#yuan testing the waters and doing a push and pull | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jingyismom · 4 years ago

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Time for more sex-cursed Lan Wangji!

a messy, self-indulgent spree imported from twt and lightly edited

explicit, wangxian, 9k, canon divergence fix-it

mild dubcon because of the nature of sex curses (but like, they do their best to communicate around it), and cw for brief thoughts of self harm, no other warnings

This curse's origin is mysterious, perhaps politically guided. Someone is trying to throttle Gusu Lan's alliance prospects by removing Lan Wangji's stellar marriageability after Sunshot. It works, after a fashion.

Wei Wuxian is in the Burial Mounds, farming and hardening his heart as the resentment worsens his health, subsisting on memories of Lan Wangji's single visit.

Lan Wangji is at home in Gusu, pining away while they rebuild the Cloud Recesses.

One day, he begins to burn up with unexplained fever.

The healers examine him quickly and thoroughly and determine first that he's been cursed. This is not entirely shocking, but it of course angers the entire sect. Next they test for the curse's nature. It turns out to be a very classic, very coarse type of love curse.

The afflicted will burn up, losing all their sense and senses, and eventually die, if their body's “needs” are not satisfied by the one it craves most.

The healers are disgusted. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are outraged. But Lan Wangji becomes very calm at the news.

Before, he felt anxiety. The urgent desperation of a dying man waiting to be told how to live.

Now he is just waiting to die.

For you see, the choice between throwing himself at another human being—no matter who they may be—and meeting death with dignity, is an easy one.

Everyone else privy to this information disagrees. The argument that follows is short, but heated:

"Well, Wangji?" Lan Qiren begins once the initial furor has died down. "How do you wish to...go about this?"

Lan Wangji, over-warm and aching, looks up at him from the examination bed. Gusu Lan funeral rites are ancient and immutable. He does not understand the question.

Lan Qiren purses his lips and glances around. "We must find the person first," he prompts.

Ah. The person responsible. Yes, Lan Wangji does have business with them before he dies. He stands, only swaying slightly. "I am well enough to exact justice. Let us cast the rebound."

Lan Xichen steps forward then, and gently pushes him back to sitting. "It has been cast. However, justice can wait. Your health must come first."

Lan Wangji looks between his uncle, his brother, and the one doctor allowed to be present. Surely they would not be joking at a time like this.

"I do not understand," he says.

The three exchange a look. "Breaking the curse must be our priority," says Lan Xichen.

Lan Wangji is not sure he heard correctly. But it would be cruel to give him unfounded hope. "I was unaware there was another way."

"...There is not," says Lan Xichen, his gentleness unfailing.

Lan Wangji experiences a moment of deep confusion before the horror sets in.

"You cannot mean this," he says through his shock. "Surely you cannot mean to cast aside so many disciplines at the whim of a base villain."

"The disciplines are a guide," Lan Qiren says, hands behind his back, looking into the distance, "to ensure a life well-lived. They are not meant to inspire martyrdom."

Lan Wangji's mouth falls open. He stares at his uncle, mute with betrayal. He has never heard of any such leeway before, not in regards to disciplines of such a serious nature.

"You can understand, can't you?" Lan Xichen says. "That no rule is more important than your life.”

Lan Wangji disagrees vehemently. "I would not buy my life with such behavior."

Lan Qiren huffs in irritation. "We may perform a marriage in haste, if you wish."

Lan Wangji balks at him. That his uncle should speak so flippantly of...such a thing. It is unimaginable. And besides, forcing a marriage on Wei—on anyone in this way is surely only adding insult to heinous injury.

"I refuse," he says.

Lan Xichen exchanges a look with the doctor, and sits beside him. "Perhaps the other person should be allowed part of that choice."

Ridiculous. "There is no such person." Preventing this course of action is worth one lie, Lan Wangji reasons.

"With respect, Hanguang-jun, if that were true, the curse would not have been able to take hold," says the doctor.

The use of his title feels uncomfortably ironic from a woman who helped deliver him at birth. He glares at her. She smiles tiredly in return.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen says. His tone is beginning to grate on Lan Wangji's raw nerves. "You will at least try, won't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him in disbelief, in anger, in righteous indignation.

"Never," he says.

A hand slaps his shoulder. "Apologies," says the doctor, and the world goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to dark wood beams dappled by lacy sunlight, and a faint smell of char in the air. His head is heavy, his limbs full of lead. He swallows around the dry thickness in his throat.

"Water," comes a familiar voice.

With effort, Lan Wangji sits up. His stomach is roiling, his mind fogged from the coma and the curse both. The doctor, crouching beside him in the carriage, offers him a bowl of water.

He takes it, and asks, "What have you done?"

She sighs.

"My duty," she says, "with the help of your brother."

She draws back the curtain at the carriage entrance, revealing a sea of black, twisted trees and gray tumbled walls.

Lan Wangji's blood freezes in his veins. He just barely stops himself from asking how they knew.

"Why," he asks instead, a much safer question.

She considers him. "Your brother said if he was wrong, he would beg forgiveness afterward. But it couldn't hurt to have an expert in resentment and curses look at you anyway."

A stab of sick embarrassment makes Lan Wangji’s stomach clench.

Has he been so obvious? Is he such a lovesick fool that anyone with eyes can see his shame?

The doctor pats his shoulder gruffly and he flinches, expecting more needles.

"Ah he's your brother, he's bound to know things you don't want him to," she says. "Come on. Out you get."

He allows her to tug him out of the carriage and onto solid ground. The air is stifling with resentment, but he is glad to be free of his bonds. Now he can look for his chance to get away.

There are six Lan disciples flanking them. He eyes them warily, wondering what they know. When the doctor pulls him out of earshot, and pitches her voice low, he is satisfied that they have not been fully informed.

"Your family and I agreed to give you a chance first," she says. "You have 24 hours to take care of this yourself. After that, I will personally tell Wei-gongzi of your brother's message. I have been assured he will not jeopardize your well-being if fully-informed."

Lan Wangji gapes at her. He does not know what he expected to happen, but it was not this...this...mercenary attempt at...forcing...

The curse has weakened him such that he cannot fly his sword. He can hardly walk in a straight line, let alone run. He has very little recourse now that everyone in his life has gone absolutely mad. His heart is racing with the adrenaline of upheaval, of fear, of impending death.

He wrenches his arm from her grasp and stalks off of the road, into the brush. She calls after him, but he does not mean to escape. He cannot manage that alone. Instead, he sits. He takes a deep breath. He sinks into meditation.

"Hanguang-jun," she calls. She approaches, hands on her hips. She sighs. "Well, if it's like that, then there's nothing stopping me from telling him right now."

She turns, and Lan Wangji feels a lurch of helplessness, when a new voice rings clear through the fog.

"Tell what to whom?"

Lan Wangji's eyes snap open. Wei Wuxian is standing on the other side of the carriage, the child A-Yuan in his arms, eyeing the Lan delegation with suspicion. Wen Ning is with him, and the Lan disciples shift nervously just looking at him, but Wei Wuxian sets A-Yuan in his arms, and he leaps away up the mountain.

"Might I assume this little party has come for me?" Wei Wuxian goes on, twirling his flute. His eyes are shrewd and cold, similar to the way they had looked when he had first returned during the war.

At the sight of him, at the sound of his voice, the curse...reacts.

A horrid, uncomfortable shiver of need runs through Lan Wangji's body alongside his own simple relief and joy at seeing Wei Wuxian again, looking relatively well. He fights it, keeping still among the weeds, hoping against hope to go unnoticed.

"Yiling Laozu," the doctor greets him with a deep bow. "We have indeed come to humbly beg your aid."

"I see," he says. "And what will you give me in return?"

The doctor hesitates, clearly discomfited by the context Wei Wuxian is currently unaware of. "We may...discuss that. Once we have informed you of the details."

Wei Wuxian hums, considering. Cold. Detached. "And if I am disinclined to—"

He breaks off. The doctor has moved so that she and Lan Wangji are both in Wei Wuxian's line of sight. Lan Wangji closes his eyes rather than see the moment of recognition, rather than feel the weight of Wei Wuxian's eyes on him, like this.

"Lan Zhan?"

Lan Wangji clamps his jaw shut. It is a struggle not simply to crawl to him.

The renewed ice in Wei Wuxian's voice when next he speaks makes Lan Wangji aware of the warmth with which he had said his name. His curls his shaking hands into fists on his knees.

"What have you done to him?"

The doctor sighs. "We have done nothing. He has been cursed, which is why we brought him here. If you—"

"Daifu," Lan Wangji interrupts, his voice thin.

She stops speaking.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes, but does not look at Wei Wuxian, not yet. If he is careful, and uses his remaining strength correctly, he can perhaps...perhaps guide the situation. Toward escape. With Wei Wuxian's help.

He may have to lie to him. He hopes he will be forgiven, all things considered.

Lan Wangji stands slowly, carefully, considering each movement so as not to reveal the state he is in.

"I will speak with him," he says to the doctor.

She eyes him. "24 hours," she says.

He does not acknowledge this. He thinks they both know it will not come to that, though his idea differs greatly from hers. He judges, from the time they have allotted and his own weakness, that he has perhaps a day and a half, total, to wait them out. Doable, if he is careful and intelligent about it.

He can manage.

He walks over to Wei Wuxian, careful to keep two arm's lengths between them. This close is already too close: a fine, constant tremor has made a home in all of his tightly-locked muscles. He feels the moment his fever begins to rise further. The sides of his throat hurt, the interiors of his ears. He wonders if his hearing will go first, or his eyes.

"Allow me to explain," he says to him.

"Of course," Wei Wuxian answers.

He sounds strange. Cold, still. Lan Wangji wants to look at him, and almost slips, but manages to stop himself. He follows him up the hill, past the wards, through the resentment that clings to them both, now. He keeps his careful distance, following behind.

"What happened?" Wei Wuxian asks, as they walk.

"A curse," Lan Wangji says carefully. "Origin unknown. The rebound has been cast. I did not wish to burden you with this, but they are...they will not listen to reason. Wei Ying, if you would but help me, I would deal with this on my own."

"Oh?"

"I...wish to seek justice. They will not allow it. But you understand. If there is another path off the mountain, if you would show me the way past them, I could—"

Wei Wuxian stops dead, and Lan Wangji, with his eyes in the ground, runs into him.

For a blazing, agonizing moment, he is touching Wei Wuxian, clinging to him, every element in his body sighing and crying out at once in satisfaction, in the torturous need for more.

He tears himself away, stumbling back, almost falling. Wei Wuxian reaches out as if to catch him, but falters.

"Lan Zhan, you can hardly stand," he says, alarmed, "and you want to go and fight someone?"

Lan Wangji draws himself up taller again, trying hard to stop his shaking. He cannot look at him. He cannot look. He is already dying, now, just from not looking. "It is my right."

"...It is..." Wei Wuxian says at length, watching him closely. "And it still will be once you're well again. Your doctors really couldn't tell what type of curse it is?"

Lan Wangji says nothing, trying to think past the way every inch of his skin feels as if it is burning clean off. The pain of it screams through him, worse than anything he has ever felt. Wei Wuxian is still speaking, but it is hard to make sense of it. When Wei Wuxian begins walking again, slowly, it is all he can do to both follow and stay away from him. This, here, now, is worse than death. If it lasts, he certainly will not be sane when the end finally comes. He lets go of any thoughts of a dignified death.

Fortunately, by the time they reach the cool dark of the cave Wei Wuxian calls home, the pain has subsided to a distant roar. Unfortunately, he hoped never to reach this point. He tries his only play again, unable to think of any new tactic.

"Please show me the way off the mountain," he says without preamble.

Wei Wuxian is quiet for a beat. "You really don't want my help that much?"

Lan Wangji is so confused by this question, and then struck by the irony of it, that he almost begins to laugh. A shivery, jittery feeling fills his chest, and he leans against the nearest solid surface. He wishes he were wearing a loose outer layer over his blue travel robes, the better to hide his shaking. He does not know how to respond.

"You haven't so much as looked at me once since you got here," Wei Wuxian goes on, digging through strange pots and objects on a table, "so I get it. But you'll have to forgive me if I disregard your objection to the kind of work I do, when it comes to your life."

"My life, my life," Lan Wangji mocks, accidentally out loud. Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with his life? He was ready to give it freely in the war, but chance let him keep it. What difference does giving it now in the name of keeping himself clean of shame make? Why will nobody allow him this choice?

"What shame?" Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji buckles at the realization that he has said all of this out loud. He goes to the floor, to his knees.

"Nothing," he says. "The shame of not having warded off such a simple attack."

"Lan Zhan...you want to die because you didn't defend against a curse you didn't know was coming?"

Lan Wangji lapses into silence. He has said too much already. He does not know how to get out of this. He can only...he can only stay quiet. Refuse to speak or move.

"Lan Zhan...I feel like I'm missing something here. I only want to help.”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and stares hard at the floor in front of him. He has rarely ever felt so trapped, so utterly helpless. The extended, full-body pain is dulling his mind by the moment. The hems of Wei Wuxian's robes come into view, and it takes everything in him not to fall forward into him, to plead, to beg. His breath is hitching at random intervals now, his heart tripping as it prepares to fail entirely.

There is a soft gust of air, and an odd prickling sensation across his face.

"Now let's see—oh," Wei Wuxian says. "I...oh."

Lan Wangji wilts at his stilted, awkward tone. He knows now, surely. Can see him truly.

"So that's why you want to leave, and why they won't let you. They want me to find another way to break it, to stop you from...ah."

Lan Wangji sorts through the words, trying to comprehend them.

"Sorry," Wei Wuxian goes on. "I...it's unbreakable, otherwise. A very old, airtight spell. You...will Gusu Lan start a war with me if I do just let you go...ah, handle this the old-fashioned way?"

Comprehension dawns. And with it, a way out.

Lan Wangji rushes to agree. "They—" He cuts off. Will they? If they think Wei Wuxian has willingly let him die, rather than...

He takes a breath. Another. Forces his mind past the endless litany of pleas for relief.

"Show me the way " he says, his words breathless and short, "and then tell Lan-daifu what you have done. And why. But give me time to. Get away. And you will be safe."

Wei Wuxian pauses. "How...ah. How far—how much time?"

Lan Wangji tries hard to come up with an answer for that. His progress will be slow. But he need only find a place to hide.

"Half a day," he hazards.

Wei Wuxian seems to vacillate. "Are you sure you can make it on your own?"

Lan Wangji wants to rage. To weep. To curse himself to the heavens for being so depraved toward so endlessly kind a man. His heart hurts, even as his body strains toward him.

This lie may be the worst he will ever tell.

"I will be fine,” he says.

"Alright." Wei Wuxian sounds unconvinced. "I trust you."

Lan Wangji nearly convulses, holding back a sob. How will he ever be forgiven?

He cannot think of it. Only this, only what comes next. Only keeping Wei Wuxian safe from this mess.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Mn," he manages.

"Would you look at me, now? I haven't...used any demonic cultivation on you. It's safe, I promise I won't. I just. Can't we say goodbye properly?"

Lan Wangji has not moved from the floor. He does not move. He should try. A parting gift. Just one look.

But if he is going to leave. If he is going to succeed. He cannot.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says again, frustrated now.

Lan Wangji does not look. He is so close to freedom from the horrible pull, from the way his very veins are trying to tear themselves free to wrap around Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian steps forward, and Lan Wangji's breath leaves him all at once. Suddenly, there are fingers beneath his jaw, kind but firm, tilting his chin up. He has no choice but to look.

(Inspired by this art.)

Wei Wuxian is there. Tall and strong and perfect, tiredness mixed with something bittersweet on his lovely face. Lan Wangji's entire being melts toward him, a deep, sharp tug from inside his bones, a mindless, helpless, straining need that pushes a low, wanting sound from his throat.

Wei Wuxian snatches his hand away and backs up half a step, staring at him.

"Sorry," he says, blank. Confused. "I thought it was...I didn't realize...sorry."

Lan Wangji, now that he has looked, cannot look away. He has overbalanced without Wei Wuxian's support, fallen forward onto his hands, but he cannot stop looking at him. He will look at him, and keep looking; he prays Wei Wuxian is the last thing he sees before he dies.

The most shameful part of this is that none of it is the curse twisting his thoughts. None of this is. All the curse is doing is making the way he always feels impossible to ignore.

"Wei Ying," his voice implores. He does not mean it to.

Wei Wuxian takes another step back and looks down at the bowl of powder in his hand, confused. "I was certain it was that curse," he says to himself. "If I was wrong, then maybe I could break it..."

Lan Wangji tries to scrape his composure back together. He tries. He tries. His fingers scrape on the rough stone floor. He does not reach out for him. That is something.

Wei Wuxian looks at him again, then hastily away. Lan Wangji does not ever want to know what it is he sees.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, as Lan Wangji shakes, and shakes. "Where...where were you trying to go? I thought you...I thought you were, ah, thinking of a certain someone."

Lan Wangji's arms are weak. They are going to give out. He cannot answer him.

"I'm confused, and I...may have made a mistake," Wei Wuxian goes on, still backing away slowly, "but I just want to help. Can you tell me what was happening before, and what's happening now?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head, and the motion shatters his fragile balance. He falls, and curls tightly around himself in the dirt.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian says, suddenly close.

Lan Wangji sees his hand reach out, then pause, and he can't stop himself from taking hold of it, just to be touching him. His body screams for it, and he gasps raggedly at the contact.

Wei Wuxian wrenches his arm free. Lan Wangji wishes he were dead.

"Fuck," Wei Wuxian mutters to himself. "I...I'm sorry. I made this so much worse, I..."

