#lotus carved doors

[indiatrendzs]

Holistic Wellness Design with Vintage Carved door Panels

In the world of interior design, Holistic Wellness Design is emerging as a profound way to invite the natural world into our living spaces, offering balance, serenity, and a deep sense of well-being. Shop Vintage Carved door Panels At MOGULINTERIOR design philosophy goes beyond mere aesthetics, focusing on creating environments that nurture the body, mind, and spirit. One of the most enchanting…

[pushpa-exports]

Lotus Carving Silver Door

Embrace the exquisite elegance of our Lotus Carving Silver Door, a testament to artistry and spirituality. Crafted with meticulous precision, this door features intricate lotus carvings on a pure silver surface. The lotus, symbolizing purity and enlightenment, takes center stage, adding a touch of opulence and serenity to any space. Its design seamlessly blends tradition with contemporary aesthetics, creating a timeless symbol of cultural heritage and spiritual significance. Opening this door is an invitation to a world where beauty, grace, and symbolism unite. Illuminate your surroundings with the radiance of the lotus, enhancing your ambiance with opulent spirituality.

https://www.pushpaexport.com

[brailsthesmolgurl]

APPRENTICESHIP

Preview: Set back in the olden days of China, your attendance was much summoned by Master Li Shen, a renowned Medical Physician that is in need of an apprentice. Known for his stoic personality, your temperance was definitely tested. But, could there be an actual explanation behind his stoicity?

Warnings: This is gonna be quite of a long read for you Zayne girlies out there so pls strap in. Fluff, makes your heart giddy in a funny way. A possible new series.

P.S: I am not a doctor, hence most of the 'medication methods' mentioned in here are for the sake of the plot and is not and shall not be implied to real life practice! Futhermore, I am not a historian so I am not the best at depicting traditional China perfectly, all of the basis of my descriptions are taken off of the Chinese dramas I used to binge on. This story was also highly inspired by this amazing artwork and the most recent memory of his! He is always known as Doctor Zayne in modern days, so why not give it an inspirational twist and make him a highly honoured doctor in the older days of Chinese history! Divider is sourced from here!

READ PART 2 HERE!

"We had arrived, Miss y/n." Waking up to the jolting of the chariot and the shoutings of the driver. Her head was ringing, possibly a light comatose from the constant bumpiness of the muddy roads for the past fortnight. Rests were only necessary for food and bathroom breaks but other than that, most of the time was spent encaged within the four walls of her chariot. Occasionally, the books may be entertaining; a romance novel, a literary piece and a biography of the great physician named Li Shen. The man named in the biography shall be her soon-to-be-teacher.

Master Li Shen is in need of an acolyte and y/n was called upon to meet him due to her father's connections. The old man boasted her to be a capable physicist, mildly implying his greed to receive a reputable name for his own bloodline. Although y/n father's opinion was distasteful, but she had decided to go through with it. Anything would grant her a better life than to be at home, waiting to be married off to some man who might be thrice her age and a pervert. Marriage is not the one thought she would want at this moment, let alone a marriage that she holds no control over.

Stepping out of her chaise, covered feet coming in contact with rocky pathways and eyes welcomed the sight of the abundance of verdurous greenery. Everywhere she looked, it was aligned with bamboos and wild grasses and ferns, standing on-guard and surrounding a standalone courtyard house. The courtyard house was mostly white and brown, the body of the walls being white whilst stilts were clearly constructed from lumbars. It sat within the same aesthetic framework as its surroundings.

The driver got off of his seat at the front of the chariot and he retrieved y/n's bags from under the chariot. “The master shall await for you in the house. I will get your bags into your chambers later. It is best to bid your greetings to the master as of now.” She heeded his instructions, walking over towards the grand doors of the standing structure. Pushing upon the heavy doors, it revealed a wall with a carved symbol—a standardised design of houses back in the days. The symbol is intricately carved by hand, taking shape of a leaf cradled by a pair of hands. It is a symbol that could only be bear by the best of physicians, an indicator of intermediate medicinal herb practitioners.

To the left, the hallways extended into a total of three rooms. All of the windows aligned with paper maché as windows and doors made out of varnished bamboo wood. On the right, only a set of sliding doors were found, no paper maché to be found on the windowsills and you assumed that is where the treatment room is allocated at. The courtyard in the middle held a small pool of lotus flowers, blooming elegantly on non-rippling waters. A stone table placed next to the pond, with incense burning on a wooden bark. It explains the lingering of a smoky-jasmine scent in the air.

“Y/n right?” A young man revealed himself from behind one of the sliding doors, adorning a cotton Hanfu. His features are sharp, pinched cheeks a good mixture with his chiselled jawlines. But his body was taut, the clothes he wore hung onto his mannequin-like body structure. “I hope the ride here has not taken too much of a toll of you as I could not afford to care for you the next day.” He was just as what was described in his biography. A man that owns an ego higher than his height, with a handsome face but too cold to touch. “Your chambers are located at the end of this hallway. Be awake at dawn tomorrow.”

Y/n laid in her bed at night, listening to the choirs of nocturnal bugs outside of her window sills, the haunting howls of wolves, the ricocheting chirps of the grasshoppers, the piercing screams of the cicadas. The room she was assigned to was fairly large, with more than enough space to fit a double bed and a dining table in it. The room is not anywhere special, it looked oddly familiar to her own room at home but minus the amount of gilt paintings and ornaments. It also reeked of herbs and incense that leaves a smoky aftertaste through one's nostrils. After a short staring contest with the ceiling, her dreamland beckoned and she willingly submitted to it.

The next day, y/n got jolted awake to screams followed by gibberish that was indistinguishable. Sitting up in a hastened manner, eyes widened and hair messily sat on top of her head. Oh no, the sun is up. She pushed herself off of her bed and scrambled to make herself presentable then proceed to storm off to the treatment room where she was expected to be. Sliding open the bamboo door, and she was welcomed with the sight of a young man wincing in pain, with the master holding a thread in his hands.

"Your habit of waking up to the sun heating up your bottom is unfavourable." Master Li Shen spoke, not sparing her any eye contact as he continued his suturing on the guy's back, and her peripheral vision eyed the man biting down onto a wooden bark to muffle his screams. "Don't just stand there, make yourself useful. Get me the herb in the mortar." And she did as she was told.

A huge gash streaked on the back of the young commoner, now sutured up neatly in measured knots. It seemed like it could have been caused by a blunt force of trauma. "Here." Y/n handed the filled mortar to Master Li and he applied it onto the wounds, the patient of his hissing in response. "How did he obtained this wound?"

"Whiplash, he said it was an accident, but judging by the wet patch at the front of his pants, I assume it's intentional for the whipping, just not expected for this aftermath." Hearing that, her face heated up at the context that she was provided with. Men of lower classes clearly have lesser safety measures when it comes to fulfillment of their kinks. "Serve him a cup of tea that would suit his current conditions. He has sutures and a mild fever from the infection." Then the physician got up, his outfit emitted his elegance, long and flowy, just like his hair; a symbol of virility in this age.

Once Master Li had left the room, y/n scooted over to the tea table, looking at the array of loose tea leaves at her disposal. She took up the small tea pot, and filled it up with the chosen tea leaves before brewing it for the patient. Amidst waiting, she decided to observe the lotus flowers in the courtyard. She slid open the door and there is Master Li, sat at the stone table, with a calligraphy brush in his hand and a scroll laid out in front of him. "Master Li." Y/n mustered up the courage to approach him. "I apologise for my tardiness this morning. I did not mean to be late."

He looked up, hazy green eyes glanced at her. His hand still hovering over the scroll. "Being tardy is not professional, it is not tolerable for me. Do not repeat that mistake, do you understand y/n?" She nodded quickly and sat yourself opposite him, watching him quietly as he started producing strokes of words on the scroll. His handwriting is surprisingly neat, and fulfills the box-like characters for Chinese writing. So he is not only a good physician, but also has good handwriting. When he is done, he set the brush aside and looked up at her again, expressionless. "I will be setting into town tonight to gather some herbs. Would you like to come with?"

"Yes, I would love to. I have not been here before." She smiled at him and the man in front of her sighed contently. Getting up to retrieve his scroll and he walked towards the room the patient is in. "The tea should be brewed by now, you should serve it while its hot. After you're done with this patient, you may rest and I shall see you later during dusk."

Two hours was spent on treating the oncoming patients and Master Li Shen had asked her to tend to them as he had some other matters to care about. The patients ranged from having a mild cold to obtaining wounds from their harsh work. The only weird case of the day was surprisingly the one that she woke up to early in the morning. Throughout the treatment process she got to hear what the patients have to say, particularly this old lady with the surname Hwang. "He is a lovely young man you know? He never charges us a single penny and always prepares chrysanthemum tea for me to bring home. Even on the days I am not sick, I could come over just to have a cup of tea with him and talk."

"I see." Y/n replied with her back turned towards the lady as she was preparing the medicated powders for the lady to bring home to her granddaughter. "Does Master Li Shen talk a lot?"

"He does, but not as much as he does for listening." The old lady chuckled, her sign of age disappearing for a moment whenever she smiles. "I was telling him the other day that my granddaughter is almost at the age of maturity. I figured I could introduce them together. It would be nice to get her to marry a physician, especially one who is so good looking and kind like him."

The load of information caught y/n off guard slightly, not being able to properly process it as she did not know him well enough to be a judge of character just yet. She instead, focused on the task at hand, wrapping up the earthly toned powder in a thin piece of brown paper and wrapped it with some thin bamboo strips and turning to face the woman, placing the packed medicine onto the table and sliding it over to her. "I guess marrying your granddaughter to a physician may not be a bad idea afterall." Slender fingers tapped onto the medicine pack. "Mix this with hot water and drink it twice a day. If she does not show any signs of improvement, you may bring her back next week."

After the dismissal of the old lady, y/n walked her out towards the main entrance. Upon arriving at the main entrance, the heavy wooden doors were pushed open and her hands unconsciously held the lady's shoulders, backing her up so she would not get hit by the doors given her poor vision. "Master Li Shen." Y/n greeted the towering man that slotted into the entrance and his eyes glanced over towards y/n, and towards the old lady.

"Y/n, Madam Hwang." A curt nod was accompanied with his greeting and he turned towards the young acolyte of his again. "You may get ready, I can lead Madam Hwang back from here." He extended an arm forward for the old lady to grasp onto.

Y/n was slightly reluctant of course. He had only came back and now he has to leave the premise again just to walk the old lady home. She did wished for him to take a rest before the outing with him later in the late evening. "But Master Li Shen, you had only came back from your trip to--"

"I will be fine y/n." The end of his lips pulled up slightly, revealing a small smile of solace. For a man whom had always been content with their own loneliness, having someone who cares for such a minute detail made him felt acquainted. "I shall send Madam Hwang home and await for you in the courtyard for our outing in a bit. Come Madam Hwang, let's get you home." His tone, amiable towards the senior as he slowly walked her out of the premises. It was at this moment that got the young maiden wondering if Master Li Shen had always been such a warm fellow and he is the total opposite of what the rumours had suggested of his attitude.

The town was much bigger than what she had expected, streets lined with stalls selling various goods, foods and beverages. Lanterns lit up the street in a warm glow, a stark contrast towards the silverish-blue rays of the bright moon for the night. People of all ages flood the street like ants within a colony, busy yet lively. Y/n walked next to Master Li Shen, cautious in herr steps as she does not wish to bump into anyone and cause any trouble.

A kid was shouting something incoherent, the thick accent of his made the dialect sounded like a foreign language. "Watch out." A palm landed onto her shoulders and she was forcefully tugged aside, her other shoulder bumping into something solid and she winced at the interaction. Looking over, y/n noticed Master Li Shen was the one who has his arm around her, a glare sent towards that mischievous kid who charged right towards you earlier. But when he looks down towards the young maiden again, his glare dissipated. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Master Li Shen, thank you for watching out for me." You bowed slightly, a common courtesy in the olden days to show one's respect to another. His arm around her shoulder dropped and she could feel the heat prickling on her cheeks. Never once, she was touched by a man other than her father. Although the touch does not mean much, it still lingered on her skin.

"You should walk in front of me," she raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "So you may be safer in this crowd." Nodding her head, she position yourself in front of him and slowly lead him through the crowd, cheeks still burning whenever his chest would accidentally bump into hers due to the crowd flow. The man behind her however, had no issue following behind her, his vision clear given his height difference from the norm. Or so he thought. "You may turn right on the upcoming junction. That should lead us right to the--- y/n?" Looking down, y/n's figure is nowhere to be seen. "Y/n?"

The crowd was too hectic, she had underestimated the crowd flow as she weaved through individuals, totally forgetting the fact she was supposedly accompanied by a giant. Given her small stature, she managed to get past the crowds easily only to find herself lost in a small alley. The darkness loomed over the alley, swallowing everything within its path to blend it within the shadows. Y/n could make out movement from within the shrouded darkness, but it sent goosebumps down her spine. Something does not feel right.

Suddenly, a bony hand reached out from the dark and she cried out as it grabbed onto her arm. The force then started to reel her in, and she could feel her tears surfacing to her eyes, too stunned to fight back. "Let me go!" She shouted in a desperate attempt to flee, head turning towards the crowd to grab someone's attention with her voice. More hands had started to extend from the dark alley to secure her legs and the ends of her dress, ready to drag her into god-knows-what. "HELP---" Another hand slapped itself over her mouth and she was immediately voided of her attempts to free herself as she got dragged into the darkness.

How long has it been? Her eyelids lifted every once in a while, visions went from black to blurred in a few blinks. She was drifting in and out of a state of unconsciousness and her ears could only take in the sounds of someone breathing hard. Her body was jerked back and forth, feet are certainly not on solid ground. But it felt like she was floating?

When y/n managed to snap her eyes open, she shot up while inhaling a breath so sharp it jabbed her lungs. "Careful, you might hurt yourself." The voice got her snapping her head towards the side, seeing Master Li Shen seated next to her, blowing onto the tea cup in his hand. "Here, have some of it. It shall quench your thirst." He handed her the cup that he had blew onto. Sipping onto it, the warm temperature soothes her body immediately.

"What happened?" Y/n asked, placing the tea cup back onto the table and looked at him. The moonlight gleamed through the wax papers of the window sills, an unnatural soft glow coming into the room and lighting his face up just enough to for her to read his expressions, which holds a blank slate. "You just got a little bit of a concussion. Nothing much to worry about." His voice was hushed, cool-headed as always. "You shouldn't have ran off like that, the town is dangerous. Especially for newcomers like you. You're fresh meat alike to them." He then leaned forward with a piece of cloth in his hand. She was too fixated on trying to regain her memories of the happening that she had totally missed out on him wringing out the cloth.

The way she had withdrew herself out of shock halted his movements from reaching his hand out further. He figured it would be best to get her permission before he proceeds. "You have some cuts on your cheek, I am going to clean it for you." So much for asking for her permission, it's more like he is demanding for her face to be served to his treatments. It does make one wonder if he treats all of his patients like this? Demanding.

To Li Shen however, it was more of an act of service. He could care less if someone was found in the state she was in earlier. Finding y/n in the alleyway, strewn on the muddy floor like a puppet as men stood over her, ready to do whatever they had planned to do. Alleys were never known to hold people of high morality and it got Li Shen irked on what he thought they might do to someone so beautiful like y/n. Yes, Li Shen does think of her as a beauty. Hence, he went out of his way to save her. He did managed to save her in one piece, but part of his guilt still troubled him, wishing that he could have stop them from digging their dirty nails onto her skin and causing those scratches and cuts.

"I can do it myself Master Li--" She was paused when he put the wet cloth over her mouth to shush them. He was so close that she could smell the scents of the market she was in earlier. Smells of the sweet tanghulus and freshly made baos, enveloping his usual jasmine-incense musk.

"Please, call me Li Shen from now on. We are quite close in age, there is no need for so much formality." His wet cloth pressed against the cut on the right side of her cheek and she winced in return, cheeks turning the opposite direction due to the stinging pain. "Stay still, it will only hurt a little." His free hand came up, and two fingers were placed under her chin as he turned her head back to face him. His gaze was steady, not on her wound, but staring right into her soul. Those emerald orbs that held a lot of emotions in them, yet she could never seem to read through them.

The tension grew between the both of them, as the staring contest went on. For a moment, she was encaptivated by him, a man so ethereal and smart and mysterious that it makes one want to fall for him. Maybe he is not the same as what the rumours had always suggested. "Li Shen." Her mouth blurted out his name before her brain could even process the emotions and she immediately looked away to hide her embarassment.

