#It's the lack of consent that comes with the people training it

[dukeoftears]

ethical AI ✅

unethical AI ❌

[lynnerdo]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Chapter 1 - Introduction Chapter 2 - Beginnings are such delicate times Chapter 3 - Eclipse Chapter 4 - A Time of Quiet Between the Storms Chapter 5 - Harkonnen Arena Chapter 6 - Water of life Chapter 7 - Each man is a little war Chapter 8 - Spice

***

The lush and deep forests near the castle brings many memories to you. Soon your life might look completely different, should Feyd reconsider marriage. You hope he pulls through, in more ways than one. Walking in the crisp fresh air of the trees makes you realise your feelings might be developing in more than just infatuation. Your heart sank when you saw Feyd collapse last night. It felt heavy to breathe just thinking about what would have happened if he died. But not only that, you felt as if Feyd would be an interesting partner. His personality very different from the men who you had known all your life. He showed a different kind of devotion, almost obsession over you. You admit it made you quiver a little bit every time he stared you down, a biological reaction, you assured yourself.

You think it’s sinful to admit that when he had you cornered in the halls, hand pulling your hair, you also felt your body react to that. It was the first time a man didn’t tiptoe around you, someone who saw you on an equal line, someone who didn’t feel the need to behave otherwise because of your stature. You understand why your mother didn’t think a Bene Gesserit training would be something for you. You lacked the self-control and discipline, just now acknowledging how your body responded to violence like that. You continue walking in the forest, blushing heavily thinking about him. You can’t seem to snap out of the feeling of his breathe on your lips, his face so close, and then feeling the solid form of his body as you dragged him back. He truly is remarkable.

*

Feyd keeps inquiring the staff when you will be back, obsessively so. He doesn’t look desperate, but some of the people in the castle would describe him as a loyal dog waiting for their master to return. He had no patience whatsoever. He felt a lot fitter already, a burning sensation lingering in his muscles, but the medical staff reassured him he would be fine in a few days. He had heard everything that happened last night, how you grunted as you pulled his body all the way back to the castle, how you demanded them to save him, using any way possible, even if it meant breaking the law. You showed a devotion to him he wasn’t used to. Even his servants didn’t seem to care that much and were just acting out of fear. Whilst there was some fear in your voice last night, it wasn’t caused by him, it was a fear of losing him.

He went back to his quarters to get a much-needed bath and to sit in his own thoughts for now. He wasn’t allowed to let himself get so entrapped by her, it showed a certain weakness that Harkonnen didn’t take kindly to. He felt his worries wash off him as he entered the bathroom however, the same enchanting scent he smelled coming from the garden last night, now enveloping him. ‘Caladian rose’ it was called. And he noticed how it smelled like her. He recalled the way he trapped her between the wall and himself the day before, when he got a whiff of her perfume, how his hand smelled like her.

It drove him crazy; his hands went down into the water. He kept seeing your face as he softly stroked his full length. The scent of the bath adding to the feeling, it was like you were taking over his mind, all he could think of was you. He imagined how good you would look if you were in the bath here with him, your soft body writhing next to him, your hands on his chest, his face, his cock. His strokes were getting harder and faster at this point. He wanted nothing more but to taste you, lick your skin and claim your lips, to make you cry out his name, over and over. He came hard at the thought of you sitting on top of him, asking for more. He saw stars and realised you didn’t need to be trained like a Bene Gesserit, for you were already controlling his mind and body without it.

*

You eventually find the herb you were looking for and cut it with the blade Feyd gave you. It’s funny how a weapon made for killing was now being used for essentially gardening. You weren’t going to tell him that the first thing you used it on was a plant however, that’s just disrespectful.

As you make your way back to the castle, it’s already the late afternoon. It seemed like the search took longer than you wanted to, and you were needing a bath of your own. You felt sweaty, musky and assumed mentally drained after the events of last night. It would also help to calm down your muscles a little bit more. Feyd was a heavy man, and you were not used to dragging heavy men around. That was something Duncan hadn’t taught you yet.

You go to your quarters and let a bath run, you add some salts and Caladian rose essential oils. You hadn’t seen any staff members or servants in your walk back, but you also feared for any news coming from Feyd. You sort of assume he was strong enough to fight through the toxins, certainly with your blood going through him. But a small fear lingered. It would be better if you could see him tonight.

*

You eventually got out of the bath, to your own disappointment. A staff member had knocked on your door, telling you dinner would be starting soon. As you got out, you decide on wearing a pale purple dress, with cut-outs on your shoulders. It shaped around your body nicely and was extremely soft. As you moved towards the dining hall, it flowed behind you in the light of the setting sun.

As you entered the dining hall you stopped in your tracks. Feyd was standing near one of the bigger windows, looking outside towards the ocean. As he heard the door close behind you, he turned around. He was wearing something more casual as well, see through vest with a deep V-neck, showing off his perfectly shaped torso. It was tightened softly on his hip and a soft black pant underneath. His skin glistening in the direct sunlight it received. You made your way towards him, still in disbelief that he’s already up and running. His gaze softened once he saw you, whatever his thoughts were, they fell away.

“My Lady Atreides,” he purred as you got closer to him.

You smiled at him, for the first time it felt genuine as well. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw, reminding himself to not listen to his instinct to kiss you right there and then. You reached over to touch him however, grazing his arm softly.

“How- When did you awaken?”, you stumble, softly rubbing your thumb against his arm.

He looked down at your hand and then back at you. You misinterpreted his meaning and let go of him. He countered by grabbing your hand back, softly playing with it. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, as you got hotter with every soft movement he did.

“I think I have my Lady to thank for that,” he said as he pulled your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly, never taking his eyes off yours.

He seemed like a proper gentleman just now, but you knew something was off. The glint in his eye and the way he smirked after reminding you that he was still Feyd. You didn’t seem to mind however, whatever he might be thinking about. You felt flattered and had to admit you loved it when he swooned over you like this. He was direct with his intentions; you knew where you stood with him.

As you two were standing there, the door opened once more. Your father and mother entered with an indescribable emotion set on their faces. By now, you assume word had spread already. You left out a soft ‘ugh’, and Feyd picked up on it. He let go of your hand and cupped your cheek softly. He brushed over your almost faded scar, as he licked him lips. How seductive, you thought. “Calm down darling, they won’t punish you if we get married,” he spoke.

There it was again, that word that caused all of this in the first place. He knew what he said, as he smiled a bit more venomous than he should have. You were stumbling to realise what he said about marriage, however. He saw your conflicting thoughts on your face and realised the words he spoke. A bit stifled at his lack of self-control, he let go of your cheek and made his way towards the table. He let his emotions slip a little too soon for his liking.

You’re staring out of the window, trying to process what had just transpired. As you turned around and sat down in front of him, you smiled a little bit, the inevitable dreaded conversation with your father could wait for now. You didn’t have the heart to look at Feyd’s face throughout dinner but shot a few glances to his body. He was remarkable, the epitome of a Greek god. You recall standing next to him and smelling Caladian rose on him. He could have taken a bath without any oils, but the fact that he didn’t, sent you into overdrive. This man was slowly taking over your every thought.

*

After dinner, your father proposes a toast in celebration of Feyd’s recovery, since not a lot of men have lived through meeting a white king cobra and living to tell the tale. You assumed Feyd would still be in a lot of pain on the inside, feeling a burning sensation every time he took a breath. You give the herbs to a staff member and ask her to prepare some tea. It’s the least you could do to help him feel more soothed.

As alcohol flows, you indulge in some of it as well. It soothes your inner thoughts and calms you down after the events that transpired. As the staff member returns, you muster up the courage to ask Feyd to follow you. You go out of the dining hall towards one of the balconies nearby. Feyd follows you promptly, wondering what you were going to say. You hand him over the tea, already cooled down a bit, and he takes the cup.

“What is this?” he questions you, smelling the cup and frowning at it. You chuckle at his reaction, “it’s just some tea, I went out to get fresh herbs, it helps with the feeling of dying,” you assume to know how he is feeling with that. He looks up at you, puzzled “I feel great,” he smirks.

You take a few seconds before you realise, he’s joking with you.

“Just drink it, even for you this can’t be enjoyable anymore,” you say as you slightly roll your eyes and turn to lean on the balcony railing.

The setup reminding you of the moment you shared with him back on Giedi Prime.

He listens and drinks it all in one go, it tastes a bit foul to his liking, like drinking grass or something. You laugh at his slight repulsion and let him have your glass of wine.

“Here, wash it away with this,” you say as he takes the glass and brushes your fingers with his softly.

He sips, and you see him return to his normal self. You smile softly at him as he gives you back your glass. You take a big sip out of the glass to wash down your creeping emotions. It makes you a bit numb and tingles within your body, but it’s a welcome treat. Feyd is staring at your face, trying to read your emotions at this point, you had been quiet all night. He decides to speak up.

“Lady Atreides, I have to thank you,” he starts, “not only did you save my life last night, you also went against the laws of your people to do so,” he continues as he takes your free hand, “you show a devotion to a cause much like we Harkonnen do, and for that I think you would be a worthy wife for me”.

You’re flattered, but his words seem to be a bit flat, very formal in a way. You had hoped his emotions to be a little bit stronger by now, but at least he wasn’t against marriage anymore. Even if it was for ulterior motives. He saw the struggle on your face, and wanted to shoot himself in the foot, he realised the words he spoke were extremely impersonal.

Ever the diplomat, you responded properly.

“I did what I had to do, I don’t think it would be labelled as an accident should you have died from poisoning, after my assassination attempt on Giedi Prime.”

You spoke with a little bit more sass when you mentioned that the people of his planet wanted to murder you, the alcohol probably giving you a bit more confidence tonight. He narrowed his eyes at you for a few seconds as you stared him down. Your face obviously not amused at his dryness. You turn away under his scorching look and revert your eyes towards the ocean. The moon casting a soft pale light on top of it. You felt his stare linger on you and wondered why both of you were so bad at communicating with each other.

You didn’t expect him to give you a heartfelt poem or anything, but to see him so devoid of emotions made you a little bit annoyed. You had just committed a crime for him, and all he could utter was “thanks, politically speaking we’d be great together”. What an asshole. That’s when you felt him lean towards you on the balcony, a hand trailing your shoulder softly. He had that dangerous quality about him, where you forgave him almost instantly whenever he touched you. You almost felt deprived every time he didn’t.

He trailed your shoulder and took his fingers further down the length of your arm, as if trying to soothe you. In a weird way it was working, you turn towards him as you see him staring back at you, his expression soft. His hand goes back up and onto your cheek, softly swiping at the scar.

“You look beautiful in the moonlight,” he confesses.

Your heart skips several beats at his intimacy. He looks you up and down and takes a deep breath before returning to your face. He notices your cheeks have a colour to them now, maybe it came from the alcohol, but he wants to believe that his words were the culprit. He comes closer to you, and you let him. You turn your body towards him, feeling completely engulfed in his actions.

“If you’ll have me, will you marry me?” he softly speaks, as his other hand snakes around your waist.

He could probably hear your heartbeat at this point, you felt like you were melting into his touch. He felt so warm against your body, so perfectly moulded. You put your glass of wine down and place your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat, calm and controlled. For every time people warned you of this man, you have seen him in a different light more than often. He didn’t strike fear inside of you anymore, more so desire and a heavy need of wanting to be his.

As you open your mouth to speak, you get interrupted by a staff member telling you your father wants to speak with you. The moment is completely ruined, anxiety striking your face and Feyd notices. He lets you go but takes your hand in his and pulls it towards his face. He kisses it softly, never letting his eyes leave yours.

“I will await your answer, darling.” He lets you go, and you blush even more than before.

As the staff member guides you towards your father, she speaks some words of encouragement, but to be honest, at this point all you can think of is Feyd. He had just confessed his feelings in a strange way, it felt like he wanted to clear up that he also chose you, and not because of some political agreement. Having to listen to your father now felt like torture, for your night would only become worse.

*

As you entered his quarters he was standing at the window, in deep thought. You sighed and wanted to just get this over with.

“Father, you called?”, you snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned around and looked at you fondly.

You were perplexed, you fully expected him to give you a lecture, but his face was saying otherwise.

“My dear daughter, you truly are some mastermind, aren’t you,” he went to hug you. “What makes you say that father?”, you truly did not understand. “You, saving the Na-Baron, forcing him to marry you in the process, brilliant.” He looked at you filled with pride, but you also realised he completely misunderstood your intentions. “Dad, I’m not forcing anyone, I did what felt right at that moment, had I not, then House Harkonnen would be launching an attack on us as we speak. It was never my intention to force Feyd,” you sounded desperate to make him understand that you were not scheming, but you actually thought Feyd was going to be a good partner.

He looked at you puzzled, like he couldn’t understand what you were implying.

“You meant to save him?” he questioned you. “Yes!” you exclaimed. “Why? This man attacked you on your first day of meeting,” he tried to reason with you. “Because I like him!” you almost shouted.

Your confession falling silent in his room, his face contorting into some form of disbelief. He was trying to understand how someone like you would potentially fall in love with someone like Feyd-Rautha. You sighed and looked away from him.

“I didn’t just break the law because I saw a political advantage. A man I like was dying in front of me, I only did what my heart forced me to do.”

You sounded a bit desperate, to be understood and not judged at this point. Your father noticed your shift in body language, he had made you feel uncomfortable. To his regret, he never married your mother, so he understands what it meant to feel the desperate need to get married to someone you loved.

He hugged you and reassured you it’d all be fine. He released you after a while and spoke.

“The law states that only spouses or family members can aid in the giving of blood. Your mother was against it because it’s not a true Bene Gesserit way, but I don’t care. Your happiness is more important than that,” he took your hands in his, “we will keep the secret for as long as we can, once you get married it doesn’t matter anymore,” he kisses you on your forehead.

Your father only wanted to protect you from the world you lived in, but Feyd also had to agree to keep this secret. Which in turn could be a more difficult task than you wanted it to be.

[trans-axolotl]

I think the reason psychosis is always viewed as a crisis by non-schizo effected people is cause neurotypical people are always told and believe that an episode of psychosis is the most terrifying thing that could happen. Like at least from my experience, descriptions, talks, and depictions of psychosis is AS something that's deathly scary to not know (and assumably never again know) what's real and what isn't, some depictions showing any episodes as worse than death. Like obviously that's not true but it stays with people; the telling of "it's the worst thing that could ever happen everytime" and definitely made the first few times I dealt with psychosis and hallucinations a lot worse and a lot scarier

yeah! so much of the messaging around psychosis and schizophrenia is so fucking dangerous because of the way it continually reinforces these ideas that psychosis is always terrifying, life-ending, and the worst case scenario. like that can have materially dangerous impacts on the lives of people living with psychosis/altered states. i think that kind of stigmatizing messaging about psychosis really demobilizes people in our communities and convinces people that they don't have the capability to support their loved ones with psychosis, and instead creates this idea that "professionals" are the only ones who could ever actually support someone through psychosis. and that leads to so much more forced institutionalization, pathologization, violence towards people experiencing psychosis, and just really a lack of the kind of proactive community support that could actually help prevent some kinds of crisis and distress.

i think it also makes it really hard for us, when we start experiencing psychosis/altered states for the first time, because there's really no framework for us to understand and cope with our experiences beyond just "this is the worst thing ever and there's no options for me." i think it creates a lot of forced shame and secrecy, as well as pushing a lot of us into more intense crisis because we have nowhere to go to get support. and like, when you google this half the shit that comes up tells you to call 911 immediately, and when you're someone who can't do that because it's dangerous for you, you're just left with no fucking options or getting pushed into treatment options that don't respect your autonomy.

i wish there was a lot more recognition that psychosis/altered states are something that can happen to anyone, and actually do happen to a lot more people to varying degrees and in different contexts. that psychosis is something that it is possible to live fulfilling and meaningful lives with. that you don't need to be an expert to support someone living with psychosis/altered states. and that there is so many ways of living with psychosis, and that antipsychotics and therapy are not the only options, and should never be a forced option. i also have so many thoughts about how desperately we need informed consent for antipsychotic medications and how fucking mad i am about the amount of information that is withheld from psychotic people about the side effects of our meds, the withdrawal experience, dosages, other options, etc etc etc.

anyway i just really recommend that everyone, whether you're someone who experiences psychosis/altered states or not, learns more about psychosis and do the work to challenge all these internalized myths we learn from society and the psych system. i highly recommend checking out the hearing voices network, and also really recommend Project LETS anticarceral altered states training to learn more ways to help support yourself and your loved ones.

thanks for this ask, i really agree with what you're saying!

[bonkbobl]

beautiful fool

ROOSE BOLTON X READER | PART 2

a/n: wait okay i didn't mean to fall down this rabbit hole but roose bolton can get it i dont really care. genuinely sometimes i forget that hes a bad... bad bad bad man. he has that flavor of bad thats just so alluring though i cant resist. i forget that the boltons often torture people for fucks and giggles but rewatching the scene where roose just fucks with jamies head for no reason other than thinking it might be funny made me think to what lengths would he go for something he actually wants. warning that its unedited and unplanned and this is more or less a train of thought fic.

summary: he had to have you. whatever it takes.

warning: REALLY explicit, major dubious consent, honestly headed toward straight noncon. very problematic trope of being forced to fuck but then enjoying it. forced marriage. id say dark roose but lowkey this is pretty in character for this bad bad bad man bad man. bad man.

Your heart raced out of your chest, fear even threatening to bubble and explode out of your throat. You almost got away. You nearly escaped. And here you were, tackled into the mud just by the river by men who wanted to hurt you. Hurt you and whatever was left of your family.

The men who whispered taunts in your ear as they tied your hands behind your back laughed. These were the same men who just two days ago invited the woman who you call mother and the man who was like a brother to you into their home to feast and murdered them.

You knew they'd send out a hunting party after you. But you thought swimming in the water might throw them off your scent. You weren't so lucky.

And as they dragged you back, the words of those men rang ominously through your head, "It's too bad the lord wants her untouched. I'd very much like to touch this one."

A lurking feeling told you that you'd probably have preferred to fall into the river and crack your head open on some jagged rock than find out what use the Lord of the Dreadfort had for you.

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

"What happens if I refuse," You asked, lifting your chin in defiance, as much defiance as you could manage with your arms tied behind your back.

Roose tilted his head at you almost like he was amused that you'd even think you have a say in the matter in the first place. "Then I'll put a bastard baby in you," he responded, his frankness and lack of shame sending cool shivers down your back. "And once the bastard is born I'll put another in you."

You couldn't help the frustrated tears that pooled in your eyes and you ripped your gaze away from him, fear bubbling in your chest and making you feel sick.

"Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton. It's your decision, love."

Ever since that conversation you had pondered how likely it is you'd make it even a few miles before you were captured, either by Bolton hunters or the Ironborn. Either would be unpleasant. You wondered if you could find a way to just be done with it all and join your ward family in the seven heavens rather than fight. But you knew you could never bring yourself to. You were one of the living, through and through. You had to run.

And plan, you did, but no opportunity came. It was only a matter of time before you were put in a pretty white dress and brought under a Godswood to speak your vows to the man who betrayed your true king.

All you could think was why. Why cant he just let you go. You have no legitimate claim that could threaten him. You're not a stark. You're just a girl. You don't come from a large family. Not one of influence. There are no banners to raise. No substantial actions you could take against the new wardens of the north. You were more likely to die trying to run north than you were to be any kind of threat.

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

It wasn't like Roose to hold affections for any particular person. It was rare for him to even feel a vague sense of fondness towards anyone. A person is useful and competent. If they aren't then at best they are a nuisance that he could do without, at worst a threat to the Bolton name.

But you.

You were every bit as much a fool as the man who took you in as a ward, and that same mans son who grew up with you. You fretted over honor and doing the right thing when your enemies would not pay a second thought. You argued in favor of the late Queen Talisa's insistence on helping both Northern and Royal forces, allocating countless coppers toward medicating the enemy.

You aggravated Roose to no end when you first began to speak out. And yet he found that his eyes would always meet yours, rake downward against his will really. And though it only added to his aggravation, he brushed those feelings aside as the natural desires of a man.

He, in no way, found you difficult to gaze upon. It was infuriating, even more so that you seemed to understand the effect you had on men, flirting about with the son of Karstark and joking crudely with the men as if you weren't a lady to be respected.

And yet he found a stirring in him when you'd make an innuendo that was a little too risque.

He soon found it difficult to not think of you. Especially when you, the beautiful fool, revealed yourself to be of a sharper mind than even the King in moments.

"I love Talisa, truly, but think about it, Robb. You may be winning battles right now. But if you become too close to her, your closest advisors may falter. You risk losing the war."

"We have little food to sustain the rest of the camp, perhaps it'd do the Northern cause some good to do something about the overflowing kennels. As distasteful as it is to execute so many."

"Karstark will be avenged if you go through with this, please Robb. His forces make up a third of ours. Think. Think about it, I beg you."

Roose was irked by the fact that he agreed with you on more occasions than not, but he was impressed nevertheless. And it only kept you on his mind more. No, it wasn't love, Roose was sure of it, it erred more on the side of an intrigue that escalated to the point of near obsession. You were, after all, young, beautiful, thoughtful, and you held a level head. More strong than his first wife, less stiff and rigid than his second. More alluring and exciting than both.

The way Roose saw it, Robb Stark was becoming more dangerous to the interests of the North, growing increasingly reckless as the war went on. It was really his duty to usurp the so called King in the North, whod surely lead all the great Northern Houses to extinction if this masquerade continued on. You, however, would be a great loss if you were to drown alongside the wolf.

A great loss, indeed. Not to any higher purpose, you were not from any significant house. No, you just deserved to live. It baffled Roose to know he felt that way about any one person. But he reasoned it's simply because he wants you for himself. His pretty little wife — you'd fit that role so well.

He even remembered the way the old Lord Frey cackled when he stated his intentions with you.

"Marry any of my daughters and I will give you her weight in silver, My Lord. An offer of good faith and my grandson shall become Warden of the North."

"I'm honored by the offer, believe me. But I already have a prize that I've set my eyes on."

Frey's eyebrows arched in amusement.

"The Stark Ward," Bolton answered the unspoken question.

And the old man laughed, harder than a man his age should be able to, and sure enough his joy was cut short by a few uncouth coughs. "Pretty slut. I cannot say I blame you, Lord Bolton. I'm embarrassed I didn't think to take that pretty thing as my spoils before you did."

Roose offered a polite smile and hum, "I'll wed one of your children or perhaps grandchildren to whatever child I will have with my new wife."

Frey chuckled, nodding, "Hm, expect me to remember such a promise, my lord..." Then with a sardonic smirk, the lecherous old man spoke again, "Eh, I assume you aren't the type of man to like to share, are you, Lord Bolton."

And Roose's smile dropped into a hard glare. Frey laughed again, waving him off.

"A joke," he reassured, "Alright. After we kill the boy and his mum, you keep the whore. I cant wait to see how you deign to tame the bitch."

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

The very same halls you grew up in echoed terribly as your husband led you to the chambers you would share. The Lords chambers. You remember running to this very room to pester your Lord and Lady, sometimes Sansa or her older brother running alongside you.

Lord Bolton hardly spoke a word to you. All the better, for you could not bear to look at him. All those months of sitting across him as both of you counseled the proclaimed King in the North, and you thought you knew the man. You even admired him, vied for his approval. You thought him to be intelligent, more clear headed than the men that are easily driven by anger or lust and other vices of men. You'd smile to yourself on the occasions he'd agree with you or appear to approve of your advise.

To be honest, you thought Lord Bolton had no such love or affection toward you, especially in the very beginning when he wouldn't even stop to regard you, or he'd clearly speak over you, brush you aside, advise your king the opposite of the words you'd spoken. You thought he saw you as a mere child, playing at king and hand like you and Robb would as babes.

Now you think he really must have hated you. You wonder how long he hated Robb, and all the Starks, all their allies. But you, he must have hated you especially. Why he would feel the need to subject you to the greatest torture of living with him, being bred by him, carrying child after child, you wondered why why why. Why does he hold so much resentment toward a young girl. He must be a sad man.

You suddenly realized he was staring at you, watching your teary eyes, your clenched jaw, your shaky breath. You stared him in his cold eyes, defiant. Though you knew it was useless. You knew what would come next. He made it clear.

Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton.

Was there any difference?

For Lady Bolton, the children you bear him would be heirs rather than bastards. For Lady Bolton, you'd have a title, your "honor" in tact. But everything that mattered would remain the same. Youd take him nightly. You could only hope for him to cease his visits once a babe has taken to your belly

"Lady Bolton," your husband commanded your attention.

You faced him, inches away from the bed. He towered over you and you did your best at a feeble attempt to not let him intimidate you. You were scared. You wanted to be strong but the thought of what was to come next was scaring you. There's no escape.

"Lord Bolton," you replied, nothing but spite in your tone.

He breathed a humorous scoff, shaking his head slightly, "Undress yourself," he said, barely above a whisper, challenging you by tilting his head to the side. His eyes were so cold, barely feeling. You'd not be surprised if he told you he wasn't human.

Swallowing, you began unlacing your dress, attempting to remain hard as steal. But a tear finally trickled down your face when his hand reached up to cup it.