"No," Lan Wangji rasps. He cannot hear Wei Wuxian berate himself thus. His dignity has now died, and he himself will soon follow. This is all that matters. "Not your fault."

Wei Wuxian huffs, crouching beside him. "It is...at least partially my fault, at this point, I'm pretty sure. You wouldn't be...reacting. Like this. If it weren't. Is...can I...do a few more tests? To check what I got wrong, and maybe—"

"You were not wrong."

He does not mean to say it.

His need to reassure has overridden his sense, and his mind is too slow now to piece together what it will mean before it leaves his mouth. The regret once it does is instantaneous. He tries to curl himself yet smaller in the dirt.

Wei Wuxian is silent. Lan Wangji cannot stop making small, pitiful, pained sounds in the back of his throat. Everything hurts. Everything.

"I don't understand," Wei Wuxian says quietly.

Lan Wangji lies shivering on the floor, arms locked around himself to prevent any more untoward behavior. He cannot take it back. He cannot try to explain. There is nothing he could say, regardless.

"Lan Zhan...but you..."

He can hear Wei Wuxian thinking, but it only registers in the far back of his mind. The rest of his consciousness is taken up by pain, and by ruthless restraint.

"You wanted to leave to get away from me," Wei Wuxian says, finally.

Lan Wangji does not answer. He wishes he had his sword. He would use it now to end this.

Wei Wuxian begins to back away again, and Lan Wangji’s body moves without his permission. He grips the skirt of Wei Wuxian’s robes in his fist and drags himself closer, pressing his cheek to Wei Wuxian's knee.

Shameful. Wanton. The small part of himself that is still aware berates the action. But he cannot let go. He cannot move away. The only part of him that is not howling with pain is the side of his face pressed to coarse fabric.

"Lan Zhan, you…," Wei Wuxian is trying to gently pry Lan Wangji's fingers from his hem. "You wanted to leave, remember? You don't want...you don't."

"Want," Lan Wangji croaks, pressing closer. "Wanted to spare you."

"Ah, Lan Zhan...I...I'm still not sure it's that specific curse, it could...there could be other..."

"It is," Lan Wangji says, half-crawling up Wei Wuxian's leg. He wants to stop himself. It is impossible.

"Lan Zhan...you...you shouldn't—"

"Stop me," Lan Wangji pleads, nuzzling against Wei Wuxian's thigh, "Wei Ying, I can't...please. Stop me."

There is a long near-silence filled with harsh breaths, in which Lan Wangji is almost certain he imagines the light touch of fingers brushing his mussed hair back from his forehead. Then Wei Wuxian speaks.

"No," he says. "You'll die, if I do. Lan Zhan. I won't let that happen."

He touches Lan Wangji's face. Lan Wangji whimpers into him.

He knows this will break the fragile repairs they have made to their friendship. He will likely never see him again, at least not on good terms. The thought makes him feel ill. He should protest. Refuse. Flee. He can do exactly none of these things. He reaches for Wei Wuxian's wrist, to hold his hand to his face, but Wei Wuxian flinches away.

"You can't...Lan Zhan. I'm going to help you," he says, "but you have to...you can't...you can't touch me."

Lan Wangji feels another tight clench of shame. He nods against his leg. He understands: he knows any small part of this is too much to ask, let alone bearing his unwelcome, curse-fevered grasping.

"Okay," says Wei Wuxian. He slides his fingers beneath Lan Wangji’s chin again, tipping his face up.

He looks so uncertain. So beautiful in the dim light. Lan Wangji wants to weep with it.

"Lan Zhan, I know it doesn't count for much like this, but you have to tell me. You have to tell me what you need."

Lan Wangji turns his head, pressing his face between Wei Wuxian's thigh and stomach, trying to reach into him, to feel more of him, to stop hurting just enough to think. It does not work.

"You," he breathes, into the scent of earth, and stringent soap, and Wei Wuxian.

A harsh, uneven breath ghosts across his hair, and Wei Wuxian's hands grip his shoulders. He thinks he is about to be pushed away again, but instead Wei Wuxian pulls him up, pulls him close, folds him into his embrace.

Lan Wangji sobs into his shoulder, trying at once to get closer and to hold himself apart, instinct demanding, even now, that he try to conceal his obvious, disgraceful hardness. His muscles quake under the strain of doing both and neither, and Wei Wuxian smooths one hand down his back, pressing him close, pressing them flush. Lan Wangji chokes back a shocked sound.

"Shh," Wei Wuxian soothes. "It's alright."

It is not alright. It is the end of the thing Lan Wangji holds most dear.

But he does not have it in him to argue. He is shifting against him, his overheated body begging for touch, indeed for ravishment. He is mindless with it. The pain is not subsiding but slipping sideways into something more, something different, something necessary.

He is on his knees on hard stone, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this: sweetly, hazily, with and without hope. But never like this. Never sick with remorse, with need, dying and demanding and defiling. His deepest desire twisted into a nightmare.

He whimpers again, his lips finding the soft coolness of Wei Wuxian's throat. Wei Wuxian jerks away again, and Lan Wangji fists his hands tighter at his sides, trying, trying not to overstep again.

"I—sorry," he gasps out. He will never be able to apologize enough. But he will try.

"Don't apologize," says Wei Wuxian. "I—"

He cuts himself off. Lan Wangji does not have enough sense to wonder why. In the same moment, one of his thighs gives under the strain, and he falls against him heavily. They tip over, to the floor, and he reaches out on instinct to brace them both. When he is again conscious of himself, Wei Wuxian is lying on top of him, breathing hard, both of Lan Wangji's wrists pinned to the floor in one hand. Lan Wangji arches against him inadvertently, and turns his face into his own bicep.

"Sorry, I...so sorry," he pants, his hips flexing, searching for friction. "I have...no control...”

"I know," Wei Wuxian says, "I know, I shouldn't have..." he swallows hard. "I'm going to keep you like this. Can I?"

Lan Wangji nods frantically, his eyes shut tight. He does not care. Anything that he can do to make this any less invasive for Wei Wuxian, he will do.

Wei Wuxian pulls away then, his hold still firm on Lan Wangji's wrists. Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stop moving, to stop searching for touch, to stop making such a disgusting spectacle of himself, but to no avail. What feels like centuries later, he hears the telltale sounds of talisman activation. He is too far gone in his pain to look up, to see what they are. He simply lies there, pinned and writhing, his breath catching in his throat. The sounds it makes are small, pitiful, desperate.

Just like him.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian leans back over him, a considering look in his eye. His hand hovers at Lan Wangjis belt.

"I—should I..."

"Yes," pleads Lan Wangji.

He needs Wei Wuxian's skin on his skin. He does not know how discerning the curse is about what happens now, but it feels as if he will die without it. Wei Wuxian takes what looks like a fortifying breath and unties the belt. Lan Wangji, unable to help, instead hinders the process with his ceaseless movement. But Wei Wuxian manages it with deft hands, and immediately unties each layer of robes in quick succession until Lan Wangji’s chest and stomach are bare.

The cool air of the cave does not soothe his burning. It burns like ice instead. Lan Wangji shivers, an ugly whine escaping him.

"What," Wei Wuxian asks, pausing, "what is it?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. He will bear it. He will not make demands.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, "you need to talk to me, I...I don't want to make this even worse, or, or draw it out longer."

Something small and dark crumples in Lan Wangji's chest. He does not want that either. He will need to speak. To ask.

"Hurts," he says, rough and thick.

"Where?"

"...Not...not touching me."

Wei Wuxian makes a distressed noise and lays both his palms flat over Lan Wangji's ribs. Lan Wangji groans, pressing up into them.

"Please," he whispers, helpless. "Please."

"Oh, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian murmurs, something sad like regret. He leans closer and slides one hand down. Lan Wangji shudders under him. "I'm just going to..."

Lan Wangji nods again, holding his breath to stop the whines from escaping the back of his throat.

Wei Wuxian unties Lan Wangji's trousers and slips his hand inside. Clever fingers wrap hesitantly around him, and he bucks up into them with an obscene moan. It is minor relief from the most consuming pain he has ever felt, and it is simultaneously the most intense pleasure he has ever experienced. All of these sensations, coexisting in his fallible human body, feel likely to rip him apart.

"Wei Ying," he moans again, when Wei Wuxian moves his hand.

He gasps for air, his body twisting into it, his whole being searching for Wei Wuxian. He makes another piteous sound, the torment of it all overwhelming. Wei Wuxian leans down against him then, his own robes open, pressing them skin to skin.

Lan Wangji sobs. It is something. It is something. The pain abates somewhat, and he sighs, turning toward him, his mouth brushing Wei Wuxian's hair. He has the wherewithal now to fight the urge to kiss his head properly, his face, anything he can reach. He holds himself still beneath him instead. And Wei Wuxian touches him, and touches him. The incomprehensible pleasure builds, and builds, until Lan Wangji cannot breathe. But it does not break.

Something almost like soft lips brushes his throat.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says into his ear, "this, is this...will this be enough?"

The pleasure is just another kind of pain, now. Lan Wangji shakes his head as sweat rolls off of him, as he tries and fails to get enough air to speak.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. "What, then?"

Lan Wangji's body knows what it needs. But he does not want to tell.

"Come on, Lan Zhan, after all this? Don't get shy on me now."

He misses the joking tone he is aiming for, but the pure, unmistakable Wei Wuxian-ness of the tease sends a surge of genuine desire through Lan Wangji. He wraps his legs around Wei Wuxian's hips and pulls him down. Wei Wuxian breathes in sharply.

"You just...you want...but only..."

"Please," says Lan Wangji, barely voiced. "In—" he cannot say it. "Please."

"Ah," Wei Wuxian whispers, into his skin. "If—are you sure?"

Lan Wangji whines. He wishes he were not so very sure. He wishes he were not asking Wei Wuxian to do something so intimate, so extreme. He wishes Wei Wuxian had let him die before it ever came to this.

"Alright Lan Zhan, just hold—hold on," he says, and is gone.

Lan Wangji clamps his mouth shut on a scream as the agony slams back into him, worse even than before.

Not soon enough, Wei Wuxian returns to divest him of his boots, socks and trousers. Lan Wangji fights him without meaning to, trying to keep his knees curled up to his chest, trying to minimize the hurt. Wei Wuxian is briskly patient, handling him with aching care he does not deserve.

And then he is upon him, chest and stomach, hips and thighs, smooth and hard and exquisite. Lan Wangji almost forgets the pain in the rush of gratitude, of solace. Their robes trail off them both, gathering dust as they move together in halting fits and starts.

"Don't let me hurt you, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian grits out, a strong hand lifting one of Lan Wangji's thighs by the back of the knee.

It is nonsense. He could not hurt Lan Wangji any more than this. And Lan Wangji could not stop him now if he did.

But the kindness. Even in this. Tears prick at Lan Wangji's eyes. He will miss him. He will miss all of Wei Wuxian with all of himself. He will never stop missing him. He will never move past this regret as long as he lives. How could he? Every breath he draws will be by the grace of Wei Wuxian.

Suddenly there is slick pressure against him, against his most private of places, and he gasps, loud and wretched. Wei Wuxian exhales, uneven and deep, and pushes in, in, in. Slowly. So slowly. Lan Wangji bites down hard on his lip to keep from begging for it. His arms are pinned, as are his hips, Wei Wuxian holding him steady, holding him still. Lan Wangji loses all sense. There is only the weight of Wei Wuxian, the full, stinging press of him, the searing pain, the devastating euphoria of being this close, and yet so very far in every way that counts.

Ages pass before Wei Wuxian is fully seated inside him. By then Lan Wangji's breaths are wet and shallow; scraping, desolate things. He does not know any longer what hurts and what feels good. It is all one and the same. He only knows he needs more, in some primal, wordless way.

He asks with the arch of his back, the squeeze of his thighs. He tries, somehow, to keep quiet, but fails more often than not.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says tightly, "try to relax, I'm going to move. Tell me if it...if it's right."

Lan Wangji manages a loose nod, though he barely understands.

And Wei Wuxian moves. He rolls his hips against him, shifting inside of him, and Lan Wangji groans. Each deep, short thrust pushes air from his lungs, and he lacks the strength to catch it again. It is beyond pleasure. It is ecstatic. To have Wei Wuxian around him, inside him, panting above him. A deep, villainous part of him wants it never to end. The rest of him howls for release.

He is dripping now, steadily, onto his own stomach. He can feel it pooling on his belly, unpleasantly cool. He whimpers between desperate, panting breaths, beyond words.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, breath shivering across Lan Wangji's collarbone, "I can't...can't keep this up, you feel too—" his breath catches, and he pauses. "I'm going to finish. You need to come."

Dimly, distantly, the idea that Wei Wuxian should derive pleasure from this, no matter how perfunctory, gives Lan Wangji a perverse sort of satisfaction. It snuffs out like a candle at the nebulous thought that perhaps in another world, they could have had this for real.

In this world, the fact remains that this has gone on far too long. But Lan Wangji can do nothing about it. He meets Wei Wuxian's thrusts, leans into the pleasure, tries to gain the momentum to go over the edge. He should be able to. It should be easy. He has been so hard for so long, has been given more now than in his absolute wildest and wettest of dreams, and yet he hovers, scant inches away.

Wei Wuxian loses patience, his head dropping to Lan Wangji's shoulder. He grunts softly and fists Lan Wangji's wet cock, quick and merciless. Lan Wangji cries out, shuddering violently with the extended, expansive stimulation, worked both inside and out, helplessly, utterly unmade by Wei Wuxian's touch.

And still he does not crest. He is sobbing steadily now, ugly and jagged, and Wei Wuxian kisses his shoulder, his throat, his cheek.

"Were we wrong?" He asks, breathless. "Lan Zhan please, tell—show me, I...I can't...you...I can't lose you. Lan Zhan?"

Exhausted, Lan Wangji turns his tearstained face toward him, blindly seeking. Perhaps they were all wrong. Perhaps he will die now, like this. And perhaps it is selfish of him, but having heard those words, he finds his regret to be less than it should be. Everything, everything hurts. But Wei Wuxian will miss him, too. Of course he will. They are zhiji. This, miraculously, will not erase that. It is more than he deserves. Wei Wuxian has always been more than he deserves.

Lan Wangji heaves, and writhes, and cries.

Wei Wuxian kisses him. Soft, gloriously cool lips on his.

An odd, fleeting, hollow feeling.

The dam breaks. The pain goes suddenly quiet. Roaring to fullness in its absence is the killing swell of such a long-delayed climax. It is possible that he calls Wei Wuxian's name. It is impossible to know.

The world, again, goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to gray light and distant birdsong. A sharp edge is digging into his shoulder. He shifts, then goes still at the deep ache in his entire body.

He remembers.

"Hanguang-jun should drink this," says a brisk voice to his right.

Wen Qing sits there, watching him. His heart skips a beat and he looks down. But he is fully clothed once more.

Her smile is wry as she holds a cup out to him. Laboriously, he sits up to take it. It is bitter, but familiar. A restorative. He thanks her formally.

She shakes her head. "No need.” She turns to go.

"Wen-guniang," Lan Wangji says. She pauses. "How long has it been gone?"

She turns to stare at him. He knows she knows what he means.

"How? When?"

She looks away. "You'll have to ask him."

The pang of loss he felt upon waking with Wei Wuxian gone speaks for him. "Will he let me?"

He lies on the slab of rock that serves as Wei Wuxian's bed for too long. It is difficult to tell the passage of time in the Burial Mounds, but it seems slightly brighter than it had...before. He reasons that it could well be the next morning. He wonders if Wei Wuxian slept beside him, then tosses the thought away as gross indulgence. He wonders instead, as he has many times since his last visit, if Wei Wuxian sleeps at all.

First, his excuse to tarry is meditation. He works at it, simultaneously restoring his drained core and healing himself, until the discomfort fades from his every movement to just a specific few.

Once that is done, he has no reason to be idle. But the voice in his head, Wei Wuxian's blisteringly cold one that had called him his proper name all those months ago, keeps him in place. He hears it saying all manner of things in response to seeing him now.

"What more could you possibly want of me?" Wei Wuxian sneers in his mind. And he would be right to do so.

But Lan Wangji does not intend to ask anything of him ever again.

And there is the other thing. The fact that his robes should be uncomfortable, filthy, but they have been cleaned, dried, and arranged back onto his body properly. Comfortably. Almost as if—

He dares not imagine. But at the very least it does not speak of utter contempt.

So he rises. He follows the path Wen Qing told him of. And he does something foolish. He hopes.

After no short while of walking, he comes to a slightly darker, more silent corner of deadened forest. He rounds a bend and sees Wei Wuxian crouched a little ways off, and then hears high, lilting notes as if through water. The energies are strange here, and Wei Wuxian is speaking to with them in their own language.

Lan Wangji approaches until he sees Wei Wuxian go still. He says nothing. Wei Wuxian drops his flute from his lips.

"Are you well?" He asks without rising or turning.

"I am."

Wei Wuxian nods. "Your people are waiting for you."

It is a dismissal. Lan Wangji recognizes this. But he will impose just a little bit longer.

"Your core," he says. Wei Wuxian stands abruptly, still facing away, gripping Chenqing. "Can it be replaced?"

Wei Wuxian whirls to face him, anger and fear warring with the questions on his face.

Lan Wangji has other questions, too. But they do not matter. He is intelligent enough to piece together the cold, empty space where Wei Wuxian's core should be, the tired guilt on Wen Qing's face, and...

"Your scar," he says, dropping his gaze to the scorched earth.

He should not know of it. But he does, now, and he also owes a greater debt than he can ever repay. Wei Wuxian does not respond. How dearly Lan Wangji wants to see his expression. But he will not infringe on any more of his privacy.