When she broke off the eye contact, it got Li Shen to snap out of his own reverie as well. His heart was thumping against his chest when he looked at her a while ago. It was as if the night had gotten longer. She looked ethereal to him too, the shine of the moonlight highlighting her facial features; her big eyes that had always held sincerity in them, soft and plump lips that makes the best smiles and laughters, her long brunette hair that flowed down to her waist, a heart so big that if given the chance to fit everyone in it, she would. She had never changed from the last time he had last seen her.

Li Shen had never really been associated with any females for any romantic relationships. Even when he was introduced to different potential marriage partners, he had never felt the need to be in a relationship. But with y/n, he just knew that it had always been her. Even from young.

"Yes?" It had never felt so right for him to hear her say his name out loud again. But, did she remembered him? Before her last accident? Right before he had left to the city for his physician test? When he had gotten news of her drowning because she fell into a well by accident and only to be awoken to a fresh start for memory collections. Had he ever once popped up in her pretty little head?

He anticipated for her response, trying so hard to not break the ice and to ask her the question he have had the moment he saw her within the candidate pile to be his assistant. However, his anticipation diffused as soon as she answered. "I...I didn't know why I did that. I apologise." Her apology was frowned upon for the wrong reasons, but Li Shen of course, was discreet about it. "I only remembered I blacked out."

"You don't have to know what happened." Li Shen tilted her head back to its initial position and wasted no time in pressing the cloth against her cheek. She hissed this time, biting her lip to stop herself from turning her cheek again and to disrupt his aid. "But you are safe now and that should matter the most." The statement came off to be more bitter than what he had intended to. It was a long awaited sentence. But with the current context of her not even having a slither of memory of him, it hurts him to say it. "The water was mixed with some herbs, it shall promote healing within a couple of days. You had a few cuts on your legs and arms too but I had helped you to apply some medication onto it while you were unconscious just now. I will see you tomorrow morning."

The physician then got up, his height immediately taking up space within her room. She may not know him, but she could tell that he seemed bothered. His sudden change of tone and body language got her curious. Without much thought, she leaned up slightly and grabbed ahold of the ends of his outfit. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at her. "I will not run off again next time, Li Shen. I'm sorry for what happened today. And thank you, for saving me." Accompanied with her smile, it only got Li Shen's heart weighing more than ever. The physician only gave her a nod of acknowledgement and sees himself out of her chambers. If only he had never left her from the start, then perhaps, he could have actually saved her.

OKAY BBYGURLS, this is soooooo long overdued because of a writer's block. Lemme know in the comments if this is worth for a part 2 hmmmm :)))

READ PART 2 HERE!

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

[goodlucktai]

gently in the cold dark earth

scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem

title borrowed from work song by hozier

read on ao3

x

The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain. 

With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.

Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him. 

“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”

He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face. 

Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought. 

Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side. 

——

He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.   

The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.

If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay. 

All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache. 

Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.

He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better. 

He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt. 

Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down. 

I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you. 

——

Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again. 

Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though  eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers. 

Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget. 

The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. 

And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—

He’s there. 

In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?

A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly. 

“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 

“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”

Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’ 

Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.” 

He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely. 

For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without. 

And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale. 

Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger. 

Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again. 

“Shixiong.”

The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely. 

He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.

“Binghe?”  

“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly. 

There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you. 

Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”

Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both. 

His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.  

Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful. 

He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there. 

“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”

“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”

“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield. 

“Now.” 

“No, shizun.”

“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”

Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”

Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge. 

“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”

Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership. 

Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own. 

But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read. 

Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen. 

If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.

Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met. 

That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:

Mine. 

[dyeher]

High Stakes| Ran H.

Includes| secret agent! Ran Haitani x secret agent! Reader

Warnings| fem! reader, violence, murder, mentioned gambling, implied harassment, guns, mirror sex, dry humping, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, choking, creampie, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

Notes| mwah! another repost.

Ran is making plans to return to the Bloody Lotus when he’s not working. Bright eyes scan the clientele, and fingers drum the side of his glass, he decides he likes the energy. Rich people are always eager to spend their earnings, to show off their pregnant coin purses and boast about investments and returns and how they’ve recently deprived the world of another useless piece of art that costs more than it has any right to. Rich people paired with alcohol makes this place a breeding ground for ‘Too Much Information’. Ran affectionately calls it TMI, and it’s the reason he’s here tonight. To collect some of that.

When he returns though, when he’s off the clock, he’ll be here for the pretty call girls and the lacquered cards that are screaming his name. Absently he raises his glass to his lips. Tonight he is not Ran Haitani, Agent 001. Tonight he is simply Ran Haitani, one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, and a potential investor in whatever business venture Izana Kurokawa has cooked up.

He glances around the lobby, careful not to make eye contact with you as the balding man’s hand snags on the exposed flesh of your upper thigh. Ran’s grip on his glass tightens reflexively. He reminds himself that if he kills Lorano now they’re fucked and you would’ve been groped for no reason. He remains quiet, pretending to take in the brightly lit room with its marbled floor and high ceiling.

To his left is the entrance to the VIP section where he’s currently perched at the bar. It’s a pair of glass doors flanked on either side by two large men dressed to the nines but sporting firearms. Through the glass, he can see regular patrons, the upper-middle-class dressed in their best and whispering to each other over glasses of overpriced champagne. Some are gambling their way down the social ladder without really paying any attention to it.

To his right is the entrance to Izana’s private quarters. Well, for the most part. To his right actually stands a set of hand-carved mahogany double doors. Those doors don’t lead anywhere. Behind them is an elevator leading to the rooftop of this fine establishment and the only true way to access Izana’s quarters is from the rooftop entrance. A little way off from those doors is a simple nondescript door that leads to the stairwell on the inside of the building. The stairwell gets as high as the private rooms of Izana’s friends. If all went well Ran would be on that floor within the hour.

He’s brought out of his reverie when you warble spilling a little of the drink in your tray onto Lorano. He’s impressed by your ability to mold into any character as he listens through the earpiece. You lay on a faux Italian accent, as you scramble to apologize that immediately has Lorano perking up, and Ran has to sip from his glass to cover his disgust when one of the buttons on the man’s shirt pops open at the movement.

Izana dresses his female employees in the most ridiculous things. Tonight’s number is a sheer black leotard, the front covered in some sort of stitched design that just barely covers your breasts, the back so low it dips beneath the band of the too-tight, too-short black skirt paired with it. The shoes are strappy and wound all the way up to above your knee. The heel and platform are so high that Ran winces internally as he watches the ease with which some of these girls can maneuver the tables and crowd in them.

He’s whispering to you in rapid-fire Italian, things Ran wishes he didn’t understand, promises to treat you right, questions about how long you’ll be working for. His grubby hands trail down to your thigh when you bend across him to replace his drink and even from this distance Ran can see the way your fingers on the tray flex.

An irrational amount of pride swells in his gut when your smile doesn’t even waiver, and for a second he’s so transfixed he almost doesn’t hear when one of Lorano’s lackeys bends into his other ear to let him know Izana was ready for him. Ran’s heart slows, his eyes locking with yours as he starts moving. Based on Wakasa’s intel Izana’s meetings are held on the roof, and there should be a viewing room on that floor. Only one elevator goes to that floor and it requires either Izana’s Identification card or the code, a code only he knows. Ran subtly adjusts the face of his watch, a beautiful Patek Phillipe piece he’d paid Inui out of pocket to have modified. He chuckles when he reaches the door of the stairwell and Wakasa’s voice filters through his ear.

“I think I threw up in my mouth a little when Lorano asked if she eats ass,” Ran can hear Wakasa’s shudder. He uses the knuckle on his index to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, activating the screen on the camera on the left screen. “Take a step back Ran, need to see the entire door.” Ran shuffles back feigning glancing at the floor in front of the door and then back up. “Thank you,” Wakasa says, and Ran fidgets as he begins to count down in his head. “You ready big guy? You have thirty seconds to climb three flights of stairs before the camera’s auto-reboot.”

Ran glances to his left and right quickly before nodding. “Go.”

He doesn’t even register the door slamming behind him as he flies up the stairs. He’s mastered the art of running in suits at this point. His chain lifts with his movements until finally, he catches the pendant between his teeth to stop it. He uses the rail to hoist himself up, taking the stairs four at a time until the leather sole of his shoe lands on the dark marble of the top floor. He skids a little, catching himself on the wall. “Twenty-six seconds,” Wakasa tells him. “Not bad.”

Ran chuckles. “You talk too much Wakasa. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” Wakasa retorts. “Every time we work together.”

“Lorano’s on his way up,” your voice interrupts them both. “And I’m coming with him.”

Ran tenses. “That was not part of the fucking plan,” he says as he stalks the length of the hall. He passes his room, heading for the elevator. He watches as the numbers change.

“Yeah but it’s smarter than the original,” Wakasa admits. “If she gets up there Izana’ll send her back down because employees aren’t allowed on that floor. Which means she’ll control the elevator.”

Ran curses, because Wakasa’s right. “Fuck.” He watches as the elevator gets to the top floor and then ten minutes later he watches as it begins its descent. The impromptu change works and Ran finds himself face to face with you not thirty seconds later.

“Camera’s are down,” Wakasa announces. “Double-loop so it looks like she came off the elevator. Shouldn’t have any issues if no one is standing at the elevator doors.”

And no one is standing there. In fact, getting into the viewing area is too easy, not only that but they find that it’s not just a viewing area. Ran takes a good scan of the room following Wakasa’s instructions until they land on a row of computers and Wakasa almost moans in both your ears. It’s the central command.

“I despise Izana Kurokawa,” he hisses. “I hope he knows I’m praying for his downfall. Specifically, because this setup is so beautiful he doesn’t deserve it.”

Ran glances at you out of the corner of his eye and almost swallows his tongue when he finds you squatting at one of the outlets. Your ass stretches the material of the skirt and Ran has to force himself to look away as you get on your knees to press the switch. One of the older computers lights up next to Ran and Wakasa honest-to-gods giggles.

“Ran, plug the flash drive in there,” Wakasa instructs. “Turn it on and where is my beautiful little amateur hacker. Get your ass over here.”

Ran tunes in to the conversation between Izana and Lorano, looking out through the glass at them from his spot. Izana as always is dressed in some elaborate get up, his second in command stands to his left his arms folded and the disgust in his expression clear as he looks at Lorano.

“It’s quite simple,” Izana is saying. “You join me, I get control of your men, I pay you to speak when spoken to.”

Lorano looks torn. “It’s not that simple, my men will not respect me anymore,” he tries to explain.

“Lorano,” Izana coos. “Your men don’t pay you. Your men are ungrateful pigs. Your men are incompetent criminals. Your men are failures as men. Their respect for you isn’t worth hot shit even if it came from a god.” Izana’s men laugh and Ran winces at the shade of red Lorano turns. “Think about the respect you’ll earn from the rest of Japan when they find you’re associated with me.”

This seems to give Lorano pause and Ran scoffs. He wonders what Izana might have offered him if he planned to stick around long enough to hear.

“How much are you offering?” Lorano finally says.

“I’m offering you a salary,” Izana says slowly, in case Lorano misunderstood. “Not a percentage cut of the shit I make.”

Lorano swallows, and the microchip in the collar of his shirt picks up the sound extra loudly. Ran almost gags. “How much?”

“Five hundred thousand dollars a month,” Izana says and Ran is appalled at the way Lorano immediately agrees. He wonders if Lorano knows that he’s signing this document in his blood. And just as Ran expected when Izana verifies that Lorano has in fact signed over his properties and his men he opens his palm and Ran shifts when a gun is placed in it. “It was great doing business with you,” Izana frowns and Lorano doesn’t have time to scream before the gun goes off and his pudgy body is falling face first into his dinner, blood mixing with the delicacies on the plate. Ran’s thoughts are interrupted by Wakasa’s curse.

“What?” he snaps turning back to where you’re tapping away at the computer screen.

“You’ve got company,” Wakasa says quickly. “Fuck. Two incoming looks like Izana’s personal guard and the Head of Security.”

Ran’s head snaps to the door when he hears the telltale sounds of footsteps coming down the corridor. “How much longer, angel?”

You tap away at the keyboard rapidly. “We’re at 87%,” you scramble to type faster but Ran’s already dragging you away from the desk. “What the fuck are you—”

“You can punch me in the face afterward,” he whispers quickly. And then he’s kissing you. Tentatively at first, just a soft brushing of his lips that immediately has you relaxing in his hold. One large hand cups your face to angle your head better and the other dips into the base of your spine, curling you closer to him. His fingertips are warm as they trail the length of your spine. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you shudder, your nipples pebbling in the thin material at the contact. You’re frozen, struck dumb by the gentleness of his kiss, eyes wide open so you see the way long lashes brush the tops of his cheeks.

Ran pulls back just far enough to growl against your mouth. “Kiss me back, angel.” And then he’s running the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip and they’re parting to let him in. His tongue is eager and warm and so soft as it brushes confidently at yours that your toes curl.

Your body presses closer to his, your hands winding around his shoulders as you kiss him back. It’s the consent he needed. The kiss grows intense, Ran’s tongue dipping farther, his head slanting to deepen the kiss. You’re suddenly reminded of your lack of underwear when Ran’s hand comes up to grasp the back of your head, the one cupping your face drops to your thigh as he backs you into the desk. He hoists you onto the surface easily, your body displacing the keyboard, and stack of papers next to it. His grip on your thigh slips to the back of your knee and he hikes it up around his waist, to slot himself between your legs, bending you back a little so you’re propped against the monitor.

“Fuck,” he groans when your fingers tangle in his hair. You tug his head back harshly, desperation making your movements a little rough as you press sloppy, lipstick stain kisses along the side of his neck and the column of his throat. You wonder if he’s wanted to do this as bad as you have. If he’s ever lost sleep thinking about the contours of your body the way you have. Or imagined the softness of your lips, the taste of your mouth, the feel of your hands on him. Because you’ve spent countless nights with your fingers between the folds of your pussy, rubbing circles into your clit imagining they’re Ran Haitani’s fingers or his tongue. Many nights with your dildo pumping furiously into you imagining it’s Ran Haitani’s cock molding and shaping your insides for him.

The guards are forgotten as Ran presses the length of his body to yours. The hard outline of his cock rubs into the damp crotch of your leotard when you finally bring your lips back to his. Your kissing becomes frantic and sloppy. Ran devours your mouth, fucking it with his tongue in a way you know he’d easily replicate in your cunt. Your body bucks when his fingers climb your thigh, his knuckles rubbing the sensitive skin as it inches higher. You moan into his mouth and Ran’s responding chuckle sends chills down your spine.

“Bet you’ve soaked through this flimsy thing,” he mumbles, lips not pulling away far enough for you to focus on his features. His kisses move from your lips down to your neck and throat. “Probably got a messy little pussy.”

You whine, arching as though you can get any closer than you already are. Your fingers catch in his jacket as you try to push them off his shoulders. Ran eases back just enough to free his arms, dropping the jacket next to you as he resumes his previous position. You get a glimpse of how well he fills out the silk shirt beneath and realize this isn’t enough. You want to feel his skin, you want to rake your nails down his back and mark him with your teeth. Just as you think this Ran’s teeth latch onto the erogenous area where your neck and shoulders meet. Your moan is absolutely wanton. You feel him shudder in your arms as he reaches for the strap of the onesie and rips it down your arm freeing one of your breasts for his hungry mouth. It’s only as you toss your head back, lips parted on a sigh at the gentle sucking of Ran’s mouth on your nipple, to give him better access to your body, that you see the two men in the doorway.

Your squeak of surprise is genuine as your hand scrambles to clutch Ran’s shoulders. The sound seems to snap both men out of their stupor and you watch as they straighten to their full height. Your mind clears quickly, embarrassment sinking like lead in the pit of your stomach at your actions. Ran’s grin is lazy, almost natural as he glances over his shoulder, you’re grateful for the width of him as he angles his body to block out whatever view they might’ve had of you. One of Ran’s hands still clutches your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as though he knows you’re struggling to get it together.

“Gentlemen?” Ran’s smile falters perfectly, even the breathless hitch in his tone is staged. It feels like a bucket of ice water has been doused on you. Of course. Of course, none of this was real. He’d just saved both your asses. You wonder if he knows you weren’t acting. You tense in his arms and his grip on your waist tightens. “Can we help you?”

“You’re not supposed to be up here,” the shorter one says. Even from here, you can tell he’s the scarier and more than likely Izana’s head of security. Bleached buzzcut with parallel strips of his natural hair color running from the corners of his hairline back. You might’ve giggled at the fact that he resembled a tennis ball if he didn’t pull his gun. His eyes narrow when Ran frowns and glances at you.