Your fingers stalled to a halt when he leaned in to kiss the tear, an action that would be comforting from any other man but you knew he meant to mock you. This was meant to be humiliating. He doesn't care for you. He kisses your tears away to remind you he doesn't care. He might even like it. Stop crying.

But you couldn't. You squeaked out a small sob as his lips came down to meet yours, hungry and demanding. Your shaky breath let out a heavy sigh through your nose and the feeling of fear strangely extinguished from your chest for a moment. Instead, your chest rose and you met him in his kiss.

His lips were surprisingly soft, his tongue felt dirty in your mouth but you couldn't explain why you didn't want to bite it off and spit it out. Instead you felt helpless and you let his tongue roam your mouth with little to no fight. When he pulled away from you, a string of spit tried desperately to keep the two of you connected but smacked against your chin after a mere second.

Your breath was heavy, cheeks wet with tears, flushed and probably looking a mess. You didn't want to imagine it. The vague sense of disgust with yourself remained but it just felt slightly different. You didn't know how to place it. It stirred rather pleasantly in your lower tummy and you felt really tense down there.

"I will repeat this command. But for the future, I want it to be known that I don't enjoy repeating myself. Undress yourself."

You heard his words clearly and allowed him to kiss you again. Your fingers clumsily and hurriedly worked at your dress. You stripped yourself bare as he did as he liked, kissing, nipping at your lips. His hands explored the new inches of your body as they became more and more exposed to him.

They roamed over your back, and back in front to cup your soft tits, weighing them, toying with your nipple... roamed back down your back, squeezing your firm ass. You couldn't place the feeling, you couldn't place it. You didn't like the feeling. You wanted it to stop. And yet if he pulled away you felt as if you might lean back into his touch inexplicably. You'd hate it but you'd go back for more.

Whenever he groped you a little too hard, you'd whine without even realizing it and Roose's pleasure would grow. Once you were fully naked, you grew awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands so you backed toward the bed. But he followed.

The rough fabric of his clothes felt harsh against your soft skin. You had nothing to do but whimper again and when you turned your head away, he simply let you, instead taking the opportunity to finally look at you, his little wife. Beautiful, clever, stubborn little wife.

You ducked your head, crying, confused at the way you felt, confused as to why you weren't fighting him harder. And that spurred you to begin.

Roose realized you weren't fighting him the second he kissed you and he shared your confusion for a second until he felt your tongue caressing his in reciprocation. He's sure you hadn't even fully realized your own actions as you had rushed to comply with his orders.

He half expected you to be a shy blushing bride but this reminded him that you were a little of a tease with Robbs men, cracking nasty jokes that a lady should not have been aware of. You were no blushing bride. In fact, you were a bit of a slut. A tease.

And suddenly, it struck him that the behavior hadn't so much aggravated him in the way that he thought. In fact the memory of you flirting with those men who were now burried in the ground or thrown into the river, gave him this strong sense of accomplishment to have you here.

Roose began undoing his trousers, unsheathing himself to your horror and you pushed him away, escaping the only way you were permitted, crawling on the bed and trying to get over to the other side. Roose was too fast, grabbing your ankle and pulling you down.

You fell but you kicked him in the chest and he laughed, dropping your ankle, but only so he could grasp your hips firmly and pull you back along the edge of the bed.

"Down, girl," he commanded, as if you were a dog.

You cried, clawing at anywhere to escape to. But he was right behind you and as you looked around, you knew it was hopeless. Still the fight burned on in your chest. Then you heard a smack and a sharp pain in your buttock, jolting you under your husband.

Another one came because you refused to calm yourself, then his hand slipped between your thighs and he spanked you again as another feeble warning.

"My lady," He started, waiting for you to calm finally before chuckling. Then your torturer informed you of something, no doubt to break your spirits, "Are you aware, Lady Bolton, how wet your cunt is?"

His rough weathered fingers rubbed at your entrance, barely pushing in and sure enough the sound of your slick being rubbed and spread around, filled your ears. Your fists balled the sheets under it and your legs helplessly kicked up, though with no purpose. You couldn't get away. From him. From your shame. From your body's betrayal.

"Your womb is begging me to fill it. You feel it, don't you?" He taunted, "You're confused, aren't you. Stupid, confused, little wife."

His fingers slipped away and you fought to catch your breath, fists relaxing because he stopped. But then his fingers were replaced by something thicker and hotter and your struggle resumed. Your hips squirming but all it did was slicken his cockhead for an easier entrance.

"Let me clear your confusion, stupid little wife." Roose cooed to you, the tone of his voice unfitting of the cruel words. "You are exactly where you belong. Under your husband, serving your husband. The Warden of the North. There's no need to fight your fate or fight your pleasure as you are exactly where you belong."

Then he began pushing into you and your toes clenched, back arching inexplicably. The new angle that you provided made it easier. You knew it didn't make sense but it made perfect sense to Roose, who chuckled behind you, smacking your ass, this time not in displeasure but as a praise. Your body twitched at it, cunt squeezing and pulsing around him as if it were trying to suck it in.

Your moans grew more wanton as he pushed in torturously slow. And of course it hurt, stung, when he forced past your maidenhead but you couldn't even bring yourself to squirm away from that. You were rightfully his.

When his hips met yours, he just held himself buried inside you for a few seconds and you continued to contract and twitch around him, small squeaks of confusion escaping your throat against your will. You couldn't stop squirming. The sensation of something so big filling you stirred you uncontrollably.

A hand trailed down your thigh, nudging it upward and you followed the movement, allowing him to prop your leg up on the bed. Then he began thrusting and your face heated up when you heard just how wet you were. Each time his hips pressed flush against you, youd feel the cool sensation of your slick on his balls.

It was all so vivid. Even if you couldn't see what was going on behind you. You knew. And the most shameful noises forced past your throat as your husband fucked you deeply and slowly.

"Listen to yourself," Roose muttered, hands coming up to grab your shoulders.

It allowed him to hammer deeper and harder into you, the sharpness of his thrusts contrasting the slow strokes he started with. You cried out, shameful but you were horrified to find that you did not want him to stop. Not when he was... oh his cock was hitting something inside you. Deep inside you.

"Keep making those noises, darling wife. I cant tell if I enjoy your pleasure more or your tears."

You cried out, a small sob at the end of it. And despite your better judgement, you turned your head to look at your husband. Your naked body contrasted so much with his garments, which stayed mostly unmoved. Only his pants and breeches were pulled down to his mid thigh.

His expression hardened upon evaluating your features. There was nothing more beautiful, your lips parted in a pleasure that confused you. The tears had dried by now but your hair was a mess and your eyes swollen and pinkish. Not to mention the way you were splayed out beneath him. He landed a firm spank to your buttocks again, aiming to leave marks.

You whimpered, eyebrows coming together as your pussy clamped down around him. Roose grabbed your hip that was propped higher than the rest of your body due to your leg that was positioned on the bed. And he used that hip as leverage to pull your body into him.

The confusion within you turned to fear when an unfamiliar feeling began building within you. You cried out loudly and involuntarily clamped down even harder around him, pulsing uncontrollably as he jackhammered into you ruthlessly, intensifying when his hands abandoned your hips for your neck.

You couldn't help but feel as if you were reduced to a little object. He could grab you wherever and however he wanted and pull you against his cock and you had nowhere to run and yet you couldn't even deign to lift your legs and kick at him. You surrendered to the smallness that he made you feel, cries and distress replaced by whimpers and submission.

You came to find your body shaking and convulsing with a blinding kind of pleasure. Even your moans died into a breathy, shaky sigh, back arching as you sank further into the sheets beneath you. Your lord gave no sign of stopping, another self satisfied hum rumbling from his chest.

"Good, so good, darling. I knew you would come to enjoy your new position."

And with that you were filled again with shame, though not yet strong enough to overshadow the stubborn pleasure which muted any feelings that might incite discomfort. You especially could not feel displeased when your husband firmly snapped his hips into you, releasing a grunt. He continued to pump into you, slowly but firmly. sighing along with his thrusts. It was the only compromise in composure that he allowed you to see and you were only sure at this point that he was finished with you.

Surprisingly the spilling of his seed didn't feel like much but your cunt squeezed him, as if it was aware. And you felt satisfaction wash over you, as if your body was also aware.

To your shock and shame, your ass gyrated beneath him, rolling itself against him to fully milk him for all he had to offer you. And you hid your face, pausing once you realized.

After recovering from his release, Roose watched you closely, appreciating the way you still squirmed, restless. You moved your leg back down to the floor and pushed back, hips meeting his and your cunt convulsed again around him due to the overstimulation. He stood like a barrier, looming over you a he rested his hands on the edge of the bed where your hips were and your restless little cunt continued to twitch and pulse as you tried to compose yourself desperately.

You breathed deeply but it was hopeless. You could not walk away with your dignity, fully aware of how Lord Bolton stared upon his Lady Bolton, satisfied with how you gave into him so easily.

You shivered and your breath hitched when he landed a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then you sighed, settling down again for him. And a needy whimper confirmed your submission.

Roose loomed over you, giving you another small kiss on your temple.

"You did well, my lady."

The approval got to you. Your days on Robbs counsel trying your best to say anything intelligent that would make him accept you as an equal. It all led you to this moment. But you never did accomplish your goal of being viewed as an equal, at least it didn't feel that way in this moment. His softening cock still inside you, the only thing stopping his spend from trickling down your leg. Oh the shame of it all.

"I'm pleased to find that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

"No," You protested but in your voice you could tell you didn't even believe yourself.

Lord Bolton merely laughed. And you whimpered again, willing yourself to sink into the bed and disappear. Then your husband pulled back and spread your ass cheeks apart, giving you a lengthy thrust. Though he was not as hard as he was moments ago, the movement was enough to make you shiver.

"Then we should try again in a half mark of an hour. I shall train my lady wife to welcome me into her bed."

You bit the inside of your mouth to prevent another whimper but it was ripped from you when Lord Bolton spanked you again.

Oh yes, Roose Bolton would commit a thousand betrayals and massacre a hundred false Kings if it meant he'd end up with you, here, to warm his bed.

[pinkbelugacollective]

my favorite thing about about the 90's young justice solos is that they catered towards three distinct audiences, and yet after all these years, the one that would have been LEAST likely to be projected into nowadays is now the MOST woobified out of the three.

tim: a story for white kids, by a white guy who hates poor people, and didn't really take itself OUT of that white-male-projective-state even after all these years. bonus note, now the gays can project into tim cuz timbo's finally out the closet, and chuck dixon wants to kill himself over it, but it's ok bc we like tim even tho we don't like chuck.

bart: a story initially about a time-displaced refugee whose narrative heavily mirrored a refugee's forced assimilation into a new culture WHILE also appealing to the adhd/autism crowd, which the writer was absolutely OK with because bart's story can be accepted by BOTH the refugee narrative enjoyers and the adhd/autism crowds without impinging on his narrative poignancy, plus mark waid actually loved bart and he loves that WE love bart. inshallah he will write his boy again.

kon: a story about teenagers who are being neglected, and so he's acting out every which way and partying it up because he was meant to appeal to the 90's teenage rage and show how easy it is for kids to get caught up with predators like knockout and tana because of the lack of structure and discipline in their lives, but when geoff decided to ignore nearly ten years of creator-run canon, we had to deal with his timkonnie dreams, and now geoff's leaving, so now we gotta deal with the yja nonsense and some lady's self-insert dreams going into a character whose writer is not only still alive, but actively on the bi!kon train but from the 90's crackhead era perspective. and HE'S the one most woobified.

it's absolutely facinating cuz you'd think kon would be the most hated out of the three bc of his issues with consent and the unhealthy ways he frames relationships, but instead it's BART who people hate the most! bart's being infantalized and discounted and used at a third-man-ship-prop, while tim's being rewarded for being an emotionally strugglesome white man who just came out of the closet, and it's not nearly as bad as how bart's getting his ass beat in the fandumb, but poor tim can't even date his high school homie in peace without someone crying about how he 'deserved' kon instead.

to think that the character with that many issues would be the MOST woobified character in the yj cast is insane, bc what are you even woobifying? his depersonalization? his lack of boundaries with women? his inability to read a room? the fact that nobody loves nor cares about him enough to protect him from the horrors of the world? the fact that he was a stellar example of a CSA survivor who didn't even KNOW he was a victim of CSA, and thus wasn't really able to understand the ramifications of his inappropriate behavior until years later when he forced himself into a masculine fold so he didn't fall into the trap of being like 'the old him' again?

kon's story was a story of self-hatred come to life in the most fantastical ways. he thinks it's ok to publicly date a grown woman other people are judging for dating a dumbass minor. he didn't know what a mother's love was, and had to witness it first hand with nanaue's mother. he thinks an emotionally unavailable and distant clone handler is his dad bc he doesn't KNOW anyone else who can fit into that mold. he thinks roxy's his sister but still has no problem sexualizing her in his head bc he thinks it's ok to find your older sister hot.

kon was the DEFINITION of the kids are not alright, nope, not at all, hell to the fuck no. geoff was the single biggest driver in stripping all the nuance from his character post-graduation day, but he not even here no more... what's the excuse in continuing to strip away at what makes kon, kon? i know dc's afraid to admit lois and clark looked the other way when a teenaged clone was dating an adult woman, but you woulda thought he woulda been a turnoff to the fandumb as well. he aint tho, so he suffers for it accordingly.

i can only hope karl kesel lands another contract after these new movies flop, so we can finally get a REAL follow-up to the 1994 solo. you could never make me hate that man's insane writing. justice for 1994 kon. if dc still had good writers, we coulda had a multi-year healing arc exposing how horrifying superheroing really is for people, and why clones deserve something to the equivalent of human rights. instead, he's doin fuckall and kissin m'gann. no shade to m'gann, she absolutely deserves more than the current caricature.

[the-fiction-witch]

Sugar

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SWEET AF

Requested Could you do a Jack Dawkins imagine where Jack meets Y/n in a side street when taking a break from the hospital (and ykyk they both get to start liking each other). But then Jack consents for a kiss but she kinda gets all nervous cause she's never had a first kiss...

I smiled as I sat on the little stone wall my back against the metal posts watching the clouds roll on by for a while. I heard the door behind me and perked up, turning to see a familiar figure.

"Ohh Afternoon Dr Dawkins," I greeted with a smile,

"Oh, Afternoon Y/n. What were you doing out here?" he asked as he came down the stairs still shook his hands off from freshly washed them inside clearly just got done with something and just cleaned off his hands. 

"Just on a breath, the scent of blood, bile and bodily fluid takes you after a while in there."

"Well you're not wrong." he chuckled and sat down beside me with a pleasant smile, "Prof likes it like that."

"Good for him, does he lack a nose? Mouth? and eyes?"

"He has them whether or not any of them work is highly debatable," 

"What about Sneed?"

"Ohh Sneed doesn't come down to the ward," He laughed, "Mr high and Mighty, Mr Fancy Britches, Mr don't Ether People. He thinks he is too good for the ward."

"what about you? Doesn't it bother you?"

"It bothers me, not much I can do about it, I clean it He'll fire me and put it back how it was in two days." He explained, "Besides, Sort of desensitized to much of it now."

"I imagine you likely are." 

"You get used to it over time." 

"I'm sure I will, what are you doing out here?"

"Ohh you know, just cut a guy's arm off. Felt like having a minute." 

"That's fair," I nodded, 

"I never imagined you wanting to work here."

"Becuase I'm a girl?"

"No, Becuase you're sweet."

"Shouldn't a nurse be sweet?"

"A nurse should be sweet, she should have a good bedside manner. But... You are too sweet."

"Too sweet?"

"You care about everyone, to a fault. In a hospital that's dangerous. Yes you want your nurses to care for patients be sweet and kind to them and it does always help if your nurse is sweet to you." he winked which made me blush, "But you're so sweet, that you care for everyone no matter anything else, you want to do what's for them. And yes that is a fantastic quality to have..." he explained,

"But?"

"But, You haven't been here that long, you're still new to nursing and what you will find out soon enough is that... you can't save everyone as much as we want to." he explained, "And yes believe me that takes time to get used to more than the smells, the sights, the blood. The first time you lose a patient it will never ever sit right with you. Every doctor, every Nurse, carries the weight of everyone they've lost..." he explained, "You can't blame yourself, but you do." 

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Jack. One lost patient means that maybe ten more won't die the same way." 

He smiled briefly, "That's a sweet way to look at it." he nodded, 

"Well, I have a sweet way to look at most things," I smiled,

"You do, and you do a lot to help people, you are very kind and caring, and Very Very Sweet."

"I can always help Jack,"

"But it worries me."

"Why?"

"I worry, the first time you lose someone you'll never get over it I tell you that now as a twenty-eight-year-old surgeon who started training on a ship at fourteen. That first one never quite leaves you." he explained, "I worry that you're so sweet it'll change you." 

"Change me?"

"But you're so sweet that... what's gonna happen when you have a patient you can't help. sometimes you can't help people. Sometimes there is nothing you can do but hold their hand and see them into the next life. Sometimes you have to sit and watch them die slowly and in agony staring into their eyes as their life leaves them knowing there is nothing you can do. You have to sit there and stare into the eyes of a child as they beg you for dead, knowing you can't do anything to help them. And you can't just sit back and think of them as bodies, they were people a person is below your fingers, with a life, dreams, hopes, a family." He explained, "How sweet will you be after all the things you'll witness here." 

"I don't know," I answered,

"How sweet will you be if we save someone, some man from losing his arm, only to find out he'll go home and use that arm to abuse his wife? How sweet will you be saving a girl's life with a surgery that will make her infertile and telling her she'll never get the have children because of what you've done to save her? How sweet will you be watching someone walk out of the hospital refusing treatment knowing they will die without help but knowing you can't force them? A nurse needs a good bedside manner I will not deny but this work is cruel, harsh, and bitter. And I am afraid you will not be so sweet after a few weeks here." 

"Would it be so bad if I wasn't so sweet anymore?"

"I think it would, I don't think the world should lose someone as sweet as you," 

"Maybe I'll still be sweet after all this, maybe all this horror will make me sweeter to see the world for what it is."

"That's a long shot."

"But not impossible."

"No... Not impossible."

"How do you stay so sweet?" 

He chuckled, "You think I'm sweet?"

"You are to me." 

"It's easy to be back to someone who's so sweet to start with." he smiled, and for a while, we just sat watching the clouds together, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," 

"do you taste like sugar?"

"What?" I giggled,

"You're so sweet, I'm curious if you taste like sugar?"

I giggled and licked my hand, "I just taste soap." 

He laughed at me, "Could I kiss you?"

"Hum?" I asked as I hadn't really been listening, 

"Could I kiss you?"

"Why?"

"I wanna know if you taste like sugar or not?" he shrugged with a playful smile, "So? would you let me kiss you?"

"Ohhhh i uhhh I uuhhhh I ummmmm" I stuttered blushing bright red, 

"Whats wrong?" he chuckled,

"I uhhh I'm just auhhh I uhhhhh" I nervously blushed, 

"I'm sorry Y/n." He said, "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." He smiled, "It's perfectly fine, I shouldn't have asked anyway."

"No no! No, it's not that I'm uncomfortable I just uhh I'm sorry I..."

"What is it?" he asked seeming concerned, 

"I've never kissed anyone before."

"What?" He chuckled, 

"I've never been kissed before."

"Never?"

"No."

"Not ever?"

"No."

"In your whole life!"

"No..."

"Awww, You sweet little thing." he cooed, 

"I uhhh I wouldn't mind kissing you."

"You wouldn't?" 

"No,"

"Really, I'd be honoured to get to be the first one to kiss you."

"You would?"

"Of course, such an honour to be a girl's first kiss." 

"Well, I would like you to kiss me."

"Then I'll happily kiss you," he smiled, he took my hand and gently kissed it, "Ohh your right very soapy."

"I washed my hands before I came out," I giggled,

"well they are very soft," he smiled as he stoked his thumb across my hand, he moved a little closer and fixed the hair behind my ear, and his hand stroked my cheek, He smiled and moved closer to the tip of his nose stroked my own "May I kiss you Y/n?"

"You May Jack..." I blushed,

He nodded and smiled before he closed the gap between us and pressed his lips to mine, they were a little cracked but still very smooth, he tasted like oranges and had a metallic sting of blood, his skin smoothly smooth, the tip of his hair tickled my forehead a little his hand still stroked mine, I kissed back gently still a little taken back but I was on cloud nine so very thrilled and happy. He pulled back and smiled, he ran the tip of his nose across the bridge of mine and smiled widely, 

"That was... Amazing..." I gasped,

He chuckled, "I'm glad you liked it, I did too. I must say for your first kiss you were very good." he nodded,

"Thank you," I blushed, 

"And I can confirm, you do taste like sugar." he smiled, 

I giggled a little "I do?"

"You do, My sweet little sugar Nurse." 

"Awww," I blushed, "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"May I kiss you?"

"You may," He smiled, 

I was nervous but I moved closer and pressed my lips to his, he happily smiled and kissed me back. The two of us just sat for a while in the sweet sun kissing for what could have been hours I didn't care I never wanted this moment to end. 

We pulled back as the door opened and we both glanced at the door to see Tim at the door, we both blushed a little to think we had been caught,

"Jack, Man's come in with a shattered foot." 

"Coming," Jack nodded,

Tim headed in which left us alone again, and Jack smiled and offered his hand.

"You-"

"I need my sweet sugar nurse with me don't I?"

I giggled and took his hand, he stood us both up and gave my lips a final kiss before we rushed inside to deal with this. 

[viaviv124]

What argument anti rayfrog shippers (or nayfrogs as i've learned, which is 10x more hillarious) that just makes me question if these people actually pay attention and is also lowkey funny to me is "Bullfrog said he watched Rayman since he was a tadpole!" That is literally not what he said. He said "i used to watch you as a tadpole"

Considering the Rayman show is probably the only or biggest kids program in Eden and Rayman is literally everywhere i doubt Bullfrog couldn't not watch him, espacially if it's mandatory viewing (which it most likely is). To me this just makes it like their Spongebob but forced, you get what i mean? I don't think this really proves a point. Bullfrog didn't even mention ever being a fan or liking the show. Just that he watched it. It's also funny to me how he dropped that line right after calling him "Eden's favorite Poster boy" like it's such a random thing to add lol, i don't think he wanted to imply he ever idolized him considering he was just mocking him the entire way through. Either way, at the time they met both of them were consenting adults able to think clearly and, again, Bullfrog hated Rayman with a passion at that point and did not idolize him, i mean, look at that glare:

If that's not pure spite and mockery i don't know what is.

What people need to understand is that no sane rayfrog shipper goes "Bullfrog likes Rayman/Ramon because he loved watching him on TV like 25 - 30+ years ago!" Pretty much all concepts/headcanons are hurt/comfort because the consensus of them bonding consists of them supporting eachother and becoming a shoulder to lean on to work out their mental stuff like Ramon's guilt about literally everything and Bullfrog's survivors guilt and eldest sister syndrome. Also, Bullfrog is quite literally a trained assassin of a group that quite literally has been fighting the templars/Eden since pretty much the beginning of human history. Pretty sure if anything his mind would default to spiting and distrusting Ramon at every turn instead of idolizing him for something he saw on tv when he was a literal toddler i mean come on are you serious. Also pretty sure his mind is clear enough to think about shit rationally.

Another point i love is "they shared only one scene." People have done more with less. Ramon and Dolph have not exchanged a single glance and Laserray (rayhawk? Idk) is a thing. People will ship anything as long as it has a good dynamic in their eyes. I'm just saying Mordetwi and other crossships.

Its genuinely hillarious to me how people hate on the popular ship instead of everything else. The two canon predators? Nope! Sarah x Jade that would, if it would be canon, be nothing but abuse considering all of their interactions in the show, as few as they were, are pretty abusive? Nope! But god forbid two consenting adults with an age gap that support eachother kiss! I absolutely do have certain problems with rayfrog but considering the lack of material we have to work with these problems are all speculations i can headcanon them away.

Also as a small note in case the conkai crowd pins me on this because of the posts i made several months ago, no, two consenting adults with an age gap are not the same as a 17 year old banging a physically 6 - 8 year old even if he has the mind of a 17 year old, thank you.

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Aqua [Myth @kazeharuhime]

Sister to Illumi the light Myth, Aqua is a timid girl with an appearance like water. She is capable of hiding in any body of water, even puddles, and can control large amounts of it to weaponize against attackers. However, she is very fragile, and doesn't do well in sun and warm temperatures, forcing her to dwell in the recesses of the cave where she and the other Myths live and needing to rejuvenate there when she's been out for any real length of time. Like her sister, large emotional disturbances can cause issues with her form, and if she's not careful, can accelerate evaporation or in extreme cases, cause her to diffuse in water, especially if she's depressed, and lose herself entirely. Though her abilities can be weaponized in various ways, her timid personality means she generally hides out in the cave unless absolutely necessary.

