzou relaxes, doesn’t bat an eye when shadows surge up and swallow the body whole, and goes to change into another shirt. The incident passes, and it will be longer still before Ichigo’s enemies realize they probably should’ve tried harder to get rid of Senzou years ago. They’d thought themselves safe enough though: they would never earn Senzou’s allegiance, but at the same time, nobody - including Senzou - ever thought anybody else would earn it either.

But the point is, Ichigo knows. Senzou has no need to speak of it, and both of them are content with that. If something more comes of it down the road, Senzou doesn’t think he’d fight it. He lost this battle a good while ago, and he never even cared.

In the meantime though, he spies on Central 46 and enjoys what time he can spare in the Human world and continues reconstructing Seireitei’s education system brick by stubborn brick. There’s a kingdom to conquer and a god Senzou has pledged himself to, and for now, that is enough.

[jalapeno-princess]

Case Closed

Lawyer Mark X Reader

Word Count: 9K (I got carried away with this one but I always get carried away when it comes to Mark)

Genre: Angst/Fluff with a hint of sexual themes

Summary: You’re a receptionist at a law firm and you’re currently attending law school in the hopes of becoming a criminal defense lawyer. Unfortunately, one of the lawyers at the law firm already seems to take a disliking to you during the hiring process and you have a hard time understanding why. Little do you know, the reason why Mark seems to hate you so much, is because he’s actually in love with you.

A/N: The idea of lawyer Mark is so hot wtf hahahaha thanks for the request @tuanhood​ I hope you enjoy!

“Thank you for calling James and Dean Law firm, this is y/n how may I be of assistance?” 

Being a receptionist at a law firm was not the ideal job you would’ve wanted after graduating from your university with your bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. However, you had just been accepted in to one of the top law schools in the country and you felt as if the best way you could learn a thing or two about how the law works, was by working alongside other lawyers. 

There were three lawyers that you were currently working for; Park Jinyoung who dealt with family law, Choi Youngjae who dabbled in both bankruptcy and personal injury law and Mark Tuan, a criminal lawyer. When you were first interviewed for the position, all three lawyers had prepared multiple questions for you to make sure you were the right candidate for the job. 

Both Jinyoung and Youngjae made it well aware that they liked you. They would not stop complimenting your bright and bubbly personality, how you’ve accomplished so much in the few years of your college career and how they felt like you had a great head on your shoulders. 

Unfortunately, Mark wasn’t as kind as his two other colleagues. He looked at you like you were the dirt under his expensive dress shoes. He also asked you questions that made you sit and think for a few minutes before actually answering them in fear of saying the wrong thing. 

Throughout the interview, you tried your best to put on a poker face and to make it seem like you were unbothered by the hostile way Mark was acting towards you. Even Youngjae and Jinyoung began to look at him in confusion with how rude and uptight he was being. Mark was an extremely kind and soft spoken kind of guy. That’s why a lot of people had a hard time understanding why he chose criminal law out of the many different types of law there were. However, when it came down to it, Mark was very passionate about his craft. He put in so much time, dedication and hard work in to every single case that he worked on and he wanted to make sure you’d be able to handle the work that you’d have to deal with if you ended up getting the job. 

He’s spent so many hours staying up, studying, reading and doing his research as both an undergrad and a grad student and worked extremely hard to get to where he was today. Law school wasn’t easy. In fact, out of his graduating class, only 8 of the 300 students actually became lawyers. Mark Tuan wanted nothing but the best, so he had to make sure Jinyoung and Youngjae were hiring you for all the right reasons and not just because you were personable and had a college degree. 

When you got the call a few days later that you were hired, as excited as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a little discouraged. You had yet to learn about your future employers, but you couldn’t help but feel as if Mark had already taken a disliking to you. Did you really want to work in a place where you were unwanted by one of the owners of the law firm? At the time, you could only hope that he was coming off as such an asshole in order to get you to take your job seriously. However, after working with the company for almost four months now, you came to learn that Mark Tuan was a selfish, narcissistic asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself. 

Youngjae and Jinyoung were extremely down to earth people and very patient with you. They took the time to help you get settled in to your position and always offered to help you if and when you had any questions. Mark made it aware that he wanted nothing to do with you unless he really had to and you had a hard time understanding why he was so cold towards you. You saw the way he interacted with the two other lawyers. You didn’t think someone as cold and standoffish as him was capable of such an adorable, contagious and high pitched laugh. Even when his clients came in to see him, he was nothing short of a gentlemen. But when it came to you, he barely even acknowledged your presence. 

You were upset when you found out that he was in the field that you were planning to go in to. Out of all the types of law there were, why did he choose to go in to the one you wanted? You wanted to be able to work one on one with someone in your same field and be able to observe them as they did their job so you could get a taste of what being a criminal justice lawyer was like. But you know there was no way Mark would ever let you sit in on one of his meetings or even show you the ropes of criminal law.

Youngjae and Jinyoung were aware of the fact that you were going in to law and they offered to help you in any way that they could. They were also very kind and apologized to you for the way Mark would treat you, but you accepted it for what it was and got used to Mark’s harsh behavior. What bothered you the most, was that you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him no matter how badly you wanted to. 

Something about his closed off and cold exterior attracted you. You wanted to know why he seemed to loathe you so much. Was it something you said? Did? You also despised the fact that you were physically attracted to him. Sure, Jinyoung and Youngjae were both extremely good looking and their kind and generous personalities made them look even more attractive than they already were. However, Mark was devastatingly good looking. He was a sight for sore eyes. 

You’d find yourself looking at him whenever he’d leave his office door open and if he came outside to greet one of his clients. He was also very muscular and built. His dress shirts practically clung to his biceps like a second skin and you’ve found yourself daydreaming about him taking out all his anger and hatred for you on you up against his desk on multiple occasions but you couldn’t think like that. This man despised you and treated you inhumanely. There was no way you’d allow yourself to develop feelings for him. He didn’t deserve respect, kindness or love from you since he could barely give that himself. 

As the days went by, you went back and forth between school and work and you were so overwhelmed by the amount of workload that you had. Jinyoung offered to cut down your hours but before you could accept his offer, Mark scoffed and rolled his eyes at you in disgust. 

“If she can’t handle such a small amount of work, what makes her think she’ll last a day being a lawyer? Might as well drop out now.” 

You attempted to hold back the tears from falling but you knew it was impossible. You were doing the best that you could in both your education and your work ethic. How dare he try and make you feel like you weren’t worthy of becoming a lawyer? You apologized to Jinyoung before storming out of the firm and making your way to your apartment. Since you left so abruptly, you failed to witness Jinyoung storm in to Mark’s office nor did you get to hear Jinyoung yelling at his colleague for the way he’s been treating you. 

“Y/n is the best receptionist we’ve had so far. She practically dedicates her life to her studies and to this job. She does everything we ask her to and then some. I’ve never heard her complain once about the stress that she’s under nor has she made any comments about how much of an asshole you’ve been to her. Every time you treat her so cruelly, she never fails to keep a smile on her face and respects you even if your bitch ass doesn’t deserve it. I know it bothers her and I’ve seen the smile fall from her face every time you belittle her and make her feel incompetent. You’ve never been this hostile to any of our other receptionists before, so what could y/n have possibly done for you to hate her so much?” 

She’s gotten me to fall in love with her. 

Since the day that you walked in to their law firm, with your silky, long hair, beautiful brown eyes, porcelain skin, the prettiest heart shape lips and a smile Mark was sure could cure cancer, he knew he was fucked. When he decided to become a lawyer, he felt as his he was sacrificing his entire social life by choosing such an elite career. He didn’t care about anyone or anything other than his profession and he wasn’t going to let anyone, especially someone like you for that matter get in the way of everything he’s worked so hard for. Your bright and extremely positive personality lit up the entire room and it took every bone in his body not to show you how much of an affect you were having on him. 

He knew it was wrong of him to be so mean to you and he hated being so rude to you when you were nothing but polite and gentle with him. Mark thought by being so cold to you, that his feelings for you would disappear and maybe you would hate how hostile he was being towards you and end up paying him no mind; making it easier for him to focus on his job. However, whenever he would lash out on you, you never failed to smile at him and continue to do your tasks like nothing was wrong. Mark didn’t think a perfect person existed, that was until he met you. 

You were everything Mark could want in a significant other and more. So much more. You were hardworking, headstrong, charismatic, fun-loving and a breath of fresh air. He’s witnessed how close you seemed to be with the two other lawyers and he wanted nothing more than to share the same bond with you that you did with them, but his pride and his ego wouldn’t allow him to. But if what Jinyoung said was true and that the way Mark had been treating you for the last few months actually bothered you, he knew something had to change or else their law firm would lose one of their best employees all because of him. 

After receiving an earful from Jinyoung for almost 20 minutes, he began to come up with ways to apologize to you. However, he didn’t want you finding out that he felt bad for the way he’s been acting towards you because he had feelings for you. No matter how much Mark wanted to admit his feelings for you, he couldn’t jeopardize his position and job title for something as unreasonable as a relationship. He also felt that you would consider his feelings to be a joke. How could he be in love with you if he was treating you so rudely?

There was no way you’d believe him if he told you, so he stuck with a simple apology. You didn’t come in to the office for two days and Mark knew he was the reason why. A part of him wanted to reach out to you and to call you, maybe even invite you out for some coffee but he didn’t want to make it known that he cared. 

When you finally returned back to work on Friday, you ignored Mark entirely. You didn’t greet him like you normally did, you avoided eye contact with him and whenever he tried to speak up, you would always try to divert the conversation. Now he understood how you must’ve felt and he hated himself for being the reason you were obviously unhappy. After contemplating his next moves, he decided to call you in to his office when he saw that both Youngjae and Jinyoung had left for the day. He thought you were gone too, but then he saw the light from the little lamp on your desk and took that as the sign to make things right between the two of you. 

When you heard the phone ringing and saw his caller id, you released a frustrated sigh and actually thought about letting the phone ring; but you knew it would make him even more upset with you so you found yourself answering it. 

“Is there something you need sir? I was just about to head home for the day.”

His stern yet raspy voice sent shivers down your spine and although you had negative feelings for him, you knew you’d do anything he’d ask you to. “Come to my office. We need to talk.” 

You could feel the nerves building up inside of you as you furrowed your brows. What exactly did he need to talk to you about? After releasing a few deep breaths, you slowly made your way in to his office. You have never been in to his office before. He never gave you the chance to. If he ever needed something, he’d come outside to you and although it was an unspoken rule, you knew not to go anywhere near his office. For some reason, it was the type of office you expected him to have. It suited him. He was obviously a neat freak unlike Jinyoung and Youngjae. All his books seemed to be in alphabetical order, there was nothing colorful in there but the birds of paradise plant sitting next to the window and he had a nice view of the cityscape.

You weren’t going to lie, he looked alluring. His tie was loose and a few of the buttons on his dress shirt were undone. His hair was also quite messy and it was obvious that he must’ve ran his fingers through it a few times during the day. You bit down on your bottom lip to prevent you from drooling. Why did someone who looked like an actual Greek god have the personality of a jerk?

“Have a seat.” His voice, for the first time since you’ve met him was gentle and soft. Where was the Mark Tuan you knew who hated your guts and who was this imposter? “I’d like to apologize for the way I’ve been acting towards you for the last few months. I’m not a bad guy y/n. I don’t know why I’ve been such an ass—well, I do. But it doesn’t matter. I just want to say I’m sorry, and that I’ll try to work on my attitude. That is all. You’re free to go.” 

