#fake courtesan lwj my beloved

[jingyismom]

Lan Wangji getting kidnapped during the Yin Iron quest by Wen Xu, who decides to humiliate Lan Wangji by messing with his memory.

(rated E, warning for perceived dubcon)

Wei Wuxian is of course tracking them closely, and thus opens the doors to an "inn" only to find a room full of beautiful courtesans—among them Lan Wangji.

He's dripping in finery, his face made up to accentuate his fierce features, but the thing that stops Wei Wuxian short is that Lan Wangji doesn't even look at him at all.

Still, the relief at seeing him safe and unharmed is extreme. He almost calls out to him, but realizes a bit belatedly that something very strange is going on, and he should probably make sense of it before drawing attention to either of them. He makes his way through the—brothel, he realizes, face heating—toward Lan Zhan, and when he still doesn't look up, plops himself down beside him at the table where he’s playing a rather gaudy qin.

Lan Zhan ignores him entirely.

"Lan Zhan," he whispers urgently, "what happened? What are you doing here? And why are you...dressed...like that?"

Still, Lan Zhan ignores him.

Wei Wuxian tsks at him, frustrated, and grabs his arm, halting his song. "Lan Zhan!"

This, at last, earns him a steely glare. He lets go, and the music starts up again.

"Talk to me," he says. "Please. I came all this way, let me help."

"I do not know this ‘Lan Zhan,’" Lan Zhan says. "And outside of paid patronage, I have need of nothing from you."

This stuns Wei Wuxian momentarily. He glances around, and sees a hawkish-looking madam overseeing the room, currently glaring at him. He sobers, thinking he's caught Lan Zhan's meaning. They’re being watched, so he’d better play along.

"Ah," he says, "apologies...I...got excited. You're just so beautiful I lost my head," he adds, hoping unabashed teasing might give him just a hint of the real Lan Zhan under the mask. But Lan Zhan doesn't react. 

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. "Is there a place we can...um...talk?"

"You are talking now."

"La—! I mean...ah...G-Gongzi...that's not fair. I meant...more privately?"

It’s only because he’s so focused on figuring out whatever is going on that he notices Lan Zhan's sharp jaw clench, his full lips tighten.

"It's just that...I...I would like. To get to know you. Um. Better. Because—" he glances around. "You're so...beautiful? Alluring?"

"Do not give praise you do not mean," Lan Zhan intones, and finally, finally, it sounds like him.

Wei Wuxian huffs. "I do mean it," he says, absolutely still teasing and not at all telling the truth. "Gongzi is the most beautiful courtesan I have ever seen. So poised and lovely. He—"

"Quiet," Lan Zhan cuts him off.

Wei Wuxian can see the backs of his ears are red where the white makeup ends. He grins.

"What, you don't like to hear praise? What do you want to hear, then?" He tries to impress his real question with seriousness. He needs a clue as to what he should do here. "What should I say?"

There's a pause where he thinks Lan Zhan won't answer.

"Is it not for the patron to win the favor of his cherished one? Asking for help is not the way."

Wei Wuxian groans and almost, almost bangs his head on the table. If only Lan Zhan could give him something to understand this completely bizarre situation, maybe he could get them out of here.

"Fine," he says, feeling a million years old with the exhaustion of tracking the Wen

party through the night, and now this bizarre riddle instead of an end to his toil. "This one apologizes. He is determined to win your esteemed favor."

He casts about, and sees another courtesan demonstrating calligraphy.

"I'll be right back," he tells Lan Zhan. "Don't...ah...don't...abandon me while I'm gone."

Lan Zhan glances at him, and gives a tiny nod. Wei Wuxian relaxes infinitesimally.

He charms the calligraphy girl into letting him share her table for a moment with grand declarations of true love for one of her colleagues. He absolutely does not think about the words coming out of his mouth, he’s just saying whatever he thinks will work. And it does—she giggles and makes room for him conspiratorially, and he counts himself lucky.

The portrait he draws is quick, only broad strokes, not as detailed as the one he drew in the library, but that was ages ago now, and he's a better artist than he was then. He hopes Lan Zhan takes it as the token of...friendship? Old memories? Determination? That he means it as.

He rushes back with the ink still wet on the paper.

"Here," he says, laying it down behind the qin. "For you. It's you, see? And I gave you a...a bunny. Since. Well."

Lan Zhan stops playing, his hands hovering elegantly above the strings, as he stares at the paper.

Wei Wuxian waits in the silence, to see what Lan Zhan will do. If he'll fly into one of his unpredictable tempers, or maybe, possibly, relax into one of those rare smiles? Which of course he won't. Not when they're in such a strange, precarious, and dangerous situation.

But then, he does.