“Sorry? Is this not the guest floor?” Ran’s confusion is so convincing you almost don’t feel when he slips the flash drive up your thighs. It takes all of your self-control not to react as his fingers dip into the sticky mess between your thighs and slide the flash drive flat across the crotch of the leotard. Your hand snaps out to clutch his arm and he chuckles. “She’s a needy thing,” he shrugs. “Couldn’t quite make it to my room.”

The taller one adjusts his glasses and steps into the room and Tennis ball follows him. “How’d you get up here, Mr. Haitani?”

Ran blinks at him like he’s stupid. “The elevator?” You squirm in his arms, playing your part as the brainless, shy employee, who’ll probably get in trouble for fraternizing with one of Izana’s VIP guests. Ran straightens to his full height, fixing the straps of your onesie and closing your legs as he turns to face both men. He stands a little shorter than the one with the glasses but he’s broader and you know that if this comes down to a fight you could take the taller one while Ran takes the other. “What’s really going on here? Have I done something wrong?” His tone is carefully accusing.

Glasses sighs through his nose. He knows there’s no way Ran should’ve gotten to this floor undetected but starting a fight with one of Izana’s friends is the last thing he needs to do right now. “This floor is off-limits to guests. They lead to Mr. Kurokawa’s private rooms.”

Ran’s expression morphs into a perfect mask of embarrassment and regret. You hope the horror in your expression as you clamber to your feet, swaying a little in your heels is convincing. “Ah, sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Got a little distracted,” he motions with his thumb to you over his shoulder and you look away. “We can move.”

He reaches for his jacket when Tennis ball chips in. “Wait a minute,” he says, slipping his gun back into the holster. “You’re not leaving until we search you.”

Ran bristles as they expect him to, head jerking back like he’s been slapped. His jaw clenches, fingers flexing. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said Mr. Haitani,” Tennis ball snatches Ran’s jacket and passes it to Glasses who begins to rummage through the pockets. “Spread your legs for me.” Ran tenses but does as he’s told.

The flash drive feels like it’s weighing you down as Ran gets the all-clear and Glasses starts toward you. “Seriously?” Ran scoffs. “She’s half-naked, where the fuck would she hide anything?”

That seems to give both men pause. You make sure to shudder for good measure as they step aside. Ran grabs your arm glaring at both men as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and guides you out of the room. Glasses follows after you, making a quick call for someone to send the elevator down before taking you both down to the VIP floor. “This is you,” he says nodding at Ran as he leads you out of the elevator.

Ran takes you to his room and as soon as the doors are closed you shrug off his jacket. Your heart is pounding in your chest. That could’ve gone horribly. Your hands are trembling as you wobble over to the spacious bathroom.

“You still make the prettiest sounds,” Wakasa’s voice comes over the earpiece, and you yelp, stumbling back and almost falling onto your ass. In the midst of everything it seems you’d both forgotten about Wakasa. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says gently. “Just thought you should know. They’re the still prettiest I’ve ever heard.”

“Wakasa,” you hiss. “Can Ran-

“He can’t,” Wakasa reassures you. “I muted us. I’m gonna take these off until you’re out of this room. In case, you want to finish what you started.” You open your mouth to argue that you were just trying to save your asses when Wakasa continues. “And before you tell me you were just trying to stay alive try to remember how well I know you.”

There’s a distinct click and you know Wakasa can no longer hear you. A tentative knock sounds on the door and Ran’s voice carries through the wood. “You good in there?” He asks. “We got what we came for, we can leave.”

His comment reminds you of his earlier actions and you immediately reach between your thighs and pull the slippery flash drive free, yank open the door and slap it against his chest. “Yeah,” you say giddily. “I’m about ready to go.” And then you haul your fist back and slam it into his nose. “Do not ever do some shit like that again,” you snap. “Next time we fucking kill them.”

Ran’s eyes darken, as he clutches his nose. It’s not broken but it hurts like a motherfucker and he’s not at all surprised when he inhales and it burns. His eyes water as he glares at you incredulously. “You’re not serious.”

“Deathly,” you say, releasing the flash drive so he has to scramble to catch it. It’s soaked in your arousal, the scent heady as he clutches it. You poke him in the chest. “If you ever, ever touch me like that again I’ll fucking kill you.”

Silence envelopes you for a few seconds and then Ran chuckles. You’re about to snap at him again when his hand wraps around your throat. “You’re so transparent,” he smirks. “I bet you’re not even mad I touched you.” He squeezes your throat, backing you into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “You’re probably mad because we were interrupted,” he drops the flash drive on the counter. “Mad that you didn’t get to cum.” He’s slowly cutting off the blood flow to your head, his fingers pressing into the blood vessels on either side of your neck. “Wanted me to clean up the mess I made of your pussy?”

His free arm wraps around your waist and lifts you onto the counter, your hands immediately reach for the wrist of the hand around your throat, your nails dig into the soft flesh as he scoots back onto the counter and spreads your legs to make room for him. You’re dizzy by the time his grip loosens. “Answer me,” his voice softens to just above a whisper, his finger massaging your neck gently. “Do you want me to clean up the mess I made, angel? Is that what this is about?”

You almost shake your head but Ran gives you a look. Like he’ll know if you’re lying. Like you’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity. So you nod, swallowing when he flashes you a beautiful smile. “Yeah? But I need to hear you say it,” he breathes. “Say ‘Please eat my pussy Ran’. Go on.”

His hand has reached your jaw and his thumb is rubbing distracting little circles into the side of your bottom lip as you repeat after him. A not of breathlessness in your voice. “Please- please eat my pussy Ran.”

His groan as he leans forward to kiss the spot he’d been rubbing has your heart rate increasing, the organ beating wildly at his words. “You don’t know how badly I need to taste you.” He drops to his knees, careful to work your feet out of your heels before he kisses the inside of one ankle and then your calf that he massages and then the inside of your knee and then the fat of your thighs until he’s propping that foot on the edge of the counter and then he does the same to the other. Showering them in kisses, massaging them until they’re jelly and then he’s easing your skirt over your thighs. Working it down to your ankles and discarding it next to him on the floor. He’s almost reverent. The way he treats your body, and it makes sense. Because it feels a lot like he’s worshipping you.

He takes a moment to take you in. The leotard is cut higher than he’d initially expected and he almost salivates as he watches you bring your legs back up to the counter, butterflying them open for him. An entire lip of your pussy has escaped the scrap of material that should be covering it. He can’t help himself when he leans forward to suck the poor flesh into his mouth. And the sound he makes when he finally gets your taste on his tongue makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. One hand wraps loosely around an ankle as he shuffles closer, his nose brushing into your cunt as he pulls back with a wet smack only to latch onto the ruined material between your thighs. His other hand rests in the juncture of your thigh, his thumb pulling apart your pussy. “Look how fucking pretty that is,” he whispers to himself, as strings of arousal stretch and snap each time he repeats the movement. “Fucking hell.”

You reach for his head, fingers sinking into his hair to tug him closer. “Fuck,” you whine. “Ran!” Your body bows when he pushes the material to the side and properly buries his tongue into your cunt. He fucks you with it like you imagine he’d fuck you with his cock. His head bobbing, nose bumping into your clit. He groans again at the rush of liquid that floods his mouth as you squirm.

Ran’s hands press your legs a little wider when he pulls back to spit on your cunt. He watches, eyes wide, lips parted and glistening with your arousal as the spit drips down to your entrance. He drops his head between your legs again just give your clit a soft kiss. He chuckles when you whine his name, your hold on him slackening when he dips the index of one finger into your cunt. Your body swallows him eagerly, your walls squeezing around the digit. He removes it to add another two to it, his brows furrowing as he watches the way your cunt struggles to take those three fingers. “Shit and you’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

You squeal when he stands, fingers still buried in your pussy, to kiss you. He swallows every little noise you make, every whine and gasp as he works your cunt open diligently. Maybe if you weren’t so distracted you might’ve questioned why he’d need to stretch you out this well. But you’re cumming with a soft keen of his name, shuddering in his arms as he fucks you through it. The sound your pussy makes when Ran finally pulls his fingers free makes you burn with embarrassment but the way he casually stuffs those fingers into his mouth, lids fluttering at your taste. He strips with one hand, dragging his silk shirt off and quickly undoing his belt buckle.

By the time his cock springs free you’ve wiggled your way out of the last piece of clothing and you’re dizzy with anticipation. Your first reaction is apprehension. Ran’s cock is thick and heavy, the weight enough to have it hanging between his thighs. He’s also a little longer than average with a fat mushroomed head. Your second reaction is desperation. Imagining the stretch of your pussy to accommodate his cock has you shuffling to the edge of the counter, eyes wide as you reach for his cock to rest it against your cunt.

“Shit,” Ran hisses when his cock makes contact with the slick lips of your pussy. He’s bucking his hips almost instinctively, one hand pressing his cock in place as he fucks your pussy lips steadily. And the picture Ran Haitani makes drunk on you before he’s even slid his cock inside you is enough to have your eyes watering. He’s beautiful. His hair in disarray, sticking to his forehead and standing askew from your hands, his lips swollen from your kisses, his skin flushed from his cheeks to his chest, and his eyes. Hooded and bright with an emotion you cannot identify.

You’re so distracted by him that you don’t register he’s shifted his cock down to your entrance until the head of his cock squeeze into your hole and you choke on a gasp. Ran kisses you then, a slow, deep affair that wipes your mind of any coherent thought. Your stomach flip flops when he pulls you closer to him, wrapping your legs around his body as he wraps his arms around you. The position is so intimate something pangs inside you. Every lap of Ran’s tongue coincides with an inch he’s fucked into you. You’re shaking when you feel his hips bump into your thighs and he’s still not stopped kissing you.

He fucks you there, in short strokes that rubs the head of his cock into your g spot. Kissing you until you can’t breathe and then barely giving you time to catch your breath as he proceeds to tell you about how good you feel. ‘Never felt a pussy like yours angel’, ‘’m never leaving you alone’, ‘’s my pussy now, the best pussy’, ‘tell me it’s mine, tell me it’s my pussy, please’. They’re a mix between a whine and a growl as he begs and grunts and threatens your life and the life of every other man you’ve fucked. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever encountered and your body agrees. When your orgasm slams into you you have to drag your lips away from Ran to scream. A garbled mix of his name and thanks, as he fucks you through it, his pace faltering, his hips stuttering as he chases his own high.

You’re both weak in the knees by the time Ran pulls out of you. The silence isn’t awkward as you clean each other up. “So my pussy is your huh?” you say later as you’re waiting in the conference hall for Wakasa and the rest of the team.

“Yeah,” he answers without missing a beat, expression brightening when he catches your smile. “And I really will kill you if you try anything stupid.”

Your smile falls. “What?”

“A bullet right between your eyes,” he holds up finger guns aiming one between your brows. “Pop. Pop,” he chuckles. “I dare you to act dumb.”

You can only swallow around the mounting arousal in your gut because you think you’ve known him long enough to know when he’s bluffing. And based no the slightly crazed look in his eye as Wakasa enters the room you know this is not one of those times.

[rosedere]

The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya

(Pantalone x Fem! Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes on

Cross posted on AO3

Part1, Part 2, Part 3, Chapter 4. Lotus in Transcience (you are here), Part 5, Part 6, Part 7~

If you like the feeling of a hard rain falling

I have a sea full, I can give you an ocean

We shouldn't have to work so hard to break this wave in our way

Shouldn't wanna walk away so you won't see the fear I face

-

Left stripped of your fine clothes and tucked in was how you found yourself when you awoke.

Alone.

You didn't even hear him leave.

Only being awoken to the mystical light that flooded the cavernous opening around the top of the tower.

Left in the luxurious room from last night you sat up in the expensive sheets with pantalones lingering scent wafting with each hit of the sheets.

Knees tucked underneath yourself as you observed the room you were in.

You assumed the room was violet and dark ebony coded only instead the morning rays revealed the black and red detailing on the wood walls and wood floors of a rich wood most liyue homes did not have.

The canopy a dark gem blue shade glittering in the sunlight around you like gems in a cave.

At this point as you sat slack jawed in his bed you weren't completely sure what you were supposed to do. He left you alone in his bed with no way to get back to the harbor.

You scolded yourself as you realized what you truly did. 

Remembering glimpses of letting Pantalone own you were all you remembered.

So vulnerable to him, you cringe at yourself for even pretending to trust him.

your clothes weren't anywhere, especially not on the bedside where you were undressed.

You were just left to wrap the thick sheets around yourself feeling warm in the cold dewy air beginning to seep into the open balcony across from the bed.

“Good morning my lady,” Galinas cheerful self sang out from the sliding door as she hummed a tune you'd never heard before as she went towards the wardrobe on the south wall.

Instinctively you wrapped the sheets tighter around your chest covering your front as well as you could at the fast approaching bodyguard who was humming unlocking the dark ornate wardrobe.

“My lord deeply apologizes for leaving without saying a word but~” she held her pointer finger up

She hooked her hands on the inside of the carved hand piece outside of the wardrobe before opening the large door to you.

You wouldn't believe your eyes seeing the array of different spectrums of colors and types of fabric stuffed into the medium sized wardrobe with ease.

It had to be more than enough things to clothe a whole village at least.

“My lord has graciously supplied you with clothes to wear during your stay here until his return” she bowed, moving to the side of the wardrobe.

“Wait, stay?” You narrowed your eyes

“Yes! A whole month of relaxation away from the busy harbor” she giggled as she went towards the stone lined bathroom.

You froze.

“The whole month?” You asked a gasp.

Galina turned around to lean against the wood frame to face you.

“Yes my lady, consider this a special privilege” she crossed her hand over her chest.

“I know it seems like there isn't much to do at first glance and all but there's actually a lot you can do around here” 

You only smiled as you clenched the cool sheets harder, your knuckles growing white from your grip.

“Now let me get your bath started so your day can begin” Galina exclaimed before going inside the open bathroom in front of where you were sitting.

“You know—Galina— I think I can dress myself and shower for the day” 

The rustic golden faucet was already turned on to your dismay as the sound of water filling echoed into the room.

“Please Galina” you begged, glancing towards the bathroom entrance.

“Nope! My lord said that me and fedor are to treat you as he would if he was here” Galina’s voice echoed.

You groaned but after a few moments of waiting you decided to wrap the sheet around yourself before you finally joined Galina in the restroom.

“Please” 

Galina turned her face being obscured by her fatui mage mask leaving it a mystery what she was truly emoting beyond you.

“No ”

“Such a stubborn lotus lián ” 

“Our lord wasn’t lying when he said you were modest”

Galina shook her head as she felt the warm steam spiraling from the stone carved tub of dark stone. 

“But-”

“No buts” 

Crossing your arms you stayed sulking across the bamboo lined bathroom watching the water be filled with different oils and some unique cubes that smelled of warm custard and vanilla began to color the everclear water with a ivory shade.

“The water should be perfect if you want to get in” Galina lifted her hand from the water moving towards the tall ornate rack beside the stone tub.

“Or will I have to push you in” 

“No-no i'll get in just…”

Galina raised a brow from over her mask.

“Please turn around” you awkwardly asked.

“Of course my lady” 

She turned towards the wall staying firmly in place while you untied your sheet covering your body leaving the sheet on the cool marble ground, sitting on the edge of the ledge you let your toe test the water before completely submerging into the milky, fragrant mixture.

“Is the bath to your liking my lady”

You looked back towards the wall to see galina with the utmost patience at the spring wood on the wall.

“Its very different than what im used to”

You completely sink your chest under the water letting yourself be soaked in the small white petals swirling in the water.

“You know you can turn around Galina” you reassured

“Ah of course my lady”

You could see the dark violet flash of her cloak as she faced you standing in an attentive way.

“Lián”

You only looked over the steamy bath towards Galina.

“would you feel comfortable for me to wash you?”

Your face heated at the suggestion only making an awkward sound from the back of your throat akin to gagging.

“Is this a snezhnaya thing or something?” You gawked.

Galina only laughed allowing you to hear her laugh for the first time since she had become your bodyguard of sorts.

“i'll assume you've never been bathed before my lady lián”

you only sunk into the water even more.

“Trust me once our lord returns you'll have more than enough baths you won't ever go back to those cold streams you bath in” 

Your mind blanked out at the mention.

Cold streams…

Silently you looked over at galina who was grabbing a small wash cloth and different tools you saw once in a high end salon where Yelan and Keqing had gone to.

“How did you know about that”

You lifted your knees to your chest.