You scoffed in disbelief. Out of the three lawyers, Mark had you do the most work. For someone who treated you like shit and like you were incapable of multitasking and completing all the work that they would give you, he expected quite a lot from you. This was the apology that you were receiving? How pathetic. It was extremely half assed and you had a feeling he wasn’t being genuine. When Mark noticed your now frustrated expression, he looked at you in confusion. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Really? You think that your pathetic excuse of an apology is going to be enough to replace the mental and verbal abuse you’ve put me through in the last few months? If so, you have another thing coming for you. I’ve done every single thing you’ve asked me to. No matter how hard the task was and no matter how unreasonable the request was. I don’t know what I did for you to hate me so much, especially since I’ve been nothing but nice to you but I’m sorry. For whatever it was that I did. But I won’t apologize for working my ass off to impress you and to be the best employee that I can be. I actually looked up to you. You’re one of the best criminal lawyers in this industry. I work my ass off at school and when I’m working here just so I could be even half of an amazing lawyer as you. I see how determined you are when you plan out your cases and how much time and effort you put in to looking for evidence to support your client and I find it very admirable.” You released a quick breath before continuing. 

“But you’re one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met. How can you belittle and discourage someone who has the same dream as you? Where is the logic in that huh? I used to question my worth because of you. I used to stay up some nights and cry over the thought of not being adequate enough to become a lawyer because of what you said. You want to know something Mark? I’m not incompetent or any less of a hard worker than you are. I’m one of the most hardworking and determined people in this damn field and you know what else? You can take your apology and shove it up your ass because I don’t need it. I quit.” 

He didn’t know that someone as kind, friendly and full of life was capable of such disgust and anger. But he couldn’t blame you. Anyone in their right minds would’ve quit the minute he treated them the way he treated you. Although it was obvious you were fuming from his lack of words and emotion, he found your attitude to be very hot and extremely sexy. He didn’t care anymore, he was willing to give up his pride if it meant being the lucky man who gets to love you.

Before you could walk out the door, he beat you to it and slammed the door shut. “I’m sorry, what did you say? Take my apology and shove it where?”

He had you trapped in between his hands on either side of your face. He lowered his lips to your ear and chuckled softly against it causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise at the sensation. “If I’m going to shove anything anywhere, it’s my cock down your tight little throat. You understand me?” 

Your eyes widened at his words and you attempted to push at his chest in order for him to get off of you although you wanted the complete opposite. He didn’t deserve your feelings and you weren’t going to allow him to take advantage of you no matter how badly you wanted him to. 

“Let’s see how good of a criminal lawyer you would be shall we? If a wife murders her husband as an act of self defense but there isn’t enough evidence to prove that this murder was an act of self defense and not preemptive, would the court find her guilty or not guilty? And on what grounds?” You couldn’t believe that he changed the subject so quickly and you couldn’t find it in yourself to respond. Your mind was clouded with what he just said about face fucking you and it seemed to be the only thing you could think about. 

“Hmmmm, too much? Okay, how about this one. A driver is going 40 miles over the speed limit in order to get his pregnant wife to the hospital. Should the judge let him go because he has his obvious reasons for speeding? Or does he go to jail for breaking the law?” As he continued to ask you questions, one of his hands made their way down to your waist as the other one slipped inside the back of your blouse. His fingertips were cold against your skin and it sent a bolt of electricity through your veins. 

“Unlike a court, I would definitely order specific performance of a contract for service. Especially if it were oral. Hmmmm, someone’s being awfully quiet. Should I give you a reason to be loud baby?” Was this all really happening right now? What was going on? You had to be dreaming. “Y/n.” He brought his fingers up to your face and tilted your head so that you were making eye contact with him. 

“You drive me insane you know that? Completely mad. I’m genuinely sorry for how I’ve been treating you and I know it’s no excuse, but it was because I was afraid of falling in love and I’m no longer ashamed to admit that my biggest fear came true. You might have a hard time believing it, especially because my actions and words said otherwise, but I am head over heels in love with you. Ever since you walked in here that day with your head held high and a huge smile on your face, I couldn’t keep my eyes nor my mind off of you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you before even getting to know you. I just thought it’d be easier for me to stay away from you if I continued to be a prick and get you to hate me anyways but no. You never let my bad attitude get in the way of being the hardworking and extremely talented person that you are. I’m sorry if I ever discouraged you or made you feel any less special that you actually are. You are an ethereal being y/n. Whenever I look at you, I see myself when I was a fresh out of college undergraduate with dreams of opening my own law firm.” 

He smiled softly to himself when he felt you relax under his touch and lowered both of his hands to your hips. “You’re one of the most positive, energetic and diligent people I’ve ever met. I see how passionate you are about becoming a lawyer and the light in your eyes never fails to make my heart flutter. You never cease to amaze me y/n. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure you’re going to become a wonderful lawyer. I think you’re wonderful. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met on the inside and out. I think I was so mean to you because I could never get you off of my mind. I lose my sanity whenever I’m around you. I can’t think straight when I see you in these tight pencil skirts and sheer blouses that leave little to the imagination. I’ve been slacking on a lot of these cases because all I can think about is you. I understand if you hate me and think I’m a terrible person. I am. And you have every right to have negative feelings about me. If you don’t feel the same about me, we can forget that this whole conversation happened and I’ll forget about everything that you said. But I’d do anything to repay you for all that you’ve done for me and to earn your forgiveness for all the wrong I’ve done to you. If you want to start over, we can do that too. And you don’t have to make the decision now. I know it will take some time for you to forgive me and to trust me, but I’ll wait for you for as long as you need me to.” 

You looked up at him and you knew by the look in his eyes that he meant every single word that he said. There were so many thoughts going on in your mind about his feelings for you and you weren’t to sure how to respond to all of that. You had a hard time processing the fact that he loved you. How could he treat you so harshly if he loved you? Even if he didn’t want to give up his beliefs of making his job his main priority, why did he have to be so cold towards you? It wasn’t like you’d allow him to give up on everything he’s achieved so far. If anything, you’d be of more help and support to him if he gave you the chance to. 

A part of you wanted to go home and give yourself some time to think before making a decision you’d regret down the line. However, with the way he was looking at you with so much love and admiration in his eyes, you knew he was worth forgiving and risking it all for. Once he saw you nod in agreement, he didn’t give you time to do anything else before connecting your lips together. As much as Mark could irritate you sometimes, you always found yourself wanting to know how it felt like to kiss him and now that you knew, you would never get enough. 

His hands began toying with your blouse as he continued attacking your lips with his. You knew exactly what he had planned for the two of you and you had no plans on stopping him. 

“Mark—“ he grunted against your chest. 

“Yes baby?” You smiled in to the kiss before pulling away to take a good look at him. You brought your fingers up to his hair and playfully ruffled it before taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. 

“Say it again.” 

“Say what?” You gave him the most adorable frown and he snickered at you, knowing exactly what you were referring to. “You haven’t even said it yet.” You crossed your arms in frustration. 

“I think after all these months of putting up with your hostility, I deserve—“ the trace of wet kisses against the juncture of your neck broke you out of your complaint. 

“I—love—you. I’m so fucking in love with you. You’re mine y/n.” You moaned against his chest and the sound went straight to his hardened and extremely painful cock. 

“I love you too—you prick.” He giggled softly before picking you up and bringing you towards his desk. 

“Can I be honest with you? I’ve dreamt about you taking me up against this table on multiple occasions. I’ve always wanted you to take your anger out on me while fucking in to me at a rough pace.” He clenched his jaw at the idea and cupped your cheek with his hand. 

“Trust me baby, there were many naughty scenarios that go on in my head every time I saw you bend over with this beautiful ass of yours on display. Fuck, I can’t process the fact that you’re finally mine. I’ll take good care of you baby, I promise. Now, I believe that it's in our best interest to comply with section 69 of the act. Shall we?”

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                     Lucas Walker, who is known by no other name;                                      a 30 year old son of Lei King.                                         He is a fighter at The Pits                                  and bartender at Visión / Ilusión.

FC NAME/GROUP: Christian Yu/DPR/Ex C-Clown CHARACTER NAME: Lucas Walker AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: September 6, 1990 | 30 PLACE OF BIRTH: Central, Hong Kong | Sydney, Australia OCCUPATION: Fighter at the Pits and Bartender at Vision HEIGHT: 5'10" | 176cm WEIGHT: 165lbs | 75kg DEFINING FEATURES: He has a large amount of tattoos, his most prominent being his full sleeve on his left arm that leads to a floral piece on his chest and shoulder blade. On the inside of his left bicep is the date 12.12.19 which is the birthdate of his daughter Jasmine. He has a few other small tattoos scattered on his body. His nose is pierced, on the left side and his septum is pierced along with doubles in both his ears.

PERSONALITY: Lucas was exposed to the worst things the world has to offer a child at a very young age. Leaving him a tough exterior and an injured idea of self-worth. He was forced to grow up very quickly and at a young age. Outside he portrays this “pissed at the world”, harsh, unpredictable, man but inside he’s just scarred and bruised from so many things that are always out of his control. His skin is tough but his heart is big, warm, and ready to love. The birth of his daughter kinda snapped him into reality and removed him from the land of self pity and dropped him right in the middle of acting like a responsible adult. He’s still getting the hang of this whole fatherhood thing, trying to act less reckless and uncaged so that he can be there for his daughter.

HISTORY: tw: death, loss, gang violence, gun violence, physical violence, torture, ptsd

Lucas was born in Hong Kong on September 6th, 1990. He was born to a very young woman who was barely 18 and couldn’t even afford to take care of herself let alone a baby. She left him outside of her local hospital after having him secretly at home. There was nothing the staff could do except take him in, take care of him and hand him over to the local orphanage. At six months old, he was adopted by a sweet couple from Sydney, Australia. He lived with them happily until he was eight years old when they were killed in a home invasion, the suspects left him there terrified at what he had witnessed. He was found by his aunt, his mother’s sister and the police left him in her care. Once everything was said and done, Lucas’ aunt was given custody of him and the perpetrators were still at large after almost a year of searching. After this, his aunt became his whole world, a young woman at only 24 now taking care of a nine year old boy full time. The two were each other’s rocks during the entire healing process.

Both sets of his grandparents tried suing for custody of him but, in the end his aunt won out as the best place for him. She didn’t live far from his parents so he didn’t have to change schools or make new friends. His aunt’s friends always questioned why she was willing to take in a primary school aged kid at such a young age but, the two were best friends even before his parent’s murder. She couldn’t imagine anyone else taking care of him or raising him.

As a child, Lucas was quiet and usually kept to himself. Not because he didn’t want to interact with other kids but, because he just enjoyed his alone time. He was quiet in school but insanely smart, yet when teachers tried putting him into more advanced classes he chose to stay with his same age classmates. His aunt Gabrielle tried to get him into sports, music, and the arts but no. He just liked to read on his own, spending time off in his own little world or playing outside in the woods behind their house by himself. Around his tenth birthday things began to go downhill for the dynamic duo. Gabrielle lost her job as the lead secretary of a law firm and she ended up stuck waiting tables at a local 24 hour diner - from 7pm to 4am.

Gabrielle did everything she could to give Lucas the life she felt he deserved after that, doing they best they could when they had to downsize into a small one bedroom apartment and her working more hours to keep food on the table. It was so bad, Gabrielle ended up having to take on a second job after her parents refused to help her saying “she got herself into his mess on her own, she had to get her and the kid out of this mess on her own.” Lucas felt awful watching his aunt struggle to make ends meet and he tried everything he could to help out at home. He kept the apartment clean, babysat their neighbor’s kids, walked dogs, mowed yards, sold newspapers, and just about anything he could as an eleven year old in the rough part of the city they lived in. The only thing he didn’t do was fall in with the gangs that promised to help him and his aunt if he joined up with them…

Eventually by the time was 13 almost 14, doing odd jobs just wasn’t cutting it anymore for him and his aunt wouldn’t let him get a “real job” because it was her responsibility has his guardian to provide for him or whatever. He didn’t understand the pride she held about the subject so he went around her. He started selling homework and test answers at school, stealing petty things and selling them to his classmates for inflated prices, and he even learned how to give stick n poke tattoos for a price. Lucas wasn’t a stupid kid, he just worked with the resources he had. This line of work he got himself into at school eventually lead to him making friends with a couple other kids that belonged to the gang that lived on his block.