His rouged lips part softly, and he blinks in surprise, then looks up at him in silence.

Wei Wuxian squirms. "Did I...win Gongzi's favor? Or...is..."

He looks around again. The madam's attention is elsewhere.

"Tell me," he leans in, urgent once more, "tell me what I should do."

Lan Zhan takes a breath.

"You may visit me tonight."

"Okay," says Wei Wuxian. It's something. "Should I—"

"You already have a patron tonight," the madam squawks, out of nowhere. "An important one."

Lan Zhan's eyes lower to the table, and he nods. Wei Wuxian is knocked bluntly off-kilter by the amount of wrong and upsetting things in that exchange.

He focuses on the worst one.

"What important patron?" he demands, stomach queasy as the full picture of what's happening begins to form in his mind.

"What, think you can compete?" the madam sneers. "You can't, not with the heir of a great sect. You can have this one some other night."

A high-pitched whistle fills Wei Wuxian's ears, and his vision blurs briefly. His fists clench, but he manages not to tear the place apart. 

Barely.

He looks at Lan Zhan, still staring at the table, and almost flies off the handle again. What did Wen Xu do to him, to make him act this way? To make him act as if—as if he would—as if—

"I understand," he tells the madam, voice almost even. "I'm just unlucky, I guess."

When she moves off, he leans in again, but not too close. He tries to appear casual.

"I'll come tonight," he says. "Just tell me when."

Lan Zhan looks at him in surprise. "I have a patron," he says.

Wei Wuxian has to look down at his lap to control himself, to beat back the useless rage at the proof that something has indeed been done to Lan Zhan. He has been harmed. He is not himself, not at all. His mind is not his own.

"I know," he says, feeling ill. "But I...I have to see you. Please? Just to talk."

He has to get Lan Zhan to see him alone, so they can get out. And he has to see him before his...patron...Wei Wuxian suppresses a shudder. He is going to kill Wen Xu for this. He is going to—no. No, Lan Zhan will get to kill him. When he's himself again. Yes. Lan Zhan will have revenge, will have justice.

"...Alright," Lan Zhan murmurs. "You may visit."

Wei Wuxian is strung so tightly with anger that he almost doesn’t feel the relief that some persistent part of Lan Zhan still recognizes him as his friend. 

"Before him?" Wei Wuxian insists.