No one knows about my childhood 

Galina only brought the items to the natural stacked ledge besides where you were soaking, humming a small tune as she grabbed a stone like item.

“I've heard from different subordinates that Liyue uses cold streams of water to shower; I just naturally assumed my lady”

She grabbed your arms closest to her, extending it before the rough surface of the stone rubbed over your arms.

“I hope I didn't step on your toes”she quickly added apologetically.

you shook your head watching as she scrubbed your arms and back with the stone and washcloth.

“No not at all” 

Galina only continued to scrub you in the tub idly scrubbing away at your skin.

“You should relax lián; you know it isn't good to be this tense” she pressed into your legs.

“I'm just… thinking” 

“About what my lady?”

“If it's about the banker he should be barely leaving the harbor right now”

“What do you mean? Wasn't he supposed to be gone early in the morning” you turned your head inquisitively to Galina still carrying on rubbing the rough stone on your feet.

“He was but… he had something to take care of first in the harbor before he left” she murmured lowly.

You hummed in acknowledgement; galina grabbed your feet from the tub leading them to the cool natural ledge before she began to give your feet a pedicure of sorts.

“Oh wow your feet seem awfully rough my lady” galina poked and prodded at your feet.

“A bit unfitting for the harbingers fiancee” 

You began to furiously blush before you puffed your cheek.

“I'm surprised a apothecary woman would have feet as if they've ran around in rocks all day” 

“I travel around the harbor a lot” 

You purse your lips together.

“Well thank goodness we have a whole month to spend together. I can make you look like a princess by the time our lord comes back” galina happily continued scrubbing your feet.

“Yeah”

Thank goodness 

-

“Are you sure I need all of this to go to the harbor” 

You pulled at the loose peach and orange train pooling around the entrance of the veranda.

“No no Lián, leave the dress alone!” Galina exclaimed from behind you running up the stacked staircase where your dress was currently laying.

“But this seems so… dramatic for a trip to the market” you frowned.

You looked down at the flowing dress you wore. this one being more summery and bigger on you with colors that reminded you of a sunsettia, the fabric wrapping around your neck covering your chest and eventually being tied in a ribbon on the back of the skirt of the dress.

“Remember what I said Lián~” 

Galina retired the ribbons on the back of your dress.

“Princess training began this morning!”

She said with her hands on her hips.

“Whatever i'll just got find Fedor this instant to free me from this torture ” you walked up towards the steep steps leading inside.

“oh you think he isn't in the know lián?” Galina giggled

“He was the first one I explained my plan to” 

You stopped in the doorway crossing your arms.

“Lián, are you ready?” Fedor's voice came from within the hazy sitting room ahead of you.

Moving out of the way for your bodyguard as he materialized from fire energy next to you this hood covering him as usual.

“Of course, but I'd like to ask if I can go back home first to collect something ” 

Fedor and Galina stayed silent at your request.

“Im afraid—”

“We can't let you go back to your previous home”

You raised a brow.

“It's not that we want to but our lord explicitly told us to keep you here”

“In your new abode” 

You sighed, “well if he said so I guess i'll wait”

They only both continued in front of you as they guided you out from the cave into the cavern opening.

The clouds were low making it hard for you to determine the exact location you were at, a path presumably leading down the mountain was the only notable thing you could take note of.

A small carriage was waiting in front of the large rocks lining the entrance of the tall cave. A few agents standing guard next the carriage looking to be regular fatui soldiers as they each nodded as you strided past, your two guards following diligently behind you.

When you reached the carriage you were about to step inside when the door opened only for you to be stopped by fedors large gloved hand on your bare shoulder.

“My lady wait—”

Ruffling in his coat pocket he pulled a dark blindfold out.

“I'm sorry we must do this as a security measure my lady”

He wrapped the blindfold around your face, securing it behind your ears.

Unfortunately it was thick enough to not see much under or over the opaque cloth.

Presumably Galina grabbed your hand leading you into the carriage along with Fedor carrying the length of your dress into the carriage.

Sitting on the velvet seats you felt the carriage go forward carrying on the descent down the mountain.

Trying to notice the different twists and steep turns you listened for anything to give a hint on where the mountain was.

“Once we get to the base of the mountains we should be able to free you from the blindfold” fedor spoke from your left side.

“And then we should be at the market in about 20 minutes,” Galina spoke from your right side.

You nodded fiddling with the loose fabric around your lap as the carriage continued a while longer around a turn.

“So….” 

You cleared your throat.

“Does all of pantalones conquest get this treatment”

“My lady! You are not just a one night stand” Galina nudged your arm.

“yes my lady, you are his beloved”

“I'm going to assume he just told you to say that in case I asked” you shrugged, “besides i'm sure he's got many choices in snezhnaya”

“please my lady don't be so modest”

“I'll try ”

Finally the carriage took a swift turn before you felt fedor grab your blindfold.

“The harbor awaits” 

You felt the blindfold come off seeing the familiar harbor you'd seen for many decades.

Your home 

The market near the bustling harbor was the first stop, many different wares were brought since it was the first of the month allowing you to walk the pier system below and look for exotic wares you couldn't afford usually.

The only perk to pantalone. 

The stares of the people around you was a massive weight on your shoulders.

A few vendors assumed you immediately to be royalty or from the few families of wealth in the harbor.

Others looked and leered at your guards surrounding you as you went to food stalls to get different foods.

But you didn't see the pair of eyes you needed to see.

Only, luck was somehow on your side.

Galina suddenly stiffened up as she got behind you, her lantern brimming with electricity crackling around you causing you to jump away.

Unaware of what was happening you tried to move forward to see what she was preparing to fight you felt Fedor grab you moving you away towards the alley next to the tall tree above the market.

Peeking over the tall fatui agent you were able to see the millelith 

Finally they noticed 

You didn't know Galina could fight until now; the clash between the spears and her electricity struck the soldiers before it’d disperse violently in dark purple and electric blue hues lighting the colorful market as she twirled and generated more electro energy.

The immense number of millelith swarming the area grew as Galina tried her best to take them down one by one,

Seeing her grow sloppy in her movements you watched Fedor stealthy disappear into the shadows casted underneath the sparse trees.

Reappearing amongst the millelith was all you saw as him and galina began to fiercely fight on against the barrage of assaults occurring around you.

A blue thin line was casted around your waist, the familiar thread like luminous blue strings glowed around you before you were picked up from where you were standing against the vacant alley.

Elemental energy vibrating around your arms as you suddenly found yourself on the rooftop of the shipyard.landing with a rough thud you were brought to your knees as your flash of orange and blush dress fell around you like a vibrant flower petal on rooftop shingles.

“Huh I guess I was worried for nothing” 

A familiar mischevious voice approached behind you.

“All dressed up and well fed” her manicured hands picked up the orange train on the back of your long dress.

You rose to your feet only glaring back at your lavish boss a sight you wouldnt admit was welcomed.

“Yeah, yeah— why the sudden rescue? You said you'd never interfere in any operations unless…”

Your eyes widen with realization as you turned to yelan.

A grim expression on her face as she looked you deep in your eyes with sincerity.

“So the worst has come upon us then?”

“Worst I fear” yelan exhaled

Worst news than we can imagine 

-

Pacing back and forth combing your manicured nails through your hair nervously, you couldn't stop yourself from shaking as you looked over to the sprawling deep navy ocean in front of Yelan and yourself.

“What the hell do we do? Pantalone left to snezhnaya this morning”

“He could be resuming his hunt for the rest of us right now and we wouldnt even know” 

The wind picking up;feeling the breeze flow through your dress. 

“Your thinking is too grim (name)” Yelan crossed her arms before sitting on the raised shingles of the roof.

“Lau, Dan, and Lo are missing; not dead as far as I know” 

“yes but five of our subordinates are dead. They could be bodies floating in Qingxu pool right now��� you scratched your neck.

“If it's the fatui i'm next and eventually…”

“You” 

Yelan only laughed a hardy loud laugh as she clenched her stomach.

“How dare they think they can take me down let alone take you too” she wiped a tear from her eye.

“No,the worst news is going to be what i'm about to tell you”

You only frowned before nodding for her to continue.

“Your going to be solo for the rest of this mission indefinitely”

“your dead in the water (name)” 

disbelief was all you felt as you clenched the sides of your head.

“So what, im just stuck with that harbinger until when?” You fiddled with your hair.

”I’m sorry (name) I can't pull you out until we catch The Regerator” 

“The risk is greater than you can imagine; if he finds out your working for us he could hold you hostage or worst”

Shaking your head in disgusts you didnt bother answering only letting your head fall, staring at the few trees below.

”I know you have your vision, if the worst comes up I know you could protect yourself”

”don't even bother”

You stood up on the roof letting your dress billow behind you as you approached the ledge of the roof.

”I’ll take the Regerator down by myself, no vision required”

looking around you saw the ally you were previously corralled in before you took one step back.

”see you” 

Jumping from the roof into the alley with your dress made a parachute like effect, gracefully landing on your sandal clad feet onto the stony road.

It seemed the millelith was gone but your guards were frantically searching around the small market square, their obvious hoods looking around the few stalls that were still present from the fight that probably ensued while you were gone. The thought to slip off once more came to your mind only to be abruptly stopped.

Despite the lingering spite of yelan pretty much abandoning you 

Her warning was what stopped you.

you were indifferent about taking down the Regerator at this point; but the overwhelming question of where your three coworkers were.

and hoping the worst wouldn't happen to you as well.

“Lián!”

Galinas iron grip around your arm was all you felt as she dragged you out from the shadows into the bright sunny day.

”Thank Archons we found you”

Fedor quickly rejoined you from behind as he inspected your bare arms and face.

“It should be safe now lady Lián, apparently we were confused for a few other fatuus that were wanted” Fedor began to guide you along with galina towards the main road to the harbor.

”But there shouldn’t be any more interruptions,” Galina chirped from beside you.

nodding was all you could say, or all you were free to say.

[mxtxfanatic]

Fandom Gripe #22: I wish the novel fandom would stop ascribing to Jiang Cheng things that he did not do (at least not alone) to make his character seem like some outstanding model citizen who pulled himself up by his bootstraps instead of the rotten product of wealth and nepotism that he is.

No, Jiang Cheng did not rebuild Lotus Pier on his own. In fact, Lotus Pier didn't need to be rebuilt at all because it was never destroyed. Wen Chao was using it as his supervision office, which is why Wang Lingjiao showed up in the first place:

Wang LingJiao spoke in a tender voice, “Young Master Wen, congratulations for moving into Lotus Pier.” Wen Chao, “What Lotus Pier? Change the name. Bring down any door carved with the nine-petaled lotus crest and replace them with those with the QishanWen Sect’s sun crest! JiaoJiao, come dance for me your best song!”

—Chapt. 59: Poisons, exr

If anything, any "rebuilding" that was done happened after Wei Wuxian defected, as Jiang Cheng remade Lotus Pier to be more extravagant than it originally was:

It was perhaps because too many places had been renewed. The training field was two times larger. Each new building seemed to be taller than the previous, adorned with curving roof decor. It seemed grander than before and had more splendor. But, compared to the Lotus Pier of his memories, it had changed too much. Wei WuXian felt a sense of loss from deep within. He didn’t know whether the old buildings from the past were blocked behind these impressive new buildings or if they were torn down already.

—Chapt. 85: Loyalty, exr

No, Jiang Cheng did not recruit new disciples on his own. He was recruiting on his own during the war for the 3 months that Wei Wuxian had been trapped in the Burial Mounds, as per Wang Lingjiao's musings:

...leaving only Jiang Cheng, who was younger than even Lan XiChen and was still a child born yesterday, who had nobody in his hands but still dared call himself sect leader, holding up the banner of rebellion as he recruited new disciples.

—Chapt. 60: Poisons, exr

But after Wei Wuxian returned, Wei Wuxian had a large hand in disciple recruitment, specifically because of the interest his ghost path garnered amongst cultivators at banquets where they were recruiting, such as the Phoenix Mountain Hunt:

One of the sect leaders spoke in a sour tone, “This time, Lotus Pier is really the center of the show. Almost all of the spirits and corpses were summoned to the YunmengJiang Sect’s grounds. There’d definitely be a number of cultivators interested in them.” ... Someone sneered, “Huh? Interested in them? I don’t think so. To put it simply, they’re interested in Wei WuXian, aren’t they? Didn’t the YunmengJiang Sect grow in fame during the Sunshot Campaign only because of Wei WuXian?”

—Chapt. 70: Departure, exr

Despite the above quote being gossip from jealous cultivators, we know this to be true because after Wei Wuxian defects, cultivators begin to flock to the Burial Mounds to ask to be his disciples, still:

After he found himself in the limelight during a few night-hunts, there really were quite a few people who came for him, hoping that they could be accepted by the ‘patriarch’ and become one of his disciples. The mountains that used to be so deserted suddenly became crowded. None of the fierce corpses Wei WuXian set up on patrol down the mountain would attack on their own. At most, they’d send the person flying and roar their throats out. Nobody got hurt, and so more and more people gathered down Burial Mound.

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

No, Jiang Cheng did not raise Jin Ling on his own. First off, Jin Ling is the heir to the Jin Clan, so him being raised wholly by Jiang Cheng would make absolutely no sense. Which is why nowhere does the novel say this happens; Jin Ling spends his time split between Lanling and Lotus Pier:

When Jin Ling was young, he was brought up by two sects. He lived at the LanlingJin Sect’s Jinlin Tower half the time, and the YunmengJiang Sect’s Lotus Pier the other half, so he should be carrying belongings from both sects.

—Chapt. 38: Grasses, exr

(However—and this is just my conjecture—I doubt the overtly homophobic and sexist Jiang Cheng would personally go about changing the diapers of a child who only knew him to be merciless and cold:

From the beginning of his memory until now, Jin Ling had never seen such a look on Jiang Cheng’s face before. This uncle of his who led the prominent YunmengJiang Sect ever since a young age had always been cold and dark. When he spoke, he was willing to neither show mercy nor do good.

—Chapt. 23: Malice, exr

Rich people have servants for a reason.)

No, Jiang Cheng does not spend his time helping the people of Yunmeng. He really does spend a good deal of his time fobbing off his duty to the people (not unusual for a large sect) in favor of hunting down and torturing people (very unusual, the reason why his citizens prefer to pray to gods) who either had the surname Wen or that he suspected of either being possessed by Wei Wuxian because they remind him of the latter, which extends to people who use his inventions:

Jiang Cheng spoke grimly, “Break his legs? Haven’t I told you? If you see this sort of evil and crooked practice, kill the cultivator and feed him to your dogs!”

—Chapt. 7: Arrogance, exr

Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive [Jiang Cheng] or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. After thinking it through, he made a gesture. The disciples understood his intention and came over.

—Chapt. 10: Arrogance, exr

The owner, “Young Masters, you’re not from Yunping City so you don’t know. The Jiang Sect is responsible for all of us along the Yunmeng area. The Sect Leader’s got quite a bad temper. It’s almost frightening. His subordinate’s said so a long time ago. Only one sect is in charge of such a large area. Each day, there are almost a hundred cases of small ghosts or other creatures pulling pranks on the living and all that. If every single small thing had to be dealt with immediately, would there be enough time and energy? Those that don’t kill anyone aren’t malign spirits, and we’re not supposed to disturb them with trivial matters that aren’t malign spirits.” She complained, “What is this supposed to mean? Wouldn’t it be too late if we waited until somebody’s died to find them?!” ... The owner continued, “On top of that, Lotus Pier is truly a scary place. How would anyone dare go there again?” Wei WuXian moved his gaze from Lan WangJi’s calm face with a short pause of surprise, “Lotus Pier is scary? How could Lotus Pier be scary? You’ve been there?” The owner, “I haven’t been there myself, but I know someone who went because his house was being badly haunted. But it was all bad luck. That Sect Leader Jiang was cracking a glowing whip right on the training field. The victim’s flesh and blood flew as high as his screams! A servant secretly informed him that the sect leader caught the wrong person again, that he hadn’t been in a great mood, and that he definitely shouldn’t be irritated in any way. He was so scared that he dropped off the gifts he brought and fled at once. He never dared visit again.” Wei WuXian had long since heard of how Jiang Cheng had been searching for cultivators of the ghost path who seemed like they seized another’s body, taking all of them into Lotus Pier to be tortured and questioned. The owner’s friend probably just happened to have ran into him when he was letting off steam. It wasn’t hard to imagine how hideous Jiang Cheng would’ve looked, so no wonder a normal person would make a run for it. ... The owner, “No, no. It was his misfortune. The person’s surname was Wen, and that Sect Leader Jiang’s archenemy happened to have the surname of Wen as well. He’s hating on everyone in this world whose surname is Wen. Whenever he sees one, he’d grind his teeth in hatred, wanting to skin them alive. How could he give a single friendly look to...”