Ariella Riems [Kingdoms @thedailyvio]

Ariella Riems is a Lady in high society, who has dedicated her youth to training for war to bring honor to her family name. Dedicated to the deity of Order during her infancy, she's committed herself to not only her country, but all the demands of Aelian society and her father. Given the need for family honor, her being the last of her family line, and the strong gender roles of her home, these demands come into enough conflict for her to head out on her own rather than find a compromise. Without her father's consent, she takes a trusted servant, Charles, and begins her journey to what she believes will be a suicide mission into Aelia's enemy country in the hopes of doing whatever damage she can. Along the way, nothing quite goes to plan and she quickly finds herself in far over her head with a quest no mortal has been known to achieve. Ariella is an abrasive and even boorish young woman, unimpressed by most people she comes across due to her rigid beliefs and jaded outlook. While she knows how to behave in polite society, she often finds herself making enemies as her hot headedness can overtake all restraint. She is zealous for her beliefs which prescribe a legalistic view on life, easily taking offense from those who consider the law of the land as more akin to guidelines. She lacks hypocrisy in these matters, strongly determined and driven in all she does. She does however hold a bias for her loved ones which she can't entirely recognize herself.

[moralesmilesanhour]

The main takeaway from the conversation around the lack of reblogs or comments on fics shouldn't be "writers want more engagement". It should be "the lack of meaningful interaction with creative works makes fandom less enjoyable", I think.

Frankly, I couldn't give a rat's ass if a fic of mine or fanart gets a million notes if it doesn't spark a conversation or any sign of a reaction. The most that a like communicates to me is that someone tapped a button and moved on.

The whole point of fandom creation is to share your ideas with the hopes of connecting with other fans, so when people start to treat creative works like another endless stream of content to scroll through, it kills that feeling of connection.

The whole reason why people want followers and reblogs to begin with is because that USED TO MEAN that more people would interact with you! That's the issue here 😭

I feel like we've been trained to look at everything like a disposable product that we can consume before moving onto the next thing. That’s like...the antithesis of what it means to engage with a creative work.

If this wasn't the case, people wouldn't have cozied up to AI-generated content in the fic community so quickly. I still think about that one viral comment where someone took an unfinished fic and put it into chatGPT without the author's consent, just so that the main characters could get happily married and be done with it.

(This coincides with the apparent hatred people have begun to express towards stories that are tragic or open-ended, but that's an entirely different conversation.)

You're *supposed* to come back to shit you enjoyed years after it's published. You're *supposed* to chat with others about something you like with earnest excitement. It's not cringe or weird. That's the point!

Please, for the love of god, start making it a habit to engage with things that make you excited. It really is about more than just writers being sad about numbers.

[jaydangan]

A talk about proshippers.

(A text about why i dont support proshippers, if you are one, or feel neutral about them, please dont interact with my account, thank you.)

(Theres no need to attack me because of the proshipper tag, i didnt attack anyone.)

⚠️ [TW: mentions of S/A, abuse, suicide,and pedo.] ⚠️ -----------------------------------------

For those who arent familiar with the term, proshippers is a abbreviation of "problematic shippers" and it stands for someone who likes or promotes problematic relationships, such as a minor and a adult, saying that the content is fiction and they do not support it in real life, other terms such as "darkshippers" "comshippers" basically mean the same thing, and many people that indulge in the consumption of these problematic media sometimes use emoji combos to identify eachother on the internet.

Now, where exactly is the problem with it, since they don't support it in real life?

Well, for starters, let me pick one problematic media as a example to set what type of content im talking about.

"Diabolik Lovers" will be my example.

I always loved the dark, """forbidden""" vibe that whole shit had. But something always bothered me, the way there was no consent in this situation made me not be able to like and appreciate the atmosphere because of the brutal and bad situation Yui was going through with no actual type of consent from her, made me furious.

What irritates me is the way the vampires treat her and don't ask anything, this falls to a different audience and ends up romanticizing the lack of consent because it's "just fiction" and this happens a lot with older women or teenagers who come into contact with problematic works like 50 shades of gray, after, 365 days, etc. This also has a lot to do with the sexualization that the world has done of "yanderes" and "no consent" in films or fanfics. The idea of ​​exploring this somewhat non-moralistic side of society has been around since the beginning, of seeing or doing things considered problematic, with analogies such as the story of Adam and Eve itself, which occurs a lot in Diabolik Lovers and which even rubbed off on me a little, but this idea is not new, and even today fiction is seen as a place where there is no morality, something that ended up being in the minds of many young people, and was EXTREMELY sexualized.

The amount of "non-con" or "dub-con" fics there are on the internet is honestly disgusting, and even these romanticized terms were created for these stories that contain rape, an example of this comes from the book Kamasutra itself, where punches, slaps and pinches were forms of affection, and women were encouraged to pretend they didn't like what was happening because men liked this dominant relationship, this idea of ​​forbidden things and even the sexualization of words like "baby" and " daddy" can also curiously come from this book along with many other works, where the man was encouraged to have an even parental stance towards the woman he loves, the thing is that to this day, the romanticization of the lack of consent occurs too much, and is seen as desired by several women and men, and for me at least all of this has a very strict limit.

Having problematic ideas happens, and it's normal, the thing is to understand that it's wrong, because the idea of ​​human curiosity happens, and you just have to study and repress what you know is wrong.

Interesting, right? We've had this since the world has been around, and that's why even though I understand the train of "fiction" thoughts of proshippers, I don't think this is a healthy practice because in the indulgence of these games of "playing too much with the forbidden" and of course, poking a little won't kill you, but this idea of "forbidden" may very well eventually soften your morals.

The amount of times that i've heard that danganronpa will take away my notion of what's wrong and how problematic murder is, happened more times than i can count, but what about the media and stuff like that? Why so much silence?

Keep in mind that i don't support de dehumanization of proshippers, including suicide bait or threats, just block them and move on, don't do to others what you don't want it done to yourself.

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TLDR: The text discusses the discomfort with the lack of consent in romantically problematic works, which romanticize non-consensual situations. It criticizes how media often normalizes or sexualizes these problematic themes, particularly affecting women and teenagers. The text emphasizes that while curiosity about taboo topics is natural, it's important to recognize and understand the wrongness of these ideas to avoid moral degradation, thus being the motive that the author doesn't support any form of "proship".

[fandomiplier]

bi-han and affection

pairing: character study; no pairing

genre: angst; no comfort

warnings: intergenerational trauma, death

hi there! this was just something i wrote in a hurry because i desperately need more bi-han characterization/character studies. also, yall can snatch autistic!bi-han from my cold, dead hands. hope you enjoy!

bi-han is not a conventionally affectionate person.

as far as he recalls, he never was. bi-han doesn't dwell on childhood memories as much as his brothers do - he doesn't see the usefulness of reminiscing, especially on memories he sees as useless. but, as far as he recalls, he's always been distant, even in the beginning of his training.

(bi-han doesn't have any memory from before he began his lin kuei training; his oldest memory is holding a bo and learning how to use it as a weapon by his tutor. he was 7).

he does not enjoy physical contact. he never enjoyed it, even as a kid - being touched without consent is something bi-han despises with a fiery passion. the cryomancy does not aid in that aspect; the warmth of the touch is bothersome and sometimes painful. but it feels uncomfortable in a different way, almost as if his bones ache inside his body once people touch him without consent or warning. it often leads to an angry discussion or someone leaving with a broken nose. kuai liang tends to deal with the situation for him, especially when the perpetrator is an important figure or of interest to the lin kuei. but sometimes his reaction time gets the best of him - and confrontation is inevitable.

at the same time, bi-han is not verbally affectionate. when necessary, bi-han can lecture his students on fighting techniques, on weaponry, on war strategy and philosophy. he has done it before countless times, each time more eloquently than the last - bi-han is an excellent teacher, even though he lacks patience most times. but when it comes to interpersonal relations, bi-han is a complete disaster. surely, he can converse with other clan leaders, can discuss politics and trade deals, can and has secured alliances with other clans ever since he became grandmaster. he looks smooth - but, in private, bi-han falls flat every single time he has to interact with someone. it feels odd and weird and uncomfortable, both for the person and for him. it feels just like being touched, like his bones creak under his muscles once the awkwardness sets in - it feels physically painful.

so he refrains. he refrains from most celebrations or social gatherings, he does not interact with people outside of work or training. he leaves his bedroom in the early morning, works and trains until exhaustion and, once he's satisfied with his productivity, returns to his chambers to bathe, eat and sleep. that is, if he doesn't sleep at his table, in the grandmaster's office - kuai liang finds him unconscious on top of stacks of papers, sleeping over lin kuei documents and mission reports.

(on those nights, either kuai liang or tomas leave him a cup of tea and some food for once he wakes up. bi-han never thanks them for it, but they know he appreciates the care).

even before he became grandmaster, bi-han had the exact same routine: wake up, train, classes, train again, eat, bathe and sleep. his cryomancy interfered severely with his sleep - something about his metabolic rate trying to compensate for the cold, so he feels constantly awake. insomnia has accompanied him for years and the easiest way to sleep is to just exhaust himself enough that he passes out and sleeps until the next morning. it doesn't always work - but it does the trick on most nights. his mother was desperate seeing her son exhaust himself to sleep, but they had no other solution to the issue.

his mother worried about him. she knew bi-han was the most dedicated of all her sons, even though kuai liang and tomas have always been as devoted to the clan as the eldest. but bi-han's obstinate nature worried her. it worried her that bi-han would exhaust himself to the point of death to fulfill his father's demands. the lack of physical contact and verbal communication, even with his own family, terrified her; and realizing how closed off bi-han had and would always be made her worry for his wellbeing even in her last days.

kuai liang and tomas don't talk about it. they know trying to argue with bi-han is futile - and would end badly for both of them. tomas knows bi-han is closed-off because he feels uncomfortable and would rather die than force his brother into an uncomfortable situation. kuai liang still worries and wishes his brother would open up more, even if only with his brothers, but he also knows bi-han is not the type of person to verbalize concerns or issues. his brother is practical and methodical; the type of person to solve the issue before telling anyone about it. so he knows that, if someone were the matter, he would know sooner or later; but his mother's worry rubbed off on him.

bi-han may not be verbally or physically affectionate, but one can clearly tell when he is worried. bi-han cares for very few people in this world and he unconsciously dotes over them a little when worried - which is a lot, considering bi-han does not dote on anyone in normal circumstances. questioning on their welfare and wellbeing is a very clear sign bi-han is worried (at least for his brothers, who are often at the other end of the question). tending for wounds and aiding with training unprompted are also possibilities, while less common. openly admitting worry is the final and rarest event, only reserved for his late mother.

for bi-han, worry and doting are a display of affection. not that he realizes it consciously, since he rarely dwells on the reason why he acts like this with specific people. but ensuring their safety and wellbeing is how he shows people that he cares, even if he can't verbalize it properly. (he doesn't verbalize it at all; bi-han does not do feelings).

bi-han may not be conventionally affectionate - but he worries plenty for the ones he loves. and that is enough, at least for him.

(c) fandomiplier. do not repost.

[blueraineshadows]

Lured

Dark!Leander x F!MC x Dark!Sebastian

Triggers: NSFW 🔞 smut, sexual language, dubious consent at the start, dominance, choking, capture and imprisonment, manipulation, blindfolded, tied up character, branding, edging, bisexual characters.

Long fic. Please check the triggers.

The side street off Knockturn Alley was dim, shadows long and stretched in the low evening sun, the few people about kept their heads down and hoods low as they scurried or lurked. Soon, the shadows would consume the little light that was left and the dark would bring out those who liked to dabble in mischief and mayhem.

MC kept her vigil at the end of the little cobbled street, the buildings leaning forward as though tired of existence as she kept her eyes trained on a particular shop at the far end. Her client had been very helpful in their directions. Their stolen artefact was definitely not in the care of Borgin and Burke, the establishment far too well known for the likes of this particular trinket. This item had been stolen by a thief who was out-witting even Burke's best pilfering agents but nobody knew who it was.

MC had spent years tracking down artefacts, trinkets, treasures, even luring people out of their hiding places when the call came. She was good at it and earned good coin for her efforts. This skilled thief was stumping even the Ministry, so when this client had come with information and the job to track this item down, MC had leapt at the chance.

She was on the scent, the shop in sight, and come nightfall she would be going in. She had her suspicions, her contacts had whispered some clues that had tickled at some memories buried deep in her stash, and she wondered if her instincts were right.

....*....

The front door would be too obvious, but after scouting out the exterior of the small shop, a curious frown marred MC's brow. There was enchantments at work here. Circling the building made one arrive at the front without seeing anything but solid brick. It was the front door or nothing. For a shop, it was well guarded, and her suspicions hiked up another notch, an eager excitement teasing at her.

Peering through the grimy shop window revealed no more than a display of books and nondescript items, nothing that stood out or encouraged one to step inside, and she wondered if maybe her client had been wrong. This didn't look like a place for the dark and forbidden, but then appearances could always be deceptive. Her curiosity was piqued, and she determined to dig a little deeper.

There was only one way to find out. Swift and sure, MC clicked the lock with a flick of her wand, and she slipped inside, closing the door ever so carefully behind her. The interior was dark, the scent of old books and dust in the air as she stepped silently past racks of more simple fares. The counter was dark wood, the register an old brass affair, and a glass lamp stood unlit beside it.

It was a curiosity shop, but the dust betrayed the lack of custom, and the possibility of it being a front for something else was all too clear. She stared curiously around, her finger tips trailing along the spines of old tomes as she neared the door that led to the rear of the shop.

A creak of wood behind her made her still. She held her breath, ears pricked up as she listened. Another creak, and the subtle low breaths of another in the room reached her ears. Her fingers, slender but strong, gripped her wand, heart pounding as she waited.

It was not uncommon to face a skirmish, she was well practised in it, and was rarely afraid. She had faced bigger and badder things in her time. Her senses strained, every fibre on alert towards the presence behind her. She wondered if her suspicions were about to be confirmed. Was it him?

She barely flinched as the tip of a wand slid against her throat, warm breath fanning against the edge of her hood. Fingers gripped at the black fabric near the top of her head, a strange shiver sliding down her spine as it slid back to reveal her hair beneath. The wand tip pressed deeper against the flesh of her neck and she swallowed, tense and curious.

"Of all the witches in the world that could have walked into my shop in the dead of night, it would have to be you wouldn't it?"

MC felt her heart stutter behind her ribs at that low, soft voice. Her mind scrambled, searching for a memory that shivered in fog. She knew that voice. He knew her. But it was not the voice she had been expecting. MC was thrown, caught off guard at her suspicion being squashed by that almost gentle tone.

Fingers touched her hair, a soft caress that threaded downwards to brush loose strands back from her face. Her eyes moved to glance sideways, wanting to see who it was but not ready to make a move yet. That voice niggled at her. She knew it, but she was struggling to put a face to it.

He moved closer, a spicy scent mixed with a scent that was very male filled her nose, and she felt the warmth from his body close at her back. Hot breath bloomed under her ear and then he inhaled slowly through his nose, taking in her scent like a predatory beast. The close proximity, the warmth, the allure of that scent and that voice, it all combined to leave her confused. She still hadn't moved.

"Still so beautiful," he said softly. "Beautiful and deadly."

She gasped, shock making her stiffen as a pale hand plucked her wand right out of her fingers. Since when had she ever been so slack?

He chuckled, low and deep, as her wand disappeared out of sight. This time, she turned, her eyes lifting, having to look up into a face that made her gape. She stared at his pale skin that seemed to gleam in the dark, a strong brow and nose and dark eyes that burned into her own.

He was harder looking than she remembered, his face angled and full of darkness, a confidence lingered in his gaze that hadn't been there when she had known him at school.

"Prewett," she whispered.

His full lips twisted into a smirk. "So, you remember me?"

The tall, awkward Gryffindor boy who had helped her in Herbology with soft words and shy smiles was gone. This was a man. A man with the glow of the dark in his eyes. He was the last person she had expected to see here in this part of Knockturn Alley, but the voice now matched up with her memory of him.

Leander Prewett had caught her in the dark and taken her wand from her, and she had let him.

"What happened to you?" She asked, stunned.

His smirk disappeared and she uttered a small cry as slender, cold fingers circled her throat. MC moved to step back but he tugged her forward, his face so close she could see the smattering of freckles across his nose in the murky light.

"Don't underestimate me, MC," he said. His voice was low, soft, but there was an edge to it. An edge that seemed to scrape down her spine with delicate nails, and she arched her back at the sensation, her body reacting before her brain could stop it.

MC stared at him, her throat bobbing under the tight feel of his cold fingers around it. This was different, a whole new side of the boy she had known. He had been a fair duellist, he could hold his own, but he had been awkward and his mouth often opened before thinking. His posturing and bluster had not made him one to take that seriously, but this man before her now was leagues away from all of that.

Her heart began to thud a little faster as she stared into his eyes, that strange scraping shiver in her spine spread outwards and into her limbs.

She had met some nasty pieces of work over the years, had a few scraps with them, and taken more than one down when the need arose. Some of them had even lured her into their beds, the ones with irresistible smiles and dark eyes, the ones who had a particular cocky charm that reminded her of one boy in particular.

But Leander had never turned her head in that way. So why was she now quivering in his hands? He had taken her wand, he wasn't exactly choking her, but his hand could squeeze if he wanted, and she wasn't pushing him off when she should.

"Well?" He prodded. "Are you going to reveal why you're creeping around in here after hours?"

His hand at her throat subtly tightened and she gulped. His eyes blazed and she just couldn't look away. Leander Prewett was making her blood sing, her skin waking up and her pupils dilating as he held her in a choke hold in the dark. Everything about this screamed at her to kick him in the shin and tackle him to the floor. She needed to get her wand back and get the fuck out of here. Abort mission.

But she just stood there, eyes locked with him, her body responding to his darkness in ways that would have had her laughing in disbelief ten years ago. He looked too certain and assured, a knowing smirk on his lips that suggested he knew exactly what she was doing here.

"I... " She stopped, her voice cracking on that simple sound.

His head tilted and his eyebrows twitched upwards. "My, my," he said slowly. "The Hero of Hogwarts is speechless."

"Don't call me that," she said quickly.

Her hand grabbed at his forearm as he squeezed her throat even tighter, her lungs beginning to constrict with panic. "Please... Leander... "

He chuckled. "I know why you're here. He said you would come, and he was right."

"What?" She rasped. "Who?"

Her original suspicions flared once more. He wasn't alone, but the idea of Prewett working with him... No. It couldn't be.

Leander let go of her throat, moving with such speed that all she could do was keep sucking in breaths with long gasps, coughing a little at the freedom in her throat as he pinned her arms behind her back. He pressed his face close to her ear as he shoved her up against the nearest bookshelves, the wood pressing sharply against her ribs. His nose was in her hair, the sound of his steady breaths against her ear making her shiver as his body held her in place.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, her voice betraying her as it wobbled with uncertainty.

He hummed softly, a hand pressed to her waist, fingers gripping harshly and her head tilted backwards, eyes fixed wide on the dusty books in front of her face.

"I'm going to take you to him," he murmured. "I reckon he is going to be pleased to see you. We've heard about you, your little deeds and clever tricks. He said the artefact would draw you out, and he was right. You walked right through the door as if I had called your name."

She trembled. Her client had given her this address, had claimed the thief frequented this shop, and she had indeed walked right in here.

It was a trap. The bastard had tricked her again. Every time she got close, he played a new hand and left her unbalanced. When would she learn?

MC grit her teeth, angered at herself for not taking more care before entering here, and now she was without a wand and pinned against a bookcase. Leander was strong, and he was so different, unpredictable, and she had no idea what he might do next.

"What do you want?" She asked.

He chuckled again, his hand at her waist moving around to press against her stomach, holding her firmly against the lean hardness of his body. Her breathing hitched slightly and she bit softly against her own tongue. Fear mingled with the strange swirl of excited curiosity.

"You," he whispered against her ear.

Her gasp was swallowed by the swirl of black and the sharp crack of Disapparation.

....*....

Leander's grip on her was firm as they stumbled into a firelit chamber. The stone floor was gritty under her boots and the air stale as though they were underground. MC turned her head, eyes darting quickly about to take in the sloped curve of the stone ceiling and the huge fireplace. Some of the columns were cracked and crumbling, the look and feel of the place suggesting age and little use.

"Where are we?"

Leander didn't answer, he just moved her forward, her feet scraping across the stone as they approached a doorway in the far corner. There were storage crates along one wall, barrels and items draped in sheets, chests that promised more curiosities that tugged at her thoughts. She couldn't seem to help it, her heart lusted after beautiful things. She craved the rush of the discovery, of touching something that had perhaps been untouched for countless years.

Leander hauled her away from the storage and she turned her gaze on the dark maw of the archway he was pushing her towards. The entrance way appeared to shimmer, a shift in the light against the inky black behind it. A memory came to mind of enchanted archways that would shift a room, illusions that led her through ancient trials, magic that she'd had to puzzle her way through in order to prove herself worthy.

But she wasn't a clueless teenager anymore. She didn't need to prove anything to anyone. One look at that doorway made her balk, though, and a slither of fear finally slid down her back as she began to resist with her feet, pressing back against him. "Wait... Leander... "

He pushed her harder. "Move," he ordered.

MC resisted, not wanting to go through that archway, something told her that going through it would be like crossing a line she couldn't step back from. She twisted, pushing back against Leander as she found her fight.

But he was stronger, over powering her easily and backing her up against the stone wall, those cold, long fingers wrapping around her throat again. In the glow from the fire his red hair gleamed, the hard lines of his face thrown into shadows and sharp angles. He was quite the sight, formidable and unmoving, so far from her memories of him, and yet it didn't look wrong on him. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect.

"Why are you doing this?" She said, writhing against his grip.

His lips lifted into a smirk. "I like it when you fight back," he said. "You always did have fire in your belly, MC. I could see it in your eyes when we were at Hogwarts together, and you've still got it, even now."

"Let me go," she said.

"Are you going to behave?" His eyes glittered, almost as though he was daring her to say no.

"What happened to you?" She asked again.

The hand around her throat shifted, smoothing up and around, his thumb grazing gently just under her jaw. She lifted her chin slightly, the delicate caress of his fingers sliding into her hair feeling far more delicious than it should. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore it.

"Don't." The word slid from her lips in a pleading whisper.

She felt his warmth move even closer, fingers sliding back down her neck to press against the flutter of her pulse. It raced, a betraying throb against his fingers as his breath tickled near her ear. "Don't what? Touch you?"

His words caressed the shell of her ear and she shivered, hands grabbing his forearms, fingers curling into the black fabric of his robe.

"I can feel the rush of your blood," he whispered. He pressed his fingers harder against her pulse and a soft whimper left her lips. "Are you scared? Or maybe you like this?"

Her eyes opened and she met his gaze, the firelight dancing in the depths of his brown eyes, pupils wide and fixed on her.

"Do you want me to like it?" She taunted. "Or, do you want me to fight you off?"

"Plenty of time for all of that once we go through that door," he said. "You walked willingly into the shop, and now you're going to walk through there. He's waiting on the other side for us."

She paused her wriggling at those last few words. MC turned her gaze towards the endless dark through the archway, that odd shimmer catching at the corner of her eye. Her breaths quickened, anticipation thrumming through her.

He was waiting.

Surely her suspicions had led her to the right place, the game of cat and mouse they had played for years could be coming to an end...

"Who's waiting?" She asked, as if she didn't know.

Leander smiled. "Let's go and find out, shall we? I reckon you won't be disappointed."

He didn't let her go, but he didn't have to push her either as they stepped up towards the archway. As they stepped through, a chilling sensation spread over her skin as they passed through the enchantment. Her eyes blinked as the darkness shifted into the ambient glow of lit lamps. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the chamber they had left, but a warped vision of it through the shimmer of the spell.

The room they were inside now was more inviting, lit softly and with comfortable furniture and books. So many books. Shelves and tables filled with them, piles stacked around the room and even on the floor. A cheerful fire crackled in a hearth and rugs covered the floor under settees and easy chairs. There were two other doors, wooden and both closed, but no windows. As she had first suspected, it appeared that they were indeed underground, but the high ceiling arched upwards with delicate stone work and beams of solid wood.

Her eyes swept the room quickly, assessing everything with a sharp eye before her gaze settled on the man sitting in the chair nearest the fire. Her lips parted, the fight leaving her body as her gaze travelled over the long limbs, the confident way he sat and the devastating smirk that pulled at his mouth.

"Sebastian," she whispered.

It had been seven years since they had graduated Hogwarts with promises on their lips, but neither of them had kept them. He was still beautiful, even more than she remembered, his hair still ruffled and begging for her hands to run through it. His face was leaner, the angles sculpted in tempting lines that she used to smooth with her finger tips as a girl.

But that was so long ago. Since then, he had led her on a dangerous dance through Scotland and England, ducking through the shadows as they both chased after artefacts and knowledge. Sometimes she had been one step ahead, but he was cunning and quick, and she had felt the bitter taste of frustration more than once.

In one smooth motion, he stood and stalked across the space, head slightly dipped as his dark eyes roamed over her. The flutter in her pulse before was nothing compared to the way it hammered now, her knees weakening and her mouth going dry as he drew ever closer.

Stupidly, she stepped back, bumping up against Leander who chuckled right near her ear, his hands sliding down both of her arms. She would get no back up from the tall red head, she was sure.