The wind howls. He waits.

"You won't tell anybody," Wei Wuxian says uncertainly.

Lan Wangji stiffens. "I will not."

"Nobody told you?"

"Nobody.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, momentarily satisfied.

"You're not going to ask how? Or when?"

Lan Wangji would like to. He would like to know everything of Wei Wuxian, even his sorrow, his pain. But he is not entitled to those things. There is only one point that matters.

"Can it be replaced? Can the procedure be reversed?"

Wei Wuxian sighs. Lan Wangji can tell he does not wish to speak of this.

"So single-minded, Lan Zhan," he scolds, then shakes his head. "The chance of success would be small; the chance of finding a donor, much smaller."

But this is all Lan Wangji hoped to hear. It is enough. He goes to his knees, arms circled in front of his chest.

"Allow me," he says.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian darts forward, trying to pull Lan Wangji up from the ground. Eventually he gives up and goes to his knees in front of him, pushing at his arms. "Lan Zhan, stop this," he says, panicked. "Don't be stupid, stop—Lan Zhan, you can't be serious."

"Please allow me," Lan Wangji repeats, eyes downcast.

"Stop this!" Wei Wuxian shouts. "It can't be done, and I wouldn't take it from you anyway!"

Lan Wangji flinches bodily. He had not considered...but yes. Everything in him is sullied. He bends at the waist, bowing further.

"Apologies for the offense," he says, then snaps his mouth shut. His voice is too obviously strained.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian says, still alarmed.

Lan Wangji needs to leave. He has already overstayed. But he...he has not tried hard enough.

"This debt is too great to repay in one lifetime," he says. "Please inform this one of what he may do to begin."

Wei Wuxian sags, dragging one of Lan Wangji's wrists with him. "Lan Zhan, there is no debt between us."

Lan Wangji only just stops himself from glancing up. He does not understand.

"I owe you my life and more," he says. "You took great pains to save me, even as the situation proved me unworthy of it. I owe—"

"You owe me nothing," Wei Wuxian insists, shaking Lan Wangji's arm. "There were no great pains. Nobody is unworthy. Well...you aren't."

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to protest, but Wei Wuxian speaks over him.

"People have...desires, Lan Zhan. There's nothing unworthy about it."

"But you—"

"Stop," he says. He sounds so, so tired. "If you hadn't been...dying. If we—" He stops. "Just keep my secret," he says, and lets go of his wrist. "And live well."

Lan Wangji closes his eyes. The thought of going back to his home, his life, after this, had not yet occurred to him. It sinks him from his knees to the ground. How can he do this? How can he leave him this way?

"Wei Ying," he pleads. "I must...I must do something. I cannot...I..."

"Why, Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian asks, not unkindly. "You have responsibilities. People to protect, just like me. Live well, and count things even between us. Why not?"

Lan Wangji’s chest caves in. He does not make the sound clawing up his throat.

"You...truly, you must know why," he says. "After... you must know. I would not leave you in need. I could not."

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says sadly. He shuffles forward. Lan Wangji startles at the feel of fingertips on his cheek. "You're too good. But all I need is," he huffs, "political asylum for me and 40 friends? It's not your burden."

Suddenly yet slowly, like the first burst of sunrise, an idea reveals itself on the horizon of Lan Wangji’s mind. It is unorthodox. And likely unwelcome. But it is all he has.

"My uncle made a suggestion," he says. "When my affliction became known. It is true that he did not know what it would mean, but I would hold him to it. If it is not...hateful, to you."

"I don't know what you mean," Wei Wuxian says warily.

Lan Wangji steels himself. "You are perceived as the head of a sect. A proper alliance could protect your people, and Gusu Lan is in need of hands for rebuilding. The person who cast this curse upon me has given the perfect excuse, and made themselves scapegoat. If you would...I would not ask anything of you, if you agreed. It would be a marriage in name only, as you wish it."

Wei Wuxian's silence turns to spluttering. "M—Lan Zh—marriage?? What—how—"

"If the idea is odious, I will not mention it again. But as I said. My uncle suggested it. And under the circumstances, he cannot refuse."

"Your—he—Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, look at me. Look at me, please."

Lan Wangji looks at him. His eyes are wide. Disbelieving. Concerned.

"Your uncle would qi deviate if you even hinted at such a thing," he says. "Gusu Lan is in a precarious enough position, you don't need...I have nothing to offer in return." He pats his lower stomach, empty of spiritual energy, emphatically. “Nothing. Don't be ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous," Lan Wangji argues, certain now that he is right. "You can offer more protection for us, and we can offer legitimacy. The person who cast this curse can be seen to have forced our hands. Has—has forced our hands."

He stops himself. He should not push this. Wei Wuxian is looking at him as if he does not know him.

"You don't want to marry me, Lan Zhan."

This gives Lan Wangji pause. It is a confusing objection, to say the least. He stares, trying to comprehend. He clears his throat. Takes a breath.

"If you are under the impression..." he stops. Drops his eyes once more. "...that the...impetus of the curse. Is the whole of the way I—”

"Demonic cultivation," Wei Wuxian interrupts. "It would be unhealthy. For you. And your elders! They wouldn't let me, not if I were...attached to your sect. To you.”

A fair concern, and one Lan Wangji has been turning over in his own mind as well. "Is this your only objection?"

Wei Wuxian casts about. "Ah..."

Lan Wangji takes one last plunge. "The elders can be reasoned with, compromises can be made. I am not concerned for my health: being near you could never be harmful to me." He hears himself, then, and amends, "Though you need not. Be near me. That is not a condition."

"You would defend this?" Wei Wuxian asks, bemused.

"Defend what?"

"My cultivation path. You..."

Lan Wangji resists a sigh. "I understand the reason, now. And I believe...if you did not object. We could work toward making it safe, without stripping you of what your hard work has created."

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says. He reaches out, then stops.

Lan Wangji stares at his hand, hovering between them. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his eyes, in his tongue.

"Wei Ying."

"You would let me, though?"

His tone is gently mocking. His head is cocked to the side, the edge of a smile playing across his lips. It knocks the breath from Lan Wangji's chest.

"Let you?" He asks, dazed.

"Be near you."

Lan Wangji's heart stops. It is a moment before he can respond.

"I would. Always."

Wei Wuxian takes his hand, and sighs. "You don't owe me this," he says again.

"I do," Lan Wangji counters, off-kilter. "I owe you. And I want to. I would want to, even if—"

He loosens his tight grip on Wei Wuxian's hand. He is saying too much, taking too much, being too much. He settles himself. Finds the words that matter.

"It would be a thing happily given, with no strings attached, should you wish it."

Wei Wuxian laughs strangely. "Lan Zhan, you really..." He shakes his head. "I'd marry you in an instant, you know," says.

Lan Wangji's neck hurts from the speed with which he looks up at him. Hope, warm and liquid, blooms through his limbs.

"But I can't make this decision on my own," Wei Wuxian goes on. "It's not just my life. We have to talk it over with everyone."

"Yes," Lan Wangji says, surprised, and eager now that he sees the possibility of success. Of doing something of use.

"Alright," says Wei Wuxian, a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. "I can't promise...but it...it could work."

"It will," Lan Wangji says, certain that the strength of his conviction alone will carry them through if need be.

He feels strange and dreamlike, confused but heartened by the turn in this conversation. That Wei Wuxian can stand the sight of him, let alone wish to ally with him personally, seems too wonderful to be true. Another Wei Wuxian hallmark.

"But Lan Zhan, no more talk of strings," Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji sobers and nods. It is unseemly. Of course their understanding must be a tacit one, now.

But his hand is suddenly in both of Wei Wuxian's.

"You need to stop feeling guilty," Wei Wuxian says, looking down at it. "If I were your husband...if I were. We could try all that again, but without the impending doom. We could try it again any way we like, any time—all the time—and we'd—"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji interrupts, strangled. His heart is in his throat. He cannot comprehend what he is hearing. His ears, his face, are on fire.

Wei Wuxian smiles down at their hands, one part shy, one part mischief. "I think we could get really good at it, if we had the chance, don't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him. "You..."

"Mn," says Wei Wuxian, meeting his eyes.

He shines so bright, even without any core to speak of. He takes Lan Wangji's breath away.

"I take it back," Wei Wuxian says, his voice suddenly urgent. "I like strings. Mine is that if this happens, I want to be your real husband. In name, in practice, in bed, and in your heart. Because you would be, in mine."

Lan Wangji's voice sticks in his throat. He feels...he feels unreal. He does not know what to do, to say. Perhaps they never broke the curse at all and he has simply gone mad. But Wei Wuxian's fingers stroking his palm, the root-knotted dirt beneath his shins, are real. He sways, unbalanced.

Wei Wuxian reaches out. Catches him. Folds him into his arms for a second time. Lan Wangji's breath shudders out of him.

He is on his knees, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this many ways. But never has it been so real, so full of hope. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in turn, buries his face in his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian huffs. "Jiang Cheng is going to be so angry."

Lan Wangji comes back down to earth. It is true he had not thought of this. He makes to pull away. "How should—"

Wei Wuxian clutches him tighter. "I don't care," he says, "I don't care, we can manage him." He pauses, then speaks more softly. "Maybe...I could see shijie's wedding after all. Or—no. It's too soon, I—"

"Yes," says Lan Wangji. "You will. We will go together."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and lets it out into Lan Wangji's hair.

"Together," he says.

It takes several serious, and at times uncomfortable, discussions, but in the end, Gusu Lan’s Second Jade is indeed thoroughly removed from the marriage pool of the great sects. The curse caster is found and punished. And everybody else lives happily ever after.

The end.

-----

(Thank you for coming on this wildly self-indulgent journey, I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to read some actually nicely-polished, fleshed-out fics by me—including another sex-cursed LWJ—check out my AO3.)

#my fic #mdzsnet #the untamed fanfic #theuntameddaily #bottom lan wangji #that tag just...has to go there bc i know people actually find things through it #on tumblr??? you ask #yes my friends evidently #anyway here's...this #angst that morphs suddenly into the MOST indulgent of fix-its #does it have a consistent tone??? is it Good??? who knows. unimportant #is it not enough to simply tweet 9 thousand words in 3 days and then yeet it at your tumblr followers too #this isn't FOR a literary award....it's for melodrmatic wangxian Feels and nothing else #i hope you enjoy it!!!! <3

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guiltysecretpasttime · 5 years ago

Text

Contentment

So here’s a thought that became a Lin Beifong one-shot. If someone’s reading this... let me know what you think 🤷‍

---

Ever since she made it to Chief of Police, she found that she was able to take more control of her schedule. Nonetheless, quiet Friday nights at home like these were rare.

Using metalbending, Lin Beifong peeled her armor off and placed it in the cabinet beside the shoe rack, a reminder that she will get to its maintenance before going to work on Monday. She wiggled her toes and continued into the house barefoot, enjoying the feel of the cold marble floor against her skin. She headed towards the kitchen, tossing her work bag into the study along the way.

The paper bag of take-out food was plonked on the dining table and an old battered kettle with water was soon on the stove. She stretched her arms languidly then reached to turn on the radio, if only to fill the silence with white noise.

Plucking out some spice canisters from the shelves and taking out the vegetables she sliced earlier, Lin set about to prepare dinner. Humming softly with the radio tunes, she cleared a portion of the table and opened the containers of sliced vegetables. She sat down and unrolled a piece of cloth, intent on assembling a couple of vegetable wraps on the mat.

After decades of preparing vegetarian meals, Lin had learned to appreciate the cuisine and tweak it to her taste. She added spicy pickled kelp and sprinkled chili on some of the wraps. She made a mental note to ask her sister to bring more kelp on her next visit. (The older Beifong would never admit it but she dearly valued exchanging recipes with Suyin’s ex-pirate chef.)

The kettle let out a high-pitch whistle (which her husband hated and had thus more than once offered to buy a replacement kettle; which she adamantly refused to do so since her mom made it for their housewarming party years ago) and she took it off the stove, placing a steaming pot in its place. The earthbender tore open her take-out paper bag and dropped the store-bought dumplings into the pot.

She then arranged the vegetable wraps on the serving plate alongside the fried puffs she purchased from the vendor beside headquarters (“Assorted crab and tofu puffs, please”). With not enough time to make dessert, she figured her husband would have to settle for some chilled moon peaches from the icebox.

As she waited for the dumplings to reheat, she decided to make herself a cup of coffee before dumping some tea leaves to steep in the kettle.

-----

It was a quaint and cozy scene that greeted the last airbender when he got home. A scene that still brought a lightness in his heart even after being married for fifteen odd years.

Leaning against the kitchen counter was his wife, apparently fresh from the shower as evidenced by the dampness of her short grey hair. Tenzin continued to observe her quietly as she absentmindedly continued to stir something in a saucepan while reading a book propped at the side, page held in place by an empty coffee cup. Barefoot and clad in a plain tank top and shorts, the stern protector of Republic City was barely recognizable in the casual setting. He smiled as Lin made a face, probably scoffing at the plot of her novel.

He made his way towards her, landing a kiss on her exposed shoulder from behind, effectively startling her.

“Spirits, Tenzin!” Lin raised the spatula in shock, landing whipped cream on her face and on his robes.

Tenzin grinned. He loved that he was the only person in the world who could surprise the otherwise vigilant metalbending chief of police. It was a testament on how comfortable she was with him that she never felt the need to be on her guard.

“Hello, dear.” He kissed off the cream from her cheek and was rewarded with a slap on the arm. “You seemed engrossed there, good book?”

“Oh Agni, no.” His wife snorted as she marked her page in the book. “It’s just one of those trashy books that Su sent me, in the hopes that I get in touch with my inner dancer or something.” She placed the saucepan beside the peaches on the dining table.

The airbender accepted the napkin given by Lin to clean up his robes. “Still trying to convince you to join her dance group?” He turned to the counter, opening his paper bag of food.

“Yes, claims it would make me more flexible and limber - as if I don’t have enough training at headquarters.” (”Or in bed,” Tenzin muttered, getting swatted on the arm for his contribution). She offered her husband assistance as he poured the soup he brought home into a serving pot. “I have to constantly remind those children running the precincts that I am not old.” Her hand flicked in irritation. “And apparently, the only way I could assert that is by beating them down. While hanging on the ceiling. With my metal cables.” Little tremors were felt on the floor as she punctuated her statements with barely perceptible stomps of her foot.

Tenzin chuckled, guiding his wife into her seat in the dining room as she scowled. “I’m sure you enjoyed putting them in their place,” He added the pot of soup on the table. “Come now, I wouldn’t have thought a bunch of new officers would get you down. It’s the weekend!” He sat down, pouring tea for the two of them.

Lin shrugged and proceeded to pile Tenzin’s plate with two (bland) kale wraps and a few dumplings.

“This one’s new,” He lightly touched an angry red cut on her forearm.“And so is this.” He grasped her wrist when she placed his plate in front of him, gently massaging a darkening bruise on her elbow. “Where...?”

Having been raised and grown up in Air Nomad culture, Tenzin feels discomfort whenever his wife arrives home with another souvenir from work on her body (often temporary, sometimes somewhat permanent).

“A new group of non-benders instigated a faceoff with some benders near the cultural center today,” The metalbender downplayed the encounter, removing her arm from his hold. “Good thing we got there just in the nick of time.”

“And got yourself something which is more than a nick,” He frowned at the four-inch long scarlet mark that was a stark contrast against her pale skin. “Lin,” He quickly ladled some seaweed soup into a bowl. He knew it had properties good for blood loss. “Please be careful.” He pushed the bowl towards her.

“I always am.” She caught the sober tone of his reminder. “Don’t worry, I make sure to assess the risks beforehand. I’m no longer that reckless and brash detective who attempted to arrest her sister.” She tried to make light of their conversation.

As if on cue, as with any other time that her scars or the origin of her scars were brought up, Tenzin delicately cupped her cheek and gave her a soft kiss. He was a husband seeking a reminder that all was well. He felt the familiar pressure on his lips as his wife pressed back to deepen their kiss.

They both ended the kiss, breathing heavily. She smiled, finally accepting the soup.

The rest of the meal continued uneventfully. Tenzin complimented his spouse on her thoughtfulness on the meal. They talked about how their day went (”Tarrlock, that chattering hog-monkey, would not stop about this new ordinance he wanted to pass. I was sorely tempted to ring Mother and Fire Lord Izumi to influence their representatives to vote against it out of spite.” “Oh Tenzin, but you wouldn’t. 10 yuans on you that you would not push through with that.” “You’re right dear,” A sigh was heard. “I wouldn’t have.”) and how their respective families were faring (”Mom hasn’t still gotten in touch with Su and I.” “Should we be worried?” “I don’t think so. Lord Zuko is out travelling as well - 10 yuans bet that they’re out on a life-changing field trip.” “Lin, what’s with you and 10 yuans??”).

-----

The couple decided to finish their dessert in the study.

Lin tucked her legs under as she got comfortable on the couch while Tenzin cleaned up (”You go ahead and relax, I’ll take care of the kitchen and dining table since you prepared the meal - well, most of it at least - ouuuuch woman, stop hitting me.”). She pulled out her (Su’s) novel to bide the time (yes, bide the time, she was not invested in the story of the lone ballerina who captivated the king in that one-night-only performance, nope, not invested at all, thank you very much) while waiting for her husband.

She had made it into a chapter and a half by the time Tenzin joined her. She got up to make space for him, then laid her head on his lap to continue reading while he elected to tackle his correspondence.

They passed the time in that position, with Tenzin alternately feeding Lin and himself some of the sliced moon peaches. The only sound was the occasional flip of pages and parchment being discarded on the side table.