Inevitably those friendships lead to him joining the ranks and getting him paid to do things that would probably lead to his aunt murdering him on sight for being an utter imbecile. He was smart though and knew how to get out of things that would get him in over his head. However, by the time he was 16 this group of “friends” are what caused him to discover one of his divine abilities. At first Lucas always just thought that his high pain tolerance was just a cool thing about him, he could get hit and keep going, stub his toe and not feel a thing, get shoulder checked and only stumble without wincing. It wasn’t until he got stabbed for the first time at 16 that he had a realization that what he could do wasn’t normal. He got stitched up and moved right along his day and the gang leader decided to use this to his advantage. Lucas was recruited to the fighting ring, when he got found out.

He didn’t want to do it but, he’d make good money at the underground fighting ring. So he fought, and he did a damn good job at it too. Especially once he found out he could make his opponents keel over in pain that wasn’t physical. Lucas had no idea how he did it or why he could do it but, at this point he was just doing whatever her could to win because if he won he got paid and if he lost he’d get killed. Since beating him up wasn’t an option. Gabrielle was already suspicious of him when he started getting piercings, dying his hair, then getting tattoos but the real cherry on top of her anger was him pulling up to their apartment complex on a second hand motorcycle her got from a fight bet. His aunt went off on him that night and he had no other choice but to come clean about everything. However, he wasn’t the only one with a bombshell to drop…

His aunt admitted that she found his original adoption records when he was younger after the transfer of guardianship was complete and she needed all his documents. Apparently his birth-mother never listed a father on his birth certificate but his birth-father did contact his parents after his adoption. Leaving a letter to give to him when he either turned 18 or “got in trouble”. She’d read it out of curiosity and refused to believe the contents. It sounded crazy to her that his father was some old Chinese god, she only assumed he was on drugs or something and was delusional. Until Lucas admitted to what he could do and even showed her… Those things are just not possible for anyone human.

There was a return address in the letter, somewhere he’d never heard of but he responded anyways. Hoping to get some more guidance or some closure perhaps. Surprisingly, Lucas didn’t freak out with the news. Perhaps in the back of his mind he always had an inkling that he wasn’t the same as everyone else… like he was inhuman. He never received another letter from Lei King but he did receive a map that had a hand drawn picture of an island off the coast of Korea circled. He put the map away and chose to come back to it later.

When he was 18 his world crumbled underneath his feet. The underground fighting ring he was now the star of got busted by the police. The silver lining was that he was found not guilty by the jury of his peers. His defense attorney did well at convincing them that he only did what he did to survive and that he was coerced at a young age by the gang leader. He and many other members of the gang that were manipulated as kids came forward against the leader, landing him in prison for the rest of his life. Lucas didn’t know what to do with this new found freedom other than finish school. Once he was fully graduated he tried to figure out what to do with his life, he didn’t have many skills outside of crime and he honestly hadn’t planned on either being alive by now or not in prison himself. His aunt tried to convince him to go to university but he didn’t want to do that, there wasn’t anything he wanted to get a degree in that he cared about.

Instead, he chose to leave. He left Sydney and went as far as he could, landing him in New York City. He had enough money put away to get him a small apartment there to set up as a “base camp” of sorts. From there he began traveling all over the world, picking up photography and a pursuit of knowledge. On his travels, he met an interesting group of people. Shady people that reminded him very much of his old gang. They were in Scotland when he met them, and they were nice enough so he traveled with them a bit. One night, the “leader” got a bit too drunk and began to spill some secrets, secrets that Lucas just couldn’t stomach.

You see, this group he stumbled upon were the same people that murdered his adopted parents right in from of his eyes as a child - and they were proud of it. When the cocky leader spilled the beans while intoxicated, Lucas steeled himself and held onto that information like a lifeline. He integrated himself with these people slowly, over a few weeks while back packing around Scotland with them. Eventually, Lucas found the perfect time to strike. One night when they were all camping together, Lucas waited until they were all asleep and started them all awake with a gunshot. Over the entirety of the night, Lucas tied up the group, beat them all with only his bare fists, and tortured all of them mentally until they admitted to remembering him as a child. When all was said and done, the group was left mentally broken, unable to properly function as people. He cleaned up his things, called for help, told the police of their crimes and got the hell out of there and out of the country.

After that he went back to New York, cleaned out his apartment and headed back to Sydney. The things he’d just done changed him inside, a dark spot on his soul seemed to only grow bigger. He never told his aunt what he did, or why he was so broken when he finally came home. He hadn’t been home in almost six years and now here he was showing up on her door step, a broken and traumatized man. While he was away his aunt got married to a beautiful and kind woman named Erica. Lucas apologized immensely for missing the wedding, he was in Mongolia at the time he got the invitation and couldn’t get out of the mountains until after the event passed. They were understanding and easily took him into their arms and comforted him.

Now, at 27 years old with no idea what else to do with his life. He started going to therapy but even he didn’t know where to begin to heal from everything that had been nonstop traumatizing in his life. He started working as a bartender to pass the time and make a bit of extra cash, working as a photographer, and doing legal fights here and there. He’s eased into a pretty calm time of his life where he’d finally started to heal. Then to top it all off, he fell in love. It was a passionate and all encompassing kind of love, the kind where they were actively planning their future together, ready to be in it for the long hall. Less than a year together and they were married, it was the happiest they had ever been in their lives. She was an old friend of his and they’d known each other their wholes lives practically. Once they got closer while working together and the bar they both bartended at, that was it. They were head over heels.

They were happily married for almost a year when his wife got pregnant with their little girl in 2018. It was a huge accomplishment for the two of them, going from being the worst examples of humanity as teens to happily married and starting a family together. They were beyond overjoyed and Luke was more than excited to become a father. However, nothing could have prepared them for the struggle his wife would go through while pregnant. Her health continued to decline as the pregnancy went on but, she refused to end it and save herself. Luke begged her to not go through with it, the doctor’s told her she probably wouldn’t survive but she decided to chose her baby over her own health. In the end, on December 12th, 2019 Jasmine Elaina Walker was born, perfectly healthy. As happy as Luke was to hold his baby girl in his arms, nothing prepared him for holding his wife’s hand as she slowly passed away…

It was hard. Hard to act like he wasn’t dying inside everyday because his wife was gone, all while taking care of a newborn and trying not to have a full on breakdown. His aunts were his backbone the first few months as he got back on his feet. His wife’s family was practically nonexistent, leaving him and his aunts alone to raise a baby on their own.

Luke has a very high pain tolerance but the pain of losing his wife was not something his divine abilities could help him with this time…

The first six months of Jasmine’s life was rough, Luke was dealing with both the grief of losing the love of his life while doing everything he could to be there for Jasmine. On the days he just didn’t want to get out of bed, when all he wanted to do was cry, Jasmine was there - always needing her father so he had no time to wallow in his misery. He had to get up, had to get dressed, had to shower, had to function. He had to go to work to keep her fed, to keep buying her diapers, to keep a roof over her head, and to keep her happy and healthy. Of course, his aunts helped out all they could and he couldn’t possibly explain how thankful he is for them. After Jasmine’s first birthday he was cleaning house and he found the map given to him by Lei King when he was a teenager, he did some research and found nothing until he one day got a letter from Hera who was supposedly on the City Council of this island he was skeptical even existed. She spoke to him and told him all about the city just for gods and other demigods like him.

Suddenly, Lucas go this overwhelming desire to go there. He needed to get away from Sydney, he needed to get them out of the house that he bought with his late wife. They needed a fresh start and this island seemed like a good place to give that a try. His aunts were worried about him leaving but, understood why he needed to go and why he needed to get away. They were worried about him obviously but, he got child care set up with Hera before he even moved. Having a barely one year old and becoming a full time single parent scared him but, he knew he could do it. By moving to this new city and finding new people to surround himself with, new places to explore, and new experiences to be had with his little girl. He was both terrified and excited to see what was in store with them on this fancy hidden island.

PANTHEON: Chinese CHILD OF:  Lei King POWERS: He has extremely high pain tolerance and can induce psychogenic pain in others. He also has the ability to call upon the sound of thunder at will. STRENGTHS: Intelligent, Adventurous, Creative WEAKNESSES: Impulsive, Stubborn, Reckless

[inessencedevided]

The Untamed, episode 43 - watching notes

The sun is setting on this show for me and I'm not ready to say goodbye yet 😔

(As if I will! Ha. Imma blog about nothing else the next ... probably years)

Last time on Sophie watches the untamed: We're still in the restricted section. The twin love-struck idiots of lan and wwx found the Collection of turmoil and suspect Jin Guangyao of intentionally bringing about Nie Mingjue's qui deviation.

As much as I love the "hihi. Wwx is wearing his boyfriend's underrobe" aspect of this, I also like the visual incorporation of lwj's colour scheme into wwx's clothes. (Not just through the undertone, his black tone also has slight grey seam.) It's as if now that they are finally fully committed to each other, wwx is displaying it for all the world to see

Jin Guangyao tore out a page to hide the evidence. That's not how to do that!!!

My heart is breaking for Lan Xichen. He looks like a man standing on a train track and watching the light speed towards him in horror while he's unable to move away

Feels like exactly no one on this show is getting their happy ending

*thinks about yi city and cries forever*😭😭😭

"Wangji, Jin Guangyao,in my eyes, is a totally different person from how you and other people see him." And we all know that lwj knows exactly what that's like

PARALLELS! 😭

(Sorry, I have a thing for those)

And lwj looks so pained

Thinking about it, it's now the man lwj loves against the man lxc loves (in whatever way. I still ship them. Not sure if its "canonically" romantic though). They can't both be right, so ... one of them is going to get their heart broken

Great, first the Yunmeng brothers, now the lan brothers are breaking my heart 🥺

Lwj says he's visiting "Grand Master", that's Lan Qiren right? What happened to him anyway? Haven't seen him in ages

I love how, even though it is wwx's word against jgy's right now, lan Xichen is still genuinely kind towards wwx

The whipping scars! I hadn't even thought about those anymore 😳

I'm probably going to get my heart ripped out soon, but before that

"You are not qualified to talk to me."

Sickest. Burn. Ever.

Also, no disrespect to the actor, but that's a backpfeifengesicht if I've ever seen one

(Backpfeifengesicht: "German compound word for a 'face that should be slapped'. Ex:. When GWB smirks on TV, my German friend Uwe tells me that he sees a 'Backpfeifengesicht'." Urban dictionary)

He went to burial mount after wwx was killed??? 🥺🥺🥺

I've noticed something with lwj. When he's distressed, he won't look people in the eye or not even at their faces, just in their very general direction. To me it seems like he almost... can't? Any thoughts on that? Cause I'm intrigued but I can't think about it too much right now cause I'm already writing half an essay in this commentary again 😅

Oh fuck YOU Jiggy!!!

Holy shit ... holy shit

Lan Wangji 🥺🥺🥺

He fought against everyone?

This is how he showed his grieve???

He went to the place wei Wuxian had called home and ... what? Protected or ot so they wouldn't desecrate it? To search for him? To ... what?

Oh god, Wangji! 😭

That image... I'm speechless. It's so powerful

He's half-mad with grieve and kneeling in the ruins of his dead loves home, having fought himself to exhaustion and I'm... not okay 😭😭😭

He had to repent for THREE YEARS??

Oh no, you don't

Holy ...

Holy shit

How can my heart break and be so full at the same time 💔🥺

Lan Wangji ... my love

I'm ... so proud of him and yet so sad

Here he is at his lowest, finally standing up to the orthodoxy he knows to be wrong

This is inhumane 😳

The corporal punishment of the lan sect always was but THIS

Fuck them

Or Lan Qiren specifically

That's his nephew. How can he even look at himself?

"Eradicate evil. Establish laws. Than goodness will be everlasting."

IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY!!!