—Chapt. 92: Longing, exr

The time he isn't spending hunting down people to torture, he uses to trail after Jin Ling on nighthunts to make sure nothing happens to him.

Wei WuXian, “Huh? Jiang Cheng? How did you run into him while night-hunting?” Lan SiZhui, “We invited Young Master Jin to join our night- hunt last time, so...” Wei WuXian immediately understood. One could even guess that while Lan SiZhui led the group in the night-hunt, Wen Ning naturally wouldn’t be idle either. He must’ve followed them in the dark to protect them, so that he could provide assistance when they encounter danger during the night-hunt. Jiang Cheng must’ve been sneaking behind Jin Ling as well, scared something would happen to him again.

—Chapt. 116: Banquet Extra, exr

Any other "single jiujiu!jc who don't need no man!" fanon I'm missing?

[the-lonelybarricade]

What Do You Know About Love - (6/?)

Summary: When Elain discovers a centuries old love letter, written in secret and never sent, she decides that she's going to be the one to finally deliver it. Even if finding its intended recipient means going on a mission with Lucien Vanserra. Set post ACoSF.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 6: Fearless

Chapter 6 - Leaning Against the Sun

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter

-

“Do you even know how to embroider?”

It was the first question Lucien asked once they were alone. He'd propped himself against one of the large white-stone columns in the central room of their connecting suites. An upward spiral was carved into the surface at his back, as if a great giant had once taken hold of it on either end and twisted.

He was surveying Elain as she wandered the spacious suite they’d be sharing for the indefinite future.

“Of course I do,” she said, roaming curiously toward the ivory fountain sprouting from a small water basin in the center of the room. It featured an eagle with its wings splayed to their full length, cawing to the sky. Water spouted from its beak, forming a glistening arch that streamed back into the basin below. The eagle gripped two copper cups in its talons, presumably for drinking.

“So she can read and embroider,” Lucien drawled. “A woman of many talents.”

“I can throw, too,” she said, lifting one of the cups from the stone eagle’s talons. “It would serve you well to keep that in mind.”

“Can and will hold vastly different meanings, Elain. Don’t make threats you don’t intend to keep.”

She surveyed the cup in her hand and briefly considered lobbing it towards his head. Those sorts of violent thoughts didn’t occupy her mind often, but— “You sound as if you want me to.”

“I would find it very amusing,” he admitted.

Then she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. With a small huff, Elain pivoted her back to him, a clear statement that he was being ignored as she placed her cup beneath the eagle’s spouting beak. The metal rang pleasantly through the chamber as it began filling with water.

“I wouldn’t drink that,” Lucien cautioned, pushing off the column. She raised her head just enough to watch him dodge two heavy clay pots of lotus flowers in her periphery. Their scent wended through his as he passed, carrying over a sweet and masculine combination that made her mouth go a bit dry.

“Why?” Elain raised the cup higher for inspection.

She feared he would come up beside her, yet was strangely disappointed when he deposited himself atop one of the four chaise lounges around the fountain, pushing aside a pair of brightly dyed pillows to join the hundreds of others scattered across the floor.

“They do things differently in the Day Court,” Lucien said, plucking a berry from one of the small, circular tables laden with fruit. Rather than eat it, he burst it between his thumb and forefinger, spreading berry juice over his hands. “Here, their daily life is much more… communal. Meals, baths, prayer, grooming, it's all done in shared company. Whereas these private rooms are typically only used for two things.” He offered her a lazy grin. “Fucking or sleeping.”

Elain flinched. The way he said that word, the way it rolled off his tongue. She was thankful the room was dark, so he couldn’t see the bumps shivering down her flesh. The sun had only just started its descent, but its light was held back by the thick drapes pulled firmly shut across each archway leading out of the center room.

Through the closed archway in the middle, she could see a thin seam of sunshine, threatening to flood the chamber if she pulled back the red cloth. It must have led outside, or at least to a brighter room.

No doors, she’d noted while the attendant had led them through the palace. No locks. Only drapes.

“You’re crude,” she said.

Lucien shrugged. “It’s the truth. You could choose not to believe me, of course, but you should know that any food or drink in this room is intended to further those two purposes.” He grabbed a fig off the table and held it towards her, his fingers still dripping in juice. “Would you like to discover which?”

The only light radiated from the small domed fire pits hanging by golden chains in each corner. It was warm and sensual in what she imagined consistent with all things in the Day Court. And it did no service to her now, gilding his silhouette so that he was glowing like some ancient Sun God, descending from the heavens to tempt her into wickedness.

She met his eyes, ignoring his offering. “What happens if I drink the water?”

“It’s not water,” he crooned.

“What happens if I drink it?”

He arched a single red brow. “Are you brave enough to find out?”

“You’re insufferable,” she complained.

“You’re stalling.”

Elain stared at the bronze mug in her hand. “They used to warn us that if you eat or drink anything in Faerie, you’d be trapped there forever.”

If you drink Faerie wine, you’ll be stuck for all of time.

It was too late for her now, Elain supposed.

Lucien’s eyes glittered with humor. “When Feyre first came here, she believed I couldn’t speak an Untruth.”

“A laughable concept, indeed.”

“Lady,” he chided, placing a hand on his chest in mock offence. “I always speak nothing but plain truth.”

Elain waved the mug pointedly between them. “And yet, you still won’t tell me what it will do.”

He looked at the mug in her hands and laughed under his breath. “It will feel like swallowing starlight. You’ll see and taste the world in colour and song. And then you’ll be so drunk I’ll probably need to fish you out of the reflection pool like a soaked kitten.”

“It’s alcohol, then,” she said, sniffing it. At most, it smelled like rosewater. Or a warm breeze sweeping through a summer garden.

“Something like it.”

“And the fig?” She reached for it, but Lucien snatched it away.

“This…” A flush crawled up the column of his throat. He shook his head, setting it back on the round table. “I really wouldn’t recommend eating. The Day Court loves their aphrodisiacs.”

Oh. Elain studied the pile of fruit with renewed horror, noting the sheer amount they’d been supplied. Helion didn’t know she’d be coming, but he had known Lucien would be. A wretched part of her couldn’t help wondering if the supply of aphrodisiac was customary for every room, or if there was some precedent of Lucien’s past visits to the Court.

He knew what they were used for, afterall.

“You barely got any sleep last night,” he said. The humor and teasing had dropped away, and now he was looking at her with something close enough to concern that her chest tightened. “Maybe it would be best to save the ambrosia for another time?”

Ambrosia. Elain sniffed again. Did it come from flowers, as its rosy scent suggested? There wasn’t anything like that she knew of in the Night Court. Not that she imbibed very much outside of the polite glass of wine. Certainly not like Feyre’s Inner Circle.

Lucien was right in that she was tired. The weight of her body was setting in, her limbs heavy in odd places and practically begging for the reprieve of sleep. But she thought it sounded pathetic to finally leave the Night Court and spend her first night in bed before dinner.

She was here to find the letter’s recipient, but also because she wanted to push herself out of the comfort of familiarity she so often clung to. Nesta and Feyre so easily flung themselves into this new world, with all of its strange rules and customs. And Elain knew she was doing herself a disservice by hanging on to the human world as much as she was.

In the Night Court, they humored her human inclinations, but she expected it would be much more difficult to ignore the Fae world here. Where the food was spelled with magic and the fountains flowed with ambrosia and her mate would sleep on the other side of a piece of cloth.

Elain wanted to be brave about it all, the way her sisters were.

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien said, his eyes widening as she pressed the copper rim to her lips and tilted her head back. “Enough,” he hissed, lunging forward to stop her from drinking it all, but it was too late.

The cup was empty.

She giggled as she showed it to him, then dropped it to the floor with a clatter.

Lucien groaned. “Elain. A sip of that would have been enough to send you on your ass.”

He wasn’t wrong about the starlight. Her veins were filling up with it, bursting with the first rays of the sun. She tipped her head back and released a long breath, feeling her lungs empty. And when she breathed in, it was the scent of summer skies and woodsmoke that filled her chest.

Lucien watched her warily from where he’d sat up on the chaise lounge, blinking with eyes that smouldered like pools of molten copper and gold. His hair glistened in the low-faelight, coils of hot metal, and below his skin—she’d never seen it before, but she swore that light was shining beneath his cheeks.

He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

The wariness in his expression cracked, spreading into a smugness she pretended to loath, though her heart fluttered at the sight.

“Thank you,” he said.

Oh gods. Had she said that aloud?

“Maybe I should let you drink more often.”

Elain covered her burning cheeks beneath her palms, her balance swaying. “I didn’t know it would set in this quickly.”

“You drank an entire mug.”

He stood up, reaching like he intended to steady her, but Elain clambered back—and nearly collapsed over a marble bench in her attempt to escape him. She fell against it with a hardened oomph, the breath rushing out of her all at once.

Lucien’s hands settled on her shoulders before she had the chance to tumble backwards. “Easy,” he said. “Why don’t I take you to bed?”

“While I’m uninhibited?” She said, with a soft hiccup. “That’s not very polite of you, Lucien.”

“Is that to say you’d find the idea tempting?” He smirked. “How curious, the way your true thoughts come out now.”

He was teasing her again and she couldn’t even remember why she was supposed to be bothered by it. His face was so close to hers, hovering just above while his warmth bled into her shoulders. And she remembered what it felt like to kiss him, the way his tongue felt sweeping into her mouth, how she'd memorized the taste.

It would be so easy to do that again, she thought. Just tip her head and her lips would be against his and it would feel so good.

“You kissed me on the Solstice,” she said, staring at his lips. They were a soft burgundy color, the bottom more full than the top—but only slightly. She knew if she sunk her teeth into them, he would make the most delicious groan.

Lucien’s eyes darkened. “I did.”

“And then you left.”

He searched her face. “I told you I would.”

“You never came back.”

“No,” he said, voice solemn. “But you never called on me.”

“I wrote a letter,” she said, finally dragging her eyes away from his sinful mouth. To meet his. “But I never found the courage to send it.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Lucien swiped one of his thumbs higher, arching it over her shoulder to the start of her collarbone. Then back. Elain’s eyes fluttered shut, relishing in the trail of exploding heat he left in his wake.

“Is that why you want to deliver this letter?” He asked thoughtfully.

Elain opened her eyes, unsurprised to find he was staring at her. “I have a hundred letters I’ve never sent. To you, to Graysen, to old friends from the human realm. I often wonder how different my life would be if I’d had the courage to send them.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to.” That far-off look in his eye said he was recalling a memory, and the wince that followed suggested it was not a pleasant one. “Letters written in haste can cause detriment. Your life may have been different if you’d sent them, but not happier. Not always.”

The sad, self-wallowing letters she’d penned to Graysen would certainly have been humiliating if they’d ever left her writing desk. But was he referring to the letter she’d written to him? Did he think it would have been a mistake to call on him instead of Azriel? She’d ended up calling on neither, in the end.

“Do you think it’s possible?” She asked. “To find the male that the letter was written to?”

Lucien considered the question for a moment, continuing to stroke his thumb at her shoulder as he did. If he kept it up, Elain was certain she’d fall right to sleep.

“I think that sometimes things are better left buried in the past,” he said, finally, his voice soft. “Have you considered that he might have been the one to hide the letter, in the end? You might be delivering a keepsake of his heart’s biggest wound.”

Elain hadn’t considered that. But she shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

“How do you know?”

The iron ring she kept tucked in the drawer of her nightstand was how she knew.

“If he loved her, he would have kept the letter safe. And I think they did love each other.”

“I suppose so,” he said, with a certain melancholy that tempted a million questions to her loosened tongue.

She somehow managed to suppress the most personal ones. “Lucien?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I see your hand?”

Lucien drew back to survey her intention. Then he dropped one of his hands from her shoulder, careful to keep her steady with the other, and held his palm into the space between them.

She took his palm in both of hers and was struck immediately by the observation that his hands were so much larger, littered with flecks of scars and calluses that spoke of weapons she’d never seen him wield. The thought of it intrigued her, all the centuries he’d lived that she knew nothing about.

With a featherlight touch, she dragged her fingers from the center of his palm to the tip of his thumb. He shivered at the touch, pulsing a foreign satisfaction through her.

“Helion cut you,” she said, drawing her fingers over the healed wound, aware that he was watching her with unguarded curiosity. “I could smell your blood.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

Elain clenched her teeth. “It made me angry.”

“It was just a small cut.”

“I know,” she said, blinking at the healed-over skin. There was no scar to show for it. She swallowed. “But I wanted to kill him for it.”

Lucien’s voice was strained. “I don’t think that would have gone over very well.”

“Why did he do it?”

“I thought he was doing it to taunt me,” Lucien admitted. “But now I think he might have been testing you. And you did a good job hiding it—I thought you didn’t care.”

A familiar burn kindled behind her eyes. Elain sniffed. “You keep saying that.” Her fingers tightened around his. “It’s not true.”

“I believe you,” Lucien said, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss atop the crown of her head. “Let me take you to bed. That ambrosia will make you drop like a stone any minute.”

Elain shook her head, but Lucien grabbed her anyway, lifting her into his arms like she was as light as air. If she thought his scent was heady from a distance, it was nothing compared to having her nose pressed against the junction of his neck and shoulder. She took a deep inhale that she knew wasn’t subtle when his chest shook with laughter.

“Don’t mock me for this in the morning,” she said, tucking her face tighter against him. He was so warm. So solid where he cradled her against his body.

“I would never dream of mocking you, Lady.”

Liar, she thought. Or maybe she said it out loud again because Lucien snorted. She couldn’t believe that Feyre had ever believed he was incapable of telling an untruth. Of all the fae she’d met, he was easily the most mischievous.

Lucien said nothing as he carried her into one of the adjoining bedrooms, brushing aside the cloth drape to reveal a dim bedroom. She squinted, but was unwilling to raise her head from its comfortable resting place against his shoulder to examine the room in any true detail.

“I can hear your heart,” she whispered to him.

He paused when they came to the bed. She thought at first he must have been debating how to set her down politely, but the longer he stood without moving, she realized it was something else. He didn’t want to let go.

That was fine by her. He was warm. Warmer than she imagined the bed would be.

“I can fall asleep like this,” she told him, shutting her eyes. “If I do, will you promise to carry me all night?”

Lucien laughed, but he made no such promise. At least not one that she heard. The warmth was beginning to consume her, blurring at the edges of her thoughts until they fizzled away. And all that was left was the heat and scent and presence of her mate, and his steady heartbeat counting her slowing breaths as it lowered her, gently, into darkness.

[indiatrendzs]

Celebrate Shravan Month with Exquisite Shiva-Inspired Décor and Custom Carved Doors

As the auspicious month of Shravan approaches, Mogul Interior is excited to introduce our unique collection of Shiva-inspired décor and custom carved doors. This collection includes dancing Shiva figures, Shiva the Yogi elements, and intricately carved door panels featuring Shiva & Lingam motifs. Perfect for enhancing your home’s spiritual ambiance or as a thoughtful gift for a new house, our…

[armandisdaddy]

A Viper and A Dragon

Chapter 2- A Dance With A Dragon

[Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x OC Fem Reader]

[Content/Warnings:p in v penetration, virginity, cunnilingus, fingering, saliva kink, and rough love making. (breeding kink)]

Today was the day Allyria would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t terrified. She spent most of her morning pacing in her room. Planning some type of escape only to throw out the idea moments later. Her stomach flipped over and over making her queasy. She sighed to herself hearing her handmaiden knock on the door to start getting her ready for the celebration right before the ceremony. “Lady Allyria I’m going to get your bath started for you and the Queen has picked out these two dresses for your to wear to represent the House you will be joining she said.” And of course they were horribly modest and dark. Not like anything you’d ever wear. She couldn’t even let her wear red that was their colors as well.

“Put those ugly garments away I won’t be wearing any of that. I’m sure my betrothed wouldn’t mind if I continued to dress the way I did when I came. And I don’t think it even matters tonight. It will just be coming off now wouldn’t it?” Her handmaiden nodded not protesting the idea she merely smiled at her ladies words about their wedding night. After her bath Allyria put on a gold dress made from a rare reflective fabric only made in Dorne. The garment was light and felt like a feather on her body, but clung to her skin showing off every curve. Her hair was braided intricately and pinned up with golden hair pins with dragons carved into the metal and rubies to dot the eyes. She put on an oil that made her smell of citrus and sandalwood and as she looked at herself in the mirror she had never seen herself look so beautiful…so radiant.