Half-way into the book, Lin was making mental note to ask her younger sister if she had a copy of the sequel when the airbender released a deep breath.

“Is something wrong?” She lifted her eyes from the book and directed her attention to the face of the man above her, albeit a bit concealed by the beard from her point-of-view.

“The new Avatar has mastered Earthbending.” He indicated the letter he was perusing.

“That’s good news, right?” The earthbender sat up on her heels, taking her mother-in-law’s letter to go through it.

“It says here they’re inviting you to train the Avatar as her airbending master in five years time,” Lin felt her excitement building as she read Katara’s update. “Provided, however, that she passes her Firebending mastery test by then.” She knew how important this was to him. “Ten-!” She looked up and saw his faraway expression.

“Hey,” Lin tenderly took his face into her hands, looking into his eyes. Green met gray.

Earth and air - their elements and their personalities were as opposite as they can go. While Lin Beifong learned early on how to master her emotions (which several times proved to be necessary in her line of work, sometimes even a matter of life and death), the man in shades of saffron and red before her wore his heart clearly. Even at the age of forty-six, he exuded an air of artlessness. Some of his detractors saw it as a weakness but she recognized it as his strength, the ingenuous sincerity which coated each of his interactions appealed to the constituents. Nonetheless, Lin knew him for as long as she was alive and she knew something was troubling him.

“Do you,” Like any earthbender worth his or her salt, she faced this head on. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Tenzin,” She knew they had made peace with it in the past but she needed to ask, yet again. “Do you regret it?” Do you regret choosing me - the unsaid question hung thickly in the air.

-----

The last airbender covered her right hand with his and leaned into her palm. “Never.” He knew she can feel his steady heartbeats as she held him. After a beat, he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his.

Lin Beifong, while a confident woman, did need reassurances which only her husband can provide. He knew that she still experienced vestiges of guilt from time to time.

He saw it when she was reading the newspaper and an article called out the Chief of Police as a hard-ass with a heart of stone, unbending with the law and unbending in rehabilitating an extinct nation.

He saw it through the years as she accompanied him in various city council formal events and got asked on multiple occasions when they were going to start trying for kids. She would pleasantly smile, with a poise that would make the late Poppy Beifong proud. Then she would sweetly reply something along the lines of no, thank you, we’re not trying for kids but rest assured we’re frequently engaging in exercises that might (if we were not careful) result in one. Now, that (and the subsequent choking noise made by whichever pompous guest who dared ask) would make Toph Beifong proud.

He saw it whenever the entire family gathers at Air Temple Island to celebrate someone’s birthday and the Air Acolytes seem to walk on eggshells around her, never mind that technically she was the first lady of the nation.

Everyone else saw her smirk or her stoic blank face; no emotion betrayed by the absence of hunching of the shoulders or the lack of a furious blush on her complexion.

But Tenzin, her partner for most of her life, saw the little indicators - the tightening of her jaw, the stiffening of her spine, the whitening of her knuckles as she dug her nails into her palm...

They simply did not know. They did not see her as a terrified child, fresh from being abducted by a convict on parole that her mother had put into jail years before her birth. It was the day that she first showed signs of metalbending as she broke off the chains the bound her. She was seven.

They did not see her stay up late as a teenager, waiting on the roof of one of the buildings in Air Temple island, scouring the horizon in the hopes that her mother might be coming home soon from a raid.

They did not see her collapse after returning to headquarters, after being beaten up (close to death) as a police captain caught in a turf war, getting more heat because of her ancestry. (”Bonus points in taking the metal woman down - her mother is the esteemed chief of police!” One of the fire-bending hooligans had spat.).

They did not see her weep neither did they hold her in their arms after a particularly difficult day on her job. She had murmured to him that she will never want to put a child, her child, in dangerous situations just because of the consequence of having her a mother. That would have been selfish. It was simply not an option.

Her (their) decision not to have children was publicly discussed and dissected. More than once, the usually calm Tenzin had blown up at the press to leave them alone. These only resulted in new heated rumors published the next day that he was probably selecting Air Acolytes across the Air Temples to impregnate to repopulate the Air Nation. If anything, while he was infuriated, Tenzin was glad to see Lin laugh out loud upon reading about it in the paper. His eldest brother Bumi had even called over just to check its veracity, volunteering to scout the United Republic in the next years in search for thick-eyebrowed large-nosed airheads cooped up in libraries across the temples.

Tenzin also dealt with the aftermath of these public set-downs once they returned to their home in Republic City. He would willingly offer the reassurance that only he can give her at her most vulnerable.

Even as the last airbender, Tenzin would do anything to make his metalbender happy.

-----

Satiated and relaxed, the couple adjusted their position on the couch, with Tenzin airbending the throw blanket over them. He noticed Lin fingering the letter from the Southern Water Tribe again.

“It’s just that - they’re asking us to move to the South Pole for the duration of Korra’s training.”

Lin raised her eyebrows at this. “Oh.”

“But no,” Tenzin moved to put an arm around her as she sat in his embrace. “I wouldn’t want to uproot you. It’s not for a few more years; we’ll figure something.” He distractedly finished the rest of the peaches and cream from the crystal bowl. Between the two of them, he was the one with the sweet tooth. “I could start training Oogi for frequent long distance trips to the South Pole, if only to ready him for my frequent back-and-forth to you in Republic City.”

The sound of the scraping of the spoon against the bowl echoed in the companionable silence.

“Or, Tenzin, maybe - what if,” Lin played with the smoothness of the blanket. “You invite her to Air Temple Island?” She avoided his inquisitive gaze. “I mean, we can reinstate the White Lotus around the temple for security and prepare the island for airbending training. You’ve probably have enough in the coffers for a refurbishment on the Island, given that it’s been a while since your family lived there. But those would be best put into use in rebuilding the other temples; I have enough money to add from the Beifong inheritance, we could use that - it will be my home too, you know -.” She was interrupted by a tight embrace and a kiss.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” The response he got was just a laugh. “But, really, are you sure about this?” He rubbed her side gingerly, taking care not to hit any of her bruises.

“Of course,” Lin grinned at him. “But you better start training again - sounds like this Korra would be a tough kid to manage.” She patted his chest.

“Train you say?” Tenzin had a glint in his eye. “Why don’t we start now,” He picked up his surprised wife as he carried her in the direction of their bedroom. “Let’s get you all limbered up and flexible then let’s give your sister a call so I can give her a blow-by-blow account on how you need not be a dancer to limber up.” Laughter trailed behind him as Lin made sure to metalbend their door close.

Yes, they treasured quiet Friday nights at home like this.

=====

Follow-up fanfic: The Airbender’s Wife: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

#linzin #lin beifong #tenzin #lok #legend of korra #lin deserves a happy ending #linzin fanfic #linzin fanfiction #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina completed

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thessaliadpdx · 4 years ago

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Interlude: Field Marshal Zhuāngyuán Rallies the Troops. Chuntian Cao Gets the Girl. Master Yuanyuan, Ahem, Third Master Shen, Gets His Fourth Apartment.

Unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, he was the subject of much concern. Back at the Shen Family Estate, Da-ge smacked Er-ge upside the head. An embarrassment to the Shen Family name! Little Brother was raised better than that! Baba would have been disappointed! Mama would have cried!

Er-ge drooped and nodded in agreement. “Yes, Da-ge. I’ll go over and apologize as soon as he will see me.”

The Brothers Shen worked themselves into a froth about their family’s Yuanyuan getting a roommate. They weren’t the only ones. The other residents of the Shen Family Estate were also deeply concerned. Upon hearing that Shen Yuan was to have a long-term houseguest, Steward Zhuangyuan fretted about Shen Yuan being deprived. Master Yuanyuan, ahem, Third Master Shen couldn’t possibly accommodate a long-term guest in his cramped, pokey little apartment! (Shen Real Estate Agent: “Pokey? It’s 360 square meters with four rooms!”) In Steward Zhuangyuan’s opinion, Master Yuanyuan only picked it because it had decent light. They should have rented another apartment in the same building and made it into a studio.

Steward Zhuangyuan recollected the effort required to make for Master Yuanyuan’s, ahem, Third Master Shen’s current apartment passable. Only two years ago, it had been a struggle. The Shen Family employees had done their best, but the steward still felt it barely up to standard for a Shen. Thank goodness Master Yuanyuan was so biddable. Steward Zhangyuan remembered when the frighteningly tiny young master had first come home, barely larger than a grapefruit. He remembered all the hospital stays thereafter. Everyone did, and they worried about Master Yuanyuan so, counting the months until the next time. So far it had been two years, but everyone still held their breath.

Master Yuanyuan was the last reminder of the late Madam Shen, the artistic genius and gracious mistress. (Steward Zhuangyuan declined to remember all the times she screamed and threw oily paintbrushes at her husband’s head. He usually deserved it.) Master Yuanyuan, unlike his older brothers, was a gentleman, a scholar, and an artistic genius in his own right. (Steward Zhuangyuan also declined to remember all the times Master Yuanyuan screamed and threw ink brushes at his father and brothers when they denied him things they perceived as for his own good. They usually deserved it.)

At the very least The Young Master had needed a studio, a study, an office, a game room, a master bedroom and a guest bedroom for that questionable friend of his. (Shang Qinghua: “Hey! I’m a nice guy! I didn’t know he was sixteen when he read my book!”) Master Yuanyuan, as sweet and good-natured as ever, kindly suggested that he could tutor students in the dining room, and place bookshelves against the wall. He also suggested that the living room also be used for gaming, movies, and music.

Upon hearing that, First Master Shen gleefully called the Chairman of Hangsong to send their latest TV, something experimental. Six people from Shen Construction marched into the apartment. Four reinforced the living room wall, added a wall mount, and installed a 250cm television. Two wired the room for the TV, added a home theater sound system from Onsuhi, and a GM6 with the lastest games, some of which were review copies. The two grinned at the other four. Testing was an essential part of installation, right?

Auntie Chu had found the tiny 20-square-meter kitchen marginal, at best. The appliances were old and shabby. (If the refrigerator could talk: “Hey! I’m only two years old and I cost 6899 yuan! Rude!” The stove just cried, greatly aggrieved. uwuwuwuwu) Auntie Chu nodded her head firmly. She knew what to do. Meals would be delivered every day from the Shen Estate, and new appliances must be ordered.

First Master Shen gleefully did more research. He looked for something modest, and called Chufang Bangshou for a French-door refrigerator, complete with pull-out drawer for cold cuts and snacks, and a pull-out freezer. A steal for 23,000 yuan. Then he called Zhu Rong Stoves, and ordered the four-burner self-cleaning convection gas range with the 50,000 BTU wok burner. He also ordered a fume hood. A trifling 60,000 yuan.

The previous six people from Shen Construction carried in the refrigerator, stove, and hood. An additional seventh person went with to hook up the natural gas. The Head Chef certified in Medicinal Cuisine Auntie Chu lightly walked behind. Finally, several Shen Estate kitchen staff rolled in a couple coolers. Under Auntie Chu’s gimlet eye the Shen Construction workers carefully attached and installed the new refrigerator, fume hood, and stove.

Auntie Chu pronounced herself satisfied, and waved at her assistants, who promptly opened coolers of prepped ingredients and set up additional burners. Under the famished, yearning gaze of the Shen Construction crew, they whipped up a banquet and laid it before the workers. It was like Lunar New Year and Great-Grandfather’s 100th birthday and the Grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary all at once. They would have to save a year for food this good, assuming there was a place that served it.

Auntie Chu said, “Testing is an important part of installation. Yes?”

Seven heads bobbed up and down like chickens.

Auntie Chu and her assistants left. The original six grinned at each other, then at the seventh. The TV, music, and gaming systems needed to be tested again. Testing, indeed, was an important part of installation.

The 8K 200Hz TV was a beast compared to what any of them had at home. The seventh looked around when they heard a glass shatter. Wow, just wow.

This was probably going to be the last time they could play, and they all mourned silently.

Next was Auntie Wu. She inspected the apartment with white gloves, found dust, and sniffed at the substandard work. Filthy. (Housekeeping: “She wiped the back of the fridge! Unfair!”) The laundry service left a wrinkle in some sheets. (Laundry: “Hey! The main pressing iron is down! We did them all by hand and on time!”)

Auntie Wu decided that the Shen staff would dust daily, and launder everything at home. The conditions were abysmal. Master Yuanyuan was so brave. Her mouth wobbled. She’d never imagined he’d live this long. She’d been terrified that dust would cause him to have a bronchospasm and die. She had to call the ambulance so many times, even though a doctor and three nurses resided on the grounds.

Driver Siji had donned some old clothes, approached the car service manager and had asked for directions to S University. The manager said that he would have to use GPS. Driver Siji told Steward Zhuangyuan that the manager couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag. (Service Drivers: “Hey! He can’t find his way out of a paper bag! That’s why he doesn’t drive!”) He also found a footprint in one of the floormats. Lazy. (Driver: “Hey! I just went to pee!”)

Driver Siji had decided that they would have one of the Estate staff on site. There would have to be three, for twenty-four-hour coverage. Driver Siji remembered when he used to drive Young Master Yuanyuan to University at age ten. Master Yuanyuan was so tiny, a skinny little bird with thick, goggle-like glasses. Driver Siji had worried that he would trip and break a bone.

Driver Siji had reported to Madam that The Youngest Master seemed exhausted, and suggested that it might be better for him to stay at home. The fiery Madam Shen said that The Youngest Master would attend University as long as he wished, until he said otherwise. Madam Shen then inquired if Driver Siji needed to be assigned elsewhere. Driver Siji wanted to kowtow in the face of such ferocity, but bowed deeply instead and apologized for his presumption. Appeased, Madam Shen accepted his apology and said he would resume his current duties, as he was the best driver they had. Grateful, Driver Siji wanted to walk backwards to the door, like in an Imperial drama.

#####

Head Gardener Huayuan had much better luck. Upon first inspection, the shrubbery was cheap and ill-shaped. No flowers brightened the neighborhood. Pretending to be a prospective student’s grandfather, he performed a little investigation of his own. Landscape Supervisor Xiang was a sensible person, a very good seedling. She had a master’s degree in horticulture from Q Agricultural University, first in her class. She picked this job to support her mother back home. After a while, the usually stand-offish childless widower said, “Call me Grandpa.”

Xiang Hua’s mouth wobbled a little bit, because her grandfather died when she was young, and she missed him terribly. She discussed with the very knowledgeable Grandpa Huayuan the city’s push for water reduction. She also confessed her dream to see wild birds live where she worked. The kindly retiree understood the difficulty of maintaining such extensive grounds with such a tiny budget. Naturescaping was the perfect solution, and letting native plants grow wild created nesting sites and fed local insects, which in turn fed the birds.

Such a wise and creative person must be encouraged. Grandpa Huayuan and Xiao Xiang discussed favorite flowers, and Xiao Xiang described her collection of orchids in her tiny apartment. Grandpa Huayuan described some of the orchids he’d seen in private collections. He’d even seen the gardens of the Shen Estate. Xiao Xiang sighed. She’d seen a feature article in a floriculture magazine.

A couple days later, the usual seven from Shen Construction had arrived to install bookshelves. The actual job only required three people at the very most, but they slunk off anyway.

Incidentally, their supervisor reported the information to The Big Boss as ordered. Big Boss Shen had wanted updates on all work done on Third Master Shen’s apartment. Big Boss chuckled and waved his hand. They’re the best we’ve got, he said, and they all work hard. They deserve a little reward. Testing is a necessary part of installation, no?

The supervisor nodded.

Additionally, one of the junior gardeners rode along, holding a basket. He was to meet someone named Xiang Hua, the landscape supervisor. The delivery was of upmost importance. Head Gardener had told the junior that his mission was vital to the Shen Estate Gardens. He was to deliver the basket, and report back without delay. The junior had nodded so hard his chest wobbled. Upon finding Landscape Supervisor Xiang, he thrust the basket into her hands and scurried off.

Xiang Hua, curious, opened the basket. Inside was a rare orchid she wouldn’t have been able to afford, assuming she could find one for sale. Next to it was an envelope.

The letter read:

“Xiao Xiang, I must apologize for my deception. I originally came to inspect the landscaping to see if the environs was worthy of our Third Master. I have not had such a lively conversation with a junior in a very long time.

Someone with your gifts is wasted here, and should be working in an environment where you can learn and grow. Come and work for Grandpa Huayuan instead.

Sincerely,

Huayuan Yuan, Head Gardener, Shen Estate Gardens”

The letter named a salary that was twice what she currently made. It also mentioned that living quarters and meals were provided. Her mother would be able to live there if so desired.

Xiang Hua, a country girl raised on a poor family farm, started to cry. It was a dream come true.

Chuntian Cao, the lead worker of her construction crew, noticed a young, tiny, pretty woman reading a letter and crying. Taller than most men at 180cm, she lumbered over to see if she could help. Chuntian Cao was a woman of fine tastes and knew a good thing when she saw the Meimei, or Little Sister, in distress. The wet, reddened eyes like a little white rabbit’s rendered Caocao helpless. The callused fingers dusty with a little dirt made Meimei even more of a catch. A hard worker with such pretty features would make for a perfect wife, especially for a plain fisherman’s daughter. She really wanted to give Meimei a hug and eat some tofu, but now was definitely not the time.