"Hello, MC," Sebastian said, his voice deeper and richer than their school days. "I'm so glad you could finally make it."

"You did this," she said. "You set me up."

Amusement danced in those deep, brown eyes, eyebrows lifting playfully. "And you played the game so well, MC," he said. "I'm a little disappointed at your predictability. I expected more of a fight if I am being honest."

"Honest?" She huffed. "Im surprised you know the meaning of the word."

He was close enough for her to see the amber flecks in his eyes, the firelight picking out the gold in his hair. He lifted a hand, long fingers catching her chin and tilting her head to his liking.

"If memory serves me correctly, you love the game as much as I do," he taunted. "Do not preach to me about honesty, my darling. Your heart is as dark as mine, if not darker."

She glared at Sebastian, defiance making her pull her chin from his grasp. Leander's grip tightened on her arms and she felt his breath at her ear again.

"Be a good girl now, MC," he warned.

Sebastian's eyes moved to Leander. "Where's her wand?"

Leander slipped her wand from his robe and handed it over to Sebastian. MC shifted, arm snatching out to make a grab for it but Sebastian was faster. She growled in frustration, dodging to one side to wrench free from Leander's grip. She stumbled and ran, circling a table and almost skidding on a rug.

"She's not playing nice," Leander said. "She looks like she is thinking of trying to escape."

Sebastian's laugh was low and soft, his fingers slowly spinning her wand, his face lowered as he watched her through his lashes. "I do love it when they run," he said softly. "It makes the capture so much more satisfying."

MC gulped, eyes wildly searching for a route out of here, Sebastian's soft laugh sending shivers over her skin. There were two wooden doors that were closed and the enchanted archway she had passed through. With no idea what lay behind those doors and her wand in their possession she had limited options.

Had they done this before? Lured women down here and tortured them? Had they become that dark and twisted? Her heart was thudding as she eyed them both.

"Give me my wand," she demanded.

Sebastian slowly shook his head, his fingers smoothing over the wood of her wand, his gaze thoughtful before he aimed it at her.

"What the fuck is this?" She asked, backing up, her legs hitting against a high backed chair.

Sebastian's eyes glittered with something, a shifting shadow in their depths that pulled at something deep within her. She stared at him, unable to tear her gaze away as he stalked slowly towards her. She skirted round the chair, still backing up, not taking her eyes off him for a moment while he had her own wand aimed at her.

In doing so, she had missed Leander circling around the other way, and when his hands grabbed at her from behind, she squealed. Bucking against him, she twisted and fought, but he was stronger, his arms wrapping around her until she was pinned, her chest heaving against his iron grip. His lean hardness was pressed against her back, his own quickened breaths in her ear.

"Naughty girl," he rasped. She tried to squirm and he chuckled. "I think we might have to chain our little plaything up, Sebastian. She isn't playing the game."

Sebastian stalked closer, his eyes dark, his teeth rolling his lower lip. MC struggled, trying not to look at him and failing.

"There's my fiery girl," he said softly. "Don't worry, Lee. She will play, we just get to have a little fun breaking her in first."

"Fuck you," she spat.

The tip of her own wand settled against her skin, trailing softly over the back of her hand and dipping down to her wrist. Her heart pounded and she couldn't tear her eyes from Sebastian as Leander held her steady.

"Incarcerous."

A silvery wisp slithered from the end of her wand, parting into two and solidifying into a rope that twisted sensually around her wrists, sliding effortlessly against her skin. The ends broke free from the end of her wand and were deftly caught by Sebastian before he pocketed it. His smile was of smug delight.

"Now I have you," he said. Leander loosened his grip on her as Sebastian gave the ropes a tug. She had no choice but to stumble forward. "No more hiding, MC. I've finally caught you."

Her heart raced, she was trapped, at his mercy. She should be kicking and screaming, but she wasn't. Just like before, when Leander had her pinned against the bookcase, it was a twisted curiosity that thrummed through her rushing blood.

"What are you going to do?"

Sebastian's eyes shifted to Leander as he moved to join him, they shared a dark look before they both turned their gazes back to her.

"Now the fun really starts," Leander said.

Sebastian's smile sent a tingle down her spine.

....*....

The silvery bindings around MC's wrists were cool and strangely soft, and when she pulled against them they didn't hurt her, but they were strong and held her in place. The coolness was welcome against her flushed skin, her body trembling with conflicting waves of uncertainty and unbidden desire.

Her arms were lifted, the bindings holding them up where Sebastian had attached them to a wooden beam. Her feet were on the ground but she couldn't move far. She was effectively a prisoner, hanging there, her eyes following the two men as they circled her slowly like two predators, their eyes hungry for the kill.

"She looks good, doesnt she?" Leander said, pausing in front of her, his gaze moving slowly down her body.

Sebastian moved to stand beside him. "A prize indeed," he agreed.

"Is this what you lured me here for? To tie me up and stare at me?" She asked. "What's next? Torture? Pain? You want me to suffer?"

Sebastian's eyes were dark. "Oh, there will definitely be torture, and maybe you will suffer a little, but the pain will be sweet. I promise."

MC felt her lungs constrict, breath stuttering as she pulled on her bindings. She shook her head. "Fuck you," she bit out.

Sebastian chuckled. "Patience, my darling."

Leander was becoming fidgety, his fingers flexing and his movements antsy as he eyed her. "When can we start playing?"

Sebastian reached up to brush his knuckles down his cheek. "All in good time, my love," he purred.

Leander leaned in to the gentle touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips. MC stared, transfixed, a flutter of fire stroking outwards between her thighs. She clenched them together, her mind trying to deny what her body was seeking.

"Are you... you two are together?" She asked.

Leander narrowed his eyes. "Is that a problem?"

Her eyes widened as Leander took hold of Sebastian's chin and kissed him full on the mouth, Sebastian responding with a low moan. She gaped, not expecting that at all. Neither did she expect it to make heat flare deep within her, her arms pulling on the ropes as their kiss deepened. MC had to look away, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to think of anything else that wouldn't fire her up like this. She couldn't give in. She wouldn't play their game.

"Is someone jealous?" Sebastian teased. MC flinched as his fingers trailed from her jaw to her neck, the touch light but confident. She swallowed, her throat visibly working as she shifted away. A crease appeared in his brow, and he took hold of her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "Play nice, MC."

"Do you think she would like a taste before the real games begin?" Leander whispered.

Her eyes flew to him. "What?"

Sebastian nudged Leander towards her. "Try her," he said softly.

MC trembled as Leander advanced, her feet sliding backwards, the ropes pulling tight until she could go no further. His eyes blazed, tongue sliding over his kiss swollen lower lip as he gripped the front of her robe and dragged her forwards.

"Leander...no... "

Her whimper made his lips twitch and he dipped to nuzzle at her neck, her head twisting as her whispered pleas spilled from her lips, denying what her traitorous skin responded to. She felt the brush of his nose, his hands gripped her waist and then lips tasted her skin. He wasn't gentle, his kisses exploring her until he was at her ear, a wave of goose bumps spreading over her skin despite her efforts to twist free.

Leander sighed, breath hot, and then he claimed her harder, his mouth sucking at her neck, tongue flicking in tempting strokes. It sent rivers of fire through her, a soft sound leaving her mouth that made his hands slide greedily around her, holding her closer as the suck turned to pain. It was a sweet awakening that made her lips part with a cry.

This shouldn't feel this good, but Leander's mouth spread fire on her flesh, the sting of his bite sure to leave marks on her skin. With Sebastian watching on, the erotic situation she found herself in was heightened. She was no prude, she had seen plenty in the underbelly of the Wizarding World, even Muggles had their dark side. But this situation was a new one for her, and while a slow fear curled in her gut, there was also curiosity and desire, a deep throb that made her thighs clench with a shameful need.

Fingers took hold of her chin again and Sebastian studied her face with approval.

"I think she likes it," he said, pleased. His eyes were dark with arousal and she was losing herself, her arms slackening in their bindings.

Leander dragged his mouth up to her jaw. "She is so lovely," he murmured. His hands slid down over her hips, moulding her with firm fingers. "So soft."

MC stared into Sebastian's eyes and he smirked, slow and devastating. His fingers brushed her hair back from her face, gentle as he slid them into her locks before he gripped tightly, making her wince. With a sharp tug, he pulled her head back, her throat fully exposed now. At the first hungry claim of his mouth on her skin she groaned. Both of them, one each side, devouring her.

Her eyes stared up at the dark, high ceiling, her mind shattered in shock, her blood aflame with a need so sharp and sweet it made her bones melt. Leander's firm grip on her hips held her steady as her legs trembled and her wrists went slack on their bindings.

"Such a good girl," Sebastian crooned.

A low hum of agreement came from Leander as his hands cupped her behind, fingers digging into her soft flesh through her clothes. "I want more."

Sebastian moved back, his hand on Leander's shoulder. "I think it's time to play a game," he said.

Leander reluctantly lifted his mouth from her, eyes eager. "I do like to play."

"What... what kind of game?" MC asked.

Sebastian smiled and stroked her cheek. "Listen to her, Lee. She is so hungry for more."

Leander moved slowly to her right, Sebastian hovered on her left, his wand spinning distractedly. "I thought you liked playing games, MC. You've been trying to hunt me down for months, have you not?"

"And now I have finally found you,' she said, lifting her chin with defiance.

Both of them chuckled and exchanged a look. "You're only here because we let you find us, sweetheart," Sebastian said. "We thought you might want to come and play with us."

MC felt her pulse quicken at his words but her eyes were watching the pair of them carefully. They looked too poised and ready to pounce again, her neck still damp from their kisses was like a taster, a mere glimpse into what they might do.

"Why in Merlin's name would you think that?" She asked.

"Oh, come now, MC," Sebastian said. "Look how prettily you moaned for us just now. Don't tell me you wouldn't like more."

Leander smirked and stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her, the gleam in them difficult to look away from.

"Well, you thought wrong," she said, however the tell tale breathlessness in her voice didn't hold much conviction.

Sebastian tilted his head, his hand slipping into his pocket to pull out the artefact. The little sphere shimmered in the glow from the lamps, the colours of it bleeding into each other just as the client had described.

"Not even for this?" He taunted. He rolled the sphere in his fingers. "I bet you would love to get your hands on this."

Incredibly rare and desperately sought after, the Seeing Sphere was a prize indeed. A sacrificed drop of blood would be absorbed into that shimmering surface and images would appear in its depths, prophetic images. MC stared at it, fingers twitching with the urge to caress that alluring surface that slid effortlessly through Sebastian's fingers.

She had never seen it before, only heard the whispered rumours, so when it was stolen she had lusted after the chance to hunt it down. But, of course, Sebastian had to get his hands on it first.

"You would never give up such a thing," she scoffed.

He grinned. "Play the game and find out."

Her eyes moved from him to Leander and back again. Were they being serious? "Will you give me my wand?"

"Absolutely not," Sebastian said immediately.

She scowled. "You could at least release the ropes, my arms ache."

"You need to be a good girl for us first," Leander said.

MC could see how they were both carefully moving around her, one on each side like predators stalking prey. Her feet shifted on the stone floor, needing to keep moving as though she could actually escape. She glanced up at where the ropes were fastened around the wooden beam. They were fixed tight, the beam solid and thick. She had no chance of pulling that free. She sighed and hung her head.

"What do you want?" She asked.

Sebastian gave a deft flick of his wand and the button at the top of her blouse slid free. MC gasped and looked down as the button below popped open next.

"Stop it," she hissed.

A third revealed the lacy edge of her chemise. She glared at Sebastian and he chuckled.

"It's not like I haven't seen it before," he taunted.

MC felt her cheeks grow hot, her gaze flicking to Leander as he took another step forward.

"I haven't seen it before," he said. "Time to play nice and share, MC."

He stepped forward, a pocket knife in his hand. She eyed it warily.

"What are you doing?" Her voice wobbled as she spoke, his other hand holding her still as he held up the knife. She gasped, a hiss of surprise as she felt a pin prick on her finger tip, the blood welling up into a droplet.

"What are you doing?" She asked, eyes wide with horror.

Sebastian moved closer, holding up the Seeing Sphere and Leander held her hand tightly, guiding her bloody finger to it's shimmering surface.

"We want to see what happens when you touch it," Sebastian said, his voice heavy with intrigue. He gave her a dark smirk. "Just think about what you want, your deepest, dirtiest desires."

MC tried to pull back, but Leander yanked her arm forward with ease, her finger sliding over the surface of the cold sphere, her blood smearing in a streak that shimmered before it melted away. MC felt the thud of her heart as all three of them stared at the ball waiting to see what it would reveal. She may have been tied up against her will, but the draw of the artefact had her intrigued, she wanted to see how it worked, seduced by its magic and potential.

Inside the sphere an image began to form. MC was in a clearing, her hands raised as she channelled ancient magic, the sky a roiling mass above her head as blue bolts of lightening struck the earth near her feet, dark shadows shifted around her, faceless figures that seemed to evaporate and reform in ghostly mirages. MC shivered, not understanding what the image meant and as she looked at Sebastian, ice slid down her spine at the hunger she saw there. The glow from the sphere seemed to reflect in his eyes, the flicker and shift of her power a desire all of its own.

She had suspected that his interest in her when they were young was fuelled by the power she could weild, it was one of the reasons she had drifted from him in the first place, and it seemed not much had changed. Is this what he wanted from her? To use her power for his own ends?

Inside the sphere the image began to shift, and MC realised she was now naked, her body twisting as if floating through water, her hair fanned out around her head. She watched, transfixed, as Leander and Sebastian appeared with her, their bodies also exposed, and then they were entwined in lewd positions, the expression on their faces revealing the pleasure shared.

MC felt her cheeks grow hot, the memory of their kisses on her neck adding to the tingle of desire that crept over her after watching the images unfold inside the sphere. Both Leander and Sebastian were watching, their lips parted and eyes blazing as they looked at each other and smiled.

"Well, well," Sebastian said, turning to MC. "What a filthy mind you have, sweetheart."

She shook her head, trying to deny it, but her mind filled with erotic thoughts regarding the both of them.

"This is a trick," she said. "This isn't me. What kind of dark magic is this?"

The image in the Seeing Sphere faded and Sebastian slipped it back into his pocket. He turned those hungry eyes on her, licking his lips.

"Time to satisfy those dark desires," he said.

MC shook her head, pulling on her ropes and leaning back. "No," she said. "I'm not going to let you use me."

"And how are you going to stop us?" He asked, his head tilting curiously.

Leander moved around behind her and she twisted, trying to keep them both in her line of sight. He slid a hand down her back and she scooted forward, her body colliding with a waiting Sebastian, who took hold of her robe with a gleam in his eyes.

"Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?"

They worked as a pair, unbuttoning and tugging until she was in naught but her socks, her cheeks and chest flushing red at the way they were looking at her. They circled her again, finger tips grazing against her waist, her hips, her arse. She trembled, twisting and pulling on her ropes as her skin betrayed her, prickling into goosebumps and tingling with each teasing caress.

She shook her head, denial spilling from her lips in muttered protests, but they kept touching. Gentle teases of finger tips sliding over her hips and along her thighs as she twisted and pulled on her ropes. They removed their own robes and shirts, bare chested now, the both of them sculpted with firm muscle, limbs lean and strong.

"Let's see if she can tell us apart," Sebastian said. Leander moved towards him, his hand sliding up over Sebastian's chest. MC watched through lowered lids, intrigued despite herself as Leander caught Sebastian's lower lip between his teeth. The sight was erotic, elements of the forbidden, and she fought against the way it made her thighs tremble, heat coiling tight and hot. They kissed and Sebastian whispered something against his mouth, words that she couldn't quite catch. Leander smiled and nodded before turning his dark gaze on her.

He had a piece of fabric in his hand as he approached her and she tried to pull back as he wrapped it about her head, a blindfold, her eyes hidden behind the black fabric. He slid his thumb down her cheek, toying with her lower lip, and all she could do was tremble.

"No! Why do I need this?" She asked, shaking her head, but the fabric didn't shift.

"Its all part of the fun," Leander whispered.

Now all she could see was darkness, she could only rely on her other senses, her ears straining as she heard Leander step back. She shivered, her skin prickled, the ever present tug of heat settled firmly between her thighs. She turned her head from side to side, anticipation making her lips part and her arms pull on the ropes.

Footsteps, slow and deliberate, circled around her and she shifted, trying to follow them and then whimpered as fingers trailed up the back of her thigh. The touch felt like a trail of fire, the fingertips grazing her skin more titillating because she had no idea which one of them it was.

"Stop," she pleaded, but the word was broken, pathetic. The tightening of her core making a liar of her.

More fingers tickled softly just under her breast and she flinched, the touch illicitng a small cry from her lips as the hand cupped her breast, the thumb sliding over the peak and then, the hand was gone. Her eyes moved from side to side behind the blindfold, her chest rapidly working as she panted softly. Her breasts felt heavy, aching, the peak taut after the fleeting touch.

A low chuckle sounded to her left and she turned, just as a hand caressed her arse. "Sebastian," she gasped, her hips lifting into the touch.

A low hum sounded at her back, a brush of lips on her shoulder blade. "Good girl," he murmured.

MC clenched her thighs as his hands moulded her arse and swept to hold her hips, guiding her against him, she felt the fabric of his trousers as he began to grind against her. Her back arched, arms straining on the ropes as she shamelessly pushed against him, the heat in her core throbbing.

"Look at her, she loves it," Leander said, somewhere in front of her.

Sebastian chuckled and then let go, stepping away from her and she whined, stumbling a little. Her cheeks coloured, shamed at how much she wanted more. She heard them both circling again, her ears trying to follow as she heard the rustle of clothing, the not knowing driving her to an edge.

"What are you doing?" She licked her lips, her voice far too needy for her liking.

Silence. She stilled, ears pricked, holding her breath as she waited, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting as one of them blew gently against her back. Goosebumps spread up her arms and her pulse was skittering wildly, gasping for air into taut lungs.

She jumped as hands slid up her thighs from the front, all the way up until thumbs grazed at the junction of her legs, the hands swooping around underneath and parting her legs. She looked down, but of course, could see nothing. The touch was super sensitive, every nerve ending on full alert, so when the swirl of a hot tongue licked against her inner thigh, dangerously close to her heat she moaned loudly.

Neither of them spoke, she could only imagine which one was there before her. Were they looking at each other, using silent gestures to communicate while she hung on her ropes, blind, desperate and shamefully aroused?

The tongue moved higher, erotic, hot, mouth sucking at her sensitive flesh and the muscle beneath quivered, the heat at her core intensifying as she felt a head brush against the hair there.

"Fuck," she whined. "Who is that?"

No answer. The mouth stopped, lifting from her skin and she bit her lip at the urge to beg for more.

A sharp slap connected against her arse, not too hard, but enough to make her jump, the sound of it splitting through the silence followed by her cry of surprise. Her hair was grasped and her head was tugged back, hot breath fanned against her neck and teeth nipped at her earlobe.

"Naughty girl. Don't ask. You have to guess." The voice was a rasp, but she knew who it was, melting as Sebastian nibbled along her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said, immediately biting against her tongue for letting the words slip free of her mouth. She was pitifully at their mercy, desperate and needy.

Sebastian's hands glided up her waist and over her ribs, cupping her breasts and teasing the peaks, drawing soft moans from her as he devoured her neck. Meanwhile, Leander’s hands smoothed up her thighs and around her hips, his mouth pressing hot kisses across her stomach. So many hands and distracting mouths, it pulled her deeper into the haze of lust that pooled thick and hot.

She had long since abandoned the idea of running, her body soaking up everything they were offering, her mouth no longer pleading and denying, but whimpering and gasping as fingers moved ever closer towards her core, but never actually touching it.

"Please," she whispered.

Leander pressed his face against her, just below her navel, his hands cupping her arse, and he moaned at her little plea. "Such a good girl, begging for it," he said.

He kissed her flesh, slow, teasing, moving lower and to the side and down over her thigh. She parted them for him, so eager, so ready for more. His mouth moved to her inner thigh, his tongue a delicious promise as he licked and teased. Her hips flexed, her pussy hot and wet, aching for him to taste her, but he stopped, and she felt him withdraw.

She whined, desperate and frustrated, and he dared to laugh, a soft snigger at her discomfort as she heard him move away. Not only that, Sebastian removed his touch too, stepping away and then they were circling again. Hands slid across her stomach, her back, fingers swirling under her breasts and over her hips.

MC pulled on her ropes, her shoulders now aching from being held up for this long, her head lolling slightly. Sebastian had promised her torture, and she had envisioned dark curses and pain, but not this. This sweet torture of hating them, but wanting them, her body aching to be taken in the most filthy of ways.

She would take them both if she had to, at the same time. She realised she needed it, craved it like the opium whores in the dens of London.

A firm grip on her hips made her lift her head, anticipation making her draw a deep breath as those hands slid upwards to her arms, kneading the strained muscle there. Soft kisses trailed across her collar bone, the spicy scent of cologne and male skin teased her nose, the same scent she had picked up in the shop. Teeth grazed her throat and she tipped her head back.

"Leander," she sighed.

She felt his smile against her throat, his hands swiftly grazing down to her arse, pulling her close against him. Her breasts grazed bare chest, and she arched, his naked arousal rubbing against her hip. She moaned, writhing against it. If he was naked he was planning on putting that impressive thickness to good use.

"You want me to fuck you," he murmured into her ear. He shifted, guiding his hard cock between her thighs, the silken length brushing up against her folds. He rubbed it back and forth, groaning into her ear. "Mmm, I can feel how wet you are."

"Yes, gods yes." She panted, hips seeking out more friction as a warm body pressed against her back.

"I'm going to need a feel of this," Sebastian said into her other ear.

MC gasped as she felt Sebastian's cock slide against her arse, the tip slippery with pre-cum as he slid it along the curve of her cheeks and between her thighs to join Leander's. She yanked on the ropes viciously at Leander's low moan, both of them rubbing against her folds and each other. What she would give to be able to see!

Their cocks thrust between her thighs, rubbing her in teasing strokes that were nowhere near enough, her slick dripping out to coat them both.

Sebastian was panting in her ear, driving her crazy with want as Leander held her hips, grinding her against their cocks. Their moans sent her spinning, their lust for each other making her twitch and burn with heightened arousal. She was enclosed within their combined heat, sweat beginning to prickle at the back of her neck, dampening her hair and making her squirm.

"Let me see," she begged. "Fuck, let me see."

"No," Sebastian said. His hand slid between her thighs, and she felt the deft stroke of fingers against her folds, she threw her head back with a groan and then she shuddered as he pushed two fingers deep inside her. "Fucking hell, she is soaked, Lee."

Leander pulled back. MC whimpered and tugged on her ropes, realising she wanted to drag him back, hips rolling as Sebastian began to thrust his fingers in and out of her twitching opening. But her whimpering turned to moans as she felt Leander's sinful mouth on her thigh again.

Sebastian continued to fuck with his fingers, pulling out her leg as Leander spread her open, his tongue finally licking a leisurely stripe across her opening, lapping around Sebastian's fingers as he worked her so well.

"Listen to you," Sebastian taunted into her ear. "So desperate, so needy. Such a good girl for us."

When Leander found her clit, sucking and swirling over it with devastating rhythm, she felt the tightening almost immediately. Her walls fluttered and clenched around Sebastian's fingers and her thighs began to tremble.

"She is close," Sebastian said. "Too close."

Immediately, they both pulled back, cutting her off and leaving her literally hanging. A cry of disbelief was all she could manage, her whole body quivering on the precipice of release with no way of getting them back.

"Bastards," she choked.

She throbbed, legs shaking as she swayed on the ropes, wincing at her desperation. She could hear their smug laughter and grit her teeth, frustration clawing at her. "Oh, man up and just fuck me already," she spat.

They went quiet. Not a sound except for her own quick breaths and the roar of her pulse in her ears. She shifted, pulling on the ropes, that prickling sensation teasing up her back again as she tried to place where they were in the blackness of her vision.

"Someone is getting impatient, aren't they?"

Her head twisted sharply to the left. Leander. A finger teased at her sternum, trailing slowly downwards through the valley of her breasts, and then disappeared. Soft footfalls and then a palm glided over her hip. She whimpered, and he chuckled, a dark sound that sent a shiver over her.

"Maybe we should let her have a taste."

Behind her. Sebastian. Her eyes darted uselessly behind the fabric, her whole body tense as she waited, but nothing happened. A taste of what?

The pressure in her shoulders suddenly released, the taut ropes slacking off and she staggered, strong arms circling from behind stopping her from collapsing to the floor. She gasped, surprised, groaning at the resistance in her tired arms as they fell to her sides.

They had released her, although the cool bonds were still attached to her wrists, she was still roped. Sebastian nuzzled into her hair.

"This is far from over sweet girl." His hand wrapped about her throat, fingers on her jaw tilting her head back as his other hand cupped a breast, rolling the peak gently. "Who do you want first? Me or Leander?"

MC swallowed hard, shifting against his grip but he only held her tighter, her sweat slick back pressed against his firm chest.

His mouth pressed against the skin under her ear, hot, teasing. "Come on, don't be shy. You're the one who wants us to take you."

His hand slid downwards, teasing strokes that drifted lazily over her aching core, making her twitch, poking at the unsatisfied tightness that needed release.