She admired herself a while longer before another knock was heard and her mother entered the room. “Oh my…little lotus you look so beautiful.” She held her hands and pulled her in for a hug whispering in her ear. “I’m going to miss you so much, my girl.” Allyria tried to keep her tears at bay it was supposed to be a happy evening for her and her family. Anisa pulled away wiping away her own tears and regaining her composure. “Forgive me, it will be time for the celebration to begin we need to go down to the hall now.” Allyria took a deep breath and grabbed onto her mothers arm leaning her head on her shoulder as they made their way down.

The hall was filled with music and laughter as Allyria and her mother made their entrance all music and dancing came to a halt when the guards announced their arrival. King Viserys lifted his goblet to her while the green queen as Allyria liked to call her sulked beside him noticing she hadn’t worn either dress she picked out. Daemon sat by his brother, but quickly stood to take her hand helping Allyria to the table. His eyes pierced into her soul burning with desire as they flitted about her dress. He kissed her hand and as they say he whispered into her ear. “Remember..you’re mine tonight..” His breath hitting her neck caused a shiver to run up her spine.

She stayed quiet but her eyes told a very telling story. He smiled as their eyes met and kissed her cheek. Soon the music began to play again; it was a song from her homeland and she looked to Daemon grabbing his hand. “I’d like to dance…my love.” He stood to his feet and waited for her to stand before he led her onto the dance floor. The ocean of people on the floor parted like the narrow sea and made room for The Rogue Prince and his soon to be bride. They bowed before one another and he noticed the hair piece in her hair. “A dragon with rubies for eyes…an amazing choice my little viper.” She smiled as they moved around one another. He wasn’t too familiar with the dance so she led him so no one saw him miss a beat. His lilac eyes burned into her honey colored eyes and she could feel her heart pounding the closer they became. He swiveled her around letting her back touch his chest. His hand gripped into her hip pressing his crotch into. “You are a little mynx you know.” He whispered into her ear and it sent a shiver up her spine. “How so my dragon we are only dancing?” He inhaled her scent and soon the dance ended they bowed again and he took her off to the side to “get her a drink”. They found themselves in a hall cut off from the party even though the loud laughter of their guests and music could be heard.

“Why did you lead me out here, Daemon?” He hadn’t said a word he just pulled her in for a kiss and she obliged. The music from the celebration seemed to have quieted as if they were in their own bubble. She felt fluttering in her stomach and her cunt moistened from his wandering hands. “You look amazing tonight. Good enough to eat actually.” She placed her hands on his chest and giggled. “You will soon…I’m just as anxious..” He lifted the skirt of her dress and found that delicious pool of nectar. Letting his fingers rub along the folds of her cunt. “I was thinking now..” He felt her muscles pushing against his fingers but slowly giving way to them as they began to penetrate her. He pushed her against a wall letting his fingers curl in and out of her. “My little viper is still a maiden I see. I plan on making your first orgasm a beautiful one.” She struggled to keep her moans for echoing down the hall but Gods did Daemon make it hard. He smiled watching her struggle with the pleasure she was receiving and smiled even more once she came on his fingers. He placed his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean. “Delicious…” he groaned while Allyria was seeing stars little did she know the pleasure she was about to receive tonight was going to be even more intense. “Come I think they’re starting to notice our absence.”

Once the celebration was over it was time for the ceremony and that was the nerve wracking part. Allyria’s mind was racing and her heart pounded against her chest. This was the man she would be bonded to for life and she was afraid that he would eventually get bored with her. She knew his heart was truly set on Rhaenyra. She had hoped that maybe she’d be able to sway his heart in a different direction after tonight. He noticed she was in her head and as they held hands his thumb rubbed her knuckle to ease her shivering. She was taken from her thoughts and looked to him seeing nothing but warmth in those eyes. Her breath hitched and maybe she’d fallen in love right there…or maybe she’d always had been. But that moment between them sealed it for her.

The ceremony was over and now they were husband and wife. She was making small talk with her family and the new editions but her dearest husband had other things in mind. He quickly took her hand and whisked her away. “Daemon…that was so rude..” he chuckled looking back at her with this mischievous smile. “I’m going to have you now…fuck formalities and politeness. I will be spilling my seed in that pretty little cunny of yours tonight over and over until I’ve had my fill…now come.” She was hushed by such a straightforward statement. Her cheeks flushed with red and her stomach was in knots the whole way to their chambers. They entered the room it was pitch black inside with only the moon peaking through to shine somewhat of a light inside. He slipped behind her wrapping his arms around her waist leaving soft kisses against the nape of her neck hungry for her. She was all he could think about since she got here and he thought of the this moment for days on end. His hands ran over her dress feeling how the thin fabric clung to her flesh. He could feel how supple her skin felt beneath the warmth gracing his cool finger tips. He dared slide his hand underneath such thin fabric feeling her soft breasts…warm round mounds that filled his hand perfectly. He squeezed them and Allyria stifled out a moan and he growled into her ear pressing his already hard member against her lower back.

He quickly turned her about to face him and the light caught those amethyst colored eyes and they seemed to glow when he looked down at her. “Iksā sīr gevie.” (You are beautiful.). She was lost for words but smiled letting the back of her hand slowly caress his face. He leaned into her touch and seemed to melt from it. “I beg hen ao vūjigon nyke. ” (I beg of you please kiss me…). She spoke breathlessly still feeling his strong hands grabbing and caressing her body frantically. He didn’t even care to ask when she picked up on his families language all he needed was her permission and it was granted. His lips crashed into hers, so deliciously sweet. He gave in to every animalistic urge he hand felt the moment he laid eyes on her. He kept her dress on and picked her up carrying her to the bed they now shared. He laid her down and laid between her legs letting his hand grip onto her lusciously thick thigh. The grip he had on it would surely leave a mark or two. Her lifted and spread her legs and saw the pathetic excuse of the loin cloth she wore trying to keep him away from what was rightfully his. He planned on ripping it to shreds but in the mean time he decided to take things slowly. He laid beside her with his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close. With her legs spread and her chest heaving he smiled at the view he saw before him. Absolutely magnificent…he licked his lips hungrily and let the pads of his fingertips run over her undergarment. She hissed and reveled in how sensitive she was already. He found the small lump that was to be that delicate ball of nerves and he rubbed around it in circles. She was clinging to him sweet and soft noises left her. And she leaned into him moaning right into his ear. He smiled having her writhing in complete bliss. Her garment began to get wet and sticky with her sweet slick and pushed it to the side spreading that sweet mound open. He inhaled her scent once more and his eyes darkened kissing her once more before slithering in between her legs. “Such a sweet little cunny I have before me. Would my lady wife mind if I had a taste…hmm?” Allyria trembled but did not protest. And with that Daemon began his attack. He let the flat of his tongue lick against her clitorous intensely slow and her legs immediately began to shake and they would not stop. She was a bit embarrassed by this but he smiled up and her and continued to drink her sweet nectar and enjoy her becoming like clay in his hands. His middle finger dipped into her core and began pumping in and out of her feeling and hearing her pleasure running through her. Her removed his cock from his breeches and began to stroke himself while he worked on her. He couldn’t take how beautiful and sinfully delicious she was and his cock was paying the price being confined to such a tight space. He laid between her legs and finally lifted that veil of fabric off of her body. Letting him see her completely and totally and he loved what he saw. Her body was made just for him. The way she fit in his hands, she was gift from the seven themselves.

He laid soft kisses along her lips, jawline, neck and all the way down to her shoulder. He looked into her gorgeous brown hues and kissed her lips once more. “I’m dying to bury my cock inside your cunt my love…may I?” Allyria was nervous she couldn’t hide it but she was indeed ready. “Take me…my prince.” He took one of her nipples into his mouth and slowly prodded at the entrance of her core letting his cock enter as her tight walls gave way to him. She winced from the slight discomfort and he held her tighter laying soft kisses on his chest and shoulders to soften the pain a bit. He groaned at how tight she held onto him while he was trying to give her time to adjust. His lilac eyes watched her face as it changed to many different emotions while he slowly began to thrust into her. He mouth was agape and he smiled seeing her eyes change once she realized it began to feel good. His hand gripped her ass tightly holding her in place my while his cock was making her body go insane. He groaned and hissed while her slick soaked his breeches and her tight grip dared not let him go. He began to pick up the pace pushing her knees closer to her chest he growled like an animal nipping and licking her tits. While his lady wife could barely think straight. “That’s it take my cock like a good little wife. I couldn’t wait to have just like this pinned under me…taking my cock so well. I can’t wait to fill you up with my seed and make your belly round with my children. How beautiful you will be…even more irresistible than you are now….” She was in shock but the thought of him filling her with his babies and keeping her that way didn’t sound so bad. “Oh…gods…please give me your seed my love. I want to give you as many babies as you can put in me.” His eyes rolled and he began to buck wildly knowing that he was a few moments away from drowning her pussy in cum. Her stomach tightened and her body began to shake until she was orgasming allover him and his cock was throbbing while he spilled every last drop of his seed inside her womb. He stayed inside her as they laid together. She was somehow still full of energy and he felt like he had given her everything he had. “My dearest husband I know you’re tired but you did promise we’d do this more than once and do want to give you a son badly. I’m sure my dragon wants a few of his own yes?” He smiled and let her climb on top of him. “Well my lady I will let you take the lead this time how does that sound?” She smiled with mirth and slowly bucked her hips forward while he caressed her body and let his hands wander whenever they wished…this would continue until the sun began to rise and let’s just say in a months time the viper and the dragon were waiting on a babe to arrive.

….THE END

[shamera]

An Oar Upon the Water (MLC ficlet)

Fandom: Mysterious Lotus Casebook Character/Pairing(s): Di Feisheng / Li Lianhua / Fang Duobing Rating: PG Warning: none? fluff! DreamWidth link

"There are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water." -Kate Chopin

Despite his reputation, Li Lianhua didn’t always work as a physician for money.

Of course he didn’t, not when he saw sick children lining the streets or parents offering what little they had if only someone would help— and he could help. Perhaps it was unwise to use his Yangzhouman in those cases, but he once tried to make the world a better place and it turned out to be a habit hard to break.

For the poorer families, he often got cases of vegetables (he would accept seeds for payment as well) or whatever homemade kits of items they could afford to give away. Once, a young girl gifted him with a tiny wood carving for helping her injured brother.

“It’s my favourite,” she lisped in a mock-whisper, holding it up for him with both hands. She was missing at least two of her front teeth, and had her hair barely contained in a childish bun on the side of her head. “Brother made it for me.”

Li Lianhua had knelt before her to keep her at eye level, a little tired but not overly so from his session. “You should keep it, then. It must be worth more than anything in the world.”

She brightened at his acknowledgement, all but thrusting the little wood piece at his chest. “It is! But you have it, okay? Brother can make a new one for me now.”

And thus Li Lianhua ended up with various knick-knacks in Lotus Tower that he just couldn’t bear to throw away.

—

After the cumulation of everything, Li Lianhua returned to Lotus Tower filled with trepidation. With nothing else to do (he had practically been ordered under house arrest! He was rarely left alone, and even when he was, Hulijing barked loudly every time he walked outside the door!), he found himself organising boxes and drawers in an attempt to keep busy.

By the time Fang Duobing came back, slouching a little from exhaustion from dealing with angry officials who could hardly believe the results (and arrests) from a case, he found Li Lianhua in the middle of a chaotic mess on the ground, piles of random trinkets thrown atop the table and chairs and floor.

“What are you doing?” The younger man asked, mentally despairing at the idea of cleaning all that up in order to make room for dinner. He crept close, toeing the mess warily.

It was Hulijing, sprawled across Li Lianhua’s lap for a nap, who twitched an ear and acknowledged Fang Duobing’s presence first, opening a single eye and then huffing a breath before going back to her nap.

Li Lianhua, on the other hand, took a long moment before he looked up from his inventory, ink dotting the edge of his sleeves as he examined several wooden objects before picking up the wet brush that was resting a little too close to his clothes and writing something down on paper. He looked up only after he was finished.

“Xiaobao,” he acknowledged warmly. “How did it go?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Fang Duobing replied, raising his chin proudly. He leaned over a large stack of books on the table. “What are you doing?”

“Organising.” Li Lianhua responded absentmindedly, and then paused. He gestured Fang Duobing forward with a hand. “Come here.”

It took him a moment to carefully step over the mess, and then lean down as Li Lianhua gestured him closer again, waiting as the man took one of the small wooden pieces and pressed it against the nearly empty plate of ink set on the side of the floor. Then Li Lianhua grabbed him by the hand and pressed the wooden bit against his skin.

“Good job on the last case.” Li Lianhua told him, and then lifted the wooden piece, making a pleased noise at what it revealed.

Fang Duobing lifted his hand, at first bothered by the ink stain and then amused as he saw the six petal flower impression left on his skin. “Thanks. What’s this?”

“I couldn’t figure out the shape of it.” Li Lianhua told him, setting the wooden stamp back down on the ground.

Fang Duobing gave only a moment’s dubious glance at the paper next to Li Lianhua, and then decided to ignore the small lie. He was coming to realise how Li Lianhua would speak, truth and lies mixed together in the grand scheme of things at all times, and this was one of those moments where he was deflecting with a small lie, one that was far too easy to pick out. It had taken him months originally to realise: Li Lianhua was actually a pretty bad liar.

“Is that a seal?” Fang Duobing asked, lifting his hand to better examine the shape. The petals were roughly carved, and the ink was slightly blotchy, bleeding a bit onto his skin already. It was cute, the size no bigger than a fingernail. “Did you make it?”

Li Lianhua shook his head absentmindedly. “Given to me, I think.”

Fang Duobing made a considering noise, and thought about Li Lianhua pressing the stamp against his skin to tell him he did a good job. “I’ll get you a better one. Something lotus-shaped. And cinnabar ink.”

“What use would I have for that?” Li Lianhua asked. He was already examining something else in the pile next to him, head turned away. “I have no official documents to sign.”

Fang Duobing gave a considering hum as he examined the flower on his hand, and smiled. “I’ll get you one, anyway.”

—

Wuyan paused in his daily report as Di Feisheng turned his head slightly to read the document next to him with the same apparent disinterest as usual.

“Ahh.” He blinked as his leader’s gaze turned toward him at the uncharacteristic hesitation. “Apologies, Director. You have, ahh—”

Di Feisheng was dressed impeccably as always, deep violet robes underneath a thick patterned black overrobe held tightly together by black leather wrist guards and belt, both sewn with silver edging. Everything was put together well, perfectly groomed, and his hair was in its familiar crown, yet—

Wuyan pointed to his own cheek and said, “You seem to have something here.”

The ‘something’ was barely more than a smudge of ink, but one that formed the shape of a six petaled flower, only the slightest bit smeared.

Surprisingly, the Jinyuan Alliance leader smiled slightly. “Yes.”

Wuyan cleared his throat, and decided not to comment on it further. Considering Di Feisheng had come back for the reports directly from Lotus Tower, very little was going to actually surprise Wuyan at this point.

He’d just have to ensure no one else commented on it later.

—

When Di Feisheng made his way back to Lotus Tower just after the sun set, the floor was cleared of clutter once more, everything orderly and tidy and wiped clean. The fire under the kettle was lit, the flame small but bright and warm in the autumn evening. There were several pots bubbling happily, emitting smells of herbs and medicine that stung his nose slightly.

Li Lianhua was seated next to the pots, hunched over slightly and mending a rip in some dark green robes, rattan fan set down next to him.

“Where’s the brat?” Di Feisheng asked in lieu of a greeting, seating himself next to Li Lianhua.

“Xiaobao took Hulijing down to the stream,” Li Lianhua responded, not bothering to look up from his task. “And since you have your hands free, you can help me fan the pots.”

Di Feisheng thought of refusing for only a moment (mostly to see Li Lianhua's reaction) but then took up the fan, keeping his movements slow enough to feed the flames but not fast enough to agitate. He watched as Li Lianhua carefully mended the rip with a dark thread, and then finally tied off the end with a clumsy double knot before snipping the excess and smoothing out the fabric triumphantly.

“That should do it,” Li Lianhua said. “Before I put this away, did you have— A’Fei.”

Di Feisheng raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, still fanning.

Li Lianhua raised a sleeve to hide his smile. “You didn’t wipe it off? I thought you were angry at Fang Xiaobao for that. Should I—?”

“Leave it.” Di Feisheng said, halting Li Lianhua’s movement toward a rag. “It’s fine.”

“Did anyone else see it?”

Of course they did. Di Feisheng hadn’t exactly hidden from his meetings. None other than Wuyan dared to comment on the flower mark on his face.