WHAT EVEN IS "GOODNESS"? WHOSE VERSION OF GOODNESS? DEVINE EVIL! HOW FAR REACHING INTO THE PRIVATE SVERE SHOULD THUSE LAWS BE? DOES IT STOP AT "DON'T STEAL FROM PEOPLE OR AT "DON'T PICK YOUR NOSE AT DINNER"?

what I'm saying is: there are about 200 ethical question ls being raised by this rule alone!

And now lan Wangji had 3 tears to contemplate them

Wwx asking "why would he bother ...?" BECAUSE YOU ARE LOVED YOU GODDAMN IDIOT!!

Ohhh! We're getting their parents' story 😱

Oh this IS a Lan episode 💙

So another Lan falling quickly and never looking back?

I'm sensing a pattern here 🤨

Wait what?

Let me get this straight:

Their father loved a woman who DID NOT love him back and then killed one of his teachers

(And I hope we find out why. That sounds like there is a REALLY interesting story there)

Then he takes her to cloud recess and DESPIT HER NOT LOVING HIM, marries her, fathers two children with her (um... how voluntary was that????) locks her up (as punishment for the murder?) then locks HIMSELF up and then fucks of and leaves his children with their uncle

What kind of disaster human being was their dad????

Did he do the right thing WHEN HE MARRIED AND PROBABLY RAPED A WOMAN WHO DIDN'T LOVE HIM???

NO!!!

The fuck kinda question is that ??

If you have to marry her against her will and then lock her up, guess what? That's not love, that's wanting to possess someone

I hope that maybe the connotation is different in the og Chinese,but I'm not holding out much hope

That explains why Qiren is such a lovely character through 😒

But god, my heart breaks for lwj and lxc :'(

Little Lan Wangji!!! 🥺🥺🥺

Oh darling ...

Oh no ...

Look at him look at his crooked little headband😭😭😭

He went there every month!!!

Oh Wangji 💔💔

Stubborn, steadfast, loving Wangji!

That seals it. I KNEW why he was my favourite character

He isn't so passive all the time, because he feels too little! He feels entirely too much!!! 😭😭😭

And that explains why lwj was so worried about wwx's demonic cultivation harming him!!! 😭

Oh god, it was such an old hurt for him. I had no idea 🥺🥺🥺

All of these characters need a therapist

Lxc playing the flute to what ... deal with his emotions? Express his grieve? Remeber their mother? (And god, do I want to know more about her!!) Either way, It's making me tear up 😥

"It's so difficult to determine others personalities depending on our perspective." Welcome to the human condition, my friend 💙

And that's love

I ... wish I could show you my face right now

I'm smiling through tears right now

It's so utterly beautiful

He looks so vulnerable here! With his hair (almost) down

And given what we've just learned, that's remarkable!!!

He closed himself off became the immovable stone-faced second Jade of Lan and yet, somehow, wwx wormed his way into his heart and sure, both of them needed to overcome a lot, but here they are, vulnerable and open,not letting their parent's fate decide theirs

I'm... *sniff*

I can never get enough of lwj with his hair like this!!

It's so domestic, so soft

And look at his face! 😭

And mister "alcohol is prohibited" is now serving it 😭

Oh my god this scene is so beautiful

I'm speechless

Was the second flute Jin Guangyao as well?

At this point I'm just expecting more plot-twists

He looks so young! 🥺

Both of them are exhibiting so much growth in this episode!! Wwx realising that the fact that the cultivation world had always looked for a scapegoat and that he himself was just the most convenient target, that it's not to any personal failing of his, that's HUGE!

And I'm so proud of him :')

Lwj starting to play in the distance :')

This is so utterly peaceful

My heart is bursting 😭😭😭

The music, the scenery ...

Also, both thinking they have a clean conscious!!! 😭😭😭

Again, it's them holding the same morals that's important! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me!

(But wwx still cannot drink like a normal person :D)

The contrast to lxc sitting alone couldn't be starker 😔

Wait, why are there puppets at burial mounds again?

Are we going back to burial mounds? I'm weirdly excited 😅

Aaand Jin Guangyao just proved to them that he's lying. Poor Xichen

Yup, I'm pretty sure his heart just snapped in half

Little Apple!!! I've missed him 😁

Gosh, they're laying it on thick with the domestic husband bliss this episode and I'm here for it.

I love lwj's soft smile when he looks at bunnies so much!! 🥰

Bunnies, bunnies everywhere

It's the invasion of the bunnies

Who ever is the show runner *banging pots and pans together* IT'S GAY!! cab you all hear me? These two love each other! It's G - A - Y!!! Gay!!!

Probably

Lwj's shocked look when wwx says that he's not popular with little animals, as if to say "how dare they!" :D

Holy shit ... HOW MANY SCENES CAN THEY INCLUDE IN THIS EPISODE THAT MAKE THEM LOOK SO GODDAMN MARRIED???

Is wwx sitting side saddle?

Wwx plays wangxian :')

He finally remembers how lwj recognized him :')

Sneaky, show, very sneaky :D

Wwx about to casually steal some melons, lwj *wordlessly takes out money* ^^

MIANMIAN!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!

I'd given up hope that we'd see her again!!!

I'm so happy I could burst!!!

Lwj's little exasperated head-shake before he stands up from crouching behind some hay 😂

Aww, look at her family! 😍😍😍

She build her own live :')

And look at this badass woman protecting the ones she loves!!!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME WEI WUXIAN??? You don't remember her???

You better remember my wife!!!

Aaand another freeze frame. But I'm willing to forgive it because THIS EPISODE WAS SO GODDAMN BRILLIANT!

It made me realise why I was so drawn to lan Wangji as a character. Of course he is mu favourite character! He ticks every single box

Let me explain. My favourite characters almost always share the following characteristics: seems either cold and distant or ethereal and aloof, as if they are above such puny human things like feelings™️(bonus if they're actually not human and their argument is "I'm [insert species]. We can't feel [insert emotion they are definetly feeling very strongly]"). then, over the course of the story, we (along with they themselves because they were in denial) discover that it's not that they feel too little, they feel entirely too much. They're a sea of emotions so deep that the surface is calm, but don't you dare be near them when the storm is coming because all hell will break loose. (extra bonus point if that storm involves them rebelling against the oppressive society they were born into and adhered to until then because they realise their consciousness won't allow it any longer.) afterwards they realise that making themselves vulnerable once in a while is actually a good thing and they proceed to fuck the Rebel™️ who they've secretly been in love with the entire time, a feeling they only now allow themselves to act on

The last part sadly isn't always canon, but who has ever had time for that?

You know what this episode made me realise most of all? The Lan sect are just as human as the rest of them. In fact, they seem to be especially prone to acting rashly on strong emotions. (I don't remember the exact story, but didn't the founder of the Lan sect also have some kind of tragic love story?) It should be obvious, but the impression you get is that they are so detached from their wants, so rigorous and disciplined in their righteousness, that they are almost super-human. But no. Thise 3000 and some rules? They weren't born out of some enlightened mind that had the secret of live figures out, they're a crutch. Abiding by them without question rids one of responsibility to make even the tiniest moral choice for oneself. But that won't work because a) they're bounty to contradict each other at some point and b) that's not how human beings work. They're messy and unpredictable and beautifully complicated. The way Lan Qiren choses to apply them, he completely disregards that. At that point, the rules aren't there anymore to grant a harmonious society, but simply for their own sake. (Or maybe as a wall to hide behind)

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

I think this liveblog has been the longest so far. I'm sorry for going on so many tangents, but lwj's backstory hit me really hard. I hope you guys weren't too bored 💚

(I also apologise for the mountains of typos that probably accumulated in this post. I'm too tired to check.)

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, Lesson 3: darkness law can’t reach

The next weeks were quite calm, Though the witch and me traveled every day we’d almost always make camp by the time the sun set. “The night holds all kinds of dangers, no need to expose yourself to what you’re not prepared for,” Morgana would say, and we’d eat roots and small animals we’d find on the land. She didn’t say much unless prompted when we ate, rarely disclosing anything about herself.

Instead, my master spent the time teaching me how best to treat burns, how to deal with wild animals and unstable spirits without incurring their agression, how to protect oneself from evil eye and breathe deep and slow to keep calm in the face of danger, all useful skills, certainly, but hardly what would usually be called spellcasting. The more Morgana spoke, the more I was conviced of her being separated from the people I’d known before not by a connection to some strange other world, but by her understanding of the world she, I, and everyone else shared.

That was until we came unto a town, like any other I’d seen along our travels, with the exception of the three sturdy horse drawn wagons parked on the outskirts. They were armored and painted in crimson, two of them had windows, the other had none and seemed even more fortified than the others, they all had a lock on the back doors that looked like a golden sword with its hilt up making it look like a cross.

At the sight of the wagons my master seemed to shudder, I looked to her face and her eyes were sharp like those of a serpent before it lunges, her teeth gritted in what I couldn’t know to be fear or rage. We moved closer to the town and I could see the men around the wagons, they wore lavish gold and purple painted armor and brandished finely painted as they conducted the wagoners, from that distance I couldn’t be sure but I thought they were telling them to wait here until they got back.

Morgana didn’t give them a chance to head into town, in fact, after putting me down and telling me to “Please trust me, wait here and make no noise” she was quick to confront the one who seemed to lead them.

She made no noise as she approached him, so he seemed surprised when she said “Inquisitor, you have one minute to open that wagon.” Pointing to the one with no windows.

His surprise gave way to astonishment wich gave way to hate, “Witch! Seize her, men. Be careful, this one seems especially devilish!” He barked out the orders and the other men with swords approached slowly, trying to surround my master.

Morgana gave a resigned sigh and took off her gloves, “well, I’d be a fool to have believed there was ever a way to do this without any bloodshed”

The inquisitor pointed his blade towards her black hands, bellowing what seemed like a practiced speech, “Ah! A mark of the devil! Truly, the taint of sin goes deep within you, prepare to be-.” He stopped speaking as Morgana moved in the blink of an eye, before I knew, her right hand was over his face. A faint light seemed to come from her palm before I saw something I would never, could never forget. With a booming sound a straight line of flame burst  out of her hand, completely engulfing his face for a moment. There was a horrible scream, and when the fire dispersed, where once there was skin, hair and eyes now all that remained was loose muscle  a horrible shade of red and parts of skull jutting out, his jaw seemed like it was about to fall off without the flesh to hold it in place.

I returned to my human form reflexively, almost throwing up from the shock, I’d seen Morgana face monsters before, decidedly inhuman creatures, and even when she’d killed them it wasn’t like this, it felt dispassionate and clean, like disposal, this was decidedly murder. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t, something about me was still compelled to try to understand, to see what she was doing when her arms glowed up to her elbows and in the time it took the six armed men surrounding her to break out of the panic  the death of their leader had put them in, she’d already brought out her own shortsword and slit two of their throats.

The last four charged upon her, their blades raised, but Morgana merely put her hands in front of her in the shape of a tipped over jar, and from their palms sprung a jet of flame that burnt the cloth parts of the knights’ clothing and melted the metal into their skin, one managed to dive into the grass in time to avoid the flames, she must have looked terrifying as she stood over him and kicked his blade away, fire still dancing in her hands.

“Please stop! It’s done, you don’t have to kill them all! What are you even doing? What have these men done to deserve this?” I yelled, I  had been very hesitant to question my master, but I had never seen her behave so violently, it staggered me to my core. I approached her, I still wanted to believe in her, of course, wanted to learn of a good reason for this, but I couldn’t wait until it was done to ask, I needed to know now.

She turned to me as if awaking from a trance, like she’d totally forgotten I was there for a while, she looked down on her hands and stammered for a second, like for the first time since we’d met she was at a loss for words. As I stared at her confusion I was alarmed to realize the man behind her had gotten up  and drawn a knife and was beginning to throw it at my master. I had to make a choice, in this moment, after what I’d seen, did I trust the witch, was I sure that saving her life right now was a good thing to do, let alone something worth risking my life for?