"Is it me you want? You want me, right here..." He pushed a finger into her, slow, deliberate, and she arched with a gasp.

"Or, maybe she wants me," Leander said, his voice surprisingly close. Her head twisted under Sebastian's grip, desperate sounds spilling from her as hands took hold of her hips, tilting her upwards. "I could fill you up, MC. I want to watch you take all of me."

"I want to watch, too," she begged. She lifted an arm, aiming for the blindfold, but her wrist was caught and pulled backwards. She grumbled at the block, wriggling against Sebastian's hold but failing.

"No peeking, darling," Sebastian crooned. "We get to watch. You get to feel."

Her legs were parted, both of them supporting her weight as she felt the tip of Leander’s cock brush up against her, rubbing slowly over Sebastian's fingers. MC thought she might actually lose her mind, her hands reaching out to grab firm muscle, smoothing up Leander’s chest as Sebastian guided him inwards. His tip breached her folds, nudging in and she gasped, hips rocking forwards as he slid even further in.

"Oh... gods, that's big," she stuttered, her walls stretching to take him, fluttering at the satisfying fullness as he pushed deeper.

"He feels good doesn't he?" Sebastian whispered knowingly. "You just wait. He fucks so well."

The images Sebastian's words conjured seared through her mind, Sebastian on his knees while Leander took him. MC shuddered, thighs clenching, her fingers digging sharply into Leander's chest.

"Do it," she begged through clenched teeth. "Show me."

Leander worked his hips, grinding against her, his cock so deep it nudged harshly against her limit. She winced, but pushed back against him, desperate for friction.

"She is so tight," Leander said, humming in approval. He guided her hips, fingers tightening as he pulled back to thrust. MC moaned at the delicious drag and thrust, and he did it again. Leander growled. "Fuck..."

Sebastian adjusted his grip on MC, she could feel the tautness in his arms, the heat and rapid lift of his chest. "Give it to her, don't worry, I've got her," he said.

Anticipation exploded into hot shock as Leander snapped his hips, thrusting hard and firm. MC grunted, her hands scrambling for purchase, her body slammed back into Sebastian as Leander filled her, over and over. Each punishing pounding filling her up, his thickness sliding effortlessly against her hot spot, and that throbbing ache twisted dangerously.

"Don't let her come," Sebastian warned, his voice betraying the effort it took to brace up against Leander’s brutal force.

MC bit down, clenching her teeth against the sounds that wanted to burst from her mouth, she could barely keep her scrambled thoughts together, but didn't want to reveal how desperately close she was to spinning over the edge.

Sebastian was right, Leander knew how to fuck. The angle, the pace, his sheer size and strength. She ached to be able to see it, longed for it, her hands exploring the sweat slicked skin of his shoulders and chest. She tried to imagine the flush on his pale skin, the intensity of his dark eyes and her core trembled.

A hand splayed over her abdomen, pressing downwards, she guessed Sebastian's. He moaned near her ear. "Gods, I can feel you inside of her," he said.

His mouth claimed her neck in a stinging suck, and she brought a hand to his hair, curling her fingers into his rumpled locks and gripping.

The wave of her release rose up, muscles contracting and she couldn't stop the moan, long and desperate. Gods, she needed this, craved it. She held her breath, teetering, ready to let go and drown.

Sebastian ripped his mouth from her neck. "No!" He commanded. "Not yet!"

He yanked MC backwards, Leander’s fingers scraping painfully over her hips as he slid free from her. Her own hands tried to grab at him with a cry of frustration, her orgasm cut off for a second time, legs useless and trembling beneath her.

"No, please," she said, her voice cracking. Stunned, she felt tears sting her eyes under the blindfold. So close! "Sebastian...please!"

Just like when they were clueless kids at school, Sebastian was selfish and controlling. The twisted games that had driven them apart back then came back to her, filled her with frustrated fury that she had found herself back in his grip, her body caving under his silken tongue and dangerous eyes.

She planted her feet and twisted from his grip, shoving back and stumbling forward, slipping in her socks. She reached up and tore the blindfold from her head, blinking against the sudden rush of light and colour. She rasped breaths in and out, her gaze focusing on a very naked Leander.

Her eyes washed over him, his freckled skin as flushed and sweaty as she had imagined. His cock was rigid and glistening, pink and swollen from being buried deep inside her. She tore her eyes from him, core contracting at the memory of it.

Dazzled by the sight of Leander, she had hesitated too long. Sebastian was on her, pinning her arms behind her back easily, the muscles on her shoulders screaming in protest.

"Bad girl," he growled. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye and trailing down her cheek. The deep sound of his voice was like finger nails down her back, shiver inducing and opening her up to his darkness. It shouldn't feel so good to hear him call her that. But it did. It pulled at something deep within her. So, when he shoved her down, she went willingly, her eyes opening to fix on Leander's darkly smug face.

"On your knees," Sebastian ordered. He gripped her hair with one hand, her wrists with the other.

Leander stepped closer, his hand pumping himself, cum beading at his tip. MC leant back, eyeing him, but Sebastian pushed her head forward. He was on his knees behind her, and she felt the ropes at her wrists tighten, binding them together at her back.

"Bad girls dont get what they want, MC," he warned. "You're going to open that pretty little mouth and take him like a filthy whore."

As if in protest, she clamped her lips tightly together, fighting against his hand at the back of her head. Why did he always have to get his own way? His hand slid around her throat again and she swallowed against the pressure, turning her head, but he gripped her jaw and forced her back, his thumb probing her lips apart.

"Play nice, MC," he urged. "Be a good girl, and you will be rewarded."

Leander caressed her face, brushing back her hair, and teased his weeping cock against her closed mouth. MC couldn't tear her eyes from his, the dark glitter of his gaze taunting her. The sweet boy she had known was nowhere to be seen as he pushed his swollen cock against her mouth.

Sebastian's thumb found his way into the corner of her mouth, her lips finally slackening as she bent to his will. He slid his thumb in further and she couldn't resist sinking her teeth into it. He hissed sharply, his fingers gripping so tightly on her hair she winced.

"Bitch," he rasped, pulling his thumb free. "She bit me."

MC laughed, the sound bubbling up and out through her lips, but it was cut off as Sebastian squeezed her throat. She fought against her ropes, gulping as he yanked her head back, her eyes lifting to see the flare of annoyance in his dark eyes.

"This could get a whole lot worse for you unless you play nice," he warned. "You will get no rest, no respite, until we are satisifed. You wont be leaving here until you are dripping from the both of us. However long it takes to fill you up, and we've got all night sweetheart."

She heaved in her breaths, tied, trapped, and throbbing. Her eyes moved between the two of them, both of them unflinching and solid, a wall of male desire. Their earlier passion for each other came to mind.

"What about you two? What if I said I wanted to see you dripping from each other?"

Leander smirked. "Like that idea do you? Maybe we could oblige you, but not if you misbehave, MC."

She writhed against Sebastian's hold on her, choking slightly against his hand. "I thought you liked me being a naughty girl," she taunted, her words tight around the chokehold. "Good girls don't want to be fucked hard by bad boys. I don't want to be a good girl, I've never been a good girl and have no intention of being one right now."

Sebastian tightened his grip, grinding against her bare arse, his cock hot and twitching. She pushed back against him, her eyes on Leander and smirked in satisfaction as Sebastian moaned.

Leander narrowed his eyes. "Open your dirty mouth so I can fuck it," he said, aiming himself towards her again.

MC held eye contact. "Untie me first," she countered.

"And why would we do that?" Sebastian asked. His thumb caressed her jaw, a gentle touch contrasting with his firm, choking grip.

MC rubbed herself against him again, soft cheeks against hot arousal. When she spoke, the harder tone in her voice slipped and a subtle edge of need shone through. "I want to touch you."

A flicker of something flashed across Leander's gaze, the hard glitter softening for an instant before disappearing behind hardness again. MC felt her core flutter, curious to know what the tall red head was hiding behind his stern face.

"Please," she whispered. "Let me touch you."

Leander's eyes shifted towards Sebastian over her shoulder and he gave a subtle nod.

"Don't make me regret this," Sebastian said with a sigh. "One stupid move, and I will rope your arms and your legs, do you understand me?"

"I understand," she agreed.

He released her throat and she coughed, staying still as Sebastian used his wand to loosen the binds at her wrist. The cool charm vanished and she flexed her hands, bringing her arms around to her front, brushing hair back from her face as she readied herself.

She looked up at Leander with a nod of thanks before she dropped her gaze to that mouth watering arousal. She swallowed thickly and then opened her mouth. This time, Sebastian's hand was gentle as he cupped her jaw, his mouth at her ear so that she got the full benefit of his groan as Leander pushed his cock past her lips.

....*....

Years, months, so much time spent chasing down dark artefacts and even darker wizards. MC had dabbled in many things, but never had she allowed two men to take her at the same time.

It hadn't been something she had considered, not coming across the opportunity, or meeting two men that could tempt her into such an act.

Curiosity had always landed her in trouble. She often found herself in dangerous situations and thrived on getting herself out of tricky binds. Her curiosity and pride had led her here into this underground chamber that was clearly the living space of her two old school friends.

Her greed for getting her hands on the Seeing Sphere, for being the one to catch the elusive thief, had her on her knees, naked, with her mouth wrapped around Leander's cock.

He was a big boy, and he knew how to use it, but she took him. Her hands gripped at his strong thighs, the permission to finally touch and move fueling this savage lust that consumed her. She sucked at him greedily, soaking up the deep moans of pleasure she stole from his mouth.

All the while, Sebastian was at her back, his mouth marking her flesh and his hands teasing her just enough to stroke the fire in her belly, but holding back with devastating skill so that she didn't find that elusive peak.

As a girl, she had craved Sebastian's touch, her heart had yearned for him until she thought she might cry. Over the years, that become a rivalry, and she thought those soft feelings had festered into something bitter and twisted.

One touch, one kiss, one glance at his dangerous little smirk and she was yearning for his touch all over again. As his mouth spread hot kisses across her shoulders and down her spine she tilted her hips, offering herself up shamelessly to his hand, parting her thighs so he could seek out her core and drive all rational thought into oblivion.

Leander's hands were in her hair, holding her steady as he fucked her mouth, her eyes streamed from the size and power of him. But she wasn't a quitter, and she dug her nails into his thighs and urged him to release.

She didn't even stop when Sebastian hauled her hips higher and positioned himself, pushing his own throbbing arousal against her slick folds. She moaned around Leander, eyes rolling as Sebastian slid deep, thrusting into her with approving groans and sighs.

Caught between the both of them, MC was coiled tight, the ache for release twisting with savage need. Being cut off from pleasure twice, she feared it happening a third time, but her body was relentless in its chase for it. Her hips rocked to meet Sebastian's urgency, her mouth worked to give Leander what he wanted.

She was being such a good girl for them and she craved her reward.

Leander gripped her hair tightly with a deep groan, and MC braced herself as his cock began to twitch and throb.

"Fuck... MC," he gasped, as spurts of hot release filled her mouth.

She almost gagged, swallowing in gulps, eyes streaming, her hand softly cupping his balls as they emptied. She leaned forward to press her forehead against his stomach to catch her breath. Sebastian had stilled for a moment, she could only imagine that they were looking at each other, whatever bond they shared glowing in their eyes.

For her, it was pondering this sudden intimacy with a man she didn't know, the flesh of his stomach hot against her face, soft red hair tickling against her nose. His musky scent surrounded her, and she smoothed a hand up and over his hip, a curious heat tingling through her. Without thinking too much, she pressed a kiss just below his navel. In response, his long fingers carded through her hair, gently cupping her head against him.

"Shall we move this somewhere more comfortable?" He suggested.

MC turned to look over her shoulder, Sebastian was flushed, eyes dark and skin glistening as he held her hips. He was still buried deep within her, and as their eyes met, she gently rolled her pelvis, savouring the thick fullness of him. His eyes glittered, his lips twisting into a smirk. He gave her arse a squeeze and nodded.

"I reckon our knees would thank us for getting off this hard floor," he said.

It was Leander who helped her to her feet, and when she swayed, legs trembling, he easily swept her up into his arms. Carrying her bridal style, he walked towards one of the wooden doors set into the stone walls of the cavernous room. MC put her arms around his neck and leant her head against him, a moment of respite.

This was a far cry from the dusty, dark shop where he had caught her and pushed her into the bookcase. The flicker of curious attraction that he had brought into life there had now grown into something else, intimacy shared, and behind the hardness his face portrayed, she suspected that the boy she remembered was still in there somewhere.

It was that part of him that held her like this, that carried her to the large four poster bed and placed her carefully on the neatly made sheets. She looked up at him, meeting those dark eyes and smiled. He didn't smile back, but she was sure that something softened behind his eyes.

The room was not as spacious as the main living space, but it was still quite big. The furniture was dark wood and old, drapes hung at the corners of the bed, and rugs softened the space here too.

Sebastian lit a lamp with the flick of his wand, crossing the room with a confident stride despite his naked form. He approached the bed, eyes roaming over her as he licked his lips. MC clenched her thighs together, her arms aching from being tied, her core burning with pent up frustration at their prolonged stimulation.

Sebastian Sallow had been a torment for years and this was unlikely to end any time soon. When their gazes met, memories and tension combined to pull on the strange bond they shared. They had killed for each other, they had whispered dark secrets and walked dangerous paths hand in hand. They had argued and stung each other with harsh words.

He had hurt her, and no doubt she had hurt him too, not that he would ever admit it.

As he approached the end of the bed and climbed on to it, those dark eyes never leaving hers, the deepest parts of her reached for him. Despite everything, her body had a will of its own and answered to the darkness he conjured.

He gripped her ankles, pulling her down the bed and spreading her open, lust flaring in his gaze. She gripped at the sheets, twisting them up in her fingers as heat flared thick and hot at her core.

Please, no more torment, no more urging her to heights and then leaving her suspended and aching. Her eyes begged him for it, her lips uttering whimpers as he pressed his mouth to the inside of her ankle in a soft kiss.

"Please," she whispered.

The artefact could wait, as could the coin she would earn for retrieving it. They were problems for later. For now, she needed her reward from these two, the artefact had shown her their bodies entwined, and so it had come to pass. She was ready to see it through.

Sebastian moved closer, settling between her thighs, his eyes alight with hunger. His hand smoothed up her skin, cupping a breast, hips grinding lazily. MC's hips lifted to meet him, the teasing press of his arousal not enough, she wanted more.

"You've been a good girl," he said softly. Leander hummed in agreement, his fingers gently tracing along her thigh as he shifted, moving himself behind Sebastian. "Do you deserve a reward?"

MC nodded, her hands taking hold of Sebastian's forearms, his flesh warm and taut. "I'm ready," she said.

Sebastian's smirk was smug as he bent his head, his tongue flicking across her skin towards a breast, teasing at the peak before drawing it into his mouth. MC moaned, her hands sliding up to his head and the soft brunette locks that tumbled in irresistible waves.

As his mouth moved downwards, soft kisses and teasing strokes of tongue sending swirls of heat straight to her core, Leander was touching Sebastian, his hands roaming over his back and hips. MC tried to shift to see better, distracted as Sebastian moved ever closer to her core.

At Sebastian's first exploratory lick, MC groaned, eyes closing as he began to swirl and suck over her clit, her body responding immediately. Tight heat coiled delicately making her hips flex and her thighs part even wider. With one hand in Sebastian's hair the other reached up to grip the bedsheets behind her head as she began to feel the rise.

She gave herself over to it, surrendered to the skill of Sebastian's mouth, her eyes lidded as she watched Leander adjust Sebastian's hips and begin to pleasure him. Sebastian's mouth faltered, a low moan vibrated against her heat and she felt her stomach clench.

Fascinated, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, watching as Leander worked Sebastian from behind, pumping his length with one hand and working him open with the other. She stared at Leander, the flush on his cheeks and the hunger in his eyes. When his gaze lifted to her, he smirked and gave her a cheeky wink. Her core fluttered, heat rolling outwards, and a moan slipped past her lips.

Sebastian's moans and his careful ministrations combined with the erotic scene before her eyes. MC fell back against the mattress, her hips lifting upwards as the first wave of heat crashed over her. The clench was exquisite, tightening her muscles and curling her toes, her head tilting back as she cried out in pleasure and relief.

There was to be no let up, as she gasped and clutched at bed sheets, Sebastian continued, sliding fingers inside and curling them just enough to ride out the pleasure, ripples of aftershocks making her legs shake uncontrollably.

"Seb," she gasped, her hand splaying over the top of his head and trying to push him off. "Merlin, please..."

He devoured her, his tongue working harder, his hands clamping down her bucking pelvis and she arched, shuddering and whimpering as a second orgasm rushed over her. Her eyes blinked against a hazy blur, cheeks and neck flooding with heat as she was consumed by it.

When Sebastian finally lifted his head, she was gasping for air, spread out on the bed, boneless. He shifted, moving up the bed, his cock swollen and dripping as he positioned himself. She barely moved, watching him through dazed eyes as he slid into her fluttering cunt.

"I'm not through with you yet," he said, taking hold of her chin. "I'm going to fill you up now, darling."

She groaned, his wet mouth claiming hers in a messy kiss, her own taste coating her tongue and lips. He began to move, thrusting into her at a steady pace, the tilt and slide of him reigniting the flutters deep in her core.

Her head rolled, still dazed, and then she felt him shift, his thighs widening and pushing against hers. He slowed and stilled, buried deep and then he shuddered. She could feel his cock twitching and looked up to see Leander. He was buried deep inside Sebastian, rocking his hips and pushing Sebastian even deeper into MC.

She gaped, bracing her hands against Sebastian's chest as they found a rhythm together, Sebastian a moaning, whimpering mess between them.

To see him reduced to such a state surprised her, but it was stimulating, erotic. She lifted a leg, her foot teasing along Leander's arm as he gripped Sebastian's hip, thrusting into his arse with powerful thrusts.

Leander's eyes were dark, lost in his lust, but he found her gaze and grasped her calf, sliding his hand up her leg in a caress that made her shiver. As a trio, they moved, Sebastian chasing his release within her, Leander pushing for it within Sebastian.

MC was aroused by them both, her hand snaking down to caress Sebastian by the balls, her finger tips stretching out to graze against Leander with each thrust.

They both moaned, Sebastian tensing up and pressing his head to her chest.

"Give it to me," she panted. "I want to feel you do it."

Sebastian's groan was almost desperate, his hand squeezing her breast as his eyes closed tightly. MC looked up, her gaze meeting with Leander's, his eyes intense as he stared at her. She felt the clenching deep within, another orgasm reaching a crest as Sebastian gave in. MC cried out, clenching around his cock as it throbbed and let go, her eyes locked on Leander who remained relentless.

Sebastian clung to her, their bodies slick with sweat as Leander chased his own release. MC continued to watch him, the strange intimacy making her heart thud harder, and when he finally came, his hand slid up Sebastian's back and found hers. She took it, linking their fingers, all three of them joined in the final moment.

....*....

With no windows to give a clue about the world outside, MC had no idea how long she had been down here with Sebastian and Leander. The three of them had dozed on the bed, her in the middle, and she had woken to the warmth of their sleeping bodies each side of her.

Sebastian lay on his stomach, his face towards her, his cheeks pink and his lips slightly parted. Asleep, he looked more like the boy she had known, soft and adorable. She watched him for a while, wondering if things could have been different if all the terrible things hadn't happened. She dared to trace a finger from his temple to his jaw, a soft touch to remember the good things, because there had been some.

He didn't wake, and she left him be, carefully shifting around to look at Leander.

The red head was asleep on his side, dark copper lashes fanned out across the hard plane of his cheekbones. His lips were so deliciously full and pink, she knew how soft they felt against her skin, and it fascinated her. Out of this whole experience, he was the one that intrigued her the most. How did he end up in the bed of his rival? How did a boy once so awkward and soft become hard and dark?

Unable to resist it, she shuffled closer, her gaze roaming over his freckled shoulders and firm, lean muscle of his arms. The dusting of red hair on his chest and stomach begged for her fingers and she carefully placed her palm against his chest. He was warm, solid, and she closed her eyes as she slid her hand upwards, leaning in to press a kiss near his collar bone.

He tensed, his arm moving, and her eyes flew open as he grasped her wrist, stilling her hand. Slowly, she tilted her head back to look at him. His eyes were more hazel brown, not like Sebastian's chocolate eyes, and she was so close she could see tiny flecks in the low firelight. He was watching her through sleepy lids, blinking curiously as his thumb caressed her wrist.

"What are you doing?" He whispered.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, full, inviting, and she realised she wanted to feel those lips against hers. She licked her lips and met his eyes again.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, her fingertips flexed against him. "You looked so peaceful."

He studied her carefully, not letting go of her wrist. "I'm surprised you didn't try to sneak away while we slept."

Her lips parted and she stilled. The realisation dawning on her that she hadn't even considered it. "Me too," she whispered.

"Why stay?"

She leaned even closer towards him, her lips lifting slightly. "Well, you have my wand for a start," she said. Her smile widened. "And I'm not sure if I can walk yet after what you two did to me. My arms are killing me."

He grinned, bringing her hand closer to his mouth. His fingers slid from her wrist to caress her fingers. She let her fingers entwine with his, noticing a curious marking on the inside of his wrist. It looked like the shape of an 'S'.

"Did we hurt you?" He asked softly.

She shook her head. "Surprisingly, no."

She watched as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, warmth tingling up her arm. She brushed her fingers against those lips, watching as she did so, her eyes darkening with hunger.

How easy it was to replace her fingers with her mouth, claiming his lips in a kiss that went against everything that occurred before. Her kiss was soft, gentle, exploring the feel of him as her body pressed even closer. He didn't respond at first, either surprised or maybe uncertain. But then he kissed her back, deeply, his hand grasping her hip to pull her close as his arousal twitched and grew, pressing her down into the bed.

"You'd better not be having fun without me."

They paused in their kiss, breaking apart to both turn their gazes to Sebastian. He was awake and leaning on his elbows, his sleepy eyes dark as he watched them.

MC smiled and reached for him. "Snooze you lose, Sallow," she said. "Get over here."

....*....

One Month Later.

A low mist clung to the banks of the river, the mud was slippery and thick under her boots and MC was crouched low near the bushes as she glanced back behind her. The bridge to cross the rushing waters was just ahead and she swiped damp hair from her cheek, her hood useless against the moisture in the air.

She had managed to sneak out of the Ashwinder camp, her pocket laden with pilfered tomes and whatever gold she had managed to snatch for her efforts. As she crept through the darkness, the moon a pale half crescent in a sky littered with heavy clouds, she kept herself calm, collected. Under the cover of some nearby trees, she paused, leaning back against scratchy bark as she contemplated her next move.

Her contact, a bad tempered Auror by the name of Ralph, had told her of this camp and the highly sought after books they had in their possession. The Ministry were keen to get their hands on these tomes, the pages thick with dark magic and information on some of the most prominent Wizarding families in their world. A quick glance in one had revealed the Gaunt name, her memories awakening of the blind, blonde boy that had been a part of her life at school.

She patted her robe, her transfigured pocket containing a wealth of valuable information, powerful and dark magic, tools for persuasion and damage control.

She licked her lips, savouring the haul, her skills once again putting her in these positions. These books would earn satisfactory reward in both pride and gold. All she had to do was deliver them to the cranky, old Auror and take her prize in return.

But, she hesitated. She closed her eyes, her body shivering with goosebumps and heat coiling thick and fast in her abdomen, skin tingling as she thought of soft lips, dark eyes and the delicious pull of ropes on her wrists.

It had been a month since Sebastian and Leander had ensared her, four weeks since they had teased and tortured her and then claimed her for their own. She had left their lair with her wand, but no artefact, but her body had been well satiated, and her mind ensared with the possibilities.

The Seeing Sphere had shown her using her power, dark shadows at her beck and call. Sebastian's desire for knowledge and power had drawn Leander into his arms, the pair of them outwitting some of the most powerful witches and wizards of their time. With her on their side, the possibilities were endless.

The Auror, or her lovers.

MC closed her eyes and Disapparated.

....*....

The underground chamber looked the same as it did when Leander when had brought her here a month ago. She still had no idea where it was, merely closing her eyes and using her memory of it in the hopes of landing here, but here she was.

She took a few steps, her gaze falling on the shifting magic of the doorway portal. She wondered if either or both of them were present. As she stepped up to the shimmering charm on the archway, she hoped she was making the right choice.

She stepped through the magical barrier, the room softly lit and warm, the fire burning in the great fireplace. Sebastian was in the chair by the fire reading, his head lifting as she appeared. His smile was one of slow satisfaction.

"You came back, darling," he said.

She moved into the room, circling a settee and standing on a large rug before him. "You don't sound surprised to see me," she said.

He stood, closing his book and placing it on top of a pile beside his chair. He stepped up to her, reaching up to pull back the hood of her robe, a slight crease on his brow.

"You're all wet," he said. "You must be chilled. Let's see to that and then we can talk."

She did shiver as the hood slid free of her hair, his fingers glancing across her cheek as he moved to pour her a whiskey. She glanced around the room as she removed her robe, both wooden doors were closed, the chamber quiet. No sign of the tall red head.