She sidled closer to Meimei and silently offered a hug. “Hey there, Meimei. Why so sad? Some dumbass said goodbye?” She wrapped her arm around a lightly muscled shoulder. She looked down, and noted the delicacy of a collarbone. She dropped her voice. “Does Meimei need someone beaten up?” She rumbled. “I’m good at that.” She didn’t lie. At 90 kilos of muscle from pulling nets then hauling lumber, Chuntian Cao packed a deadly punch. She loved beating the shit out of people who deserved it. Unfortunately, the guys at Shen Construction were well-behaved. She went to bars instead.

Meimei plastered herself against Chuntian Cao in a hug and bawled. It was like an idol drama, only Chuntian Cao was the school grass, and Meimei was the school flower. She resisted eating the tofu, but it was really hard. Chuntian Cao waved at her crew and mouthed at them to go on up. They grinned at her and waved back. Xiao Hu, that fucker, made kissy faces. She wanted to gesture back, but her hands were occupied.

Meimei hiccuped, “I just got the best news in my life and I don’t know what to do!” She held out the letter with a trembling hand.

Chuntian Cao read it. “Old Man Gardener offered you a job? He told you to call him Grandpa? I’d never believed it if I hadn’t seen it!” She gave Meimei a squeeze. No eating the tofu, Caocao. Be good.

Meimei snuggled up and held on tight. Caocao looked up to the heavens and breathed in deep. She sighed, and bit her lip. It was even better when the tofu ate you. She patted Meimei on the head. “Gonna come and work for us?”

“Mmm?” Meimei looked up, dazed.

“I’m with Shen Construction!” Chuntian Cao said proudly. “I’m the lead worker of my crew. Wanna come up and hang out with us? I’ll introduce ya!”

Meimei pressed close enough that the only way she could get closer was for Chuntian Cao to crack her chest open and spread her ribs wide. For such a sugar-sweet armful, Caocao would be perfectly willing to do so. Would Meimei top? Caocao sincerely hoped so.

“Okay,” Meimei said.

Meimei’s name was Xiang Hua, and she ate and gamed with the crew. The now-eight workers knew this was their last chance at testing the systems, so they were going to do their best. Beer, snacks, fried chicken and barbecue were the order of the day, and a merry time was had by all.

At the end of Caocao’s first date with Xiang Hua, Caocao got pushed down backwards on her own bed. Xiang Hua straddled her hips. Xiang Hua said that Caocao was the Meimei, and Meimeis did what their Jiejies, their Big Sisters, told them to.

Caocao sighed with happiness. Fucking finally. She was so tired of being a Jiejie. Everyone assumed that a 180cm, 90 kilo, plain-faced girl wanted to be a Jiejie. Caocao had always insisted she wanted to be a spoiled little Meimei instead, but no one believed her.

They got married in the Shen Estate Gardens the following year. Mama Xiang teared with pride, then flew back home to the countryside. Caocao cried with relief that her mother-in-law wasn’t going to live with them. Huajie hummed with pleasure when she made her little Caomei apologize with desperation.

Caomei, with the help of a fertility clinic and amazing health benefits, bore two babies by her Huajie. Mama Xiang cried at being Grandma Xiang. Grandpa Yuan cried at being Great-Grandpa Yuan. The spoiled little Caomei had little ones to spoil in turn. She loved it.

Huajie, now Assistant Head Gardener Xiang, smiled with satisfaction--a tigress overlooking her tigress and their little tiger cubs.

#####

Steward Zhuangyuan gathered the senior staff, and cobbled together a plan of action. The apartment had been upgraded as best they could. The winning crew from Shen Construction had moved everything in. Auntie Wu’s staff had put it to rights. Auntie Chu’s staff had stocked the refrigerator, arranged the utensils, flatware, and glassware. They had made meal plans.

Master Yuanyuan smashed all the plans to bits. Auntie Wu’s staff were only allowed over once a week. She cried into her handkerchief. Auntie Chu’s staff were only allowed to drop off pre-prepped meals for him to cook himself. And that was only every three days. She sniffled discreetly. Driver Siji was only allowed to send someone when called, and only when called. No hanging around the garage, “just in case.” Driver Siji wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

First Master and Second Master commiserated with Steward Zhuangyuan, but there was nothing they could do. The late Madam Shen had made it very clear to the two that Yuanyuan was to make his own decisions, and they were to butt out. Yuanyuan was smart enough to understand what he was and was not capable of, and they needed to respect his wishes. And that, was that.

Occasionally they forgot, but that was for another time.

Finally, the cherished but astonishingly unspoiled Master Yuanyuan moved in, quite pleased with his cozy abode. Only 360 square meters with four bedrooms! Nice furnishings, but not too grand! Having the latest electronics was okay. He was now a solid member of the middle class!

Shang Qinghua, good friend and sponge extraordinaire, hated to break it to his best friend that his “middle class apartment” was solidly in the upper five percent. Shen Yuan’s face fell. The personal services kicked him up to the upper one percent. Black lines filled Shen Yuan’s face.

Shen Yuan’s plan of having a place near the campus that wouldn’t terrify his students failed utterly. His more privileged students, ready to intimidate “Some guy named Shen Yuan my parents forced me to see,” were intimidated in turn by his exquisite manners and knowledge at such a young age. To the manor born, so to speak. After hearing from their parents that he was one of Those Shens, they meeped instead of roared.

His underprivileged students, in awe at the surroundings, were even more in awe with this friendly Young Master. Their favorite professor in Classical Chinese had referred them, and they had worried they wouldn’t be good enough. Later, they felt honored to be tutored by the nicest rich person they had ever met, a true genius. He was obviously better off than the snooty rich kids at the university, but he didn’t act like it. He was so cool, he’d invite them to game when their session was over. He was even pretty enough to be the school flower of the entire campus!

#####

That was then, but now Master Yuanyuan had a houseguest. Would Master Yuanyuan finally come home? Please say yes!

Steward Zhuangyuan received a call, but it was not the call he wanted. Instead of returning to where he belonged, Master Yuanyuan was going to move into a villa instead. A villa! How horrid!

#too sexy for my cat #toosexyformycat #Shen Family #Shen Yuan is the spoiled baby of the family #Everybody loves Shen Yuan #Shen Yuan's brothers are goofballs #shen yuan #svsss fic #outsider pov #Shen Family servants #Shen Estate

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one-doesnt-simply-walk-in-bagend · 5 years ago

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MDZS Pacific Rim au

Ok I’m gay and love soulmate shit like souls just meant for each other whether platonic/familial/romantic just that shits so good and what better way to express that than in huge robots beating up giant monsters?

So jaegers right? Ok sect backgrounds

Yunmeng Jiang: Specialize in water battles with controlled yet fluid movements. They specialize in midranged battle with swords and whips that keep kaiju at a distance but theyre also very adept at close combat. They definitely have hidden daggers in every open crevice of their jaegers

Gusu Lan: Specialize in more aerial battles, not like sustained in air battles but using different maneuvers to gain the advantage over kaiju. They tend to work in pairs and work in tandem to disorient and overwhelm the kaiju. They’re strict because not only do you have to vibe with your copilot but you also have to know what other pilots are thinking so you can work together

Qinghe Nie: Ok so Nies made some of the og jaegers with nuclear power and low shielding because it give them a Massive Boost in power but it was also dangerous for their pilots. While the other sects went for better shielding and less dangerous power sources, the nies kept the trade off because pilots felt that risking their lives was worth protecting their people. Nie pilots tend to die young

Lanling Jin: Kind of like the Nies the Jin style has trade offs. They opt for thing light plating so they are quick to maneuver and get at weak points on kaiju. They specialize in speed and precision to keep them alive and effective. They’re basically squishy genjis

Qishan Wen: Idk I feel they have experimental but dangerous tech that they test. The sects are wary of them but they get results so there’s not much they can complain about. The wens have the advantage because so many of their population are drafted for their pilot program where the other sects take volunteers and people who want to become disciples.

This might get long so imma put the rest under a read more :L

Ok so do we want plot or soulmates first? Hmmm plot to explain the soulmates

We start with wwx and jc. Yzy trains them fast and hard with the other disciples and they both excel in their training. Wwx and jc have a jaeger named Night’s Envy.

They are a team to be reckoned with as they balance each other. Wwx is impulsive but has great instincts and his ideas are brilliant if risky. Jc on the other hand is calculating and analytical and he takes his brothers ideas and turns them into a viable plan they can both pull off.

Yzy is always harsh on wwx for his tactics saying hes going to get his brother hurt one day but wwx just laughs it off with jc bc they trust each other so well.

Also because they drift, they know of each others insecurities and help each other when tensions spike etc etc. We are here for supportive brothers ok?? They are the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng and are inseparable.

God I havent even gotten to the plot yet. Ok this is a bit of a step back to their training days but this is where wwx and lwj met. Wwx and jc go to the Cloud Recesses training facility because its the most advanced in the country. It’s strict there but their training is top notch and keeps their pilots alive. Ofc wwx gets busted by lwj for alcohol and thats how wwx gets on lwjs radar.

Lwj doesnt know how to feel about wwx, besides annoyed, because hes such an amazing pilot but doesnt control his actions. Wwx excels in the studies and training but is so carefree and flippant about everything that it frustrates him to no end. Doesn’t help that wwx loves to rile lwj up to get a reaction

They end up developing a competitive relationship and always try to outdo each other in training sims and sparing. All the other disciples know about the top two students duking it out for top spot but they keep switching between each session. Before they get to actually try drifting together wwx gets into a fight with jzx and gets kicked out (spoilers they are drift compatible)

Ok back to our Twin Heroes. Night’s Envy gets deployed for a kaiju but their fight starts to drift into Wen territory. Idk regulations or smth say they shouldn’t infringe on anothers territory so yzy tells them to come back but wwx spots the kaiju headed for an undefended village. It would take the wens time to deploy their own pilots so wwx and jc look at each other and nod. Wwx says their headed to save the village and yzy is furious telling him off for being impulsive and not listening but it was also jc’s idea (he wont say that tho bc he doesnt want him to get into trouble)

Wwx has a wild idea, jc finds out how to make it work, and they go after the kaiju as it bears down on the village. They’re able to push it back but it gets a hit in and jc gets injured and knocked out. Wwx is left to pilot solo and manages to subdue the kaiju before piloting the jaeger to crash next to the village

This is where Wen Qing and Wen Ning come in because this is their village and they pull wwx and jc out from the wreckage. Wq stabilizes both of them and wwx is the one to wake up first. Their comms were broken in the fight and the village doesnt have advanced enough comms to get to the jiangs so wwx stays and helps the village while taking care of his brother who is still Out

Little do they know that the Wens are Unhappy about them infringing on their territory and bar yzy from sending parties to collect her pilots and jaeger and theres now Tension. (Wens are just using this as an excuse bc they want more power in the jaeger industry and want to incorporate the other sects)

Once wwx catches wind of this, he enlists wn’s help in getting them out and they’re able to get an unconscious jc back into the jiang’s hands but then he himself gets caught by wen chao and wen zhuliu. he’s able to say wn was his prisoner and forced so hes safe but wwx is now in their hands.

He gets beaten, tortured, etc for information but manages to escape and find his way back to the wen village. Wq helps him back to health bc he protected her brother and he stays there because he can be safe there. (This is where he basically adopts a-yuan bc i say so)

When jc wakes up hes back with the jiangs but his brother isn’t there. He goes Off and hes doing everything he can to try and get back to find his brother but he was unconscious and has no clue about the village let alone where it is.

Soon war breaks out between the sects bc the wens are using their weird tech to take territories from the other sects and now the sects are fighting on two fronts: the kaiju and the wens. Finding wwx is lowest priority for the sects but jc is still out there searching and when lwj hears of it, so is he

I think once the war breaks out wwx starts to move his village of wens to a safer territory from both the wens and other sects bc he knows no one will be spared. During his time at he village, he ventures out to bigger wen cities and learns about their experimental/dangerous tech and learns how to use it and program it to his advantage

He makes his way back to the jiang territories once he has amassed a thorough knowledge of the wen tech. he uses that knowledge to take out wen pilots and outposts in the territories he pushes through and becomes a ghost. the only evidence of his presence is the destruction left in his wake.

Jc and lwj at this point have just started searching together and thats when they stumble upon wwx using wen tech against the wens. Jc is so angry with wwx for leaving him and being away so long but hes also crying as he hugs him close. Lwj is wary of the tech wwx is using because its experimental and dangerous idk. Jc takes wwx back and they continue fighting the war.

Now the jiangs and thus the rest of the sects have an advantage because they have an insider who knows the wen’s plans (meng yao) and someone who knows how their tech works and can use it against them (wwx). wwx is able to set up some tech to hold off kaiju so certain forces can be pushed to the wen front to end the war quicker

in the final battle wwx is able to get them a huge advantage with the tech but gets hit hard with backlash and gets knocked out during the battle and lwj and jc defend his unconscious figure as meng yao gets the final blow on wrh and the battle ends.

Idk i want lans to still be healers cuz i want lwj to take care of an unconscious wwx while jc and the others deal with the end of war idk meetings etc plus there are still like,,, kaiju attacking lmao

jgs is gonna be targeting wwx since he knows the wens tech and its uses etc. the jins go after the remaining wens bc they want their tech blah blah. they find wq’s village and wwx goes off. he goes and rescues them (wn is injured but alive) and takes them away. jgs spins this as wwx trying to amass his own tech to take over or something and people believe that for some reason w/e

the massacre at nightless city is wwx trying to talk to them about the wen remnants being no fighting army etc etc but doesnt matter and someone attacks him and he fights back but of course experimental tech isnt always good and it accidentally gets too powerful and hurts a Lot of People (jyl is alive). wwx is knocked out by the backlash and lwj takes him to safety.

wn is there and he takes wwx back to where the rest of the remnants are hiding and lwj fights off 33 elders who try to follow/intercept wn and wwx

I haven’t decided how the rest is gonna go but I have Ideas. Tbqh there’s a lot missing in between the bullets but i wanted to get this all down

#mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #mdzs pacific rim au #wwx #lwj #jwy #mdzs #mine #long post

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sanguine-serpentine · 3 years ago

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Okay, I finally did it. I finally wrote the most self-indulgent fic of all time. The bathtub scene. (Heavy NSFW under the cut!)

“Acacius, /please/.”

Bahari stood across the dim hallway looking at her friend, her hand on her hip defiantly, her brows knit together as her expression changed to pleading. The pair were equally dirty after their fight with the rotting flesh demon, both covered in ichors of black and green and brown, and smelling something awful. Their fight was a just one on both sides, so no one was winning.

Acacius tried to pincer her at the door, but her hand barred his crossing into the bathroom. Yes, they were really going to fight over this right now, neither one seemed to be backing down, and Bahari was set on winning. Acacius was silent, quiet after the events of their previous fight. He just looked up at her with an exasperated look on his already tired face.

“I won’t be long.” The yuan-ti continued to try and make her case, putting one foot over the threshold of the bathroom. She tried to squeeze past him while still talking.

“Plus,” She kept trying to sweeten the deal while actively pushing him out of the way. “I can make sure no one tries to take the bathroom before you get your chance. I can just hold down the fort until you’re ready. No one will sneak past you.”

An annoyed scoff came from the brunette man, accompanied by an eye roll. “Bahari, you can’t make that case when you are literally doing that right now.”

“Yes, but I am good at sneaking…” Bahari smirked, having gotten her way into the bathroom fully. She winked at him while promptly shutting the door in his face. The last thing she saw was Acacius folding his arms angrily across his chest.

“You’re a pain, Bahari.” The familiar accented trill called out to her, a small flavoring of annoyance making her feel bad momentarily.

“And so are you, love.” She had to laugh, shaking her head to herself. After a moment, the sound of Acacius’ footsteps carried down the hall and down the stairs, and Bahari was left with the upstairs bathroom of the Burgomaster’s manor to herself.

Looking around the room, there were a few lit candles lighting the space in iron wall sconces, helping Bahari to see the clawfoot tub and the ornate sink in the dim light of a dreary afternoon in Barovia. The bath had been drawn already, and the water looked hot, judging by the soft pulls of steam rolling off its surface. Various soaps and lathers had been left where she could find them, as well as a dry towel. ‘Ismark, the ever hospitable host’, she thought to herself as she began the process of removing her soaked and soiled clothing.

Maybe it was the stench on her still, but Bahari was beyond excited to have this moment to relax and have peace of mind for just a few minutes. It wasn’t everyday someone who adventured across the lands got to take a hot bath in the security of someone’s home. Most inns or taverns Bahari was used to had communal bathroom spaces, with wash bins or buckets. Said wash bins or buckets were used by whoever for whatever, for washing anything from themselves to their clothing and gear. It also wasn’t changed nearly enough, as people were always coming and going from the bathroom. The thought of the uncleanliness made Bahari shudder slightly, wishing not to go back to something like that, but knowing it to be common practice, even here in Barovia it seemed.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, Bahari tried to delicately handle her clothes so as to not drip rotting flesh or refuse water too far. She already felt bad for the rest of the manor, as seven individuals couldn’t have been careful enough even if they tried. After a few moments of meticulous stripping, she left her black slacks and red corset top in a neat pile by the bathroom door. She would have to take care of them and wash them after she had washed herself. And so, Bahari stepped delicately toward the bath, using her toe to test the waters.

They were hot, but not scalding. After the fight she’d just participated in and the ghosts she’d just witnessed, Bahari welcomed a hot bath. Another momentary pang of remorse for stealing the bathroom from Acacius crossed her mind, but it was washed away as she sunk her sore body into the bathtub and into the water. A soft and content sigh left her lips as her red eyes slipped closed. Adjusting her body slightly, Bahari let herself sink as deep as she could under the water. She lay there for a moment, acclimating to the temperature and just breathing in the warmth, eyes closed.