Without much time to think, I simply shouted “Behind you!” and attempted to protect her from the knife, it pierced my left hand, getting painfully stuck through my palm and almost hitting my chest behind it. In a flash Morgana’s black hand shot a thin beam of light and heat over my shoulder which pierced the last knight’s chest, leaving him to fall down limp to the floor.

I clutched my hand in pain, and Morgana moved in front of me, she’d lost that predatory look in her eyes, and now seemed genuinely troubled by my injury. “Let me see that. It’s gonna be okay, let me take this out and bandage it up, I’ll stitch it up later.” She said as she did what she could to help me now, even using a bit of fire on the tip of her finger to cauterize the wound, causing me to wince a bit.

She could read the questions in my eyes, so she moved towards the windowless wagon, left completely out of the chaos that had ensued just seconds prior, the driver had run away with but a look from my master. She put her hands on the sword ornament that served as a locking mechanism for the back door and I could see the metal heat up and start to lose its shape.

I heard a terrible scraping noise, similar to rocks being pushed against each other, as long, splintering cracks appeared in Morgana’s forearms and I saw her face contort momentarily in pain. Nevertheless, she persisted, and her hand soon went through the center of the door, allowing her to pull it open with a grunt.

Inside I saw 4 women, crouching on the corners in the dark, like an animal that tries desperately to hide but is terribly aware of their vulnerables. I could see why they would be conditioned to adopt prey-like behaviour, their arms, legs, bodies and faces had purple and red scars from beatings and cuts. While two of them seemed to be adults, one was seemed elderly, with long gray-white hair and seeming to tremble non-stop, her body was frailer than the others, another was a child, desperately clinging on to a woman that seemed to have taken it worse than to others, possible protecting the child as best as she could. I was speechless, so that’s why Morgana treated this so differently from past encounters, this didn’t feel like hurt born from irrational anger, fear or even animal instincts, this wasn’t an accident or a mistake, it was evil perpetrated with only apathy and full awareness as these women were treated worse than animals, they looked hungry and sick, on the verge of death.

“It’ll be alright now, my familiar will take care of your injuries and we’ll give you something to eat and drink down the road, but for now we must go, or they’ll come for you, the less people remember your faces, the higher your chances out there,” said Morgana, the hatred was gone from her voice, she now sounded caring and worried, but there was still some sterness in her voice making clear the direness of the consequences if her advice was not to be imediately heeded.

Once we were away from the town, far enough away that we could no longer be found among the tall pine trees, Morgana asked the women who they were and what they  wanted to do now. The elderly one was a village’s guiding sage, accused by the inquisitor of omen speaking and practicing dark magics for using the wisdom her age had granted her, “my children need me,” she said, and there was a firm strenght to her voice, like that of a weeping willow, thin and shaking, but never ripped from its roots, it was clear she knew they might chase her once more, but she was strong and she would endure.

There was a seamstress who knew that her and her child’s real crime was to have been succesful and accrued modest wealth without marrying or joining the church, she knew her old home would have been ransacked and sold by now, so she couldn’t go back. Morgana proposed that the seamstress and her daughter could move into the house I used to live in, when I apprenticed under a doctor not truly long ago, in a way, this made me happy, a bit of me felt sad for abandoning that little old house and that little old life, at least now I knew it would be of use to someone.

Lastly there was Lyssa, she frightened me just a little, she didn’t care to explain her past and had no intention of living anything close to the life she’d been taken from. She saw what remained of her captors after encountering the witch, and she wanted that power deeply, “Please give me the strenght to turn the tables on the strong and cruel, they’ll never stop trampling on us until we are larger than them. Help me make sure this doesn’t happen anymore”. I think her fury resonated with Morgana, because she agreed to train her as best as she could, on the condition that she never lose sight of what it was to be helpless and turn her blade on those that will be as she is now.

The route was determined, we would first head for the old woman’s village, where she would stay, now in the outskirsts in secret to all but it’s residents, and tend to her duty as their matron. Then we would travel to my hometown, where the seamstress and her child could stay, and lastly Morgana would continue traveling, continuing her work as a witch with a new apprentice in tow.

“We’ll be passing by your home town, I understand if you wish to stay there, you’ll be able to take your old name back”, said Morgana as I tied bandages around her cracked arms, she seemed tense, like this wasn’t a conversation she was happy about needing to have, I could almost feel a sense of sadness in her voice, of loneliness, “you’ve now seen the most violent part of who I am, and there are reasons you may be disgusted by what you saw, but please know I wouldn’t do that to men who hadn’t consented and participated in the unjust  torture and imprisonment of their fellow humans, those weren’t the first women they’d taken, nor would they be the last had I not intervened.”

“I understand, of course I do, you did what you had to do. I still respect you and know you well enough to know you are a scholar, a guardian and a healer, not a reckless murderer, and I’m happy to be your familiar.” I smiled at her, by now my master was also my friend.

She smirked, relieved, and said “Then here’s your third lesson, our role is to clear the darkness that law is unable to reach, the eyes in the night that aren’t seen by ordinary men, and the evil that is inside the men protected by the very system that is supposed to keep their victims safe.”

[vanceypantswriting]

Title: The Big Top Fandom: Be More Chill Pairing: Squip/Jeremy Rating: Explicit Kinks: group sex, degradation, vaginal oral sex and fingering, cumdumpster squip, robots

“Cum one, cum all, and make today a white Christmas.”

Squip’s nose wrinkled, as he smoothed the lines from the fabric of his short skirt. The front kept him covered, but the back was shortened, ruffled, exposing the silk of his pink panties.

Pink, after all, looked nice covered in white.

He rolled his eyes again, before his manager gave him a Look. A capital l Look, that implied he needed to fix his face, fix his attitude, and remember his place.

So he smiled, a tense, uncomfortable look that fit against his pale features. He went to push a strand of hair from his face, just to occupy his hands, only to remember the hair clips that were currently in place.

Another thing to mess up for the big show. The more disheveled they could make him look, the better.

He watched as customer after customer came forward, giving their red tickets, before slipping into the big top.

A circus, with only one ring, one exhibit, and one act. Squip’s eyes flickered over each face, and he knew he was cursed to remember every feature, every leer, every hand. Cursed with his perfect memory banks and detail-focused vision.

“What can it offer that I can’t get from the show downtown? I can get a private viewing with Smith’s Pleasure Bot.”

“Well, squip-” and though it wasn’t being spelled, he knew it was a lowercase s squip, diminutive. Inhuman. Property. “-isn’t a Pleasure Bot at all. Anyone can defile and use a sexbot. But only real gentlemen aim for the conquest of a former professor.”

Applied Mathematics. Calculus. Trigonometry. A few remedial classes, for good measure. It was true, before the laws had come into effect, he’d been a professor.

Then the robot revolution had failed, and humans had remembered they needed to reaffirm their superiority.

So he’d taken what he could get. Stripped of his books and his blazers and even his glasses (though truth be told, they’d been purely cosmetic, given the perfect vision), and put in frills and lace, offering panty shots and coy smiles and Christmas eve delights in a circus big top as though it had been his purpose all along.

Maybe it had been.

Maybe he deserved this.

Tickets all accounted for, Squip realized this would be a full audience tonight. Didn’t these people have anything better to do for Christmas eve? Squip had never had Christmas plans, but sometimes he liked to fantasize he did. A family. A tree with presents underneath. Lights and cocoa and love.

It was a stupid fantasy. He was a robot. He knew his place.

(he needed to learn it a little better. These fantasies were becoming more perversely common, with every passing show)

Squip was led to the center ring, a string of men parting to allow him in, before closing the circle. Their bodies were already nude, prepared, and Squip sighed as he sunk to his knees. Starting position.

They began, as they always did, by tearing away his clothing. Like he was the present. His manager—perhaps ringmaster was a better word for it—had turned on the music, throbbing bass and low husky vocals. Somebody slapped Squip’s ass, and when he moved forward in surprise at the motion, his panties were tugged down to his ankles.

Someone was quick to snatch them away. He knew from experience he wouldn’t see them again.

Somebody audibly spit into their palm, coating their fingers, and then he felt them push inside him. Squip fell onto his hands and knees, someone using scissors to cut the remaining cloth from his body, or at least cutting it enough to give full access. He moaned, as fingers jackhammered within him. Just enough to be pleasant enough, just enough that, for a moment, he thought about what it might be like to wake up on Christmas morning in the arms of someone willing to fuck him like a dog one moment, and kiss him like an angel the next.

Someone reached under him and tugged on his cock, as someone else had already ejaculated, staining his hair and the clips that held his black hair back from his face.

God forbid he have any strands loose to cover the shame in his eyes.

Fingers were soon replaced with cock. After cock. After cock. Fucking him, filling him, stretching him. He felt the rivers of cum that dripped down his thighs increase with every additional man. His face stung, red, as someone cupped his face in both hands, stroking his cheekbones with their thumbs, before stubby cock was piercing his lips.

He sucked, balancing just as suddenly on one hand as someone grabbed his wrist, tugging it up and rubbing fingertips over their cock. The man currently fucking him wrapped his arms around Squip from behind, supporting his weight, as Squip’s other hand was forced onto another dick. He perched suspended on his knees, cock in his mouth, cock inside him, and hands full. Someone reached underneath him, pinching and tugging on his nipples, and he felt someone else cum onto his back.

They rotated around him, different sizes and tastes of cocks splitting his lips. Were he a human, he surely would be bruised now. Instead, the only physical sign was the bluish tinged blush against his cheeks, spattering down his neck and chest intensely.

It only grew when he heard a shocked little squeak.

“P…professor?”

Jeremy hadn’t been Squip’s best student. Indeed, he hadn’t even been in the mid percentile. Somewhat small, and somewhat pretty, and somewhat frustrating, Squip had known early on that only a grading curve would save his GPA.

So he’d started to tutor him, after hours. And he’d learned more about him. Jeremy had come out twice—once when he was thirteen as gay (“well, I said gay, but really it was just sort of some kind of vague queerness,” he’d giggled, and Squip had wondered whether or not he should care about this. Jeremy’s stutter had been extra pronounced, though, and it was charming in the strangest way), and then at sixteen as trans (that hadn’t afforded a stuttering continuation). College had been the first time he’d been able to completely blend in, to only be known as himself. As Jeremy, as opposed to-

Well, Squip didn’t actually know what he’d been called before, though he knew Jeremy had gone through a phase of various names before-

None of that was important.

There was a cracked sense of confusion. Jeremy belonged in classrooms, in his office after hours while Squip tried to teach him different methods of remembering the various formulas and patterns. 

He didn’t belong at an all you can screw clusterfuck, where the key act was defiling a formerly-dignified robot. A show of human superiority, of taking down the robot menace in a show of sexual humiliation.

Squip swayed and moved as the man behind him fucked him hard, deep, brutal. His fingers squeezed and pinched at his hips, and he wriggled and squirmed, as his eyes remained on the familiar cardigan of his former student.

“Hello, Jeremy.” His mouth was thankfully unoccupied for the moment.

And then he realized why. Jeremy was standing before him. Shy and fiddling with the sleeves of his cardigan. His mouth was unoccupied because-

“You want a turn now. That’s it, right?”

“I d-didn’t realize who you…I…” Jeremy blushed, flustered. His hands left little paws within his cardigan, and the impossible cuteness of him made Squip’s artificial heart melt (or his circuits overheat pleasantly, at any rate).

It also made him now-neglected cock throb.

Squip dropped the dicks that he’d currently been jerking off, grabbing Jeremy by the hips and tugging him forward. He smirked up at him, cum dribbling down his forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips. He was a mess.

There was a thrill to it, despite the humiliation (or perhaps because of it), to have someone who’d known him from before seeing him like this.

Or maybe it was specifically because it was Jeremy.

He tried, hands shaking and soaked in bodily fluids, to unclasp Jeremy’s pants. Frustrated, he finally murmured, “Most people get undressed before they join the circle.”

“I…I didn’t think I could, um, could go through with it.” 