"If you're looking for Leander, he isn't here," Sebastian said. "He went out a while ago and won't be back till later."

MC took the offered whiskey glass and sipped, meeting dark eyes and feeling her cheeks flush. He had guessed what she had been thinking.

"You are quite taken by Prewett, aren't you?" He teased. He took a large mouthful of whiskey, eyes calculating as he studied her. "Is that why you returned? Because of him?"

Her stomach twisted as butterflies erupted, the heat of her core lazily turning over as she thought about it. Partly, yes, Leander had turned her head, but also, Sebastian's own darkness had called to her. Just like it had years ago.

"I've brought you a gift," she said. She swirled her whiskey in her glass, watching him through her lashes. "But I think Leander should be here before I say more."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed with interest and he slipped his wand from his pocket, a smirk twisting his lips. "Is that so?"

He charmed a little bird, whispering to it before sending it upwards. It flapped its wings before vanishing in a sprinkle of sparks.

"Then please, take a seat," he said, gesturing towards the settee. "Leander will be along shortly."

....*....

The books were spread out over the table top, Sebastian leaning over an open one, his eyes devouring the page. Her gifts had gone down as well as she had expected, a kiss from each of them. There had been more whiskey to toast her success in retrieving them, and now she felt suitably warm and flushed.

Leander came up behind her, his arm snaking about her waist and he pressed a kiss to her neck. She closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his closeness. Sebastian looked up and smiled.

"Shall we make it official?" He asked, slipping his wand out again.

Leander nodded and took hold of MC's wrist, sliding up her sleeve to expose the pale, tender flesh of her pulse point.

"What's this?" She asked, tensing up a little.

Sebastian moved around the table, twirling his wand, eyes dark and possessive. Leander held her against him, his grip on her wrist firm.

"Time to make you ours," Leander said softly into her ear. He pressed a kiss to it, lips soft and teasing.

Sebastian pressed the tip of his wand to her pulse point, eyes meeting hers. "Are you sure this is what you want? This will bind you to us, forever."

Her heart pounded, thoughts racing, and then she felt the warm press of Leander's hand on her stomach, Sebastian's gaze full of fire and promise. She nodded.

"This is what I want."

Sebastian uttered the spell, his voice soft and dripping with shadow and the brand scalded her skin. A cry left her lips and she flinched, a fire spreading from the brand through her blood, encasing her heart and making her head throb. Her vision swam, and she was vaguely aware of Sebastian's touch to her cheek, her legs giving way but Leander's strong arms holding her up.

And then all was black.

....*....

The pillow was soft as she stirred, blinking against the low light of a lamp. She could feel a presence, a life force that thrummed in her blood, she frowned, confused, as it seemed to shift, splitting off into two separate forces. One was close, the other was nearby, but not too far.

She turned and stilled. Leander was sitting on the bed beside her, he reached and brushed hair from her face.

"You're awake at last. How do you feel?"

She took a breath, slowly sitting up, the life force closest to her seeming to throb and grow warmer as she met his gaze. She put a hand to her chest trying to make sense of it.

Leander smiled and took her hand, pressing it against his chest where his own heart would be. She gasped, the life force heightened into a sweet pulse. Her eyes widened.

"I can feel you!"

"It's strange to start with, but you get used to it," he said. "You must be able to feel Sebastian too. He is in the other room, but he could be anywhere, and you will still feel it. We are connected to each other through our life force. Only death can break it."

MC smoothed her hand against his chest, swallowing hard. "Joined. Forever."

Leander nodded. "Sebastian saw it inside the Seeing Sphere. He made me confess," he said, blushing. He dipped his gaze. "I... I was in love with you at school. And after seeing the vision, and getting the truth out of me, we set the trap to lure you to us."

"This was your aim all along?" She asked, shocked. Her pulse tripped madly, thoughts scattered as she stared at him. He had loved her? Her own cheeks grew warm.

"That it was," Sebastian said from the doorway. He moved to join them at the bed. He put a hand on Leander's shoulder and caressed her cheek.

"The spell joins the life forces of those in love. We both loved you already. We just had to see if you would return it," he said. "The Seeing Sphere foretold that you would, but I couldn't be sure, and when I awoke to see you kissing Leander with such softness, I knew it as truth. We just had to wait for you to return."

Tears stung her eyes. She loved them both? She didn't love anyone. Her heart had always been closed off to such softness, such vulnerability. And yet, she could feel them both. Two extra pulses of life alongside her own, every heartbeat linking them in ways that no other could ever come close to. She looked down at her wrist, the burn mark there in the shape of an 'S', a raw version of the healed mark on Leander's wrist that she had noticed in bed that night. She traced it with her finger. She would never be alone again.

Leander's hand slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head, the touch gentle. Sebastian had hold of her chin, his thumb teasing at her skin, his eyes magnetic. She looked at them both, glad she had walked through that archway, taken the chance and brought the books here instead of to the Auror.

"Ours," Sebastian whispered. "Forever."

"Forever," Leander smiled.

Lured Part 2 - Before

[sappy-seresin]

Karaoke Night (J. Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader

Warning: Mentions of alcohol consumption, mildly suggestive content, cursing. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get invited to go drinking with the Dagger Squad, kudos to your boyfriend Jake. The one detail he left out about the excursion is that it’s Karaoke Night at the Hard Deck, and your participation is mandatory.

Word Count: 3.2k

MY WORK IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR POSTED ELSEWHERE, especially without consent. DO NOT steal the work of other writers, thank you.

Gif Creds: @unicornships

“Y/n, I’m so glad you could make it,” Natasha greets, bringing you in for a friendly hug while Jake takes liberty to order your first round of drinks.

“Of course I made it,” you smile after the hug broke. “A night out with my favorite pilots? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Jake returns with your drinks as the rest of the squad find you and Natasha, each of them bidding you friendly ‘hello’s’ and offering you hugs. You smile up at Jake when he gives you your drink, accepting the kiss he offers to go along with it.

As everyone falls into their normal banter, filing around the pool table to watch the rematch Mickey challenged Jake to upon seeing him, you can’t help but notice that the bar is more full than it typically would be on a Thursday night.

“It’s busier than I thought it would be,” you mindlessly tell Bob, your eyes still scanning the growing audience of people occupying the bar. He nods in agreement, taking a second to study the rest of the room with a light grin.

“Me too, but everyone always gets excited for events, so the larger crowd makes sense,” you furrow your eyebrows at his words. Events? Jake hadn’t mentioned anything special going on at the bar tonight, he was just insistent on you came along. You assumed it was because he’s been extra busy with training the last few weeks and hasn’t been able to spend as much time with you.

“Events?” Your voice trails off as an invitation for someone to explain. Now Bob’s eyebrows are pulling together in confusion, his eyes wordlessly flitting over to Jake who has his signature smirk plastered on his face after sinking two more pool balls into the table. Mickey groans in frustration, knowing he’s lost any chance of gaining the upper hand while Jake lines up another shot.

“You didn’t tell her?” Bradley asks, making his first appearance. There’s a humored smile on his face at the feign surprise he’s pointing in your boyfriends direction. Everyone’s eyes are on Jake as he takes the perfect shot, shrugging in victory when it ricochets off the table wall before rolling into the hole he was aiming for.

“She wouldn’t have come,” he states, his demeanor light and playful when he glances at you. “I thought we all agreed we’d tell her after she finished her first drink.”

Bob’s raises his hands in surrender when Jake’s focus shifts onto him, not wanting to take the blame for your questions when he’s been under the impression that you knew what Thursday nights at the Hard Deck entail. “It’s not my fault, she pointed out how many people are here, and I thought she knew.”

“I’m sorry, I’m standing right here,” you interject, still lost as to what any of them are talking about due to their lack of answers. “What am I missing?”

There’s a chorus of excited glances, each of them seeming to enjoy your cluelessness in what you’ve gotten yourself into. Or, sorry, what Jake knowingly dragged you into without your fully informed consent.

“Well Darlin’, it seems that Hangman here forgot to mention that Thursday nights are a big deal at the Hard Deck,” Bradley begins, smacking Jake’s shoulder to mess up his final shot. Jake releases a frustrated groan when Bradley’s attempt to sabotage him is successful. The cue ball smacks into one of Mickey’s balls, sending it into the nearest hole, ending Jake’s streak. There’s a quiet ‘prick’ whispered under Jake’s breath, but you don’t pay it any mind as you gesture for Bradley to continue. “Karaoke night.”

While he seemed pleased with his explanation, your confusion only grows. What’s so special about a bar hosting Karaoke night? Karaoke isn’t exactly new in the bar scene, you’ve been to several bars that have nights dedicated to it, hell, you’ve done your fair share of participating when there’s been enough alcohol to encourage you to do so.

Upon realizing that there’s no further explanation, you ask, “Why do I feel like there’s more to the story? What’s the big deal?”

“It’s tradition that everyone in the friend group participates,” Reuben cuts in, taking a sip of his beer with a knowing look. “Starting with the newest member. I hate to break it to you Y/n, but tonight, our newest member is you.” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as it whips over to Jake, who's wearing a shit-eating grin. He doesn't even attempt to look apologetic for not telling you the full truth as he approaches you.

"You seriously couldn't have told me what I was getting myself into? Jesus Jake, you know what it takes for me to be performance ready," you scold him, unapologetically smacking his chest before he can pull you into him.

"Woah, sweetheart, there's no need to get hostile," he chuckles, pulling you flush against his chest anyway. The glare you send him turns his humored smirk into a lighthearted smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Come on, it's not that bad. They already know you can sing and have been dying to hear you anyway. The way I see it, you're doing them an injustice by gatekeeping that sweet voice of yours that I love so much. It'll be just like when you used to perform in college, except in front of friends and a bunch of drunks that won't remember whether or not you suck tomorrow."

"I can't believe you brought my 'open mic nights' into this," you huff, knowing fully well that he's won. Jake knows how much you love it when he praises the way you sing, even though you don't believe your voice is anything notable. "You're still an ass for not telling me."

"Maybe, but I'm your ass, and you love me for it," he flirts, playfully kissing you while everyone impersonate over embellished gagging noises at his words.

You giggle at their antics, molding against Jake's chest while they return to their usual banter. "When does it start?"

**********

"Alright, settle down everyone," Pete speaks into a mic, walking onto the makeshift platform that's specifically utilized for Karaoke. His presence makes the overall chatter in the bar die down as the attention shifts to him. "I know I'm not your usual MC but I was informed of a special guest tonight and requested that Penny let me give her a warm welcome." You catch the squad all glance at you in your peripheral vision, but choose to ignore them as Jake's arm falls across your shoulders. "Without further ado, I'd like to welcome Y/n Y/l/n to the stage!" Your eyes widen at the immediate introduction, they told you that you have to be the first in the friend group to perform. They never said anything about you starting off the entire damn circus with an introduction from their captain.

"You're up, Y/n," everyone cheers, watching Jake usher you forward. He smacks your butt before you're out of arms reach, earning an eye roll in response.

"You better be prepared to make up for this later," you quip, a serious look on your face with the subtle suggestion. Jake raises his eyebrows at your words, his classic smirk crossing his face as he shoots you a wink.

"I'll make it up to you all night, baby," he calls, not caring that half the bar hears what he said. Whistles sound through the room at his words, making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Pete offers you a hand when you reach the platform, immediately welcoming you into the spot next to him.

"Alright, now that she's here, let Karaoke night begin," he exclaims, sliding the mic into your hand before moving to stand next to Penny.

"Hey everybody," you timidly wave, taking a second to compose yourself while you cue for the song to start. The intro of "Love on the Brain," by Rihanna fills the room, earning various cheers across the room from those who recognize the song. "I swear, I'm not drunk enough for this." Laughter echoes around the room, everyone already enjoying your stage presence before you've even had a chance to start the song.

You take a deep breath, steadying the mic in front of your mouth, playing over the lyrics in your mind.

"And you got me like oh, what you want from me? And you tried to buy your pretty heart but the price's too high. Baby you got me like, oh," you sing, smiling at the chorus of claps ringing across the room. Everyone's attention is trained on you, no one having expected any actual talent to waft into the bar.

"Damn," Jake hears Natasha gush to no one in particular. Her eyes pan over to him, jaw slack in shock as your voice fills her ears. "I know you told us she can sing, but I didn't expect her to be this good." Pride swells in Jake's chest at the continuous praises showering over you from his colleagues mouths. He loves showering you with praise, but hearing his friends hype you up? That's next level for him. He watches you in awe from his spot several rows back, unable to tear his focus away from you as several more emotions flood his system.

The further you get into the song, the more comfortable you become. Strutting around the stage in confidence, you let your body do the talking, easily finding Jake's eyes in the sea of others. That's when you get an idea. He'd dragged you into this, and you want to be a little petty and make him pay for it.

The cordless mic makes it easy to see your plan through. The lyrics continue flowing from you as you take a step off the platform, eyes still locked on Jake as you make your way closer to him.

"Oh, and babe, I'm fist fighting with fire just to get close to you," you sing, your gaze burning so deeply into him that it makes him shiver. He's captivated by the way your hips sway as you walk, the melodic movements making it nearly impossible for him to keep his desire for you at bay. "And I'll run for miles, just to get a taste. Must be love on the brain..."

You're right in front of him now, deliberately trailing your hand down his chest to fully captivate him. To give him just enough that he's practically squirming in his chair in an attempt to collect his thoughts. Your forehead presses against his as you sing, and he's sure you're going to kiss him, but instead you pull away, breaking contact completely.

There's a stunned intake of breath from someone in your friend group when they notice your newfound attention on Bradley. Natasha's fighting back laughter, immediately catching on to what you're doing before watching it come to fruition.

Your gaze fixates on Bradley now, who eats up every second of the attention while Jake watches. He feels your fingers slowly drag across the skin on his neck, a laugh bubbling from his throat at the playful wink you shoot at him before turning your back to him and gently pushing yourself into his lap. Being the good guy that he is, Bradley plays along, while respectfully keeping his hands to himself. He respects you and Jake enough to not take it too far, but he's willing to be used as payback to get back at Jake.

"..It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good and I can't get enough," your eyes lock with Jake's, lips twisted into a devilish smirk as you sing to him whilst leaning further into Bradley. Jake grips his glass so hard that it's a miracle it doesn't break. He knows exactly what you're doing, and it's working. "Must be love on the brain, yeah. And it keeps cursing my name." The simple task of you participating in karaoke has turned into a ploy to make Jake go absolutely feral, and everyone's eating it up.

"Jake's met his match," Bob snorts to Javy, who nods his head in agreement. The pair of them noticing the effect your scheme is having on Jake. It's a change of pace to see the overly confident man completely defenseless before you.

After a few more minutes of innocently ogling over Bradley, you decide you've tortured your boyfriend enough. A friendly kiss is pressed against Bradley cheek after you stand up, your attention remaining on him long enough to see him tilt his drink toward you humorously before you make your way back up to the platform, nearing the end of the song. You make a point to meet Jake's firey gaze, letting your eyes assure him that you know exactly who you belong to. There's no hiding the jealousy he's harboring over the attention you gave to Bradley. Even in knowing that you purposely did it to get him worked up, Jake's skin feels like it's on fire as he watches you with the image of you on Bradley's lap burns in the back of his mind.

"..don't you stop loving me, don't quit loving me, just start loving me..." The rest of the song fades out of Jake's senses. Though his eyes never leave your figure, his thoughts are solely centered around all of the ways he's going to make you pay for toying with him later. All of the ways he's going to have you squirming and moaning his name.

You can see how lost in thought he is from your spot on the stage, knowing you're in for it later as you finish the song. "..must be love on the brain." You wink in his direction, though you're not convinced he catches it.

He snaps out of his trance when the bar erupts with a heavy round of applause, cheers and whistles accompanying the noise as you humbly bow to the crowd. Penny climbs on the makeshift stage while the room starts chanting, "Encore," repeatedly, the praise growing louder when you bow again.

"Alright, alright everyone, settle down," Penny commands, gesturing for everyone to oblige as she chuckles at their enthusiasm. "That was amazing, thank you." She gives you a quick hug, keeping her hand on the small of your back. "I know you all love her, but we can't pay her to give us a full concert, so we're going to continue on with Karaoke as planned." A chorus of playful "boo's" sound across the room as you exit the area, ready to get back to your friends.

There's a wide grin on your face as you make your way back to your table, pleasantly thanking those around you who stop you to shoot you words of praise. After making it through the last conversation, your eyes find Jake's again, which have remained locked on you from the moment you started your crowd-winning performance. You smile in his direction, hurrying to close the space between the two of you to ease the performance induced adrenaline that's left your body buzzing.

"Well if it isn't the woman of the hour," Coyote applauds the moment you reach the group, earning a sheepish grin and rosey cheeks from you. You giggle in response, finding your place next to Jake while the squad begins gushing about your incredible, hidden, talent. Jake's arms loop around your waist, pulling you into a half-seated position on his lap while everyone continues carrying on about how shocked they are that music isn't the line of work you chose to pursue.

His breath fans against the exposed skin on your next, sending goosebumps across the area which are accompanied by chills that rush down your spine. He kisses your temple slowly, dragging his lips across your ear when he pauses, taking a deep breath.

"I know I dragged you into this without knowing what you were getting yourself into, but what you did wasn't fair," the words are husky and low, only meant for your ears to hear. You can tell by the tone in his voice that he's frustrated and that your little game to get him worked up was successful. You twist your head in the slightest so that you can meet his dark gaze, your eyes innocent and twinkling as you shoot him a knowing smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about Lieutenant," you whisper slowly, making a point to keep your tone sickly sweet in that way that always drives him crazy. "You asked for a show, and I'd like to think that I gave you one. I'm sure Rooster would agree." His eyes narrow in your direction, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows to clear his throat. You're being a brat, and it's driving him up the wall that he can't put you in your place in the way that he wants to.

"I'm sure he would, darlin'," he smiles, leaning back in the slightest to compose himself. There's a glimmer that flashes in his eyes as you watch him carefully, enjoying the way that he's subtly flustered by the casual name drop of his colleague who's only sitting a few feet away. Jake's pulling himself back in, lips grazing your ears once more as his signature smirk curves onto his lips. "But, it want be Rooster's name you'll be moaning once I get you home, it'll be mine."

Now it's your jaw that's practically on the floor, heat rushing to your cheeks as you lose the upper hand in the little competition the two of you have going. Jake's a pro when it comes to taking these little games and twisting them so that you're the one who's hot and bothered, antsy to get home, while he pulls back and makes you wait. You mentally curse yourself for not finding the right words to put yourself back on top, but a part of you knows that you were asking for this behavior when you made the decision to egg Jake on in front of the entire squad, using Bradley as your scapegoat because seeing you drape yourself over him is the exact thing you knew would drive Jake crazy.

"What's the matter, darlin'? Don't have anything to say now," Jake teases, dipping away from you so that he can take a sip of his beer while you watch him, apparently defenseless, as the cockiness in his tone grows slightly. He's got you right where he wants you, and he's weaseled his way into his favorite spot to be. Right on top.

The rest of the night at the Hard Deck continues on as planned, you and Jake making points to challenge each other further as the night progresses. Many laughs are shared as the rest of the squad participates in their own karaoke performances, your favorite being Jake and Coyote's rendition of "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," as it was the song Jake serenaded you with ages prior when he saw you at a bar, hosting a karaoke night just like this one.

By the end of the night, Jake's practically dragging you out of the bar, over the pleasantries and well past ready to get you home. You force him to contain himself long enough that you can bid the other aviators proper goodbyes. He stands in his spot impatiently, talking to Coyote and Javy while you make your rounds with everyone.

"I hope he doesn't go too hard on you," Bradley whispers, his stature light after you pull away from your friendly hug.

You laugh at his words, squeezing his arm in playful assurance that you can handle what Jake has planned. "Truthfully, him going hard on me might have been part of my plan. Don't worry about me Rooster." Loud laughs echo from Bradley's chest as he shakes his head with an award-winning smile.

"Fair enough," he chuckles, giving you one last hug before Jake drags you away with a casual goodbye to everyone.

He speeds down the nearly vacant streets with one hand on the wheel and one hand squeezing your thigh. Neither of you have to say anything to know where your minds were at, especially when the truck is thrown into park in your driveway and he's rushing you into the house, bridal style.

Let's just say that Jake was right about one thing, Rooster's name was the last thing on your mind the second you were tangled in the sheets with your favorite Lieutenant.

*********************************

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tags: @clancycucumber230 @sehnsuchts-trunken @atarmychick007 @b-radbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @fanboygarcia @bradleybeachbabe @rosiahills22 @athenabarnes @fogle97 @vici111 @noz4a2 @bcon24 @startterfly @fandomunite2107

[hydrangeapartridge]

Title: Mind Body and Soul

Pairing: Mage!Shinsou x reader

I wrote for Shinsou again! Link to AO3 here

Summary: Once upon a time there was you: a nobody, a refugee from a country devastated by Dabi’s undead army, serving as a maid in king Todoroki’s castle. There, fate decided you would cross path with the mysterious and dreaded court mage Hitoshi Shinsou. Little did you know that particular encounter would change your life forever.

Rating: M

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy - Romance - teacher student relationship if you squint but no age gap - AFAB reader - ritual with mildly dubious consent - Strangers to Lovers

Chapter 2: The Djinn (under the cut!) - (link to chapter 1)

After he pointed at you with that weird purple light, mage Shinsou ordered you to show up at his office after sunrise to begin your training, or else he would come find you himself.

During the walk back to your quarters, you kept replaying the events of the night in your head. Images of the monstrous creature that almost killed you kept flashing before your eyes as you tried to find sleep in your bunk. The light snoring of the other servants and fear of what could lurk in the dark kept you awake until the crack of dawn. Only then did you manage to fall asleep, just when the first occupants of the dorm were starting to rise.

You were not so gently shaken awake shortly after by the head of the staff, an old matron who you were sure had a stone for a heart.

After a quick breakfast, you reluctantly made your way towards the mage’s tower. You hoped during the whole staircase’ ascension that what happened the previous evening was just a dream, and that mage Shinsou would dismiss you, and tell you to go back to your cleaning.

However, things didn’t go as you wished, and when you knocked on the mage’s door, he hurriedly let you in. Shinsou had opened the door so quickly that it made you wonder if he had been waiting behind it for you to arrive.

“I am glad to see that you came of your own will. I do not like to meddle with the castle’s occupants. Especially so early in the morning” He told you.

The dark shadows under your eyes from the lack of sleep, couldn’t compete with Shinsou’s dark circled eyes. He looked like he had even less sleep than you did. Still, he actively fluttered around his office to make space for you to sit. He started carelessly pushing papers and parchments away from one of the tables, letting them fall in a messy heap on the floor.

“Hmm. Are you sure taking me as an apprentice is a good idea?” You had rehearsed a speech during your ascension of the tower, hoping to convince the castle’s mage that you weren’t suited to be a mage. “I’m sure I’ll be wasting your time. I’m probably very bad at magic. Plus, now that you did the ritual, the Djinn can’t harm me right? So maybe I should go back to being a servant, it would probably be easier for both you and me”

“Nonsense” Shinsou simply replied flatly as he placed a wooden chair in front of the table he just cleaned up. “All mages must be trained”

He turned to you, “Firstly, people with magical abilities are so rare that it would be waste of potential not to train one. Secondly, an untrained mage is an easy target for wandering spirits so if you value your soul, I suggest you accept your fate and the training I offer” He smirked. “You’re a bit old for an apprentice, but it is never too late to learn.”

You flushed when he commented on your age. You were admittedly becoming a little old for marriage, but you weren’t <i>that</i> old. He was probably not much older than you were too.

“But-” You tried to protest, alas, Shinsou cut you short.

“Sit” He calmly but firmly instructed. His purple stare on you was intense, almost scary, and you felt the urge to obediently sit down at the makeshift desk.

Once you were seated, Shinsou pointed to the crystal that targeted you with its light the previous day. “Yesterday you seemed to see this crystal for the first time”

You nodded, and Shinsou hummed.

“It detects mages” He explained “Every child under ten is supposed to take the test at least once. By Royal law” The mage’s piercing gaze fell on you and you tensed. “How come you weren’t submitted to that test?”

He placed a hand against the back of your chair, and the conversation started feeling like an interrogation.

The urge to avoid the question and snap back at him for doubting you was strong. You had no clue you were a mage before, and you weren’t sure you appreciated this sudden change in your life. You reined back your temper just before a biting retort escaped you. Your mother often advised you to think before you spoke, and so you did. The country was at war, and spies were common and hunted. In truth, you had nothing to hide, and so you decided that complying and answering the castle’s mage questions was probably in your best interest. You didn’t know the extent of his powers, but given his reputation, maybe he had a way of knowing if you lied. And he could also be an adept of torture.

“I’m not from this country. I’m a refugee from a neighbour country” You confessed, your voice low as you remembered the atrocities you witnessed when your homeland fell under the power of the undead army. “I crossed the border when I was a lot older than ten. Hence, I wasn’t submitted to the test you speak of”

Shinsou’s eyes bore into yours, and he tilted his head, his brows furrowing in concentration. Maybe he really was able to tell truth from lies.