“I should have hidden it,” Li Lianhua continued, tone amused.

“Where did you put it, then?”

Li Lianhua indicated toward the dresser by the door, close enough they could reach it without getting up. “I covered the ink earlier.”

Di Feisheng leaned over, reaching across over Li Lianhua’s warm back to grab the little wooden stamp, and then took a moment’s deliberation before grabbing the ink plate as well, pulling it back toward the table. Li Lianhua was watching him with a quirked smile, heading tilted as if questioning what he was doing.

He put the fan down and uncovered the ink plate to dip the stamp in, and then reached toward Li Lianhua even as the man leaned away with a huff of amusement.

“Oh no,” Li Lianhua said. “You don’t get to turn this around on me! I wasn’t the one who left that on your face!”

“Why not?” Di Feisheng asked, taking it as a challenge as he moved to keep the man within reach. “Fang Duobing has this mark too, doesn’t he?”

“He’s probably washed it off by now— A’Fei!”

Di Feisheng darted to reach around the mended robe Li Lianhua was using as a makeshift shield, and feinted in one direction only to push into the other man's personal space, leaving him no room to retreat if he didn’t want to get up from the chair, until Li Lianhua laughed from the sheer absurdity of it and Di Feisheng managed to slip a hand to cup the bottom of his head and gently press the stamp between his brows.

Li Lianhua's smile softened, “A huadian? Really?”

Di Feisheng found himself smiling in return. “It suits.”

Outside, the sounds of paws running on the road reached their ears moments before they heard Fang Duobing call out, “I’m back! We got a lot of fish in the traps— should we smoke it overnight?”

Li Lianhua gave Di Feisheng an amused, challenging look as the latter let him go and pulled back just as the door opened to let both Fang Duobing and Hulijing inside from the cold.

“Lao Di!” Fang Duobing greeted cheerfully. He was carrying a stick laden with fish tied to the end, arm bracers missing and his sleeves rolled up slightly to expose his forearms. “When did you get back?”

Then he took in the scene and stopped in his tracks, laughing at the two men with flower stamps on their faces sitting on the same bench.

Di Feisheng was gracious enough to let the young man laugh for several long moments before he handed the wooden stamp to Li Lianhua and commented casually, “I’ll hold him down.”

Li Lianhua accepted the object graciously, also taking the entire ink plate as Di Feisheng stood up. “Alright.”

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re not serious, are you? Wait!”

Li Lianhua smiled and made sure to press the stamp down extra hard in the ink.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Azul Ashengrotto Masquerade Dress Personal Story: Part 1

"A simple, mysterious talisman."

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Noble Bell College]

Azul: Sigh… My plan was to thoroughly enjoy this visit to the City of Flowers, but we were truly in a pinch last night.

Azul: Thanks to all that running around exterminating the crimson lotus flowers, my muscles are sore everywhere, and I hardly was able to sleep, so I'm just terribly tired… Yaaawn…

Azul: However, I've come all this way to the City of Flowers. I must explore every nook and cranny of this city and gather any ideas that may be a boon to my businesses.

Azul: Unlike the other students, I have no time to relax or lounge about until the masquerade. Alright, let's quickly head towards the town.

[City of Flowers]

Azul: My, the people of the City of Flowers sure have cultivated a wonderful entrepreneurial spirit!

Azul: I cannot believe that despite the frantic commotion caused by the crimson lotus flowers last night, the stores have already opened their doors, business as usual.

Azul: Thankfully, that meant I was able to enjoy a nice brunch with dishes made with goat's milk. Now, where should I go next…

Rook: I spy Azul-kun! Bonjour.

Azul: Oh, if it isn't Rook-san. Good morning… Or I suppose it may be a little too late in the day to say that.

Rook: I didn't expect to run into you here in town.

Rook: It is all thanks to the valiant efforts of you and the others that we are able to witness another spectacular morning.

Rook: After facing such grueling tribulations, I'm sure both your body and spirit are completely warn out. Are you sure you don't need to rest in bed?

Azul: Honestly, I would like to sleep, yes… But my desire to explore the City of Flowers far outweighs my exhaustion.

Rook: Fufu, what a coincidence. I've also sprung forth from the confines of my room in order to fully savor this beautiful cityscape.

Rook: What say you? Why not sightsee together, since we've just so happened to meet like this?

Azul: With you, Rook-san…? Hm. I suppose I'm likely to gain some new insight that I would not have gleaned on my own.

Azul: I'm honored by your invitation. I will gladly join you.

[City of Flowers – Topsy-Turvy Event Hall]

Azul: Despite the fiasco with the Crimson Lotuses, it seems the festival decorations are still up.

Azul: It does look as if we will be able to take in the buildings and scenery now that there aren't as many people around like yesterday.

Rook: It's as you say, Azul-kun. …See, look up.

Azul: Up…?

Azul: Ah. There are some carvings engraved onto the building roofs and even the tops of some pillars.

Azul: Hm…? What is that stone statue there… There seems to be two… no, three faces on its body.

Rook: That is a sculpture of the Kind-Hearted Youth, and his friends. You should take a closer look.

Azul: The Kind-Hearted Youth, and his friends…?

Azul: You're right. When I look closer, several people are clustered together to make a single silhouette of a young woman.

Azul: This one here is the Youth, and this lady was his friend. This other face is some sort of animal… Perhaps a goat?

Rook: Trés Bien! You know your stuff, Azul-kun.

Azul: I suspected as much. I couldn't very well make it out just from looking at it, but…

Azul: The locals here in the City of Flowers take pride in their goats. So I thought it could be…

Azul: However, I'm curious what theme they had in mind when creating this statue. The pose is quite comical, and yet their expressions are very serious…

Rook: Apparently, this figure was made to recreate a well-known incident.

Rook: In an effort to escape from the gaze of some villain, they pretended to be stone statues in perfect sync… Or so this work of art is attempting to portray.

Azul: Ah, I see… When you say it that way, I suppose they do have more of a tense expression on their faces.

Azul: It does seem as though the impression one can glean from this work of art deeply depends on whether you know of this incident taking place or not.

Azul: If you don't mind, Rook-san, may I ask you to teach me more of what you know?

Rook: Fufu, you do know how to fill me with joy. Then, I suppose I shall bring you to this one place I highly recommend.

Azul: Yes, please! Tell me, what is this place you will be taking me?

Rook: You'll see once we get there. Do not worry, I promise you will have a grand time.

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

[revelisms]

Excerpt: Business is Only Theatre

Little Jinx receives an acting lesson.

From 'like leaves of a lotus,' a oneshot following Silco and Jinx on a Topside errand run. Full story on AO3.

They're buzzed through the gates in a flourish of blue light. He taps the corner of his paperwork along the desk, once, twice. Scrapes it away—thinking, thinking—steps echoing over the cold marble. The burly guard seated at the gate's edge doesn't give them a passing glance, tension curling through his shoulders.

They walk on. Their reflection glints in the wide, gold-paned doors of the ground floor elevator bay. She peeks up at him through her hair. "You didn't make an appointment," she whispers, punching her finger into the button.

"The boy didn't know that," Silco whispers back. His eyes are faraway.

The sterility of the building's dry air heightens the sooty-sweet of the Lanes that sticks to his clothes, the hint of cigar smoke that sits beneath it, the lingering touch of his cologne. It's comforting to her, in this awful space. She clings to the familiarity of it, in the whirring of the elevator: in the white of the halls: through each tick-tack of their shoes across too-clean marble. 

They fall still in the threshold of an open door, three rooms down from a sharp corner and a statue depicting the glory of their squashed rebellion—bridge, fire, death, hell—that makes her skin crawl. Inside, a man slumps over a mine of zoning requests in a disorganized room, pen scribbling. It smells of stale cigarettes and antiseptic.

"Marcus." Silco's voice is a satin-cloaked knife.

Their pocketed enforcer flinches; spits, "What—what are you doing here?" with a baffled stare.

Silco steps into the room. Slow, half-minded. She scuttles in behind him.

For a moment, silence clots every breath, sucking out the oxygen by fractions. His fingers tap against the folder of paperwork at his back. "Shut the door, Jinx," he says lowly.

Marcus shoots her a look that stabs with daggered disdain. Any threat in it falls flat. She's faced down too many of those in her short lifetime to care. She glares right back; knocks the door shut behind her with a shove of her foot. 

The clap of its hinges echoes. Another breath. The line of Silco's back is still. The silence of the room changes the air: changes him—and though there is nothing noticeable that shifts in the way he carries himself, his presence plummets, like a toxin slow-released. 

"You're three days late."

Marcus fumbles, splutters. "I've—I had other commitments."

"Other commitments," Silco echoes, mulled over like a twisting dagger. "Interesting." There's resentment, fear, in Marcus's eyes. "I bought you two weeks," Silco rumbles on, stepping closer, and she flattens herself against the door: watches, in morbid fascination, where Marcus leans back in his seat: squeezes his palm around his pen, with a tense breath. "Are you asking for another?"

"No." 

"No?" The repetition boils, like burnt sugar.

Marcus hisses through his teeth. "I'll have it, first thing in the morning."

Silence, for a long moment. She can't imagine what look has passed between them. Something has paled the warmth of Marcus's skin, his eyes frozen upward, a rabbit before a wolf. Silco slips the folder from behind him: tosses it heavily onto the mountain of files already littering the gloss of his desk. "Hudge, Lanceister, and Putnel," he says calmly. "As requested."

Three new-acquired outputs, bought off from the mine operators and a port base down South. She'd seen him pen in profits with enough figures to make her head swim.

A snarl carves minutely through Marcus's mouth, there and gone again. His fingers twist over his pen. His eyes cut up again, a hiss of static.

"First thing in the morning," Silco leaves him with, the water's depths in his voice, "or Sevika will be retrieving it, herself."

The shaky nod given to him is ignored. 

Silco turns, back to her—fire, fury, murder in his eye—to the door she quickly pulls creaking open—and they are leaving, before her mind can catch up with the rush of it. She can't remember which turn they took to find Marcus's office. A pen cracks hard to the floor, somewhere behind them. His hand has found the back of her shoulder: steady, guiding.

The elevator is too quiet. 

She comes back to herself, gradually, with the soft droning of the cables above them. Lifts a quiet glance towards him, swallows. His brow is furrowed: wrath in his tealish eye, where she can catch sight of it, but simmering down, simmering down; the claw-tipped shadow of his wings tucking back into their chrysalis, unseen: the venom on his tongue fading.

It fascinates her, how quickly he can don those pieces of himself, when the time calls for it. Terrifies her. And, in some small way, turns her envious.

(No, you can't control what they think of you. But you can command it.)

She reaches up for his hand, squeezes it slow in her skinny fingers. He squeezes them back, gently.

(Become what they fear.)

She stares hard at the elevator grates as the doors slink open, at the seamless grouting of the marble as they walk the twenty-two steps that stretch between them and the front entry. The guards and attendants leer as they leave.

Outside, back in the blinding winter sun, the bustle of the busy streets, the strangely clean air, she sucks in a breath for the first time. It's as though a stone has lifted from her chest.

They stand in the cool breeze, for a moment. "Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

Her fingers stutter beneath the loose cradle of his own. "I'm—yeah. I'm fine." She frowns. "I'm fine." A million thoughts simmer freely in her, now that they're out of that horrible place—now that she can think. She presses her thumb into his. "How do you do that?"

He seems perplexed, by that. "Do what?"

"I don't know, you—" She waves her hand, the words struggling to come to her. "You just—you change." 

"Ah." He studies the treeline far beyond them: between the towering old buildings, the blue-gray sun. "The world's a stage, little one," he says. "Business is only theatre." He turns a wry glance down at her. "You learn which costumes to put on, over time."

[ace-writer-lani]

Summary:

After being told they had both lost their parents and their memories, Bianca and Nico must stay in a hotel (one that seemed to have everything they could possibly imagine) until the time is right. But are they really just ordinary guests or is there something that they're hiding from? (Or the Di Angelos in the Lotus Hotel & Casino) (SonofPersephone!Nico AU)

Preview:

“We’re here.”

The engine of the car sputtered out once it was fully parked and their lawyer gestured for them to get out with an impatient wave of her hand. At this point, Nico doesn’t think she’s ever done something with patience. Her personality only seemed to be defined by her short, clipped sentences, and the consistent scowl that sagged her face.

After finally freeing himself from his seat belt (which was totally sentient and had totally been trying to strangle him) and nearly face-planting onto the pavement when his foot had caught on said seat belt (he wouldn’t be surprised if being a murderer was one of its aspirations), he came to a stand beside Bianca.

In front of them was a very tall and very loud building. There was music that echoed from inside, being blasted at a volume powerful enough to cause trembles in the ground beneath their feet. Rows of windows lined the walls, with bright lights that were shining through the glass and constantly changed from one color to the next.

Displayed right over the door (which was not a rotating one, thank goodness) was a large sign. It was in the shape of a simple lotus flower, painted a soft shade of pink. There were words carved over it, studded with multiple tiny light bulbs that glowed so bright it was like it was trying to outshine the sun.

The Lotus Hotel & Casino, it read. How creative.

“This is where we’re staying?” Bianca asked, staring flatly at the building.

“Yes,” said Lecto helpfully, not elaborating in the slightest.

“It looks like it’s about to vomit rainbows. Are you sure it’s the right place? I don’t think our parents, or anyone’s parents really, would have written in their will to have their children stay at a casino of all places-”

“What’s a casino?” Nico interjected.

“A place where stupid people gamble all of their money away.”

Nico frowned. Then he leaned towards Bianca to whisper to her. “But we don’t have any money.” She shushed him.

Lecto made some sort of…hissing noise. “Yes, this is the place. Now come if you don’t want to live homeless out on the streets.”

“I don’t think that’s what our parents paid you to do.”

She shot Bianca a glare, harsh enough to get her to shut up before trudging into the building.

Even though Lecto had apparently been close with their parents, she never seemed to like keeping them within the conversation. The only thing about them that she had mentioned was that they had supposedly died in a car crash, the same one that had given him and Bianca enough head trauma for them to lose nearly all their memories.

That was it. If they had any questions on the topic, Lecto immediately shut them down, much to Bianca’s dismay.

As his sister made a move to follow her, Nico stopped. His abrupt stillness jerked Bianca’s arm, causing her to look back at him, brows furrowing.

“Nico? What’s wrong?”

There was a growing tenseness to her voice and she gripped his hand harder. Her gaze flitted to everything around them as if there was some sort of hidden threat she needed to look out for.

He scrunched his face, resisting the urge to sniff because that would disturb the bubbling in his nose.

“I…I have to sneeze.”

Bianca stared at him.

As the bubbling started to grow more intense, he lifted a hand to his mouth. He braced himself for the incoming recoil. However, just as the feeling became large enough to practically explode, it dissipated in an instant, leaving a disappointing emptiness in its place.

“Never mind. I don’t have to anymore.”

“Ma dai,” Bianca sighed, exasperated, “Come on. If we don’t follow Lecto I have a feeling she would actually leave us to be homeless beggars.”

Then without listening to any further argument, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged them both into the hotel, igniting some sort of wave of��déjà vu.

When they stepped inside, they were told to sit on the plush, misshapen chairs in the lobby while Lecto briefly talked to the receptionist. They had only been waiting a few minutes before their lawyer was handed something small and shiny, and she didn’t bother to waste any more time as she made her way back over to them.

“Your room keys.”

Nico took one of the cards while Bianca took the other. It was a small black rectangle, with a print of a sparkly skull etched in the center along with the number 113. “You’re not staying with us?”

“No,” Lecto shook her head, “I’m a lawyer, not a babysitter.”

“If you’re leaving, then how are we supposed to get food? How many nights are we even supposed to stay here? Wouldn’t they kick us out if they realize we have no means of pay?” asked Bianca, crossing her arms, and staring at Lecto with a gaze that was supposed to be intimidating. It didn’t seem to have much effect though.

Lecto grumbled. “You ask too many questions. Here.” She tossed them each a small, black drawstring pouch. “I’ll be back to retrieve you when the time is right, in the meantime, do not leave the building.”

Then she almost seemed to disappear, leaving them alone in the lobby with music playing from every corner of the room.

(Nico was starting to wonder just how much their parents had paid her. Probably not much if she was fine leaving them behind without a second thought.)

Curiosity seemed to draw his attention down to the pouch. It was light despite its bulky look, and when he shook it around there was a faint jingling sound that came from inside. When he finally pulled it open, he gasped.

“Oh my god.” He waved it at Bianca, practically bouncing on his toes in excitement. “Oh mio Dio. We’re rich!”