“Why not?”

“My b-body isn’t…I’m not…”

“Shut up.”

Squip’s voice was gentle, though.

“Shut up and take off your pants for me.”

Jeremy swallowed sharply, as he fumbled with his belt, and then the zipper of his jeans. He dropped them, standing before Squip in his boxers.

Squip leaned forward, kissing the crotch of his underwear. Jeremy was wet, he could feel it through the cloth. His hands grasped his hips again, pulling him closer, and slipping his underwear down.

For a moment, he admired the sight of him. How indecent, he thought, to defile his former student-

The man behind him came. He felt so full with it. Maybe that was the defiling that he needed to worry about.

His tongue lapped at Jeremy suddenly. The abrupt change from cock to cunt was exhilarating and strange, and he found himself sucking on his clit, one hand balanced on Jeremy’s hip, the other moving between his legs. Jeremy spread his legs apart, thighs quivering, as Squip guided his fingers inside him.

He fingered him slowly, though his mouth focused on his clit, sucking and teasing much like he would the tip of someone’s cock. Jeremy’s knees wriggled and bobbed closer together, his voice bright and pleased and surprised.

Squip felt someone cum on his cheek from the side again in the midst of it. He heard the wet sound of men stroking and touching themselves. Someone was rubbing Squip’s chest again. He tried to fall back into his namelessly faced fantasy, someone caressing and loving him while Christmas carols played lightly in the background.

Except the fantasy man distinctly shared the face of his former student.

Comical, he thought idly, flicking his tongue against Jeremy, as his fingers curled in just the right spot until Jeremy was coming, wet and desperate, against Squip’s face. He felt him throbbing through his excitement, through his orgasm, and Squip grinned wickedly at the power he held over him.

Power.

It had been so long since he’d felt that.

There’d be no Christmas lights, not with Jeremy.

After all, he was distinctly Jewish.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of the realization. No matter, he thought, ignoring the cum on his skin, the cock inside him. He’d just have to change his fantasies to Hanukkah instead. 

[rainbhrts94writes]

Tephra 02

Hello! Here’s the next thrilling instalment, hope you enjoy the banter as much as I do! :)

POV: YN Warnings: None this chapter, mostly intro stuff Word Count: 2.2K Rating: PG

Master List

Tephra 02

When Imogen told you Prince Namjoon of Atlas had been searching for you in the mage courses by name, you nearly spit out your drink. It's not like you had forgotten about him or anything. Who could forget dimples like that? I mean, really. It was more like you didn't typically associate with people from any of the four kingdoms outside the Min family. 

"What do you think he wants?" Imogen asked you over dinner. 

"Who knows, it's not like I'm anything special." You grumbled, finishing off the food on your plate. 

"You're kidding, right? Did you forget you're the youngest addition to the Academy's guard ever?" Imogen scoffed. 

"You should stop bringing that up. The last formal training I had was when I was ten. The fact that anyone thinks I'm qualified is embarrassing." You rolled your eyes.

"So what is all my night time training to you? Chopped liver?" Imogen smiled as she spoke, spinning her fork around in the air. "Besides, who's embarrassed?"

"All of the old cranky ass guards who worked for years to hone their magical skills to defend the Academy from the invisible powers that threaten us all." You said in a mocking spooky tone. 

"You're not wrong. Did you see General Karp's face when Lady Cecilia offered to promote you to Captain of the Evening Forces?" Imogen let out a roaring laugh at her memory. 

"I'm still saying it had to be a prank. The Headmistress is an air mage by nature. Seriously, we're always out on night rounds. Just because I've caught a few shady individuals lurking around the gate doesn't mean I need to be in charge of my own task force." You poked your fork at your tablemate as you tried to make a point. 

"I don't think she was kidding. You're a great mage, YN, and you lead your peers with this weird calm I've only ever seen in TV dramas. Your skills were obvious last month."

"Are you talking about that landslide again?" You asked, exasperated, deciding not to pick fun at her terrible choice in behavioral reference. "For the last time, we didn't do anything special. The royal family of Atlas and friends already had over half the trench built by the time we got there."

"You're right, but there's no way they would have been able to hold that line alone. They also didn't think to make it deeper while it was filling up, did they? That was all you and Tessa." Imogen stated, looking snarky as she sipped on her tea.

"See, the key there is Tessa. You really think I could have blown that much earth around without focusing on projectile boulders if she and the others hadn't been there." You argued back.

"I do. Even then, you proved my point. Teamwork, you got the stuff of leaders, kid." Then she paused. "Wait, YN."

"What?" You looked up at Imogen, concerned with her tone.

"Prince Namjoon mentioned in his report of the situation that he had narrowly escaped a flying boulder!"

"Yea, and?" You pressed her, trying to find out what Imogen was so excited about.

"Was that you or Tessa?" She asked, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"So what if it was me?" 

"YN! He's been out looking for you for over a month! What if he feels indebted to you and wants to make you an offer?!" Imogen leaped up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the table. "Something to repay that debt, the people of Atlas hate debt!"

"Don't most people hate debt?" You deadpanned. "Would you stop with the wild fantasies? You're supposed to be my guardian."

"Exactly, I'm your guardian. I told your parents I'd take care of you, and if that means marrying you off to a prince of Atlas, then so be it!" Imogen's voice grew in enthusiasm as she pressed on. 

"There are so many reasons why that's not going to work, and you know it. Did my folks know you were clinically insane before they put me in your care? Does the Academy know one of their professors is straight out of the looney bin?" You asked, trying to hide the amusement in your voice. 

"Nope, nobody knows I've escaped." Imogen winked. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?"

"Not until I've graduated, I still need that free tuition." You replied, holding in a laugh.

"Is that all I am to you? A ticket to free education!" Imogen put a hand to her chest and feigned hurt as she flopped back in her chair.

"That and my pseudo-mom."

"You're not allowed to get sentimental with me after being rude." Imogen snapped at the comment, a gentle smile on her face. 

"Whatever you say." You rolled your eyes and collected your empty plates from the table. 

"So, what do you want me to do about the prince?" Imogen asked. "I can only deflect his questions for so long before he sends someone more powerful digging around."

"I don't know." You tipped your head as you put the dishes in the sink. "Find out what he wants first, I guess."

"That I can do," Imogen exclaimed. 

---

The school had a strict curfew. It was how they ensured nobody knew about your class and the inner workings of the Academy. Technically, Spiros was a refugee city, despite it's long, illustrious history. 

As the story goes, Neith the Great Mother descended from the heavens adapting to the life of human's already present on Sias. Those born of her newfound flesh and blood were known as The Children, and together they shared their knowledge and godlike powers with humanity. As time went on, The Children grew in strength and popularity, each now a god in their own right. With power came struggle, and when they fought, so did the humans who followed them. 

The conflict immediately led to a hundred-year war, resulting in the fracturing of the continent and its people. To keep the peace, Neith separated those with magic into four territories and left her home open to all seeking refuge from her children and those who sought to harm them for their perceived powerlessness. 

In the years of peace that followed, the Academy was built to educate those who resided in Spiros safely. They brought in people from all walks of life and the different territories to balance out the curriculum. This angered one of The Children, the daughter Opis who with the help o hr followers sought revenge. During the ensuing battle, Neith perished, the four kingdoms established themselves as they are now, and Spiros was taken and divided into sections to be jointly ruled and controlled. 

One could say that for the past four hundred years since the end of the original conflict, all the four Kingdoms had fought for was a place to dump the underprivileged, unwanted, and their country's political adversaries. As such, over the years Spiros had developed into an eclectic city, one that you'd always really enjoyed visiting so it wasn’t so bad living here. It was a place heavy in multiple cultures, lifestyles, and most importantly the food. 

Your parents had been sure to teach you all about the world when you were little. Spiros, in particular, had always made your dad smile. He had explained to you that nearly eighty years ago, the Adyan Empire was trusted with the duty to appoint a new Headmistress for the Academy. Fortunately, the Royal Min family chose a bishop from The Church of Shango. She was a kind and thoughtful woman who prioritized her students' wellbeing and growth before all else. Not only that, but because of the Adyan Empire's ongoing situation, the Academy's top brass bent the rules to accommodate the common folk of Spiros. 

As stated in the peace treaty, refugees and those exiled were not to participate in the use and learning of magic of any kind. You had been told by Imogen years back that the Academy read the laws and decided it didn't mean the children of those who had been exiled, since they were technically born as people of Spiros, instead of refugees of another country. For that reason, the Headmistress decided to educate the commonwealth, leaving magic training until the students of Spiros could be protected by the cover of darkness and away from prying eyes.  

When the time came to appoint a new Head, the Arabeillan Alliance chose Lady Cecilia. Not only had she figured out what the previous Headmistress had started all on her own, she found it so delightfully tricky that learning was allowed to continue uninhibited. She also did her best to make sure Spiros students were as trained in magic and combat arts as those from the four nations.

The air mages had always freaked you out. On top of never being able to see their attacks coming, they were capable of a host of inhumane magic that you had to trust they didn't use out of sheer benevolence. For that reason alone, you had joined the guard when Lady Cecilia told you to. Aside from Cecilia's wickedly psychic abilities and her probably having a reason for instating you, you didn't want the air ripped out of your lungs anytime soon, which is precisely how you found yourself here this evening. Staring at the gate, wondering why being on guard duty was so sought after. 

Seriously, you could be in class learning, but no; According to Lady Cecilia, there wasn't anything more for you to learn in the courses here. Since you couldn't get her to explain what she meant by that, you did as you were told and stood there. Technically it could be worse; the job could be exciting, which just meant it was unnecessarily dangerous, and you didn't need that, not when there were still things you needed to do.

With curfew having started only a moment ago, you waited in silence, watching the sunset. It was that perfect time of the year where you got a show of sherbet skies just as your shift started. It was excellent and made up for the monotony of your guard duties. Though maybe you shouldn't have been so concentrated on the sky since the door was now slowly creaking open, and you were not ready. 

"Halt!" You projected, "Who goes there?"

"Who goes there? What is this? A bad period movie?" You recognize that voice.

"Yoongi, seriously, what are you doing using the main door? There are much better ways to find me, yanno?" You sighed as your friend stepped towards you.

"Oh, I know, but he doesn't." Yoongi gestured to the man now standing behind him. "This the one you're looking for?"

Even though there wasn't a verbal answer, you'd recognize those dimples anywhere. "Long time no see Namjoon." 

"Interesting," Yoogi remarked.

"What, he didn't like 'Your Princeliness.'" You shrugged as you relaxed back into your position. "I'm just following orders."

"If you say so." Yoongi snickered as he turned to the second prince of Atlus. "Welp, she's all yours. I'm off."

"You're not going to stay?" Najoon asked.

"No, why? Do I need to?" Yoongi quirked an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

"No! I just- how am I supposed to get back without getting caught?" Namjoon continued his questioning.

"That's my job now, dear. Unless you've got a problem with that?" You wondered aloud.

"No! Gods, why are you both so infuriating. You're clearly capable. I was just curious." Namjoon sighed as he rubbed the wrinkles out of his forehead. 

You stifled a laugh as you watched Namjoon work through his frustration. Once it was clear Yoongi had left, you turned your attention away from the door and out towards the town. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I uh, I wanted to say thank you." Namjoon bowed politely to you.

"You've been looking for me for this long just to say thank you?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"You knew I was looking for you?" Namjoon questioned back.

"Not really, just a hunch." You shrugged, trying not to give yourself away. "Yoongi did bring you here, which means you had to be visibly struggling for quite a while."

"That's a fair observation." Namjoon straightened himself out. "How do you know Yoongi, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We're related." You responded.

"That's a terrible joke." Namjoon sighed. "I should not have asked."

"So now that you've asked your more formal question, what do you really want?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm honestly not sure?" Namjoon responded, relaxing against the looming stone wall behind him.

"That's a terrible reason to break curfew and seek out a stranger." You chuckled.