“I see” He blinked, and you found yourself able to look away from his mesmerizing gaze. “Thank you for your honesty. I shall suggest to the king that they test refugees too then. We need to gather all the help available to fight Dabi and his undead army. Or else our country will end up like yours”

Your throat felt tight. The last thing you wanted was to relieve the invasion of your home by the undead. If you could fight to prevent it, then you were glad to be blessed with the power to do so. You simply hoped you could become useful before they would strike. Before it would be too late.

“You say that you need more mages, yet you are the only one in the whole castle?” You remarked, curious. Something didn’t add up between his speech and reality.

“Very observant of you” Shinsou mocked, but you couldn’t tell if he was being sardonic or bitter. “The King doesn’t like mages much. He prefers to trust in the power of powder and steel.”

You knew the king’s army to be very powerful, with a guard captain strong as a hundred men; as scary as he was beautiful, leading thousands of well-trained soldiers. The King’s difficult relationship with mages was no secret; long ago, an evil mage cursed his wife with a spell so powerful that no healer could ever dream to even alleviate it. The queen was supposedly still alive, but hidden in a secret place somewhere in the castle, where only her family, and healers, working day and night to find a cure, could find her.

“But he trusts you?” You replied, curious as to why the king would keep Shinsou and only him by his side. What abilities did he have that were so special? The thought never occurred to you before, when you were contempt with your mundane life of cleaning.

But now that a whole new world opened itself to you, you felt as if your newfound curiosity was unquenchable.

Shinsou turned his back to you, moving to a shelf where he started collecting a pile of large books. “Enough chattering now. We waisted enough time”

You wanted to argue that he started with the questions, but were interrupted when he dropped a large pile of at least five books on the table before you.

“Since you’re older, we must start with magical theory. Practising is too dangerous for now. Your powers could go berserk. You almost got killed once; I don’t want any other accident” He blankly commented, making you feel like a walking disaster.

“I would have been fine if not for your deadly magical stuff carelessly lying around!” You retorted, clicking your tongue in annoyance.

“Do you know how to read?”

The fact that Shinsou didn’t bother with a reply to your accusation annoyed you so very much.

“Of course I can read” You replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn’t mention that said reading wasn’t that good, too proud to admit it.

“Good” Shinsou said, unbothered. “Start reading then. There’s paper and ink if you wish to take notes” He pointed to the supplies on his messy desk. “I’ll request an audience with the king to officially introduce you as my apprentice”

Shinsou left then, leaving you alone to read in the gloomy atmosphere of his office.

He was dead set on taking you as his apprentice, and you were admittedly curious to learn more about magic. You wondered what you could achieve if you worked hard? Shape the hardest stone with your bare hands? Create a fire so strong it would light up the night, keeping people warm, and making them able to see as if in broad daylight?

There was no getting out of it it seemed. But you were starting to get used to the idea of becoming a mage.

- - -

When Shinsou came back, the sun was starting to set. You didn’t noticed how time flew by, too engrossed in your reading. You were happy to tell him that you finished the first book. It was a prowess that you were proud of, for you were sure you never read so many words in one sitting. You were hungry, and exhausted, the signs of a starting migraine making your eyes and skull hurt, but you were satisfied with how you stayed focused for so long.

That was until Shinsou crushed your spirits with one sentence.

“I hoped you would have read the whole five books in a day”

Your shoulders slumped and you gave Shinsou what was probably the most honestly disappointed look ever. But the mage stayed imperturbable, his bored gaze not meeting yours, instead looking at your notes.

“You have a very messy handwriting” He observed and you felt your disappointment turn into anger.

Did that man not understand that you had never been one to study. That you always worked with your hands and never much with your brain. You rather obediently accepted the change of life Shinsou imposed on you, and considering all this, you expected him to be a more lenient teacher. But it looked like it was too much to ask of him.

“Maybe if you explained things to me like proper teachers do I would learn faster” You spat out, arms defensively crossing over your chest.

Shinsou was unperturbed by your attack, but he turned his attention to you. “What did you gather from what you read? Where does magic come from?”

You noticed he made a habit of answering questions with another question. A clever technique to redirected his interlocutor’s attention and avoid answering when he didn’t want to. You let it slide this time, eager to show him that despite your slow reading, you did learn a thing or two.

“It comes from Spirits”

A small smirk graced Shinsou’s thin lips. “Not so bad”

His praise was short lived however. “Well, with how slowly you read it’s the least of things that you remember something that simple”

Before you could give him a piece of your mind and tell him where he could shove his comment, he started explaining more synthetically what you gathered from the book. Too curious to learn, you kept your mouth shut for now.

Shinsou reminded you that there were spirits for everything, everywhere. Simpler ones like water, air, fire or earth, and more complex ones like those of plants or animals. He confirmed what you understood from your reading: that the body, the soul and the mind were spirits too, linked together and inseparable.

“And how do we do magic?” He suddenly asked you.

You took a moment to think about it and summed up the information you learnt during the day.

“I’m not quite sure” You admitted. “But I think we order the spirits to do things?”

The apprehension gripping your stomach disappeared when Shinsou nodded, satisfied with your answer. The more you learnt about magic, the more you wanted to know. You surprised yourself fearing that Shinsou would stop teaching you if you proved to be too bad at learning magic. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were dumb. Plus, reading was less exhausting than cleaning.

“Something like that” The mage approved. “We give them energy only mages have: mana. Fuelled with that mana, the spirits can grant our requests. You can see it as a form of negotiation more than giving orders. Some spirits can be unpredictable, and might not interpret your request the way you intend them to”

That was probably why the chapters about ordering spirits felt so complicated and abstract to you. Magic wasn’t an easy science.

Shinsou probably noticed your perplexity and gave a few examples to illustrate his point.

“Different spirits have different behaviours and reactions. Almost like personalities. Water spirits for example are supple and calm, easy to model. Fire is wild and wants to eat everything. Wind is the most unpredictable, while Earth is grounded, stubborn and hard to move”

You slowly nodded your head, procession the information. You were captivated by Shinsou’s explanation. There was something in his voice that was urging you to listen to it. A smooth calmness that seemed to lure you in, dulling all senses and forcing you to focus on his words only. He was precise and clear in his explanations, and you had to wonder why he had no apprentice. He sounded like a good teacher. Demanding but good.

“A well trained mage can learn to see the spirits and can also take energy from those spirits”

The more he explained, the more complicated everything sounded. Spirits needed Mana to do magic but they could also give mana to the mage? You were starting to feel a bit lost.

“That Djinn for example, why could I see it? Isn’t it a spirit? Is it because it was very strong?” You asked, interrupting him when you started feeling too overwhelmed.

Shinsou accepted to be interrupted, and indulged your curiosity “Yes, Djinns are spirits, but spirits from the Otherworld, another plane of existence parallel to our world where everything is immaterial. There, everything is bathed in never-ending mana.”

That one answer only filled you with dozen more questions. Parallel worlds? That concept alone made you dizzy. You never though there could be worlds other than you own. The thought that this <i>‘Otherworld’</i> could be the home of even scarier monsters than that Djinn sent a shiver running down your spine. You almost wished you didn’t ask about it.

“The Djinn from yesterday was materialized in our plane. It was summoned with mana; with enough energy to give it a form in our world. To give it a body if you prefer, hence why anybody could see it.” Shinsou continued his explanation, unaware of the unease it brought you. “But only a mage could free it from the crystal ball where I sealed it. That’s how I noticed you were probably gifted”

Shinsou’s piercing amethyst eyes zoned in on you, and you felt colour rise to your cheeks remembering your mistake, and the ritual he had to make to protect you.

“Why would one want to bring such a dangerous creature to our world?” You asked, and Shinsou smirked.

“Curious aren’t you? It’s a good quality for a mage. And a dangerous one too” He commented, making your cheeks heat up. “If a mage bonds with a Djinn, the creature will grant all their wishes”

You looked at him flabbergasted. “That sounds like something every mage would want to do!”

Shinsou chuckled. “Indeed. But one thing you need to know with magic is that everything comes with a price, and the higher the favour, the higher the price.”

The mage leaned back against his desk, his arms crossing over his chest. “Djinns are powerful spirits, very mischievous, bordering evil. They cannot be trusted, and a bonded mage has to be extra careful of what he wishes for”

“Why is that?” You asked, leaning forward in your chair, eager to know more.

“The bonding is a form of enslavement and the bonded Djinn will seek freedom. Freedom is obtained if the mage severs the bond, or if it is forcefully severed”

“Forcefully?” You echoed, not understanding what he meant.

Shinsou looked you dead in the eyes. “By the mage dying”

You gulped, suspended to the words coming from your teacher’s lips as he started retelling the misfortunes of mages who bonded with Djinns. One of them who asked to be rich ended up crushed under a huge pile of gold. Another teleported so high in sky that his fall ended up fatal, after he wished to escape the burning tower where he was trapped.

“That’s horrible” You said, your face paling more and more with each story. Magic was more dangerous than you expected.

“Creatures of the Otherworld shouldn’t be trusted” Shinsou seriously warned you. “And as powerful as they are, no-one is above all the laws and mysteries of nature and the world. Despite granting wishes, Djinns are not all mighty. For example, they cannot revive someone who is dead. They would rise their bodies; merely an empty envelope with no trace left of who the person was before. They cannot link body mind and soul. No-one can”

Your hands were trembling now. Why would Shinsou keep such a dangerous creature around? You still didn’t get it. He never answered that question. “What you’re talking about. Rising the dead. That’s necromancy right? It’s forbidden. Worthy of death penalty” You grimly said.

A mysterious smile graced Shinsou’s lips, not reaching his suddenly cold eyes. “I see you learnt the rules of our country well too. Mages tend to feel superior to their non mage counterparts. They are easily tempted to bend the rules imposed to them.” Shinsou moved away from the desk and stepped in front of you. His presence towering over you felt intimidating. “Take this lesson as a warning. By becoming a mage you will become capable of creating what some would consider miracles with a snap of your fingers. But we are no gods. And we shouldn’t play gods.”

He leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Unless you want to meet a terrible end. Know that there are fates worse than death. Like for example losing one’s soul”

That explained why he was so inclined to protect you from that Djinn who coveted your soul. If he were to teach you skills that could get you killed if you were careless, Shinsou did well to warn you of the dangers first. As any teacher should.

“Do you understand?” He asked, very seriously, his eyes not leaving yours, like he was seeking the answer deep into your soul.

Having seen what spirits of the Otherworld were capable of, you took his warning very seriously. You nodded your head. “I understand”

Shinsou stepped back, satisfied. “Good girl” He praised, and you felt your ears turn red. How could he be so captivating and so unnerving at the same time? Maybe it was a mage thing.

“You did well today. You earned a little reward” Shinsou’s words made you feel agitated, suddenly very fidgety on your chair as he opened one of the drawers from his desk. He fetched something from it, a small object that fitted in the palm of his hand.

He carefully pinched the object between his thumb and pointer finger, presenting it to you. The object looked like a regular monocle except that the lenses were a dark shade instead of crystal clear, almost tinted black.

“Those lenses allow anyone to see spirits” He said before holding the monocle out for you to take, a secretive grin turning up the corner of his lips. “Care to see those spirits you read about with your own eyes?”

Despite your excitement at the prospect of finally getting to see those spirits for yourself, you were careful in retrieving the magical artefact from Shinsou’s long fingers.

“You will probably be surprised at the number of spirits surrounding us. I would advise you focus on something specific. For example, the glass of water on the desk”

Under his watchful gaze, you placed the monocle in front of your right eye and closed your left one. You were very surprised to see the world you were used to navigate shaped in shades of grey, serving as a background above which a myriad of sparkling shapes and forms danced in a blurry display. The spirits were everywhere, shining with variable intensity. Some were spherical, some shapeless blurs; some swaying like caught in a breeze, or running around in a frenzy while others were immobile. It was a mess. The mass of information assaulting your eye made you feel dizzy and you had to close it for a short moment to clear your head.

Re-opening your eye, more prepared this time, you focused on the glass of water, as instructed by Shinsou.

“Can you spot the spirit of water? Supple but steady?” Shinsou’s voice sounded very close, guiding you.

You spotted it indeed, merging with another more rigid form that you supposed was the spirit of the glass holding it.

“It is undulating. Spiralling even. Slowly. Calmly” You commented, quite sure you had found the one he was talking about.

“Exactly” Shinsou’s whispering words felt like they were falling directly from his lips into your ear. Intrigued by how close he felt, you reflexively turned your head, the monocle still filtering your vision.

You spotted the mage’s silhouette beside you, but let out a frightened yelp upon discovering a swarm of dark forms whirling around him like vultures around a dead prey.

You quickly put the monocle away, sweat running down your brows as you blinked a few times to get used to a more normal vision of the world again.

You hastily gave back the monocle to a very intrigued Shinsou. You probably looked like you had seen a ghost.

“Why were there things around you?” You asked, alarmed.

Shinsou stepped away from you. He had been standing really close indeed. He answered while putting the monocle away, not looking your way. “Mages attract spirits. Sometimes dangerous ones”

“So there are evil spirits floating around me too?” You started panicking a little, looking around you for an invisible threat, and rubbing your arms as if to scrub yourself clean.

“Probably” Shinsou answered blandly. An amused look crossed his features when he turned around to be faced with your curious behaviour. “But do not fret. You are protected by the bond we share”

His words should reassure you, but they only brought more questions. That bond you shared, what did it imply?

Just when you were about to ask, Shinsou shut you up with an impossibly precise timing “I think that’s enough for today. Smoke might come out of your ears if you keep that little brain of yours working so much” He said, then tapped his pointer finger between your brows twice.

You stepped away, about to protest. But he beat you to it again. “It’s getting late” He stated, his words very definitive. He looked to the only window of the room and you felt strangely compelled to look at it too. Outside, it was completely dark.

“It’s getting late” You weirdly parroted his words, although you didn’t really care that the night had fallen.

While your eyes were fixed on the window, Shinsou had moved to open the door of his office for you. The creaking of the wood caught your attention, and the mage motioned for you to take your leave.

“Get some rest. We will go to the market tomorrow for supplies for you. To compensate your reading and writing skills, amongst other things”

Under his gaze you obediently exited the room in a blur, absent-mindedly nodding your head. Only when the door closed did you realize there was something you wanted to ask him. Sadly, with how tired you were, you all but forgot what it was.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Ep6 - Rewind the Tape

"After Louis tells Claudia that Lestat wants him to know he's still cheating, Claudia compares Lestat to her rapist, with the show literally putting Bruce's image over his. Immediately after, Louis' narration tells us he'd become numb and dissociated, "a vessel of acceptance." What do you think Claudia, Louis, and the show itself are suggesting about consent in this new domestic arrangement?"

@iwtvfanevents

A lot of the fandom H A T E S that Claudia was raped (even more than the Loustat fight), and they especially hate what Rolin Jones said about it toughening her up. But despite its inclusion/execution/explanation, I DO see where RJ was going with it all; as I've also mentioned how Claudia & Louis were deliberately put on the same level, as were Lestat and Bruce.

We know Carol Cutshall designed Lestat's matador costume for the "villain sequence" in Ep5 to emphasize his patriarchal hegemony over "the housewife and the mistake." Matador in Spanish literally means "killer." Through the matador costume, AMC brilliantly tied the Wolfkiller Lestat with Bruce the Killer.

We also have a hard time w/ instances of physical/sexual violence by Les against Lou--I saw a spicy post just the other day about whether or not the Disassociating scene was Les raping Lou or not.

I think in Lou's mind, sex with Les while he was disassociating wasn't rape. Louis himself pointed out that Lestat's affair with Antoinette was all tangled up in Lou's lack of libido due to his diet; and his later depression, ignoring Les' "considerable considerables." He WANTS Lestat ("I wanted him dead, I wanted him all to myself"), and when he comes back online he IS into it, cuz he loves the stupid man. I think he DOES consent, and TRIES to stay present--but "there were THREE of you" in that bed, and in that relationship.

I think in Claudia's mind, Lestat really was raping Louis. I think SHE had put Lestat & Bruce on the same level, convinced that Les felt the same way about Lou that Bruce did about her--and that Lou felt the same way about Les that she did--not understanding Loustat at all.

Claudia trips people up a lot wrt arrested development & stunted growth--she's either a little girl or a SUPER old woman or both or neither. How much can she REALLY know, process & experience?

Cuz in some ways, AMC!Lestat (& book!Louis) kinda did rape Claudia. Aside from the more sexual meaning, one can take "rape" in the original Latin sense (rapio/rapere: "to snatch, grab, carry off, abduct, rape, steal"); or we can take it in the vampiric sense, turning Claudia without her consent, and force/violence done to one's fledglings. Les is a bad Maker to Louis, but GODAWFUL to Claudia.

Lestat even puts himself above & beyond Bruce, saying he can and WILL do far worse than "defiling her pocket;" he'll KILL her.

Lestat snatched away Claudia's consent, & snatched her from the train crying & sobbing. He violated her autonomy just like he'd violated her privacy by reading her diary when Louis told him not to.

And what's sad is that because Claudia's a sadist like her father, she was initially charmed by Bruce & how he killed; just like she was charmed by Lestat's "extravagant" killing style. "He had a way about him." AMC!Claudia's the one who gives Bruce his epithet, but in the books his his name's just Killer (IIRC he's never given a real name).

But we soon see the gradual jadedness in Claudia. Her killing loses the bubbly giggling glee from her early years, as she becomes cold & far more calculating/methodical. Plus, she realizes that the men in her life that she initially THOUGHT were great heroes & "knights" & "angels" that had saved her, were really just HELL DEMONS. Lestat's not a cheeky "Brat" anymore, he's the frikkin Devil. The "darkness in her that wasn't there before" Lestat talks about is just REALITY; the dawning realization that Lestat, Louis, Bruce, NONE of these men were good to her. All good things died with Charlie.

She's desperate to go to Europe, cuz she's holding onto hope like a lifeline, that not all vampires are as bad as Bruce & Lestat. Unfortunately, Lestat was right when he said they're actually vicious and "far worse" in Europe. 😬

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 6

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

Wen Ruohan was offended.

Deeply, completely, even thoroughly offended.

How dare Lan Qiren be good in bed?!

The other man was clearly a virgin, completely inexperienced. At the beginning he’d been quite clumsy at various points, at times overly considerate and at others overly strong, in any event very clearly working things out as he went along – that much had suited Wen Ruohan’s plans perfectly. He’d intended to lie back and do absolutely nothing to help out, letting Lan Qiren awkwardly flounder around in his own inexperience and ignorance until he was forced to ask for help. That would have been perfect. What was having to endure a few clumsy kisses and maybe some inept petting, perhaps even an inexperienced grab beneath the waist, when he would be able to use Lan Qiren’s failure to grind his face into the dirt, mocking him for months and months to come?

Wen Ruohan had a use for Lan Qiren, after all. He wasn’t going to give up his plans of gaining access to Lan Qiren’s student network simply due to impatience, but utilizing Lan Qiren as a teacher required a delicate balance: Wen Ruohan had to establish control over him, of course, but he also needed the man to maintain full grasp of his faculties. He couldn’t just throw him into the Fire Palace to reeducate him the way he would a normal prisoner, even a hostage. Even if he employed the sorts of tools that didn’t leave any physical marks, leaving Lan Qiren seemingly pristine in the eyes of the rest of the world, those tools still left a different sort of imprint on their victims, rendering them unfit for his present purpose.

No – if Wen Ruohan wanted to crush Lan Qiren in order to mold him into the shape he wanted, he’d have to do it in such a way that would first make Lan Qiren believe that he was participating voluntarily.

It made sense. It was a good plan.

It was just…

Well, Wen Ruohan had always known Lan Qiren was clever.

He appreciated that about him, even. Sure, the man was bizarrely focused on his sect’s rules, excessive even for those of Gusu Lan, but that was only an idiosyncrasy, nothing more. Looking at the broader picture, Lan Qiren had been unexpectedly dropped into the position of sect leader for a Great Sect when he was only a few years into adulthood and lacking in any of the usual training that eldest sons got. Most people in such circumstances would have gotten picked apart by the teeming mass of enemies at their gates – their fellow Great Sects all looking out for their own advantage, their subsidiary sects hungry to win advantages for themselves over others, unaffiliated sects looking for any opportunity to increase their prestige – and failed miserably.

Lan Qiren hadn’t done that.

On the contrary, Lan Qiren had picked up all the skills he’d needed to manage a Great Sect through the intricate dance of intersect rivalries with extraordinary speed. He’d somehow managed to guide the Lan sect well enough to avoid any fatal mistakes in the first year or two, and after that he’d even become what Wen Ruohan would consider to be a worthy adversary – and that was a compliment he gave to very few.

It appeared, to Wen Ruohan’s mixed chagrin and pleasure, that Lan Qiren’s skill in mastering steep learning curves was not limited to the field of politics.

It’d been bad enough that he’d started out by picking Wen Ruohan up, seemingly without the slightest bit of strain. That must have been a lucky guess on his part – naturally, he would have had no idea that Wen Ruohan had always had something of a weakness for partners strong enough to be able to move him without his consent, since only very few had the capacity to do so. Lao Nie could do it with his saber in a proper fight, which was one of the reasons Wen Ruohan had allowed the wretched man into his bed in the first place, but Lan Qiren had done it through nothing but the element of surprise and a frankly absurd degree of arm strength, picking him up in such a smooth gesture that Wen Ruohan hadn’t even realized what he was trying to do until he’d already done it. Even Lao Nie, who was built like a bull, probably would have needed to brace himself briefly if he were thinking of trying a move like that, and Wen Ruohan usually ended up kicking him before he managed to do anything just for daring to think about it.

In this case, however, Wen Ruohan had magnanimously decided to allow Lan Qiren to get away with it just this once. It was his first time, after all.

Of course, Lan Qiren had taken to heart Wen Ruohan’s mostly sarcastic promise that he wouldn’t move until Lan Qiren had finished exploring to his heart’s content, and he’d run with it.

Oh, had he ever run with it.

He’d started by exploring the entirety of Wen Ruohan’s body with his mouth and hands, starting at about the neck and jawline and working his way down. He’d worked very slowly and thoroughly, too, as if he’d assigned himself the task of finding every single one of Wen Ruohan’s sensitive spots and figuring out how to best exploit them, and he’d approached the task with the same single-minded sincerity he applied to contemplating his sect rules.

How did that Lan rule go? Diligence is the root?

Let it not be said that Lan Qiren did not live up to his sect’s expectations.

It was that damned sincerity, in fact, that was the most annoyingly compelling part of it.

Wen Ruohan was neither a Lan nor a prude; unlike Lan Qiren, he’d slept with any number of people, many of them expertly trained whores, though he wasn’t anywhere near as obsessed with them as Jin Guangshan. Speaking generally, courtesans had all the technical skills Lan Qiren so obviously lacked. Even Wen Ruohan’s wives and lovers were better, technically speaking; they knew his personal preferences and were (usually) willing to comply with them in order to get what they wanted. But they weren’t anywhere near as genuine about it as Lan Qiren, who had throughout the entire process maintained an expression of almost…for lack of a better term, Wen Ruohan was almost tempted to call it academic fascination.

Intense fascination.

Even Lao Nie, who was currently Wen Ruohan’s favorite lover, didn’t give him that impression. Oh, sure, Lao Nie was a guaranteed good time, but he was lackadaisical and lazy, even indolent, as self-absorbed in his own way as Wen Ruohan was – he was there to have fun, and as soon as he wasn’t, he was out. He certainly didn’t approach Wen Ruohan’s pleasure as if it were a new cultivation technique that needed to be thoroughly mastered.

With an emphasis on thoroughly.

Lan Qiren had just kept going and going until Wen Ruohan was going completely out of his mind, absolutely wild, and then he’d just kept going. “Are you having trouble with your self-control, Sect Leader Wen? Would it help if I tied you up?” he’d asked without the slightest hint of mockery or judgment in his tone, the way there definitely would have been if it were Lao Nie, and then before Wen Ruohan had been able to catch his breath enough to scold him, he’d gone and done it, too. He'd used that Lan sect ribbon that they all held to be so precious, so sacred, and the sheer taboo of being tied up in something like that had only made Wen Ruohan even wilder. By the time Lan Qiren had finally gotten done with the preliminaries and put it to him, Wen Ruohan simply hadn’t had the presence of mind to quibble over the details of who was doing what and to whom.

Now, it wasn’t as though Wen Ruohan was particularly picky about things like sexual positions in the normal course of things. At his age, he had long ago learned that shame was only a word that people used to deny themselves pleasure, and he applied that lesson to matters of the bedroom as much as he did to all the other social taboos he broke on his quest to become the undisputed master of the cultivation world. He’d certainly allowed Lao Nie to have him a few times – had ordered the man to do it, even – and he’d enjoyed it tremendously every time. But he’d intended to use sex to put Lan Qiren firmly in his place, and getting fucked screaming into next week by the man’s irritatingly impressive stamina did not actually serve that purpose in the slightest.

(Nor was Lan Qiren’s stamina the only thing about him that was irritatingly impressive. Did the Lan sect deliberately breed for that or something? It was extremely rude.)

Anyway, Wen Ruohan was offended. Completely, utterly, thoroughly offended.