Ismark had been kind enough to offer his space once again to Bahari and her friends, and she was grateful, especially after what they’d seen in that horrid old house a second time. He didn’t question them when they returned beaten and bruised, and some of them downright soiled. He merely helped them get comfortable again, and gave them what he had available. A place to wash up, a place to rest, and a place to plan, all under one roof. The Burgomaster of Barovia Village, while a deeply troubled man who clearly didn’t socialize often, continued to be the nicest person to this ragtag group since they’d gotten to Barovia, and it did not go unnoticed. He didn’t have to be kind, yet he chose to be kind to total strangers. Though they had stayed in contact with him because of an errand he’d asked them to run, Bahari had no doubt that they would still visit Ismark regardless. At least, she would visit him.

Her mind flitted briefly to the time they shared under this roof. Her counterparts all piled into the sitting room downstairs the best they could fit, making seats out of side tables and sitting at each other’s feet on the floor, dragging chairs from other rooms as they kept bringing in new people. Leonora, Vasilica, Victor, all additions even within their time here. A group of strangers all talking and drinking and eating, sharing stories and getting to know each other even in the challenging new setting. Ismark included, getting drunk on bad wine and company warming his previously empty home. No doubt this group of strangers breathed new life into this manor and the man who occupied it.

And what of the man who occupied it? The thought of him even now had Bahari’s lips pulled into a faint smile, even with the bathwater resting just under her nose, tickling under her golden nose ring. She couldn’t help it. She had her own experiences with Ismark, ones no one in her group even knew about. Was she afraid to share them? Maybe slightly. Bahari was the type of person to keep something under wraps until she was completely certain it was time to share the information. To her, it just didn’t seem like something everyone else had to know. Plus, she had a fear that if more people knew, more people could use it against her, no matter how simple it may seem. She had no idea who her allies were. She was barely starting to trust her own group, and that was mostly due to proximity. She trusted one, Acacius, but she was even worried to tell him about this thing.

It was a thing. It was becoming a thing, and a thing she didn’t know how to deal with. Not necessarily a bad thing, either. Just a surprising thing. A brand new thing. An unnavigable thing. Gods, she knew this wasn’t the time for new things either. Stuck in a new place, unsettling things happening left and right, a self-proclaimed and identified vampire who seemed to want to keep tabs on her, who was also the ruler of this land… Why was her time with Ismark consuming her mind? Why were those thoughts eating her alive during her waking moments?

A memory pushed forward, her favorite to recall in her moments of peace. Herself and Ismark standing together in one of the bedrooms of the manor, Ismark telling her about ballroom dancing when she asked about the dress she’d left with him. He asked her if he could show her, and suddenly his hands were on her waist. He asked to make sure it was okay, and it was okay that he touched her, even better that he asked. Anything to help teach her this dance. And an eager learner, she got the hang of it so quickly that it turned into them really sharing a dance, as their feet paraded around the confines of the abandoned bedroom. Steps easy for the yuan-ti woman who was ever dextrous, steps easily recalled by a man who once upon a time had to learn them for some reason or another thanks to being the son of the Burgomaster. They moved in tandem, bodies close enough to feel the heat, smiles bright and cheeks flushed, embarrassed only to meet each other’s gaze. Bahari feared that if Ismark got a good look at her, her cover would be blown and he’d see just how adoringly she was looking at him that day. She could still remember what he looked like, as she fought her own want to hide her feelings just to see his expression. He was happy, a look on his face brighter than she’d ever seen, even in the brief time she’d known him. His smile creased the skin around his gray eyes, he was so happy in that moment. It made her heart leap then, and it made her heart leap now as she thought about it.

For a moment, she’d been carefree. She was noticing a pattern, noticing just when she was feeling carefree since arriving in Barovia. The first time was getting drunk in the manor with Ismark, Greta, and Acacius on one of their very first nights here. Strangers coming together over the ever-welcoming idea of alcohol and laughing into the night with rosy cheeks and a sense of calm when sleep finally took them. Ismark was just a man they’d met back then, but in that moment he had been gracious and kind and given them a place to stay. He seemed to enjoy the company, or even just the drinking company, and he was drunk but he was happy then. Bahari recalled a fleeting thought of ‘oh, he’s handsome.’ that night, but thought nothing more of it when they’d left town for Vallaki. If only her past self had known what she’d been thinking of lately.

Bahari, stuck in deep thought about Ismark and the times they shared since she got here, decided she’d had enough lying around in the water. If she didn’t want to smell so bad anymore, maybe she should actually make an effort to wash up. And, she could still think about things while washing her hair. She took a moment to fully submerge her head under the water now, getting her long white hair fully damp and hopefully rinsing out any debris. The shampoo that she found smelled of roses and herbs, and the thought crossed her mind that this was what Ismark smelled like when they shared their dance. Long pointed fingernails took their time to comb through bubbles in her hair, making sure to clean the best she could. The last thing she wanted was to have something rotting tangled in her hair. No, roses and herbs would be much better.

How could she forget about cooking with Ismark? After their dance, after everyone suspecting Bahari of something she wouldn’t fess up to, she spent her evening cooking a meal with Ismark for them and her new friends. Sure, it was awkward, because it happened after they’d just been swaying together, chests pressed together upstairs for close to twenty minutes. Surely, it was awkward for both of them to go from that, to cutting vegetables to roast and small talk. Bahari was just thinking about his hands, unable to focus on much else other than how he gripped the kitchen knife and wishing their hands were still interlocked like they’d been in their waltz. Leaning with her hip against the countertop and a glass of wine in her hand they talked about everything. Life in Barovia Village, what the jungle Bahari was from was like, what traveling was like, all while nursing wine and stoking dinner. Things were a sort of normal neither one was accustomed to. This was the moment Bahari realized she couldn't ignore that nagging in the back of her mind. She wasn’t looking for anything, yet this man seemed to stumble into her life and blindside her with the idea of kindness and hospitality, giving when he didn’t have anything left to give. It was then, sipping wine and pink in the cheeks. It was then, laughing and stealing glances. It was then, she wanted to kiss him then.

And maybe that was why she made the joke, looking up at that nasty old house that very evening. She didn’t want to have to go in ever again, and most of her companions felt similarly. If not for Leonora being asked by her uncle Strahd to go and eradicate the spirits within, Bahari and her friends may have never given the Durst family home a second glance. Bahari was assuming walking back through that threshold was a death sentence, and in that moment of walking up to the front door she felt a pang of regret for not kissing Ismark when she’d felt the draw to.

And maybe that was why she made the joke, stating under her breath and unbothered by who might here, that if she made it out alive a second time she was marching her ass back up to the Burgomaster’s manor and fucking that man. It was mostly a joke, fueled by her errant need to do or say something funny in serious situations and a bubbling fear for what was waiting for them beyond the front door of this abandoned place. He was on her mind even then, when she was worried she was facing certain death. He was stuck there in place, and she was unable to shake the image of him smiling at her as they danced together, unable to shake the image of him pouring her a ‘secret glass of wine’ while they cooked and chatted and the smirk that brought to his lips.

Bahari took the quiet time in thought to wash any remaining ichor from her body, and was happy to see that it wasn’t that hard to remove like she’d been worried about. A sigh left her now as she rinsed the bubbled lather from her pale locks, a confused one as she thought more on the subject of Ismark Kolyana. Her actions now were a bit absent as she bathed, lost in a deeper thought process and knowing she was just going in circles.

A gentle noise broke her mental journey, startling her a bit and making her hands splash against the water’s surface as she straightened up. Heart pounding in her ears now, she waited to hear the noise again to confirm. There was indeed a second, louder rap on the outside of the bathroom door. Assuming it was Acacius there to bother her or to tell her to hurry, Bahari entertained the idea.

“Who is it?” The woman called, moving slightly to be sitting up in the tub now as curiosity took her.

A muffled voice answered her, but it wasn’t the person she thought was outside the door.

“It’s Ismark.” He called out, waiting for her acknowledgement from the other side of the closed door.

Ismark was probably the last person Bahari was expecting, so to have his familiar voice break through while she was deep in thought about him gave her a bit of a start. What did he want, especially right now when she was in the bath? Her mind started to race, and so did the pounding in her chest.

“Is it okay if I open the door?” Ismark asked, again waiting to hear back from her.

Bahari panicked, raising her hands out of the water to smooth her wet hair to one side, trying to sit up and make herself look presentable. Did she need to look presentable? He probably wasn’t going to see her anyway.

“Yes, that’s fine.” the woman squeaked out, sitting up straight and looking toward the direction of the door. She was probably worrying for nothing, and he’d just as quickly leave her as he’d approached. She told herself to relax in her mind and held her breath for a moment.

Ismark cracked the bathroom door open slowly, trying to give Bahari ample time to object or ready herself. What she saw made her grin, shaking her head slightly. Ismark was standing there, one hand covering his eyes to maintain her modesty, the other holding a small bundle of cloth on a clothes hanger close to his body. His body language screamed ‘nervous’, and she assumed he had to feel similarly to how she did right now. Though she had to admit, his attempt to be a true gentleman was adorable.

“So…” He started shakily, extending his hand that wasn’t covering his face, showing her what he’d been carrying. “I know your clothes are dirty after your fight. I don’t think these will fit you very well, but I brought you a shirt and a pair of pants to wear. At least until your clothes are clean and dry.”

From memory, mixed with the awkward angle, Ismark began to try and hook the clothes hanger on the back of the door. It was awkward to watch from Bahari’s perspective, seeing him effectively reach around blindly from the other side of the door and hope he landed the hanger on the hook.

“They’re mine,” He added, trying to fill the space as he very obviously struggled with the task at hand. He was also struggling with his secondary task of keeping his eyes covered. “But hey, it’s better than nothing, right?”

Bahari fought the urge to comment on the better than nothing clothing thought, letting out a small laugh instead. “Ismark, let me help you.”

Leaning over the edge of the tub, Bahari reached a willowy arm to guide Ismark’s change of clothes finally to their spot on the hook. Glancing back at him, she thought she saw a glimpse of his cool gray eyes peeking through the cracks of his fingers. Her gaze immediately hit the floor, her pale cheeks flushing with color so bright it contended with the red scaling on her forehead. Ismark must have noticed, because he quickly backed out of the doorway and pulled the door closed behind him.

“I’m going to go now…” His voice was low, muffled once again by the wooden door. Bahari took note of how his feet didn’t move just yet.

“No, wait...” Bahari huffed, worried she’d given off the wrong impression. Why did she have to clarify that she wasn’t upset with him taking a peek at her naked? Oh, maybe she didn’t want to admit to herself that she didn’t mind and that maybe she wanted him to… Regardless of her complicated thought process, she wanted to make sure he knew she wasn’t upset.

“Ismark?” Her voice rings out a bit louder now, making sure he could hear her as she chewed on the inside of her lip.

After a moment’s hesitation, the bathroom door creaked open once again, and there was Ismark trying to cover his eyes once again with his hand. Bahari made no attempt to cover herself this time around. If he wanted to look, she would let him.

“Yes?” The man’s voice was soft and controlled; he sounded like he was fighting himself and his urge to turn tail and walk away. Not to mention the urge he was actively fighting by covering his eyes they both knew about.

Draping both her arms on either side of the tub, she let herself relax in body language only. If Ismark could see her, she was hoping he might take a hint just from that.

“Can I tell you something… stupid?” She asked, still trying to piece together just how she was going to say the thoughts running through her mind. There were too many to sort, so maybe if she spoke some into existence she’d have adequate room.

“Uh, sure…” Ismark nodded slowly, keeping his block for his gaze in place. She thought she saw him peek again, so he wasn’t being stealthy.

A long pause stayed in the room, Bahari weighing her actions. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him standing sheepishly in the doorway, and they both seemed to be waiting for something to be said.

"You know,” the yuan-ti started again after her pause, a new tone to her voice thanks to a small glint of confidence. “when we were standing in front of that creepy house again, I jokingly said to myself that if I didn't die in that house, and by the way, /I almost did die/…"

"Well, I'm glad you made it back, it sounded scary…" Ismark jumped in, a little eagerly it seemed. This made a smirk curl Bahari’s lips.

"It was. But not my point…” She couldn’t help but tease. Or maybe she was just beating around the bush.

“I told myself that…” Her words failed her now, her anxieties bubbling up and choking the confidence she had out like a flame.

Another pause hung in the air, and this time the tension was palpable. Bahari took a long look at the man she missed the gentle touch of along her hips in their dance, the man she wanted to kiss while they cooked together, the man she wanted nothing more than to be her dying wish just this morning. A throwaway comment was killing her from the inside out, and she didn’t know how to admit it to him or herself.

“This is stupid. Ismark,” Her red eyes rolled high, even if he couldn’t see them do so. But, he was almost surely looking at her now.

“Do you want to get in this tub with me?" Bahari all but blurted out, unable to find a way to put it more delicately than just coming out and saying it.

Ismark’s hand that was covering his sightline a moment ago moved instead to push his light blond hair out of his eyes. No doubt, he was trying to get a good look at Bahari, her naked frame on display for him now. His eyes followed along her body, following the line of deep red scales down from the bottom of her chin, between her breasts and past her belly button, only to have his destination obscured by the sudsy bathwater.

"I thought you'd never ask." He replied with a newfound confidence. He couldn’t hide his grin, even while biting down on his bottom lip as he stepped into the bathroom. He was fully focused on her as he shut the door behind him, and the tension building between them had both their heart’s racing. And there it was again, his soft and sad demeanor shifting into a look of joy as he walked over to the bathtub Bahari occupied.

“Sorry it took me so long.” Bahari teased, her eyes were on him now, laser focused and looking up through her lashes as he approached her.

“Please, the fact that you invited me in at all was worth the wait.” Ismark’s tone was gentle, but he meant exactly what he said. He’d waited, waited to see how any moves he made might have brought them closer. He’d played his cards right, from dancing to wine in the kitchen, and here they were.

Bahari wondered just how long something like this, something with her, had been on his mind. Did it rattle around his brain and occupy his mind after the night they all got drunk together? Did he want to act on impulse the very first time he’d seen her when the new group of strangers walked into Blood of the Vine? She could admit to herself now that Ismark was a handsome stranger, but when they first met in Barovia Village nothing of the sort was really on her mind. A new place, new people, and what she would soon realize to be horrors around every corner, the handsome Burgomaster of Barovia Village who looked lonely and drank too much got pushed out of her mind.

That hardly seemed to matter now. Here he was, and they were both fueled by adrenaline and a blooming desire they couldn’t satiate. Standing at the edge of the tub, Ismark brought a hand to Bahari’s cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing along the soft pale skin. Bahari all but melted at his gentle touch, longingly gazing up at him. His blond hair cascaded forward as he looked down at her, his thumb trailing over her full lips. She pressed a soft kiss as his digit passed, red snake eyes locked on his gray ones. She wouldn’t want to have missed the subtle reaction her teasing kiss made flash across his face.

“Bahari…” the young man sighed, unsure of what else to say. He turned to trying with actions instead, his hand moving to cup under her chin and tilt it up towards him as he leaned down to kiss her fully. Their lips finally met, and Bahari’s intent gaze was broken, eyes fluttering closed as she kissed him back. It was as if this kiss melted any worry she had away. Any worry about being in Barovia, any worry about dangers or threats, any worry about her future, all gone as she deepened the kiss between them.

Ismark’s hand held her face steady, keeping her right where he needed her as their kiss turned from sweet to needy. It was a quick change, one incited by the eventual parting of Bahari’s lips to grant his tongue access. With a subtle moan, she let his tongue explore her mouth, kissing a bit slovenly as her own forked tongue reciprocated and danced past his lips. With a soft hum, Ismark’s other hand moved to drag his fingers through the wet tangles of Bahari’s hair, an action that made a shiver travel down her spine.

There was no stopping them now, caught in a lustful kiss a few days too late. Bahari’s pounding heart was almost deafening her to her surroundings; this was all she’d wanted for the past day or so and it was finally happening. Breaking the kiss, Bahari kissed hungrily along the stubble at Ismark’s jawline instead, dragging her tongue along his throat. He wasn’t close enough. She needed him closer.

“I want you…” A murmur filled the space between them, falling from the woman’s lips as she tried desperately to nip at his ear. He wasn’t leaning down enough, but still her mouth found purchase on his jaw, dragging her pronounced fangs and teeth along his delicate flesh. It was his turn to feel that shiver, his hair standing on end over his whole body from the combined admission and new sensations of her mouth teasing him.

Bahari didn’t let up, knowing full well where they’d end up if she kept going. “Ismark, please.”

She didn’t need to beg, but the words just got away from her somewhere between the eagerness in her mind and the broken filter keeping words from flying out of her mouth. Ismark’s fingers tightened in her hair as she all but pleaded now, causing a small gasp to pull from her with the sudden sharp pinch of her scalp. A grin affixed on her features still buried and nuzzling at his throat, she took her hand and moved to find the hem of his shirt, trying to get underneath it. Ismark all but groaned, feeling the scratch of her sharpened nails as they dragged over the sensitive skin of his stomach. Her kisses and bites never stopped, trying to cover all her bases when it came to teasing him. After all, she liked his reactions.

“Bahari, fu–” Ismark moaned out and cut off his own dialogue, his head tipped back and the apples of his cheeks pink. Helping her out the best he could, his hands fumbled to remove his own shirt, tossing the light colored linen aside. Her mouth moved, finding new ground as she kissed along the warm skin of his exposed chest and stomach. With her mouth leaving kisses, her hands moved to the button of his trousers, taking a moment to reposition onto her knees still inside the bathtub.