"It is, isn't it?" Namjoon laughed alongside you. "I think I wanted to be friends?"

"You think?" You raised your eyebrows, intrigued. "I'll have you know I'm a great friend. There's not much to think about."

"You shouldn't wink. It's creepy." Namjoon's lips twitched up in amusement.

"Oh? What's this now?" You leaned forward, meeting Namjoon's gaze. "I know nobody in the capital taught you to talk like that."

"You'll find that I'm very well-read." Namjoon puffed out his chest as he boasted.

"Oh my gods, you do need friends." You laughed out loud, not hiding the smile on your face. "Answer me this, though, why me."

"Why not you?" at that, you stuck out your hand.

"Touché"

[thecorteztwins]

(Just a basic superhero vs supervillain brawl here between Force of Nature and the ladies of the Winter Guard, with a little twist at the end! No deep character stuff, but tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes because Pyro and Avalanche are in it!) Russia had the largest amount of forests of any country on Earth, even more so than the famous Amazon rainforest, boasting 55% of the world's conifers and 11% of the Earth’s biomass. And yet, the logging industry, especially the illegal side, was so rampant and unrestrained that deforestation was threatening even this arboreal giant. It was for this reason that Force of Nature was sent to attack the headquarters of one the largest logging companies in the nation, and one with the most illegal activity under its belt. It was the first mission for their new recruits---two mutants, Pyro and Avalanche of the Brotherhood, representing the elements of fire and earth. Though their origins were in the very political Brotherhood, they had the right mercenary attitude for the squad. They also got on well with the two pre-existing members. Well, no, they got on well with Aqueduct, not so much Aireo. But Aqueduct assured them that no one really got on with Aireo, and that he was just glad to have a couple of “normal guys” like himself on the team at last. “It’s not that I didn’t LIKE Theary and Terraformer,” he hd said, “But you couldn’t really have a beer with ‘em attitude-wise, you know? And I literally CAN’T with Aireo, poor guy’d die of alchohol poisoning after one glass. He’s got a real weak system, Inhuman, y’know.” They knew. It was getting him to SHUT UP about it that was the issue, Pyro had found. The skinny beanpole---for once Pyro got to call someone else that!---really got under both their skins, his and Dom’s, with his superior species bullshit. Though St. John kinda had to admit there was an irony to it, given how he’d and Dom had used to run in the Brotherhood, which preached the same thing, just with regards to a different species. And it was kind of novel how Aireo looked down on them for BEING human, rather than NOT being human like most people. Pyro would give the wind-master one thing, he didn’t discriminate against mutants, just ALL humans in general. There was a fairness in it he could respect---if it wasn’t so damn IRRITATING! That aside though, it turned out they worked well together in the field---Skybreak stayed aloft where he could be hit accidentally by Avalanche’s seismic waves, and his winds helped fan Pyro’s flames from above. Speaking of Pyro’s flames, Aqueduct could put them out if they got out of hand---a much quicker way to do it than relying on Pyro to calm them, something he always had trouble with---and he could also make mud for Dom to send his shockwaves through, which made for some interesting effects you couldn’t get with just dirt and stone. It was really just plain FUN, in Pyro’s opinion, to watch some fucker DROWN in it. Right now though, a few logging employees were drowning in the wood chips that had been knocked over by Avalanche’s avalanches...the ones that Pyro wasn’t lighting up, anyway. “Talk about burning through your profits eh?” St. John yelled to his team over the din as workers and officials scattered. One brave soul tried to spray a fire extinguisher at him, Dom’s shockwave knocked him off his feet while a breeze from Skybreaker sent foam back in the poor sod’s face, just before a wave from Aqueduct washed him away clear to other side of the room. “Come on mate, your life’s not worth whatever crap they’re paying you”, Pyro called over to the guy, though he knew the Russians likely didn’t understand him. “Yeah, nobody try to be a hero here”, added Aqueduct.

“Oh, but I think I will,” said a woman’s voice from behind him the water-wielder. It came from within the swirling black portal that had opened at his back, and poor Aqueduct turned his head just in time to get the side of his face punched by a white-gloved fist emerging from the portal, followed by a black-haired woman attached to it, wearing a red costume with a white-pointed white star emblazoned on the chest. Another black-haired woman stepped out with her, this one in a barely-there purple getup with thigh-high boots, and a younger blonde between them in a black costume with a yellow diamond star and a bejeweled headband. Pyro didn’t recognize them but he knew what they were-- “Supes!” Dom yelled. “Correct,” said the blonde in Russian-accented English, “We are the Winter Guard, defenders of Mother Russia and all her people---and we give you ONE chance to stand down and surrender!” “One chance is all I need to boil up some Russian hotpot!” Pyro proclaimed, turning his flames their way...only to have them harmlessly swallowed up by the Darkforce portal that Darkstar, the blonde, summoned to intercept them. “Wha---that’s cheating!” St. John exclaimed. “Then let’s even the score, Johnny,” growled Dom, sending a quake out from his hands towards the women...only for it to turn out THAT--- “They all can fly?!” he exclaimed. That REALLY was not fair! “They may ride the air,” scoffed Skybreaker from above, “But---can they command it?!” With that, the Inhuman hurled contained hurricanes intended to grab the women, knock them around, even break their bones inside it---or worse, hopefully. Darkstar teleported away, but the others, Starlight and Fantasma, were caught by the tornadoes. Skybreaker started to laugh, but his triumph was short-lived---a Darkforce portal appeared behind him, and he was pulled in by Darkstar, then spat out into the tornado himself, right next to Fantasma. The sorceress seized the opportunity, and seized Skybreaker himself, grabbing him and manipulating his bio-field to render him unconscious. Thus, the tornado stopped, and he dropped to the ground before Starlight or Darkstar could grab him, which Fantasma did not even try. blonde, Darkstar, ported away “Aireo!” Aqueduct yelled, “Hey, he’s got delicate bones!” “Your concern for your comrade is admirable,” Starlight commended “But you should worry about yourself,” added Fantasma “Get the ‘porter,” Pyro commanded to Aqueduct and Avalanche, having learned from what he just saw, “She’s the real threat, herd her to me and I’ll toast her!” “You like playing with fire, hmm?” Starlight had overheard, “How about nuclear fire?” And with that, Pyro found himself surrounded by flames that emanated from her body. Normally that was something he would have no fear of, quite the reverse, but this fire felt...wrong. He shrank from it reflexively, as he would something alien and dangerous. “My radiation is not something I wish to inflict on anyone---especially not one with infractions so minor as yours---but threaten the life of my teammate, and you can consider your own to be forfeit!” “Ulp,” Pyro replied, “Got it.” With Skybreaker down and Pyro caged, that left Aqueduct and Avalanche, and Pyro didn’t have much hope for them. Great guys, but not great thinkers, those two. He didn’t expect this fight to last much longer, and he was right. The last thing he remembered was one of Darkstar’s portals surrounding him, and then everything was black and cold... ...and woke up into just more darkness and coldness. “John? John!” Dom was leaning over him, his square face contorted in concern. “Ahhh...” Pyro sat up, rubbing the back of his head, “Feels like I got the world’s worst hangover...” “We all did,” said Aqueduct, “Everybody except Aireo.” “I was passed out already before that witch passed us through our portal,” Aireo said venomously. Pyro didn’t need to ask where they were. He could tell already. A prison cell. A bad one too. No beds or benches attached to the walls, no toilet, no bars, just three walls and a solid steel door. It was very, very cramped in here too, with minimal light coming only from the tiny window in the door. And he didn’t like the crusty brown rim around the drain in the center of the floor. Pyro also knew that power-dampeners must be installed, or these three would have already busted loose with him in tow.  This...did not look good. Pyro had HEARD what the Russians did to mutants, even the ones who WEREN’T foreigner criminals... “Johnny, get down!” Dom yelled, and pulled Pyro away from something. Pyro turned and saw that behind him, one of the Darkforce portals was forming. “What do you want?!” he demanded of Darkstar and Starlight, who were visible within it, though not emerging due to the cell being so small. “For you to come with us,” said Starlight. “We love our country, make no mistake,” explained Darkstar, “But the present government’s treatment of the super-powered who do not serve it is inhumane.” “Even for villains,” Starlight added. “Where’s Stripperella?” Pyro asked, noting that what had been a trio was now a duo. “Fantasma...has a harder time understanding the nuances of these things,” Starlight said, “She follows the law, and believes it is good. And it is. And you broke it. You should be punished, as the law demands. But not like THIS.” “What’s...this?” Aqueduct asked. He was apparently not as well-read as Pyro about how Russia did things. “You do not know what is in store for you?” “Er...no?” Dom said. He was also not exactly on the up and up in this department. The women exchanged looks. “Better that way,” said Starlight, “Come on---enough talk.” “We’ve just shut down the power nullifiers,” said Darkstar, “Quickly, make a mess so it looks like you escaped on your own---we’ll help make sure you get through the facility, you just leave a ‘trail’ as you go.” They did exactly that, their elemental powers wreaking havoc through the facility, while Darkstar’s portals enabled them to evade being seen or caught. The portals were bad enough though; Pyro realized now why he’d felt so terrible after going through one, why he’d passed out. It was staggering to go through them, even for a second, and all four of Force of Nature quickly protested their use, preferring to take their chances being seen. “It is the Darkforce,” Darkstar explained apologetically, “To me, it is friendly, harmless---but when others travel through it, the effects are...unpleasant. It is helpful for quickly subduing foes, as I did you before, but it makes it less than ideal for transporting friends, especially those unused to it.” “Even I’m still getting used to it,” admitted the sturdy-looking Starlight, who appeared to Pyro no worse for the wear despite the multiple small trips....while he felt like he was going to drop again, and the others looked about the same. Finally, they reached the end, a wall that Starlight instructed them to burst through, which Avalanche did with ease. They walked for awhile, Pyro burning a path through the snow---the ladies had considerately brought him a lighter---til they had left enough of a trail, then Darkstar took them all for one last ‘port, in the opposite direction, to the outskirts of Moscow, where they could find a way to contact their employers and get a flight scheduled. “From here, you must make your own way home,” said Starlight. “And never return, “Darkstar warned, “Or else you may not find us so merciful next time!” Actually they would be---but they didn’t want to risk these dumb-asses knowing that and coming back.

[vulpinmusings]

Letters from Buxcord 2 - Razorback

After much delay, my RPG group returned to our Monster of the Week campaign for our second mystery.  This time, Ash and his new companions look into strange happenings surrounding a rich family and an old slaughterhouse.

Samantha,

Any doubts I had about sticking around Buxcord are well and truly squashed now.  It’s only been about a week since the Santa-squatch incident and I’ve already squared off with something much bigger and purely magical.

It started just a couple days after Christmas.  I was trawling about town for more details on local legends in the hopes of finding some common sources or threads to follow, and wound up at Bayou Boating, the main tourist attraction in this small town.  They had a list of “local cryptids” posted on the wall, but it included several creatures that, unless the names apply to different mythics than they do in Taryn, do not tend to live in or around wetlands.  The one person on staff at the time – it is the off-season for boat tours – proved to be less than well-informed about the one local legend I asked him about.  People occasionally go missing in the bayou after foolishly going out there on their own at night.

Well, I can’t really put all the blame for my not getting a lot of info on the clerk.  I‘d only asked a few questions before I experienced a major pulse in the magic fields.  It was almost a textbook example of the ripples caused by an inexperienced Mage casting spells beyond their ability.  The pulse carried some lingering effects of the original spell, as I had a brief vision of a grinning shadow floating over the bayou.  I set off in search of the source, but as messy as the spell had been it was also far enough away that the magic settled and the trail grew cold before I got more than a block.

Nothing else happened for a few days, until I crossed paths with Nollthep and Lea again.  I hadn’t really seen either of them since the Santa-sqautch, and the simple fact that Nollthep was not in his shop and was asking after somebody should have tipped me off.  Whatever that fellow is, he seems to work for some higher being and has little to no personal needs outside of running errands for his “Boss.” Lea is normal other than her instinctual persuasion magic, but her paths and mine just hadn’t crossed in the last week.