He was also completely, utterly, thoroughly fucked out, probably because he had been so absolutely appalled by how good it had been that he’d allowed or possibly insisted that Lan Qiren do it again after dinner, which some excessively clever servant that Wen Ruohan would need to either execute or promote had left outside Lan Qiren’s door, and then yet again in the morning just to be sure.

Which, yes, meant that Wen Ruohan had somehow spent the night in Lan Qiren’s courtyard, an honor he hadn’t granted to any of his other wives until they’d resided in his home for at least three months.

(Lao Nie had never asked him to stay the night, of course. They didn’t have that sort of relationship.)

Perhaps it would have been less offensive if Lan Qiren had shown any sign that he was aware of the honor Wen Ruohan was bestowing upon him. But no: the man had gotten up after the morning round, washed himself with cold water, and was even now going through some morning sword exercises in the yard outside the bedroom, completely dressed. He even had the gall to look perfectly put together, his movements smooth and uninterrupted, even though underneath his pure white robes his back almost certainly looked as though he had just gone several rounds with a wildcat.

…a wildcat with tremendously powerful cultivation, anyway.

Wen Ruohan’s strength was such that he could catch a swinging sword between his fingers without difficulty, and there had been a brief moment the night before when he’d briefly thought that he’d crushed Lan Qiren’s ribs with his thighs – that had been right after Lan Qiren had figured out the best way to use those sharpened guqin-player nails of his. Luckily for Wen Ruohan’s longer term plans, Lan Qiren was an impressive cultivator in his own right, so he hadn’t so much as flinched.

In fact, he had just chuckled, a low sound Wen Ruohan was fairly sure he’d never heard the other man make before, ever, and then he had just kept going, steady and undisturbed, inexorable…

All right, maybe Wen Ruohan wasn’t actually all that offended.

A very good time was had by all, after all, even if he didn’t exactly achieve his objectives. No, Wen Ruohan was really just frustrated that he had somehow, again, completely misjudged Lan Qiren. He’d thought the man to be the most boring person alive, but then he went and pulled out a performance like that…? Who could have possibly expected such a thing?

Perhaps it came from the same part of him that had produced that brilliant teacher plot.

Mm, Lan Qiren as a teacher – Wen Ruohan could certainly see the appeal now, and not just for the political reasons that had initially so attracted him to the idea. There had been a moment the night before, when Wen Ruohan done something, he didn’t even recall exactly what, something designed to get Lan Qiren to hurry up already because he was already absolutely desperate for it, even though by that point in the evening he’d already come at least once, possibly twice.

In response, Lan Qiren had just…stopped.

“You said you would stay still until I was ready to proceed,” the other man reminded him, frowning at him in disappointment in exactly the way he had once done that time he’d figured out that Wen Ruohan was planning to double-cross one of their mutual allies. The reminder had gone straight to Wen Ruohan’s cock – Lan Qiren had responded to the provocation back then with a frankly masterful political maneuver that had undermined the whole scheme, and now all that mastery and cleverness belonged to him and him alone. “I know you can do better than that, Sect Leader Wen.”

At that precise moment in time, Wen Ruohan had longed for nothing more than to twist them both over, throw Lan Qiren down onto the bed and just take what he wanted from him, even though what he wanted by that stage was turning out to be very different from what he’d originally planned. But of course his pride wouldn’t hear of it, and Lan Qiren had known that. No amount of lust would make Wen Ruohan yield in a contest, much less be seen to be backing down from his own given word.

He’d reluctantly backed off.

“Well done. Not much longer now. You can hold on a little longer, can’t you? Just like that…”

It had not been just a ‘little’ longer. But it had been worth it regardless.

Wen Ruohan found to his surprise that he was smiling, or at least smirking with genuine pleasure, even though he hadn’t intended to. He would indeed have to find a way to exploit Lan Qiren’s teaching abilities in a manner he had hitherto not considered, no matter how shocked and appalled the suggestion of engaging in that sort of bedplay would undoubtedly make Lan Qiren.He’d probably puff up and start scolding, scowling and glaring, with his cheeks and the very tips of his ears gone pink in the way they did when he’d been embarrassed by something – because truly, Lan Qiren was, in his heart of hearts, a very boring person.

Well…mostly.

It seemed he had some unexpected surprises in him after all.

“I have ordered the servants to prepare you a bath,” Lan Qiren said, interrupting Wen Ruohan from a very pleasant fantasy that involved the wall of a classroom and a very angry and embarrassed teacher trying to keep them both quiet to avoid alerting his dutiful students in the next room of what they were about. Wen Ruohan looked up at him: Lan Qiren was standing next to the bed, having clearly finished his morning exercises. “It should be ready by now. They said you preferred to use the one in your quarters, so I assume it’s there.”

Wen Ruohan narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious. Was Lan Qiren condescending to him? Was he implying or did he think that Wen Ruohan was weak because of what they had done last night…? Quite a few men had certain fixed ideas in their head that what position a man was willing to assume in bed indicated something about them outside of bed, and Wen Ruohan had always taken great pleasure in showing such people the depths of their mistake…

Lan Qiren frowned quizzically at Wen Ruohan when he didn’t respond at once. “Was the order unnecessary? If you would rather bathe in cold water the way I did, I can tell them – ”

“A bath is fine,” Wen Ruohan interrupted, his habitual paranoia fading away as he remembered who he was dealing with. He’d nearly forgotten, again, that Lan Qiren tended to be quite so literal-minded – his statement about a bath was almost certainly just that, a statement about a bath, with no implications or additional context intended. Also, if he didn’t stop the man now, he probably really would go to cancel the bath, as if Wen Ruohan was also an insane Lan ascetic that preferred cold water to hot. “Are you saying I smell?”

“That was not what I intended to say, but as a matter of fact, yes, you do. Also, if you wait any longer, you will likely start sticking, which I would imagine is likely to be uncomfortable.”

Literal-minded, blunt, and tactless. Yes, this was definitely still Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes, but he still got up and went to take the bath before the other man started quoting Change clothing after taking a bath at him or something wretched like that.

He did smirk to himself as he settled in, though, knowing that Lan Qiren had probably not realized what luxurious excess a “bath” constituted for Wen Ruohan – one of his wiser ancestors had built a heated pool off the sect leader’s quarters that used natural hot springs as a means of heating, big enough to fit several people and deep enough to sit comfortably, even meditate. There were ledges built into the bath specifically for the purpose, though they were commonly turned to other purposes as well…there was even a hidden place with a built-in set of manacles, which had always suggested to Wen Ruohan that his proclivity for torture wasn’t anywhere near as idiosyncratic as his critics in the cultivation world tended to suggest it was.

He'd have to convince Lan Qiren to join him in here at some point. Maybe he’d pretend that it was the heated equivalent of the Lan sect’s Cold Spring, available only to members of the Wen sect leader’s family, of which Lan Qiren now counted. And once Lan Qiren was in the bath, it would be only a matter of overpowering him – easy enough, given how powerful Wen Ruohan was – and chaining him to the wall, and then Wen Ruohan could pay him back for yesterday’s offense at his leisure. He’d ride him for hours, taking his own pleasure as many times as he liked, and he wouldn’t let the other man off even once no matter how he begged…

At some point he’d also fuck him, of course, the way he’d originally intended on doing. But now that Wen Ruohan knew what Lan Qiren was capable of, he wasn’t about to ruin it, or him, by going too fast in the other direction and forcing things on him that he didn’t want. He’d be spoiling his own fun if he ruined Lan Qiren now – and Wen Ruohan never denied himself anything.

He might need to work out the details later, but in the end the details were immaterial. Once Wen Ruohan decided on his goal, it would inevitably come to pass…even if that goal was just to ensure that he was taking full and complete advantage of all that Lan Qiren had to offer.

Which he thoroughly intended to do. Thoroughly.

It was a little funny, actually. Just yesterday Wen Ruohan had been entertaining himself by thinking of ways he might be able to torment Lan Qiren without damaging his usefulness as a pawn, ultimately settling on sexual humiliation as a good option, and today he couldn’t stop thinking of ways they could fuck. Which he supposed included finding reasons for Lan Qiren to continue to fuck him, since yesterday’s excuse of ensuring that the marriage was legitimate had started wearing a bit thin around round three…

Wen Ruohan chuckled to himself.

He was in a good mood, and not just because he’d gotten quite so spectacularly laid. He knew himself to be an old monster, who’d long ago seen it all and started forgetting how to care – more than anything, apathy was his greatest opponent these days. His now-deceased nephew, one of the few people who had dared talk back to him, had once told him that if he kept going the way he was, he would do something unbelievably stupid just to alleviate his boredom or else decide to throw everything away on the path of clarity just to stop feeling it, which was much the same. As much as Wen Ruohan hated being criticized over anything, he’d probably had a point. It was getting to be rarer and rarer that Wen Ruohan found something that really caught his attention, or even got him mildly interested, other than torture or conquest…

Though perhaps it wasn’t actually as different as all that. His interest in Lan Qiren could certainly be seen as falling firmly into the category of conquest.

It was still new and exciting, though. How long had it been since he’d bothered fantasizing about something instead of just taking it? It was hard to want something when it was already in your grasp – and Lan Qiren wasn’t, even though technically speaking he was, bound as he was to Wen Ruohan by their marriage. But if Wen Ruohan wanted all of Lan Qiren, including the unexpectedly spirited parts of him, he couldn’t just break his spirit in bed, no more than he could break it on the rack.

And that meant he’d have to be clever about it.

What fun.

He’d never before wanted a Lan for himself. It wasn’t that it had never come up as a possibility, but he’d never been interested. The Lan were too crazy, their hearts too uncontrollable, those Lan who loved like madness, with all that terrifying single-minded focus and devotion – but not Lan Qiren, of course. Lan Qiren was too much a known factor for that to ever be an issue…

There was a very faint sound at the door.

Wen Ruohan turned his head at once, casting aside his train of thought. That sound was one of his servants indicating that they wanted to report to him outside the usual time, which meant that they’d found something they thought he’d find interesting.

Given the consequences of guessing wrong, they were usually right.

He waved his hand, using a tug of spiritual energy to open the door and admit the man outside.

“Sect Leader,” Shen Huiming, one of Wen Ruohan’s more capable subordinates from outside his bloodline, entered and bowed. He was dressed as a servant, as always, even though he was technically part of the military due to his role as one of Wen Ruohan’s spies; perhaps he enjoyed it, or else thought it made him less conspicuous. It didn’t matter one way or another to Wen Ruohan, since they were all his servants at the end of it. “I thought you might be interested in the following document, which was retrieved in copy from the Crescent Moon Courtyard.”

That was Lan Qiren’s courtyard.

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows and accepted the piece of paper, which had a few lines in Lan Qiren’s distinctive handwriting. Something his spies thought might be worth bringing to him, already? He’d assumed that Lan Qiren would eventually try to betray him, of course, since everyone always did, but he’d thought he’d wait at least a month to settle in before trying something.

Now, what had he –

Wen Ruohan burst out laughing when he saw what was actually written on the page.

Pay your wife the respect your wife is due…

“He actually used the character for wife,” Wen Ruohan chortled. “For wife!”

How ridiculous, he thought, actually smiling – really smiling – at the piece of paper even as Shen Huiming, obviously realizing his services were no longer needed, bowed and retreated from the room. He was truly a good subordinate. If he kept it up, Wen Ruohan might be inclined to allow him to be Wen Huiming one day. How absolutely ridiculous.

What was it that Lan Qiren had said to him? “I shall endeavor with my best efforts to live up to your expectations of me as your husband”?

It seemed that the man had really meant it, too. And that was even more absurd. Even putting aside the obvious confusion as to which one of them was the wife, why in the world would he?

This was a political marriage. Wen Ruohan wanted Lan Qiren for his utility, not for sentimental reasons, and that hadn’t changed just because he’d figured out that he could use Lan Qiren for sex as well as politics. If anything, it just meant that Lan Qiren would get to enjoy being exploited a lot more than he might have otherwise – Wen Ruohan certainly wasn’t above sending his former lovers to the Fire Palace if they angered him, sometimes even for permanent stays, but he was certainly a lot more inclined to get a few more rounds of fucking in first before he did.

It wasn’t like he minded that Lan Qiren had gotten the wrong idea to such an extent, mixing up love and politics and even getting their respective positions wrong. If Lan Qiren wanted to be sentimental, and in so doing open himself up to vulnerabilities that would allow Wen Ruohan to take advantage of him more easily, then that was on his own head – in the end, all good things would be his, and it was Lan Qiren’s own fault for having been a good thing that came within Wen Ruohan’s sight.

Still chuckling, Wen Ruohan tapped his nails against the part of the list that read diligently perform your duties as husband, thinking to himself that that particular rule would certainly make certain things much easier.

After all, the language might be prim and proper, very Lan Qiren, but the mere fact that it was included at all was rather suggestive. Lan Qiren had always appeared to be above all manners of earthly desire, but that was before last night, when Wen Ruohan had introduced him to how much fun it could be. Surely, if Lan Qiren was anything like his predecessors, his smooth and even façade merely concealed a carefully banked fire just itching to be let out, a fire that Wen Ruohan had undoubtedly just stoked to a frenzy. Surely by now he was desperate for another taste, wanting more, more and often.

If Wen Ruohan recalled correctly, the previous generation’s Lan sect leader had rather infamously disappeared with his wife for nearly two months after getting married – they’d actually been in the midst of a night-hunt when they’d abruptly lost patience with the rest of the world and decided to retreat to some isolated mountaintop cabin for their little fuck-fest. Everyone had briefly thought that they’d died.

Something to look forward to, no doubt.

Wen Ruohan laughed again and rose up from his bath, deliberately selecting one of his more causal outfits to wear in the event that Lan Qiren lost that prized self-possession of his when he took him on yet another tour of the Nightless City today – a tour whose itinerary was swiftly being replaced with a list of places ordered by how much Wen Ruohan would like to fuck in them, excluding only his bedroom because he preferred subtlety over being quite that level of obvious. It was good to know that he wouldn’t need to bother coming up with excuses for Lan Qiren to agree to jump into bed with him the way he’d originally thought he would. He could probably get him begging for it just by dropping a hint!

Later, Wen Ruohan would sourly reflect on his mood from that morning and curse his own optimism. How had he managed to forget, again, that Lan Qiren, when he wasn’t fucking, was one of the most literal minded, oblivious, and boring people in all of existence?

“Are you actually making a recommendation on how I arrange my furniture?” he demanded with a scowl.

“I am,” Lan Qiren replied, seemingly not noticing Wen Ruohan’s rapidly plummeting mood. “I recognize this room – it’s the formal dining room where you receive the other sect leaders during discussion conferences, is it not? It is larger than the one we have in the Cloud Recesses, but the purpose is the same. I had thought several times before that the layout could be improved, though naturally I was never in a position to bring it up before. A very small reorientation of a few of the tables would be sufficient to split up the groups, forcing the relevant sect leaders to need to get up from their seats if they wish to talk to each other, which would in turn assist in reducing the natural tendency towards factionalism – ”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes narrowed.

Irritatingly, it wasn’t actually a bad suggestion, and he could see what Lan Qiren meant. Small sect leaders did tend to form cliques, and forcing them to either get out of their comfort zone or make a deliberate choice to stay in it would reveal a great deal about their characters and allegiances without letting them realize that they had slipped up. Moreover, it was a valuable insight into the way the Lan sect laid out their own public reception area, which meant Wen Ruohan was making progress on his plan to suck Lan Qiren dry of all his knowledge about his sect.

It was all very good – except that Wen Ruohan had made other plans involving sucking Lan Qiren dry today, and Lan Qiren kept talking about the furniture.

“– is, of course, a difference of opinion between those who think that providing guests with comfort is the foremost duty of a host and those who believe that enhancing a feeling of community is paramount. Naturally the political interest of the hosting sect must be considered as well, but – ”

“Would you like to fuck on one of the tables?” Wen Ruohan asked, giving up on subtlety.

Lan Qiren stopped dead in place, which was good.

“Absolutely not,” he said, which was less good. “This is a public area! And it’s the middle of the day!”

“I could order the servants to blockade the doors.”

“I cannot think of anything less sexually motivating than informing a group of wholly unrelated people of what I am planning to do so that they can more efficiently pretend not to know it is happening.”

Well, when he put it like that, it didn’t sound nearly as fun.

“Moreover, it would be immensely rude to your future guests – ”

“That would be the benefit,” Wen Ruohan grumbled, thinking wistfully of Lao Nie’s last visit. He would have fucked him in the dining room, or agreed to get fucked there, and in either case would have laughed in spiteful delight at the idea of the horror on everyone’s faces the entire time.

“The rules say Do not indulge in debauchery. And before you say that my sect’s rules do not apply to you, that is true, but that does not change the logical underpinnings that apply equally to your situation. The first treatise on the subject – ”

Wen Ruohan gave up and headed off in a different direction. Lan Qiren instinctively followed, as he had been doing up until then, though much to Wen Ruohan’s annoyance walking did not in any way impede his continued lecture, which carried on completely unabated right up until they reached their next destination and he noticed where they were.

“Welcome to my Fire Palace,” Wen Ruohan said with a nasty twist to his lips. “You may have heard about it before.”

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched.

“I’d be more than happy to take you on a tour through here, too, if you like,” Wen Ruohan purred, his irritation flowing out of him at the sight of Lan Qiren being abruptly and viscerally reminded of where he was and in whose power, judging by the grimace on the other man’s face. “Only…I worry that you might not enjoy it very much.”

They weren’t even deep enough inside to see any of the victims yet; they were only in the main hall where Wen Ruohan often liked to sit to enjoy the spectacle. But the blood-splattered walls and the instruments that lined them, the various manacles used to chain people down, and the left-over toys from the last time his Fire Palace disciples had entertained him – that should be enough to drive Wen Ruohan’s point home.

To remind Lan Qiren that he should be afraid.

“I doubt that I would, because it is disgusting,” Lan Qiren said, lips pressed tightly together. But then, after a few moments, he added, sounding as if he were forcing himself to speak, “I…assume the disgusting aspect is part of the point. It is well done in that respect.”

Wen Ruohan stared at him.

“Do you actively collect implements of torture?” Lan Qiren asked, bravely forging on – was he really attempting to have a conversation about this? “Or is it more in the nature of collecting experiences? Because if it is the former, you might want to instruct your servants to take a little more care not to leave them lying around. Blood is oxidizing, and can induce rust in a mechanical device as much as in a sword. If your goal is to preserve them, you should take better care of them.”

He was.

He was actually trying to have a conversation about torture.

Lan fucking Qiren was trying to talk to him about torture.

“What are you doing?” Wen Ruohan asked blankly. This was not how people reacted to his Fire Palace – not anyone. Not his wives, not Lao Nie…even his torturers didn’t treat it like this. To the extent anyone spoke positively of it, it was only those madmen that lusted for blood and power over others, longing to have the ability to hurt, and Lan Qiren was not a man like that. Not to mention that Wen Ruohan had just implicitly threatened him with it! “I’m serious. What are you doing?”

Lan Qiren scowled at him.

“I am attempting to take an interest in the things you enjoy doing,” he said stiffly, and abruptly Wen Ruohan remembered Appreciate your wife’s efforts and be supportive of your wife’s interests. He hadn’t realized it went to this extent! “I don’t expect you to understand my passion for contemplating my sect rules, for instance, but it is something important to me, so I expect you to respect it. In turn, I will respect what is important to you, which is apparently this. Is that not the reason why you are showing it to me?”

“…of course,” Wen Ruohan lied, far too bewildered to go back to threats. “It’s…important for married life. To understand each other.”

Lan Qiren nodded as if Wen Ruohan was making complete sense, which he was definitely not.

They stared at each other for several very long moments after that.

“Would you like to show me one of your interests as well?” Wen Ruohan finally asked, resorting to reciprocity out of sheer desperation. He mostly wanted to get them back to somewhere where he would have the upper hand once more – Lan Qiren had managed to win this particular social interaction just by being so incredibly weird about it, but Wen Ruohan didn’t intend to let him win another.

Lan Qiren looked deeply relieved.

They made their way back to Lan Qiren’s courtyard in silence. What Lan Qiren was thinking, Wen Ruohan had no idea, but for himself, Wen Ruohan found himself still floundering in a way he hadn’t for…years. Even Lao Nie, who had a lust for war that rivaled Wen Ruohan’s own and who could be just as vicious and ruthless and bloodthirsty, disapproved of the Fire Palace, even if he didn’t have a good answer for why slaughtering someone in a battlefield was morally superior to slaughtering them in a dungeon. Wen Ruohan’s wives had certainly never gone anywhere near the place, even if they sometimes ordered people they disliked to be sent there; the rest of the time, they just closed eyes and ears to it, pretending it didn’t exist. And the people who did like his Fire Palace, Wen Ruohan didn’t trust one bit.

Lan Qiren…

What was he doing?

What was his angle here? He wasn’t a natural schemer. He was too straightforward for that, too painfully honest, taking that stupid Do not tell lies rule seriously. Even if he was up to something, he wouldn’t be able to hide what he was doing for more than a day or two. What did he get out of wanting to support Wen Ruohan’s interests that wasn’t automatically undermined by his tendency to lecture and scold? If he wanted to convince Wen Ruohan to favor him, or if he’d wanted something specific in return, he should have agreed to have sex when Wen Ruohan had proposed it. Why refuse to do that and then make an effort with the Fire Palace…?

Wen Ruohan hated being confused. He hated being put off his stride. He hated not being in control.

“Let me play you some music,” Lan Qiren said, glancing at him sidelong. “That is one of my interests, and I could play you something…calming, perhaps? You seem uneasy.”

You don’t say, Wen Ruohan sneered in his thoughts, but he waved his hand in agreement regardless, settling down by the table to warm the teapot and make himself tea while Lan Qiren went over to finish preparing his guqin. It must be either new or recently repaired, based on the way that Lan Qiren hadn’t bothered to play it or even unwrap it since his arrival.

Wen Ruohan briefly wondered what had happened to Lan Qiren’s old one, which he had treasured. Had he left it behind? Why would he do something like that? A gift given to his nephews, perhaps, as a keepsake..?

Still, new or otherwise, the guqin was a Lan sect instrument, so there was no need to worry about it falling out of tune. Lan Qiren swiftly finished setting it up and settled down, putting his hands on the instrument and drawing out a single opening chord –

Then he frowned and put his hands aside.

“Hold a moment, please,” he said to Wen Ruohan, who arched his eyebrows. “There’s something wrong with the sound. I think something must have gotten caught inside during our journey here.”

Wen Ruohan watched in mild interest as Lan Qiren lifted the guqin and shook it lightly – there was in fact a rustling sound inside, like paper. Sure enough, that was what it was: Lan Qiren was quickly able to figure out where it was located, reaching in with two fingers to draw the crumpled piece of paper out of the hollow chamber within. He was frowning, as well he should; the Lan sect prided themselves on the care they took of their instruments. How had they allowed such a mistake?

Lan Qiren unfolded the piece of paper and glanced down at it – and his face abruptly went slack.

Wen Ruohan tensed, immediately put on his guard.

He’d never seen such an expression on Lan Qiren’s face before.

It was…absolutely vacant, utterly and completely blank, as if the other man had abruptly lost his soul. But Wen Ruohan’s senses told him that there were no spells in the vicinity other than the ones he already knew, and nothing at all on the piece of paper, so it couldn’t be anything like that. Lan Qiren had not been cursed, possessed or bespelled, and there was no threat in their surroundings that Wen Ruohan could detect. Whatever effect the words on the paper were having on Lan Qiren, they had achieved their result purely through their content.

“Sect Leader Lan?” Wen Ruohan asked, still wary, then remembered that the title was no longer appropriate. “Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren did not respond.

He did, however, pick up the guqin, and throw it into the wall.

Wen Ruohan was on his feet in an instant. “Lan Qiren!”

It was as if Lan Qiren couldn’t hear him. He had started methodically lashing out at everything around him, everything up to and including himself – slamming his hands against everything, his own arms and legs and forehead included, knocking over tables and slapping holes into the walls and ripping up the paper windows, rocking back and forth, and when Wen Ruohan took a few steps forward to try to get him to stop, he started screaming.

Not…with words. Just screaming. Screaming of the sort that Wen Ruohan would have expected from his Fire Palace if at all, the sort of animal cry that came from somewhere inside a man’s soul when all veneer of civilization had abandoned him and he found himself utterly bereft.

What was on that paper?!

It was still clenched in Lan Qiren’s fist, being crushed. To get it, Wen Ruohan had get close – Lan Qiren lashed out at him as well, scratching and kicking and punching, but there was no finesse to his strikes, not even qi; he was completely mindless, acting entirely on instinct. While he was, despite that, still frightfully strong, Wen Ruohan with his great cultivation was stronger. He caught Lan Qiren’s hand and forcefully uncurled his fingers, breaking two in the process – Lan Qiren didn’t seem to notice – and yanked the piece of paper free, summoning a trapping array to force Lan Qiren down to the ground as he did.

Ignoring the other man’s despairing wails, he smoothed out the piece of paper.

Shufu we miss you lots, the childish scribble said. Please come back soon!