While undoing the front of his pants, she looked up at him with better space between them to do so. She took a moment to admire the sight, surprised to see so much muscle definition on someone who seemingly had a sedentary lifestyle. He looked great, better even than she might have imagined. His skin a pale golden tone, it was flecked with sparse blond hair, congregating mostly on his chest and a trail leading from below his belly button lower. Bahari was desperate to see more of him, her hands taking longer than she wanted them to.

With belt and trousers undone, Ismark lulled his head to look back down at Bahari, his chest showcasing his heavy breath. Their eyes locked once again, and with a devious grin Bahari all but yanked his pants down, exposing her prize. Ismark let out a quiet gasp as his pants fell down to his ankles, his erection popping free and smacking against his stomach. Bahari’s eyes must have lit up, because Ismark couldn’t hold in a small chuckle.

“So you were peeking then?” Gesturing down to her bare chest and naked body still in the bath with her chin and raising a brow at the undeniable, Bahari giggled.

Ismark, with a blush of embarrassment, dragged a hand through his own blond locks. “How could I not,” he challenged. “You’re the most beautiful person to come through town since gods know when…”

It was Bahari’s turn to blush, unprepared for the flirting. Was the teasing something she would have to get used to? No matter, it seemed neither of them were particularly good at it or confident enough to try.

“It’s fine,” She grinned, a show of her pointed fangs pulling past her lips. “I like where it’s gotten us.”

Her hand now danced dangerously around his member, fingers lightly moving everywhere but where he wanted them to land. Her fingernails tickled across his skin, making his erection jump. She couldn’t hide her smitten grin.

“I like where it’s gotten you, that’s for sure.” He nodded, eyes watching her with a darkened hunger he couldn’t hide any longer. A hand came down to rest on the top of her head, fingers tangling in her damp white hair, and Bahari took this as her signal.

Her dainty hand finally wrapped around his cock, thin fingers indulging him as her grip tightened. This action resulted in a sharp breath being sucked between gritted teeth from Ismark, and his hand to move to twist into the long hair at the nape of her neck. Bahari let out a soft giggle, leaning in to flick her forked tongue along the tip, getting her first taste of him. Her arm, steadied on the lip of the tub, began to gently pump back forth, and for a few moments she teased him with long licks along his shaft, resulting in a whole body shudder from the man.

The noises Ismark made thrilled her further, adopting a deep need to elicit more sounds like this from him. A quick thought of wondering how long, if ever, Ismark had this done for him, but she pushed it from her mind. It was her turn to pamper him, to give him what he wanted and needed. Finally, her lips parted, and she stuck out her tongue fully, looking up at him while she used his cock to give her tongue a few wet slaps.

“Ahh, Bahari–” Ismark groaned, tugging at her hair and making her suck in a breath. Closing her lips around the tip of his cock, the yuan-ti woman hummed happily as his taste filled her senses. Lust-hooded eyes locked onto his face, she didn’t let up, taking more and more of his length into her mouth with each thrust of her head, a repetitive movement guided by Ismark’s hand fisted in her hair.

“Fuck, you look perfect…” Ismark nodded, keeping his head craned so he could watch Bahari at work. She nodded back with a hum of appreciation; she was just as grateful to have her mouth filled by him now. Her hands rested to grip at his hips, sharp fingernails digging in slightly as Ismark began to guide her a little more aggressively. Relaxing her jaw, Bahari let Ismark take over, letting him thrust his hips into her open mouth.

Finding a steady speed, Ismark’s breathing picked up, his chest and neck warming up to a soft pink tone. Bahari was happy to help him moan and loved hearing the sound more than she’d imagined. Pushing his cock further to the back of her throat and holding there, the tip of her nose buried in the blond tuft of hair growing above his cock. This action resulted in another shudder of the young man’s body, going weak in the knees momentarily. Bahari held there as long as she could without gagging, but her need for air made her pull back, panting and drooling as her spit hung in a connecting web from her lips to the tip of Ismark’s cock.

And she was grinning something triumphant. For a moment, Ismark was concerned about what he got himself into. This beautiful girl, a perfect stranger, ready to act on impulse and successfully make him act on impulse to join her… Should he be concerned? Now wasn’t the time to think about it, not with her greedily taking his cock in her mouth and only stopping to breathe. Seeing her now, using a hand to stroke him while licking any excess mess from around her full lips, Ismark had to bite down on his lip again just to function halfway normally.

“Gods, Bahari.” He exhaled, trying to get his breathing under control. “Let me get in that tub with you.”

Bahari nodded, pausing her work when Ismark untangled his hand from her hair, instead offering it to her to help her stand up in the water. Grasping his hand tight and using her other hand to push off from the side of the tub, the yuan-ti woman stood up now eye to eye with Ismark. After wiping her chin off on the length of her forearm, Ismark used their held hands to pull her closer to him for just a moment, kissing her deeply once more.

It wasn’t enough for either of them. They needed to be closer than that.

After breaking another hungry kiss, Bahari stepped forward in the bathtub so Ismark could step in himself. Maneuvering a bit, Ismark sat down in the warm bathwater. Bahari’s waist was at eye level for him, and his gaze was locked on every detail of the red iridescent scaling that followed the sight line of her chest and stomach. It continued down the inside of her thighs, which wasn’t something he expected. The stark comparison of bright white skin and red belly scales was beautiful, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He could marvel at her all day.

“Do a spin for me, darling…” Ismark suggested, his hand on his erection under the water. Bahari, taking note of this and happy to oblige, took her time to spin in a circle between his feet, showcasing her lithe body fully naked for him. The entire time, she was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. Ismark was truly enamored.

He was in awe of her, a slender body he’d held in their dance but never seen like this, on full display and just for him. The sight was even better than he’d imagined. Her markings alone were exquisite, but Bahari was also decorated in piercings and body jewelry. That was new for him, and it made him curious. The small gold barbells through her nipples he’d caught a glimpse of earlier, but the glint of gold between her thighs was new.

“Are you sure you’re not royalty, adorned like that?” He smirked, reaching out to grab her thighs and walk her closer to him.

Bahari couldn’t help her giggle. “No, handsome. I just like looking expensive.” Her fingers came to cup Ismark’s stubbled cheek as the space between them was closed.

“You look positively ravishing.” He noted, his turn to kiss her stomach and tease her. The action made her shiver with her wet skin now out from under the bathwater. Bahari had an idea where this was going, so she just stayed quiet and let Ismark explore her body.

His kisses drew further south, his larger nose dragging gently along her scales as he went. Bahari loved how his stubbled chin and cheek felt along her sensitive skin, making this lead up even more pleasurable. Grabbing hold of one of her calves, he hoisted it onto his knee for support as he spread her legs apart, giving himself an opening to dive in and get a taste. Bahari wasn’t expecting him to immediately pull her clit between his lips, making her gasp out and cuss under her breath. Her hands found their place to support her body, one holding the back of Ismark’s head, the other gripping his shoulder tight.

“Oh, Ismark–” Bahari moaned out, biting down on her lip to muffle her whimpers. Ismark was sucking on her clit and rolling it between his lips, and it felt too good to stay quiet about. Bahari remembered at that moment that there was a house full of people, so she probably needed to be quiet. Ismark was going to make that hard for her.

“You taste divine.” Ismark noted, taking a moment to give her positive feedback. All she could do was stroke his hair as a sign to keep going, as her heart was pounding in her ears again.

Her hand on his head pushed his face further into her heat the most she could without smothering him, keen on the idea of him touching her like this. His mouth felt amazing, his tongue playing with the gold jewelry pierced through the hood of her clit. It was a godsend to finally be touched; the way her clit ached for attention while she was happily giving him head almost hurt, but she was sure she’d get her dues.

And here she was, with the blond man’s face buried between her thighs, making her entire body tighten with the passes of his tongue, the rolling of his lips. Now her clit ached with the want for release, but Bahari would try to hold off a little while longer before melting instantly in the grasp of him. Still, the fact that she wanted to control it didn’t help her in any way. She still began to move her hips slightly, grinding gently against his eager mouth.

“Ismark, darling… oh fuck…” Bahari purred, her fingers twisting wildly in his hair. A hand of his moved to cup the small of her back and draw her even closer, and Bahari threw her head back in pleasure as Ismark’s pace changed. His tongue lapped almost violently, trying to elevate her even more as he went faster. Her breathing got more ragged, and she noticed she was getting ever closer to a climax.

Her hand on his shoulder let go, tapping a few times on his bare skin. “Gods, I need you.” She gasped out.

“Inside me…” She groaned, a broken sentence enough to convey what she wanted. She just hoped he understood. Her hand relaxing from Ismark’s hair, she let him get his fill of her taste before shimmying away slightly.

There he was, grinning up at her with a glistening chin, slick with her built up juices. Bahari had never seen something look so perfect on a man, his scruff wet and his smile wide. He would have brought her past the edge if she hadn’t tapped out so soon.

“C’mere, babygirl.” Ismark nodded, wanting the same thing she did. He sat waiting for her to figure out how to position herself, trusting her to find something comfortable for herself the best she could in the bathtub. It was a larger bathtub, and two people could definitely share it, but movement might be a bit difficult.

Bahari lowered herself carefully, straddling Ismark’s hips the best she could. She was facing him now, and she nuzzled her nose against his for a moment before stealing a gentle kiss. A brief pause, her lower half back in the bathwater, and she could feel Ismark’s cock between both their bodies. Reaching into the water, she gently grasped his member, running it along her folds briefly to tease them both. Her brows knit together with the sensation, and Ismark’s face looked about the same. With her hand, she guided him to her entrance, and lowering her hips she slowly felt the head push inside her and open her up for his length. Her hand came up from the water quickly, instead using both hands to grip the edge of the bathtub as she lowered herself completely onto him.

Simultaneously, the noise of Ismark moaning and Bahari hissing out her breath filled the bathroom. He felt so good inside of her, it was like he fit her like a glove. Sitting down on his cock fully like this made her feel a twinge inside, one equated with being completely full as her body got used to him taking up the space.

As Bahari began rolling her hips to the best of her ability, she kept him deep within her. The only movement was the grind of their bodies where they were now connected and the subtle waves this action was creating in the water. Soapy water sloshed from side to side of the tub, but Ismark didn’t seem to mind. Occasionally it escaped its confines of the bathtub, but that was a problem for later. Right now, he was preoccupied with the intense warmth surrounding his cock as Bahari kept it buried inside her.

Their moans, as quiet as they could keep them, filled the silence between sloshing water ambiance. Ismark buried his face against Bahari’s chest, and she tried to hide her noises as she muffled herself by putting her mouth by Ismark’s ear. They tried desperately to keep each other quiet, but they were failing. Ismark was worried someone might walk by and hear the commotion. Bahari was worried Acacius might come to actually yell at her about taking too long. But, none of that mattered. The only thing that truly mattered was the pure ecstasy their bodies were feeding each other.

“Ismark, you feel so fucking good.” Bahari panted in his ear between wanton moans, still grinding into him the best she could.

“Better than I dreamed.” He agreed, nodding against her breasts as his lips dragged across the exposed skin.

The pair moved like this until Bahari’s thighs burned from the awkward positioning. She didn’t want to stop, but the bathtub wasn’t giving them the most freedom they needed.

Ismark pulled Bahari’s face to his, kissing all along her cheeks and jaw and mumbled, “Let me get you a towel, sweetheart.”

Bahari nodded, pressing her sweaty forehead to his as she tried to catch her breath. Ismark leaned over to reach a towel for her so he could help her dry off.

“Can you stand up?” He asked, assuming her legs might be a bit tired.

“Yes, just help me?” She replied, before starting the moving process.

Ismark waited patiently as Bahari got in a better position to stand up, his cock freed from inside her for the moment. His chest panged with a longing to be back inside her right away, but he knew he was helping them both by wrapping her up in a towel. He then helped her step over the edge of the tub and get steady footing on the floor before getting himself up to dry off and drain the tub.

Bahari was curious what the plan was, but was glad to be out of the bathwater that had turned cold. They couldn’t leave this bathroom, not like this and not together. She watched and waited until Ismark gave her further instruction.

Coming up behind her, Ismark wrapped both his arms around her waist and walked them both in tandem towards the sink vanity.

“Look at you, Bahari.” He grinned, and she could see this in his reflection in the mirror. Ismark pecked quick kisses to the top of her head and temple as he positioned her in front of the mirror.

“Such a beautiful woman…” The man sighed out, still squeezing her around the middle and keeping his hips flush with her rear, even with towels in the way.

“Look at you, handsome. You look happy.” Bahari noted, and Ismark looked at his own reflection bashfully, like he was suddenly aware of the fact that he didn’t always look happy. A flash of complicated emotion moved across his face, and she took notice.

Bahari floundered slightly, worried she’d killed the mood in a moment of anxiety. “Happiness looks great on you.” She nodded, eyes on his in their reflection, reassuring him.

“And on you, dear.” He reaffirmed, his smile back after the moment passed. He bounced back the best he could in an effort to not kill their moments together. He admired how she recognized him slipping and still didn’t let it effect her negatively.

With a newfound spark, maybe fueled by his need to get any anxious thoughts out of his head, Ismark’s hands then slid up both of her arms, grabbing her wrists and moving them to the edge of the sink countertop. Bahari let him position her, following the silent directions given as she watched through the mirror. Ismark took both their towels and hung them back on the rack so they could use them later, but now they didn’t need them.

“Keep an eye on us, watch as I fuck you.” Ismark instructed, pointing to the mirror ahead of them both. His hand moved up Bahari’s back to push her forward and slowly bend her over the sink. Instinctually, her feet spread apart, giving Ismark all the room he needed. He was now focused on the image of her bare rear end, the stark white skin begging for his attention as he gave her cheek a gentle smack.

Bahari wasn’t expecting Ismark to lean into this whole control thing, but she was happy to let him. The smack on her rear resounded in the bathroom with a sharp tone, in unison with a gasp from Bahari that lead into a giggle. Catching sight of how hard she was grinning, how lustful her eyes looked in the mirror made Ismark almost melt on the spot. What kind of woman had he gotten hismelf caught up with?

“Ismark…” The woman purred out, and the way she said his name made his cock jump with need. To satiate this, his hand wrapped around his erection and gave it a few pulls as he moved behind her, closing any space between them.

“You want this, don’t you?” His own voice was low, dark and gravely as he looked down between their bodies. His eyelids felt heavy, drunk on this feeling of needing someone so desperately, so carnally. Yet he teased them both, using his hand to run the head of his cock along her soaked folds.

“I do… I need you, baby.” Bahari nodded quickly, unable to look anywhere but at Ismark’s face in the mirror. She was struggling to hold it together just with this teasing, fingers locked onto the edge of the sink.

The yuan-ti woman was desperate, and turning into a whimpering mess. The sensation of him moving back and forth and stimulating not only her needy clit but coming dangerously close to pushing the tip past her slick entrance had her breathing hitching and heavy already.

“Tell me what you need.” Ismark wasn’t letting up, happy to build this up for both of them until he heard her say it more convincingly. The both of them shuddered, the subtle connection not enough. Bahari’s moans were almost convincing enough for him to press further as she began to swivel her hips against him.

“I need you to fuck me, Ismark Kolyana.” Bahari moaned out, unable to keep her voice low. The admission was reminiscent of the hunger she felt deep in her core, a need she required attention over immediately. They were so close…

The sound of her begging for him was enough. She was unapologetically neccessitus, letting her heart take over instead of her mind, letting her mouth spill out all the things she thought without running it past a filter. If there was just one thing Ismark admired about Bahari, it was her matter of fact attitude. In this situation, he took that to mean she would always ask for what she wanted.

There were many things Ismark admired about Bahari, and if he tried to think about them in this moment, he might explode. The only thing he was focused on was finally pushing his length inside her, and the hiss he elicited from her as he did so. A gasping breath filled the space as her back arched for him, angling her hips to welcome him fully. Greedily, Ismark pushed in to the hilt, leaving Bahari full as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Bahari, fuck…” Ismark groaned, his hands gripping her hips and keeping her close. He wasn’t ready to move just yet, afraid doing so would result in things ending too quickly. Her walls clenched around him as she got used to him inside her, a shiver running through her body.

Red eyes opened again to check Ismark’s reflection in the mirror. What Bahari saw was heaven-like, a look a pure ecstasy on Ismark’s face as he steadied his breathing.

“Fuck me.” She pleaded, wiggling her hips back against him again. “Please Ismark. Please…”

Her whines made him comply, the beautiful woman he occupied really running the show. Gripping her hips tighter, Ismark found a steady pace as he finally began thrusting, his strokes short and deep and hitting Bahari’s limits.

Such a sensation only made her noises more obvious to everyone in the house, most likely. But she couldn’t help it, she coudln’t be quiet.. Not like this, not with days-worth of pent up lust and neediness. Her whimpers were fails at keeping their actions underwraps. It was taking all her power not to moan louder and louder for this man.

No matter, she sounded like music to Ismark’s lonely ears. It didn’t matter what sounds fell from her lips like a waterfall, the fact that he was hearing them at all, the fact that they were just for him… that was enough to wake this man’s sad heart from it’s slumber. Bahari was more attractive and more genuine and straightforward than any person he’d met in recent memory, if not ever. She was just so perfect, he couldn’t understand why she’d pick him but he was glad she did.

He was glad he took care of that dress for her, even if he didn’t totally guess correctly on that whole royalty thing. But, it made for a killer compliment, saying she looked and carried herself like royalty. He remembered the flustered blush that overtook her pale cheeks that day. He was glad she didn’t know about ballroom dancing so he could show her and pull her close. He was glad that sort of pick up line worked, even if it wasn’t meant to be one. He was glad they cooked and they chatted, and for a moment the world didn’t seem so bleak.