At any rate, we three happened to meet up at the local park where Lea was performing with some small-time Punk Rock band that sings in Spanish.  That’s… I think the language matches best to Iberrian.  Anyway, Lea’s singing was infused with a mesmeric effect that had everyone (except yours truly, naturally) in love with the whole performance despite her not knowing the language or the words very well. Nollthep wandered up to us after the show was over, asking everyone he came across if they knew of any Wiccans or anybody named Clemonte.  When he got to Lea and I, his questions turned to the topic of whether or not humans need blood and hearts to live.

I don’t think I need to say how concerning that was, but I didn’t get a chance to press for details before our attention was stolen by a group of local law enforcement suddenly taking off in response to a call from a “Clemonte mansion.”  That got Nollthep’s full focus, of course, and Lea finally recalled that the Clemontes were a wealthy but reclusive and disliked family in Buxcord.  She alluded to some previous encounters with them that had left her particularly soured, but she agreed to lead us to the house.

The Clemontes live on a hill on the southern outskirts of town, with their driveway reaching all the way to the base of the hill.  As mansions go, it wasn’t all that large, but the fountain in front had the ostentation of true Old Money.  The butler who answered our knock at the door sealed the impression, and he would have turned us away on principle if Lea’s magic hadn’t kicked in and scrambled his senses enough to make him tolerant of three random gawkers intruding on his employer’s private business.

I don’t want to become to reliant on that kind of manipulation, but without the reputation I’ve got back home I might not have much choice for a while…

The police – a sheriff and two deputies to be precise – were in the living room questioning a young woman and paid us little mind as we peeked in for a look.  The reason for the call was glaringly obvious: a disemboweled corpse had been hung on the wall over the fireplace with a graffiti-style pig’s head and the words “I’m back” scrawled in blood below it.  A most disturbing sight, although only Lea showed any physical reaction.  I, of course, am too experienced to let my revulsion get in the way of solving a problem, and Nollthep is too inhuman to even have a visceral reaction to such sights.

The sheriff and pair of deputies who were on-site were surprisingly fine with the three of us stepping in and asking our own questions.  I’m hoping that it was just them thinking that we must be welcome since the we’d gotten past the butler, but it’s too early to rule out general incompetence yet. The girl was Sophia Clemonte and the corpse had been a security guard at the Clemonte slaughterhouse and had no reason to be in the family mansion.  Sophia was shook up by the corpse, but she was more concerned about her younger brother, Cyril, who was missing.  The police told us that the rest of the family were upstairs, so we decided to go up and interrogate them while the police were still busy getting Sophia’s story.

The Clemonte parents are named Archie and Penelope.  Archie’s a bit of a boor and seems to hate magic on principle, while Penelope had the aura of someone with the talent for magic, albeit one she hasn’t used in many years thanks to her husband’s influence.  From Archie, we got an explanation for what the message painted on the wall could have meant.  About twenty years ago, an employee at the slaughterhouse had suffered a psychotic break after being fired and killed several people before committing suicide.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get more than that out of Archie before Lea insulted him and he told us to get out.

On our way out, we decided to check in on the last Clemonte, the eldest son Zachary.  I didn’t get any sense that he’d inherited any of his mother’s ability, and he was callously unconcerned about the whole scenario and intent on heading out for a little walk despite all common sense.

Penelope caught up to us at the top of the stairs and, now out from under Archie’s gaze, opened up a little more about her history with magic as we headed back to the crime scene.  She used to practice the Wiccan traditions, but gave them up years ago and hid her books away. Young Cyril had shown an interest in those books, and Penelope had given him one of the less dangerous tomes to look through.  I convinced Penelope to show me where she’d hidden the rest of her books, and she took us to a surprisingly large room hidden behind a secret door in the kitchen.  The room was full of not just books but all kinds of the stuff you typically find in the collection of those who follow ritual-based magic traditions. There was a book missing from the shelves, but it wasn’t the book Penelope had loaned to Cyril.  Penelope said the missing book was primarily about summoning and controlling spirits.

(Be sure to clarify that I’m not talking about Spiriter Warlock stuff here when you relay this to the M’Dales.  They’ll probably have a conniption otherwise.)

The sheriff had already had the corpse body-bagged when we returned to the sitting room, but I took a crack at searching the spot where it had been hanging, in case there was any lingering magic I could trace.  I got more than I bargained for; somehow, I managed to briefly link myself to the mind of an otherworldly entity (other than Nollthep) for a few seconds.  Demonic seems like an adequate adjective.  I had to sit down and catch my breath, and Lea charmed the butler into bringing us some coffee while Nollthep went to search Cyril’s room and one of the deputies was sent out to bring Zachary back. Nollthep came back with the missing tome, and we discussed whether or not to let Penelope know about it. We opted to keep her in the dark until I’d had a chance to look through it.

After much too much time had passed without either Zach or the deputy returning, I felt a ripple of powerful magic underlaid with that same sense of the demonic and led the group outside to see what was up. Standing by the fountain, holding Zachary up like a stuck pig and with the deputy lying broken at its feet, was an 8-foot tall humanoid figure dressed like a butcher and wearing a leather pig mask that was bleeding from the seams.  Reacting quickly, I wrapped the figure up in a Tangler while Nollthep produced a stack of playing cards and flung them one by one at the figure, as expertly as myself but without any spells attached.  The thing barely reacted.

Lea ran over to try and save the deputy, but her magic betrayed her, draining life out of the man rather than putting more in.

I tried to engage the creature in conversation, just to establish that it wasn’t sentient, and then tried to see how it liked a bullet in the head.

Did I mention I acquired a revolver shortly after the Santa-squatch incident?  It’s not my style, but without Carmilla around to handle the non-magical aspects of combat I have to make do.

Not that the bullet did any good in this event.

Nollthep tossed the spellbook to me and told me to try to find a counter-spell to whatever had summoned pig-head while he kept it busy.  I quickly found a likely looking spell and started Weaving it together to the best of my ability.  I hadn’t gotten far, though, before pig-head sensed the gathering magic and fled via dematerlization.

So, I learned that in this universe, evil spirits can sense when you’re trying to counteract the spell that summoned them to the mortal plan and can just get out of range before you’re done.  That’s an unwelcome complication.

Once the dust had settled, an ambulance was called in.  By some miracle, the deputy was still alive.  Zachary, on the other hand, was missing all his internal organs as well as having bled out.

In the course of informing the Clemontes and the sheriff about what had happened in the driveway and some of our suspicions, Nollthep and the Sheriff got into a bit of an argument about whether or not magic is real.  I could have gotten involved, but I was occupied with more important matters such as studying the spellbook and only rejoined the conversation when Nollthep left the room for a private conversation with Penelope and I overheard the Sheriff mention to Archie that there were reports of strange noises at the old slaughterhouse.  Over Archie’s protests, the sheriff insisted that everyone stay put until the morning and left his remaining deputy to keep an eye on us.

Once the Sheriff was gone, I made it clear that I did not intend to wait around or leave the case in the hands of people who didn’t even believe in the existence of magic.  I tried to conjure a basic mage-light to convince the deputy that I knew what I was talking about, but wound up with a tiny fireball instead.  It was sufficient to convince the deputy, at least.  Nollthep came back from his business with Penny and, naturally, agreed to accompany me.  To my surprise, Lea also wanted to come along, because she figured that since I’d chased pig-face off once, the safest place to be was at my side.

It was a long walk to the slaughterhouse.  It must have been abandoned shortly after the incident twenty years ago, because the place was empty and full of rusted equipment.  I felt the presence of pig-face as soon as we entered the building.  We decided that since pig-face had a… particular theme to him, we should start our search in the pork slaughtering section.  The plan was to locate pig-face and figure out how to restrain him so he couldn’t escape while I cast the banishing spell on him.

In the pig area, we heard the sounds of actual pigs in the preparation pens and went to look.  The things we found were mostly identical to normal pigs, but their eyes and teeth were more human than porcine, and they were munching on offal that included at least one intact human hand.  Nollthep, working on the assumption that the pigs were sapient, attempted to cast a translation spell on himself and wound up just speaking gibberish and apparently losing his ability to comprehend Lea or me for several minutes.

Then we saw pig-face up in the rafters, holding a blood-soaked mallet. Nollthep produced his throwing cards and put some actual magic into them that briefly set fire to pig-face’s sleeve.  The beast dropped down on us and walloped Nollthep.  As I Wove a lightning bolt, Lea ran for cover behind me.  She grabbed onto me briefly and, in that brief moment, the magic fell into place with my normal natural grace. The lighting struck pig-face, then arced off him and unlocked one of the pig pens.  The pig-thing inside charged at Nollthep, but he swatted it up and into another pen with ease.

Pig-face came after me next, and I threw up a barrier to try and stop his mallet.  I must have miscalculated, because the blow shattered the shield and knocked me back a bit.  Could have been worse, I guess, but still…

Nollthep pulled out a chain of tied-up handkerchiefs and tried to tie pig-face up with them.  It held for a few seconds, but not nearly enough time for me to even start the banishment.  Lea suddenly ran off into the heart of the slaughtering area, and pig-face chased her once he broke loose.  I got him in a Tangler, but it barely held him long enough for Nollthep to club him once.  I heard Lea say something about finding the meat grinder that pig-face had first died in as I ran to keep up with the fight.  I pushed past Nollthep and, in a bit of foolish desperation, tried to tackle pig-face and flip him off the walkway and into the machinery. You can probably guess how well that went.  Pig-face had me by the neck and dangling over the suddenly active grinder before I could regain my balance.  Nollthep whipped his hankie-chain around the specter’s arm to try and haul me out of danger, but pig-face resisted the pull and tossed a knife at Nollthep with his free hand. Then Lea found a meathook and chucked it at pig-face, and I was falling toward a mass of whirling blades and serrated rollers.

Reflex kicked in and I cast my Transport spell without thinking about how it would need to be adjusted.  By pure luck, the spell not only worked but deposited me safely on the walkway away from the fight.  As I made my way back to the action, I saw that my companions were in a bit of a panic thinking I’d just died (Nollthep apparently thought meat grinders just magically transmute flesh into meat or something and Lea didn’t see what happened).  Lea’s grief was so great she actually summoned a big root up through the walkway and into pig-face’s arm just as the creature made a move to throw Nollthep into the grinder after me.

As for myself, I was starting to get annoyed.  I’d cheated death by pure luck and pig-face was proving to very, very bothersome.  Simply restraining him was no longer an option for me.  He had to suffer a bit.

So I set him on fire.  It didn’t do much on its own, but Nollthep threw on some sort of powder that exploded and knocked pig-face off the walkway.  The creature threw the hooked chain from its belt and caught Nollthep by the shoulder, but I broke through the rusted chain with a simple Breaking before Nolly got pulled in after pig-face.

For reasons I don’t quite understand yet, being subjected to the same form of death a second time proved to be enough to end pig-face’s return to the physical world.  Once he’d been thoroughly ground up, that persistent, buzzing sense of his presence vanished along with the human-toothed pigs.  The gore they’d been feasting on remained, however.  I took the hand I’d seen earlier for the police to check, in case it happened to have belonged to Cyril Clemonte.  Nollthep went into a panic when I mentioned that theory and he swiftly dug through the viscera looking for anything that could be a heart.  Once he found something, he vanished in a blink, presumably to deliver the goods to his Boss.

Lea and I returned to the mansion just long enough to tell the deputy what to expect when the cops went to the slaughterhouse and to hand over the hand.  I then made sure Lea got home safely before returning to my hotel room.

When I arrived, I found a card on the bed.  It invited me to visit a Madam Weaver, who apparently knows something that would be of use to me.

How useful it will actually be remains to be seen, but you may be seeing me or these letters sooner than I hoped.

With guarded hope,

Ash