“You don’t even know how much it’s worth.”

“It’s enough for me to know that we’re rich.”

The sight of the endless amounts of shiny coins and paper bills inside almost made him want to cackle maniacally, like some sort of evil pirate. Forget wooden chests, this was a real treasure. He could rule the world.

Lecto had never told them how much of an inheritance they got from their parents, just that they had one, but it appeared to be a big amount as the money never seemed to end, no matter how far deep he reached into the pouch. He could buy so many things now, like chocolates, books, and more chocolates.

However, his joy was short-lived when Bianca immediately snatched the pouch right out of his grasp.

“Hey!”

“Nope, nuh uh fratellino. I’ll be holding onto this.”

He puffed out his cheeks. The urge to stomp his foot to further express his frustration was strong, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he tried to take back what was rightfully his, but Bianca was still a good few inches taller than him and mercilessly held it above her head, making it practically unreachable.

“That’s not fair!” he cried. Big sisters were mean and thieves. “You have your own, why do you need both?”

“It’s not because I need both-”

“Then gimme.”

“No. It’s because knowing you, you’re going to lose it. Not to mention you don’t know anything about how to spend money responsibly.”

It was very rude of her to make assumptions like that. Plus, it wasn’t like she was that much older than him, so who’s to say she even knew what she was talking about? However, Bianca didn’t give in to his complaints, pocketing both pouches as she took his hand.

“Come on, let’s go find our room. And stay close. It looks like it will be easy to get lost in here.”

--

(Continue reading on ao3)

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

Reminders of Her-Sashnetra pt 3

AHHH!! It's finally done!! My little 6am idea is now a completed fic. Thanks to everyone who kept invested in this <3

CW for marijuana use

Read on ao3

“Miss Sasha?”

“Sweetie, I told you don’t have to call me that anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

After a few months of dating Anetra and they were getting more serious in their relationship, Sasha wanted to be more of a part of Jace’s life as well. She and Anetra sat Jace down a few weeks before and slowly explained that they were dating and Sasha wasn’t just his dance teacher anymore.

Luckily, he accepted it much better than they expected, considering Jace only knew a single-parent house his entire life.

“That’s okay. Did you need something?” Sasha turned to look at the young boy sitting on the couch with her as they watched The Parent Trap on the television.

Jace looked down the hall and saw that Anera was still in the bathroom getting the bath ready for him. “I was just gonna say that you make Mommy happy.”

“You think so?” Sasha tried to hide the surprise on her face, even though hearing that made her heart beat faster.

The boy nodded as they both heard the door to the bathroom open. He leaned closer and whispered, “I see her smile a lot more now, and Auntie Marcia said the same thing.”

“Okay, buddy, it’s bath time, and then off to bed,” Anetra said as she walked back into the living room. Jace jumped off the couch and took a couple of action figures with him to the bathroom.

“I’ll get going then. Thanks for inviting me over for dinner.” Sasha took her jacket from the back of the couch and kissed Anetra on the cheek as a goodnight.

“It’s pretty late. Maybe you could spend the night?” Anetra offered, wringing her hands nervously. Anetra sometimes crashed at Sasha’s apartment when Jace was at a babysitter’s, but Sasha never slept over at Anetra’s small townhouse.

Sasha thought momentarily and realized she still had a change of clothes from a canceled dance competition in her car. “I would love to spend the night here.” she smiled as Anetra gave her an excited peck on the lips before going back to the bathroom.

Sasha spent more and more nights over with Anetra. Eventually, more of her clothes and other belongings took space in Anetra’s bedroom, and she spent more time there than in her apartment.

When it was time to renew her lease and the rent was getting raised, Sasha was looking at her other options.

“Most of your stuff is already over here; why don’t you just move in?” Anetra shrugged as a suggestion one evening as she and Sasha sipped on the Pinot Grigio that they kept in the upper cabinet.

“Are you inviting me to move in?” she asked for her girlfriend to clarify.

“Well, we’ve been together for almost a year, and I live close to the studio. But if you don’t want to, I understand.” Anetra explained, seeming slightly nervous.

Sasha reached over and held Anetra’s hand. “Let’s do it. I want to move in with you.”

They took an entire weekend to move the rest of Sasha’s belongings across town to her new home. She sold her large furniture pieces beforehand, and she and Anetra spent almost an entire afternoon rearranging the furniture in the living room for everything else to fit.

“I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted,” Sasha said as she flopped on the bed after unpacking the last box.

“I’m feeling some muscles that I haven’t used in years,” Anetra said as she stretched her arms above her head, then twisted her torso from side to side. “But I think we deserve a treat for all our hard work.”

“A treat?” Sasha asked as she watched Anetra pull out a small wooden box from underneath the dresser. Once she looked closer, she recognized an intricately carved lotus flower on the top.

She knew she had seen this box before but couldn’t figure out where it came from. She watched Anetra open the box to reveal rolling papers and a small plastic bag of marijuana.

After a few seconds of thought, Sasha remembered seeing this box from a hookup several years ago, but she wasn’t sure why Anetra had it. “That’s a pretty box. Where did you get it?” she asked, hoping that it sounded like a casual question.

“Malaysia got it custom-made when I made it to the semifinals of the national team. It was a few months before I had to quit taekwondo.” Anetra explained as she passed Sasha the joint she finished rolling. “Why do you ask?” she asked, dark eyes slightly narrowed.

“Oh, I was just wondering. It just seemed familiar to me, that’s all.” Sasha said and felt the need to change the subject after she noticed Anetra’s slight reaction. “Maybe we should start looking at kindergartens tonight,” she suggested as she took a lighter from the box.

“You want to get high and look at kindergartens together?” Anetra asked, tilting her head. Jace turned five in the spring, and they both knew they would have to start looking at school districts in their area.

“Isn’t that what all weed parents do?” Sasha asked as a rhetorical question but realized that indicated that she just called herself a parent, although she never considered herself as his stepmother.

“I guess we could.” Anetra shrugged, “Might as well look for schools now so we can get him into one of the good preschools.”

They found the nearest primary school with good reviews close to their neighborhood and filled out the short pre-enrollment questionnaire. Soon, they received the email for the community-wide enrollment day and the list of school supplies.

The enrollment day quickly approached, but luckily Jace seemed excited to start going to school soon. They got into the preschool building for enrollment day and sat and asked a list of questions as the staff member typed on the laptop in front of them.

The sound of the clacking keyboards and other parents’ voices filled the room as the preschool staff asked the next question, “Alright, and on this form, it says that his middle name is Isaiah?”

Sasha nodded and glanced over to Anetra in the chair next to her. She noticed that Anetra’s face changed slightly as her girlfriend spoke up, “It’s uh- it’s not Isaiah,” she said, wringing her hands together in nervousness.

Sasha tried not to show her surprise as she looked to the staff member for them to continue. “So what is your child’s middle name then?” the woman asked.

Anetra looked into Sasha’s eyes, a mixture of panic and sadness in her eyes, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

Before Sasha could ask what Anetra meant by that, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she heard what Anetra said next.

“It’s Sasha. His middle name is Sasha.”

Something in Sasha’s mind told her this wasn’t just a coincidence.

All the pieces about Anetra that stuck out to her were slowly coming together. Her red hair, the blocked Instagram account, and the wooden box made sense to her. Sasha looked through the old messages that Anetra sent her almost six years before, and she mentally did the math on the car ride home.

The memory was still blurry, but a part of her remembered that girl with the red hair years ago. The girl she slept with once, but then never stopped bothering her, and even showed up at her old job.

Anetra never mentioned who Jace’s other parent was, and Sasha never felt like it was her place to ask about it. She never considered looking for his birth certificate or other paperwork.

She’s the one who got Anetra pregnant all those years ago and kicked her to the curb. She wasn’t sure how she managed to push away her feelings until she and Anetra could talk later that night.

The car ride home was dead silent. They only spoke to Jace or if it was necessary for the rest of the day. They didn’t want to argue around him, so they silently agreed to talk after Jace’s bedtime.

“He’s fast asleep,” Anetra said as she returned to the living room. The television was still on, but neither of them had the focus to watch anything.

“When were you going to tell me?” Sasha asked, the anticipation of so many unanswered questions bubbling to the surface.

“I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t remember me. I didn’t even know where to start to explain everything to you,” she said, sitting on the other side of the couch and drawing her knees closer to her chest.

“Start at the beginning. I need to know everything.”

“I can do that.”

Anetra spent the rest of the evening telling everything she could to Sasha. How she felt so stressed from training every day, her friends encouraged her to have a night out at a rave. Nothing was supposed to come from it, but then she met Sasha.

She didn’t think much after the night they slept together. Until weeks later, when she felt sick every morning, as well as her breasts grew and felt more tender. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her until she realized during a conversation with her coach that she missed two periods.

She knew from the drugstore test Marcia bought her that she was pregnant, but it didn’t feel real. She didn’t want to believe it herself, but Sasha had to know. Anetra started sending short messages to Sasha while she was still busy figuring out what this meant for her career.

It didn’t feel real until she heard the heartbeat for the first time. The doctor said that she was about nine weeks along, and she kept the pictures of the scan on her phone’s home screen.

She got more desperate to tell Sasha by sending messages as often as possible. But then Sasha’s profile disappeared for her, and she panicked.

While she thought of a plan, Marcia and Malaysia stalked Sasha’s Instagram stories and found out she worked at a dance studio nearby. She was almost twelve weeks along by then and started getting a visible bump under her clothes.

She knew any possibility of co-parenting with Sasha would never happen because of the furious look in her eyes that day at the old studio. Telling her was immediately thrown out, as Sasha clearly said she wanted to be left alone.

The only thing she didn’t tell Sasha was how much she cried after Sasha told her that she wanted nothing to do with her. Or she wanted to invite Sasha to the next ultrasound appointment to find out the baby’s sex.

“My dad found a year-long program at the community college, and I enrolled. He and my stepmom let me stay with them until I graduated and had a steady job. Jace was about a year old when we were ready to be on our own,” she told Sasha instead as she finished her story.

Sasha was silent for several moments until she spoke, “How are you sure it was me? That got you pregnant, I mean.”. It was the only question that came to mind after hearing all that information.

Anetra nodded, her eyes looking slightly hurt. “I’ve never been interested in men, and you’re the only trans woman I’ve had sex with,” she explained.

“Oh.” was all Sasha could think to say, her mind still grasping that she’s had a kid she didn’t know about for years.

“It’s getting late, but we can talk more in the morning,” Anetra said as she stood up from the couch.

“You’re right, it’s been a long day,” she said, following the younger woman to the bedroom, both just wanting to go straight to bed for the night.

No matter how tired Sasha felt after that day, she couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, her mind was active with racing thoughts.

She thought about the fact that she was a deadbeat parent for years, all because her damn pride wouldn’t let her hear Anetra out. But if they did talk that day and agree on a co-parenting plan, would they even be in a relationship? This was something she wasn’t sure of.

Then she realized that Anetra was the one to suggest that they go on a date. Anetra was also the one to suggest that Sasha moved in with her. She wasn’t even sure if Anetra knowingly enrolled Jace into Sasha’s class or if it was just a coincidence.

All these new revelations became overwhelming, and she fell back into the old habits she had buried years ago.

Finding a duffel bag, Sasha stuffed in clothes and a few toiletries as she scrambled in the darkness. Giving one last look to Anetra’s sleeping form, she pushed down the guilt that bubbled up in her chest.

At least this time, although it was short, she bothered to leave her a note.

I need some time alone to process all this. I’m sorry.

Over the next few days, Sasha only spent time at the dance studio or crashing at Kylie’s house. She spent more time in the studio’s office during the week to avoid Anetra coming in to look for her.

Luckily for Sasha, avoiding Anetra was much easier than she thought. No calls, no texts, and she didn’t even see her. But she was starting to miss being around her and Jace, even if she didn’t feel ready to return yet.

“Finally coming out of your cave?” Kylie asked as Sasha walked behind the front desk, looking away from the dancewear catalog.

“Only because I wanted a snack..” Sasha answered as she looked through the drawer that the staff kept their stash of different chips in.

The front door's electric bell chimed, and both women looked up. They had no classes until the afternoon, and they weren’t getting any deliveries for the day, so both looked to see who was coming in.

A familiar tall blonde walked through the lobby, and Sasha gave her a confused look, “Marcia? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” Marcia said, putting their manicured nails on the desk between them. “Before you ask, Anetra doesn’t know I’m here.”

Sasha tried her best to keep her voice level, “What did you want to talk about?” she asked as Kylie quietly left to sit in the office.

“I’m not going to stay quiet anymore, but Anetra has been worried sick since you left,” Marcia said, their eyes looking serious. “I know being a parent might seem scary, but she deserves more than just you disappearing and leaving with just a note.”

Sasha glanced at her phone, “She hasn’t called me or anything. I told her that I just needed some time.”

“She doesn’t want to be too pushy about it, but she’s already really stressed about Jace being upset and not eating-”

Sasha felt worried suddenly, “Wait, Jace isn’t eating?” She’d seen Jace sick before, but knowing that Jace was her son changed her concern drastically.

Marcia shook their head, “Netra can only get him to have some Pediasure since he’s refusing to eat everything else. All he says is that he’s sad that you’re not home anymore.”

“I need to go see my son,” Sasha said to herself, then realized that was the first time she ever called Jace her son. “I think he needs me.”

As Marcia left, Sasha hurried into the office to get her purse and jacket. Kylie turned in the rolling chair to look at her friend. “I thought there was something about that kid that seemed familiar,” she said with a smirk.

“You heard?” Sasha asked, putting on her denim jacket.

“I did, but Anetra also came in a week into classes when you were off to change Jace’s middle name in the computer. That was a big sign too.” the blonde turned to the computer. “I want to show you something really quick.”

“Okay,” Sasha said slowly as she sat in the other chair Kylie opened up a file labeled Class Photos and found the pictures from the pre-ballet classes from the year before.

“Here it is.” she clicked on one of the photos to make it bigger and turned the screen to Sasha. It was one of the photos from the day the photographer was there. But this picture, in particular, Sasha had never seen before.

The picture was just her and Jace, looking in the wall mirror. She showed him how to position his feet, and he copied her perfectly. She was smiling down at him, as he was smiling back at both of their reflections in the mirror.

Sasha never realized how his bouncy curls were an exact copy of her own, or that their green eyes had the same shading.

Jace was her son, she just wished she had known about him much sooner.

It felt strange knocking on the door of a house where she’d lived for months, but Sasha thought it was better than just walking inside.

Anetra’s exhausted eyes brightened when she saw Sasha at the doorstep. She looked like the day six years ago when she came to Sasha’s old studio, just with darker hair. Her face had the same look of worry and tiredness, but now had a small glimmer of hope.

Before Anetra said anything, Sasha looked her in the eyes, “I’m sorry for leaving you without saying anything before, and I’m ready to finish talking about everything. But I need to go check on our son, first.”

Anetra smiled when she heard Sasha say the words ‘our son’, and gladly took her duffel bag and purse before she went upstairs.

Jace was found curled up in his toddler bed with the covers up to his chin. Sasha noticed his hair was peeking out as she carefully sat on the side of the bed next to him. She wasn’t sure if he was awake, so she gently brushed her fingers through his hair.

“M’not hungry.” he groaned, turning his head further into the pillows.

“Are you sure, honey?” Sasha said quietly, to not surprise him too much. His eyes lit up as he turned to look at her, recognizing her voice. “I heard you aren’t feeling well, so I wanted to see you and your mom.”

Sasha felt small arms wrap around her middle and couldn’t help but smile as she held her child in the hug. “I really, really missed you.” she heard him mumble into her clothes.

“I really missed you too.” She felt his arms loosen as he adjusted to sit up in bed. She briefly saw the tear-stained pillow on the bed and felt even more guilt for leaving. She never wanted to leave her family again.

“How about I make you some warm milk with honey, and then we can make you something else if you feel hungry later?” Sasha flattened the cowlick in the back of Jace’s hair.

Jace nodded, “That sounds really good.”

“I don't know about you, but I really missed your mom’s cooking,” Sasha said in a quieter voice, with a slight smile. “I’ll be right back up, okay?” She slowly stood from the bed and quietly left the room.

She wasn’t surprised to see Anetra lingering in the hall. “He’s going to be okay,” she told her, reassuring Anetra as she looked calmer after eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I think we’re going to be okay too,” Anetra said, reaching out to Sasha with her outstretched hands.

Sasha happily held her hands and brought Anetra closer to her. “We are.” She felt familiar lips pressing against hers, and Sasha knew she was home again.