So why did she pick him? Why were they now dancing across that dangerous line of entanglement? He wasn’t anything, just some guy who happened to be the son of some dead guy. Some guy who couldn’t get his people to listen, some guy who was constantly being ridiculed, some guy who had to deal with overarching politics and ploys to keep things just as shitty as they ever were…

No, he had to shake those thoughts from his mind as quickly as they entered, or else he’d ruin things. No matter how they got here or what it meant, Ismark felt more alive than he’d felt in quite sometime. Bahari was great at making a man feel alive, if today had proven nothing else to him. Enough negative thoughts, he was happy and he was leaning into that feeling, no matter how reckless or fast it might be.

“Ismark, fu–” Bahari moaned, the sound alone enough to pull Ismark back to reality instead of staying in his anxious spiral. “You feel so good…”

“Mmm, you feel so good, sweetheart.” The man growled out his response, picking up his pace again as he took her from behind.

Bahari’s stomach pressed to the edge of the sink now, she tried her hardest to keep her gaze on Ismark’s face as he staked his claim of her. Her efforts were foiled as Ismark introduced something new. One hand reached around underneath her frame to cup her mound, his fingertips grazing her hard clit. This action resulted in Bahari’s hips bucking away from Ismark with a start, not fully separating them, but cementing for him just how sensitive she was. Warming up to him, they were back to business as planned as Ismark worked in tandem to keep his hips moving at a steady pace and his fingers now swirled over her clit in rougher circles.

“You’re going to make me cum…” She whined, her head dropping as her wet hair fell to obscure her vision. She didn’t recognize the voice coming from her, something so desperate and needy that was the polar opposite to her usual controlled demeanor. This man was pulling from her something no one had seen in a long time.

Those words, the admission that she was close, only made Ismark work harder. The room was filled with the noise of their dampened skin colliding together as he rutted into her, her pleasure as much his own as he felt her walls begin to tighten around him. It was hard to keep his composure, his act of being in control crumbling as he too approached his climax.

“Give it to me.” Ismark now panting, his blond hair damp with sweat that beaded across his forehead, all but demanded instead of coaxing, his fingers never letting up from her clit even if his hips waivered. His hand that wasn’t busy stimulating her roughly reached forward, sliding up the nape of her neck to knot in her white hair, yanking her head up to make sure she was still watching them in the mirror. With the help to keep her head up, Bahari made eye contact with Ismark and gave him that devious grin once again, before her cascading moans shaped her full lips once more.

“I want you to cum for me…” Ismark pleaded, sounding not much different than her as he felt his own tightness causing him to falter. “I want to watch your face as you cum on my cock, Bahari.”

At this point, Ismark took one last strike, pushing himself roughly inside her to his hilt until she was full up, girating his hips as he ground into her. Feeling him at her limits made her shudder, her walls clenching again as if warning him, soon.

“Cum, Bahari.” Ismark could feel she was dangerously close, her muscles were tight beneath him and her noises had changed from moans to quiet, needy whimpers. His brows knit together in pleasure, he looked in her eyes through the mirror and nodded. “Let go, for me.”

This was enough. An intense wave of pleasure washed over the yuan-ti woman, her knees buckling and thighs shaking as her walls pulsated around Ismark’s cock not moving and holding his place as she came. His hand in her hair kept her head steady as he watched her bite down on her lip hard and her eyes flutter with the overwhelming pleasure. The expression of sheer euphoria made her look even more stunning than she normally did, and Ismark was grateful to witness such a celestial event. Her orgasm rocking through her was enough to pull Ismark over the edge with her, and he let out a low groan as his cum spilled out inside her. The bathroom was filled with the sound of them panting, trying to catch their breath after such intensity. Ismark’s hand in Bahari’s hair moved to gently pull her up to him by the throat, his arms wrapping around her from behind now as he buried his face at the crook of her neck and shoulder. Their bond remained unbroken for a moment, both of them just enjoying the closeness and the quietness. Ismark couldn’t help but leave kisses at her exposed shoulder, grinning against her hot flesh. Bahari sighed happily, letting out a satisfied giggle. She was the first to break the silence after a minute or two.

“We should get cleaned up…” Her tone verged on doleful, unwanting to part and unwilling to go back to her friends just yet. But, she knew she had to. Ismark nodded against her shoulder, quiet and contemplative. He wished he had words, but he wasn’t sure it was the right time to say much of anything.

Quietly, Ismark helped Bahari get cleaned up, even going as far as to comb her hair out for her after he’d made it a tangled mess of strands. After a few minutes, Bahari and Ismark were wearing almost matching outfits. The clothes Ismark had loaned Bahari were unflattering on her, but she would make due. After all, the clothes she now wore smelled of his linens, and it was a pleasant reminder of the dance they’d shared and how close they were this evening.

“I don’t want to go just yet…” She frowned, eyes on him to see his reaction. Her voice was soft, a little hoarse, but mostly just sad.

After taking a look at herself in the mirror, Bahari turned to Ismark and reached for his hand, entangling their digits and squeezing.

“I don’t either, but we can’t live in this bathroom forever, Bahari.” Ismark’s free hand moved to tuck a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, gray eyes searching her face.

Complicated thoughts filled Bahari’s mind, about what this now meant, and what she really meant by admitting she didn’t want to leave. She knew her friends were planning on leaving Barovia Village the next day. She knew they had plenty of tasks and travel plans. She couldn’t stay here in Baroiva Village with Ismark, no matter how much her heart was telling her to change her plans and get more time with him. Her saddened eyes moved to the space between their feet on the floor, unsure of how to process anything.

Seeing her reaction, Ismark pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in them securely, sighing out softly. He didn’t want her to leave either, and he was going to cherish every second he had with her now. He was used to seeing people, new people brought here, leave Barovia Village and never come back time after countless time. He was afraid that should she walk out that door, he’d never see her again.

“Hey, look at me.” He muttered, pulling back slightly so they could speak. His arms didn’t move though, he was keen on keeping her there.

“I’ll be here. You know this is my home, and I have a duty as Burgomaster. But, that just means you always know where to find me. I’ll be here, waiting for you to walk back through that door, Bahari. No matter how long you’re gone.” Ismark nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest he was unfamiliar with.

Her svelte hand spread open palm on his chest, her eyes unable to look anywhere else but his before her brain decided she needed to kiss him. Ismark welcomed the deep kiss, kissing her back with full intent. He didn’t want this to end just as much as she didn’t.

Bahari nodded, confirming she understood what he was saying. “I’ll try not to go too far.”

Breaking away, Bahari somberly spoke. “They have to be done cleaning by now… And gods, /Acacius is going to kill me/.” In that moment she realized what she’d done, and her face pulled into a concerned expression.

“Acacius will be fine. He’s going to have to get over it.” Ismark chuckled, moving to pick up Bahari’s dirty clothing and the wet towels. “Go, be with your friends. I’ll be down in a few, and I’ll take care of your clothes.”

Bahari took one last look at him with a smile as she headed to the bathroom door. With her hand on the knob, she added, “Maybe we can cook together again tonight?”

“Maybe,” Ismark smiled at her suggestion, leaning in to press a kiss to Bahari’s scaled forehead. “I’ll find you when I’m ready to cook.”

And with that, Bahari in Ismark’s clothing descended the stairs to find her friend's warm atmosphere in the sitting room of the manor, Leonora doing tarokka readings, Miranda reading a book, and Acacius looking mildly annoyed. She joined them and chatted, but her mind was preoccupied, stuck on Ismark still. Maybe even more now than before.

#ismark tag #ismark and bahari #i am so proud of this #i couldn't tell you rhe ladt time i put this many words to a page #i hope other people enjoy this???#oopsie #sorry if its a lot.

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qualiteadnd · 6 years ago

Text

By Sky & By Sea

— A CHWINGA CHASERS ADVENTURE

As their journey aboard the Pride of Halar brings them closer to their quarry, confrontation draws ever near.

The vessel beneath the waves was unlike any magical or inventive marvel the crew of the Pride of Halar had ever seen. Like a great metal snake, it cut through the waves with little concern for the airship — or storm — above.

There was a rumble of thunder in the air, but Felix kept their course true. “Let’s keep those snakes from taking another dive, shall we? To your stations everyone!” As Felix gave the order and two massive harpoons were readied, another cry shattered the air.

Dark shadows flitted through the storm clouds. Indistinguishable at first, another sharp raptor cry pierced the night as two pteranodons swooped towards the ship. They threateningly snapped beaks filled with sharp teeth at the crew before flying back up to the circling flock above.

Lightning lit up the sky for a moment, followed quickly by a thunderous bang and rain began to fall in earnest down on them.

The first mate, a human woman allergic to bullshit, looked between the two threats to their ship. “Captain?”

“We have a mission to see through! Those dastardly dinos will need to get in line! Ready the harpoons!” Felix brought the ship lower just as the metal serpent broke the surface below. “Fire!”

The screeching howl of metal piercing metal was lost beneath the storm’s thunder, but the airship jerked as the tethered harpoons struck the vessel and held tight. Around the ship, the crystals flared brighter, their magic stabilizing to keep the Pride of Halar from being pulled into the sea.

As they began to ascend once more, dragging their underwater cargo along, a burst of fire shot out of a protruding tube from the vessel below. It struck the airship’s hull, bright sparks scaring away another swooping raptor.

Leaving his first mate at the helm, Felix rushed out to the bow of the ship where Sei’ku, Messenger, and Stonebark surveyed the scene. “Righto. You lads know what we’re after, yes? We’ll keep that ship up as long as we can, but there’s not much time. Reclaim the Scarab,” Felix said, hoisting himself up on the rails, “we’ll handle things up here.”

Before any of them could question the halfling, Felix gave a salute and launched himself off of the ship, onto the back of a passing pteranodon. They watched, dumbstruck, as he tried to steer the creature into its flock and away from his ship. Seemingly unfazed by her captain, the first mate shot another of the creatures with her wand, stuck it in her hair, and went back to keeping the Pride of Halar aloft.

Messenger pulled two potions of water breathing from his bag — just in case — and passed them to his breathing companions before getting up onto the rails as well. “You heard him. Let’s go.” He lept fearlessly, catching the harpoon rope on his descent and Stonebark clumsily followed suit.

Sei’ku took one last look at the sky battle happening in the storm around them before diving after his allies.

From a hatch on the ocean-wet deck of the ship, a yuan-ti sorceress spat a curse at them. Her spell missed, but sparked a rage in Messenger from the second his metal feet slammed on the deck. With Nameless unsheathed and divine and primal magic flaring around them, the three dove into battle.

The yuan-ti sorcerers and malison brutes who had come to investigate the breach were first-line defenders and put up enough of a fight to cost the trio precious moments. With the shaman emboldening himself and the warriors, they were able to push their way through to the hatch.

Within the ship, a horrible discordant alarm warned of the assault. Pausing on the ladder, the warforged put a hand on his head and shook it once.

“Messenger? What is it?”

“Klaxon alarms…”

Sei’ku’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Messenger dropped down the last few feet and withdrew Nameless. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Which way?” Stonebark asked, peering into the hall.

Before they could decide, a bolt of fire struck Messenger in the shoulder and the barbarian whirled around to face the next challenge. Like the first wave, these yuan-ti proved to be dangerous. The malisons clashed swords with Messenger, trying to get the upper hand as their sorcerers struck from around corners.

The last standing sorcerer backed up, a spell already desperately weaving between his fingers, but Messenger charged him before it could be cast.

Sei’ku crouched down in front of him, ignoring the blood streaking down his own face now. “What are down these halls?” he asked pointing the way the mage had come.

“Dorms… storage…” he rasped. And when Sei’ku pointed down the opposite hall expectantly he answered, looking past the paladin to the barbarian making threats behind him. “The cats…”

Sei’ku used Pharos to stand up. “We don’t have much time.”

Deciding that Messenger would be better fit to break open prison cells and Sei’ku would have more of an eagle eye in storage, they agreed to split up. Stonebark took a look at Sei’ku, who’d been singed by more than a few fire spells already, and decided to go with him towards the back of the ship.

Breaking away on his own, Messenger headed fore towards the prison. A dozen or so tabaxi sat in their cells with heavy collars wrapped around their throats. A few perked up at the sight of Messenger.

He looked them over. “There a key somewhere?”

One of them shook her head. “Captain has it,” she told him, pointing towards the door further down. “He’s… not likely to hand it over.”

Messenger cracked metallic knuckles and stepped up. “We’re going to make our own key then.” Grabbing the door and bracing against the bars, Messenger raged and yanked the door straight off its hinges. The screech of metal had the tabaxis’ ears flat on their skulls, but they quickly brushed past him out of the cage.

Taking the jail door, Messenger turned towards the captain’s door and wedged it in there. “That should keep him busy.” Noticing a couple of the tabaxi touching their collars he asked, “Want me to get that?”

A beige tabaxi shrank back a little. “We’ve tried… They… don’t come off… cleanly,” he said with a wince.

“But they’ll kill you if you keep them on.”

The tabaxi looked Messenger up and down, blood still staining him from the last encounter. “Maybe not if they’re all dead?”

He grunted and gestured the way he’d come. “Let’s go. We’ll make the mages useful later.”

While Messenger freed the prisoners, Sei’ku led Stonebark towards cargo. Already wounded though, an encounter with a sorceress making her way out of the dorms almost proved deadly for Sei’ku. He was able to strike her with Pharos in the narrow hallway, but her spell slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet.

Focused on his ally rather than the retreating snakefolk, Stonebark pressed one of his last healing spells into the aasimar and helped him up. “Careful there, friend,” he said, steadying him.

“Thank you, Stonebark… but we need to hurry.”

Pushing on, they found cargo an unorganized mess of stolen goods. And with Detect Magic up, Sei’ku saw the glimmer of the arcane across every shelf. “Well…”

“Do you see your bug?”

Making a noise in the negative, Sei’ku grabbed a sack from one of the shelves and began to quickly shove anything that glittered inside. To his relief, the bag neither bulged nor grew heavier and so he began to sweep whole shelves of magical goods inside without looking.

Suddenly, there was a low boom further up and the whole vessel shook.

They shared a worried look about the continued structural sanctity of this underwater vessel. Neither wanted to test the potions on their belts.

Sei’ku drew the bag shut and hooked it over his shoulder. “Let’s find Messenger.”

They returned to their entry point moments after Messenger and the tabaxi arrived. Messenger glanced at Sei’ku’s new bag and the assimar nodded. “Is that everyone?”

“Everyone that’s left,” offered one tabaxi, shooting a glare at the fallen body of one of the malisons in the corridor.

Understanding, Sei’ku looked back at the ladder they’d come down, the rails charred and broken from their previous engagement. Not to be stopped, Stonebark latched his long branch limbs to the hatch and looked down at the smaller catfolk. “Can you climb?”

Not about to question him, they quickly clambered up the treefolk towards freedom. Sei’ku flew up ahead with one good beat of his wings and perched up on the deck, offering each tabaxi a hand up.

Messenger stood guard below deck as they made their escape, watching for any yuan-ti who would try to stop them. But with only a few tabaxi left, the ship shuddered with nearby cannon fire. If the cannons continued and their own ship was damaged, no one would be getting out of here. Shouting “I’ll handle this,” over his shoulder, Messenger ran back up the hall.

Above, the Pride of Halar was struggling to keep airborne between its aggressive, sunken anchor and the storm-brave pteranodons. Sei’ku began to lead the tabaxi to the one remaining harpoon tethering the two ships. Between the thunder and cannons, he had to shout to be heard. “I’ll help you up! But you need to climb!”

Wet, miserable, and ready to be done with this entirely, the beige tabaxi was the first to step up to the rope and climb under Sei’ku’s guidance.

Back inside, even without the downpour, Messenger was feeling the wear of the assault. Using the last of his energy to go into a final rage, he broke down the door barring him from the ship’s weaponry and surprised the two yuan-ti at the arcane cannon within. One crumpled quickly under his attacks, but the other continued to hiss and fight.

It wasn’t until he pulled Nameless from the lifeless body of the defiant mage did he realize his mistake. The yuan-ti had been less defiant than he was distracting. The first mage still lived, breathing in shallow, bloodied breathes on the floor as she shoved the last of her magic into one final spell.

But rather than blast back, Messenger watched a small, glowing, ember red marble roll from her hand. Dread sank into his hollow stomach and Messenger sprinted back into the hall. “Shit.”

The ship trembled again.

Metal crashed up ahead and Messenger looked up to see a hulking, serpentine form slithering out over the broken cell door. Unlike any of the other yuan-ti they’d encountered before, this one was more snake than man. With a serpent’s body and multiple snake heads all focused on Messenger, the anathema captain charged in a rage of his own.

“Shit!”

“Messenger?” Stonebark called. His attempts to step back into the hall were aborted as Messenger booked it around the corner and started to shove him towards the hatch.

“No time! Need to go!”

Beneath the commotion of the storm, everything moved slowly for a moment, rain impeding every effort made. Sei’ku, flying between the two ships, called for Tabbus’s attention to help the freed tabaxi. Felix, returned to his ship, was shouting orders into the storm even as the last remaining pteranodons circled and shrieked. And Messenger and Stonebark pulled themselves up before the anathema could drag them back in.

For a moment, it seemed almost calm. Like despite the hellish night they’d just endured, they would see their mission through.

And then everything exploded in a terrible instant of intensity. An explosion wracked the vessel beneath the waves, lightning struck the balloon keeping the Pride of Halar aloft, and everything turned painfully white.

Stonebark Fallbreeze — Treefolk Warden Shaman. Played by Malfrost.

#qdnd #southern wilds #chwinga chasers #seiku #messenger #stonebark

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