Lan Zhan nods. "As you wish."

~~~

Later, after the evening meal, Lan Wangji is yet to understand the strange feeling in his stomach. It began when that young man sat beside him, and grew stronger when he spoke as if they knew each other, when he flirted so shamelessly, and then so sweetly. It has not calmed since.

He tries to meditate to settle himself. He is a professional. He knows better than to allow emotions into his work. He goes through the motions—touching up his face, perfuming the sheets. He kneels to prepare himself: fingers, oil, the small phallus that helps spread it deeper.

All of these things he does as he has done them countless times, as he was taught so long ago, but tonight, there is something different about it. The sensation feels...new. And when he presses the phallus deeper, errant thoughts catch in his mind—of the boy from today, and his smile, and his artist's hands, and the fact that he will be here soon—and he gasps in surprise as pleasure makes him stiffen.

He pulls the phallus free, shaken. This is not how it normally feels. It is normally...

He tries to remember. He knows in his mind that it normally feels like nothing, perfunctory. Not something to enjoy—none of his work is, it is merely a job, a show to put on—but he cannot remember the feeling. His mind slides past such details until he feels dizzy. He gives up.

He puts his tools away and cleans his hands, attempting to clear his mind. But as he dons his thin, billowing silk robe, and cinches it, anticipation fizzles in his limbs.

The knock on his window startles him, though they agreed the young man should arrive that way.

He opens it swiftly, and the youth pulls himself gracefully inside.

The anticipation sparks into something hotter.

"Tea?" Lan Wangji asks, indicating the brew waiting on the table.

The young man looks at him strangely.

"...There isn't much time," he says. "Before...well. We have to go."

Lan Wangji blinks, and steps back. "Go," he repeats.

"Yeah, we have to get out before Wen Xu—Lan Zhan, I know something is really wrong, but we have to leave if we want to figure it out."

Lan Wangji frowns. That name again. "My name is Lan Wangji. I am bound to this house. I am not permitted to leave. If you wish to go, then go."

The young man gapes at him for a long moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. He looks away, his jaw working.

"Sorry," he says at length. "I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself. I just...feel...like I know you, somehow. And I...I want to take you away from here."

Lan Wangji swallows past the unfamiliar thickness in his throat. He has heard of such ridiculous speeches made by pathetic patrons before. But he is once again shaken to find that this speech feels neither ridiculous nor pathetic. 

He straightens, remembering himself. One of the first lessons he ever learned is that leaving this house is certain death.

Though he cannot remember how or when he learned it.

"I do not wish to leave my home. If you wish to go, then go," he repeats.

The young man sighs. "I'm not leaving you," he says. "I came here with a purpose."

Lan Wangji nods. He prefers bluntness to seduction. He steps forward, and begins to unbuckle the young man's belt.

"Ah, ah!" he says, pulling Lan Wangji's hands away.

They stare at each other.

"That's not what I meant," he says, but his breathlessness belies him.

Lan Wangji gently disengages from his hold, allowing that some seduction may be in order.

"Perhaps," he says, "but it is what I intended."

He watches the young man's throat bob as he swallows and shakes his head.

"I, ah, no. We...you see, I meant it when I said I just wanted to get to know you. And, so. This..."

"...is a way to get to know me."

"Hhhha," the young man breathes. "This is not, oh, no, this is not—"

Lan Wangji puts his hands back on the young man's belt, and he stops talking.

"This is what you are here for. If you disagree, you may leave," he says.

The young man is breathing hard under his hands, and he refuses to dwell on how much he likes it.

"Is there no...third option?"

He looks so wide-eyed, so vulnerable, that Lan Wangji wants to eat him whole. He realizes abruptly that this feeling, blazing through him like fire through a drought, is desire. He wants him, badly, as he has never wanted anything else. Has wanted him since he first entered the house.

It feels, impossibly, as if he has wanted him since long before even that.

He does not want him to go, or to talk with him and watch him tire of his rigidness as so many do. He knows only one way to keep him coming back.

"No," he says. "I will have you, or you will leave."

(Perceived dubcon ahead! Lan Wangji is very much acting on his own true desires, but Wei Wuxian won't know that just yet! And Wei Wuxian is also acting in accord with his desires, but believes himself to be taking advantage! Oops!

Also in case it wasn't clear this JUST happened, like, in the span of a day or two, so any "memories" Lan Wangji has are false. He's never done any of this before.)

The young man looks as if Lan Wangji has just hit him over the head. Lan Wangji takes this opportunity to unbuckle the belt and toss it to the side, then pluck loose the knot of his outer robes.

"Wait, wait," the young man breathes.

He puts his hands over Lan Wangji's to still them again. They are slightly smaller, rough but warm. Gentle.

"I don't think I can actually. I don't think—"

Lan Wangji loses patience.

"The heir of a great sect will be here in less than a shichen, and my mistress has ways of checking if I am working, or preparing—if I am idle, she will know. And she will come and cast you out."

"But—"

"She has cultivators. Powerful ones. And soldiers to do her bidding."

The young man stares at him. Lan Wangji steps back, and folds his hands in front of him.

"Decide," he says, eyes on the floor. He is not one to beg, though he cannot remember having the urge to, before now.

"It's not that I...don't want," the young man begins, "I just...it's not fair to...since you..."

This is enough for Lan Wangji. He steps forward again, and makes quick work of the few dark layers between him and his goal. The young man's breath is hot and quick against his skin, giving him goosebumps, a tingling sensation he has never felt before.

"Lan—" the young man cuts off. "Gongzi. Are you certain? You.."

Something snaps in Lan Wangji, and he leans in and kisses him, quick, something he

knows he should never do. It is too intimate, too personal, and what's more, it does not do to smudge one's makeup before the main event.

But it shocks him, shocks both of them, if the young man's face is anything to go by. They stare at each other as the lightning fades from Lan Wangji's veins.

And then he does it again.

He lingers, this time, though not long. He should not smudge the paint. But he cannot help it. When he pulls away, the young man's mouth is stained darker. He wants to taste it. Thoroughly.

He shakes the feeling off, and composes himself before going to his knees.

The young man goes rigid in front of him. "Oh," he says, "that's not—"

Lan Wangji presses a hand against him through his trousers, and he cuts off with a punched-out noise. It is...satisfying. Deeply. Unexpectedly. Lan Wangji pulls the fabric down, sets his hand to hot flesh, and is gratified by the low noise it elicits. But he cannot seem to look up from his task.

He does not ever remember being so focused, so mesmerized by this action before. He does not remember seeing this body part and feeling desire, touching it and wanting more. But he does now.

He strokes it with purpose, and watches it harden further in his hand. His mouth waters. A gasp above him draws his attention, and he looks up. The young man's beautiful face is open with shock, dazed, but his hands are fisted in his open robes.

On an instinct he has never had before, Lan Wangji reaches up with his free hand and gently pries one fist free, to lace their fingers together. He does not look away from his wide, lovely eyes as he leans in, and drags the flat of his tongue up the shaft.

The young man's mouth falls open, his fingers tightening in Lan Wangji’s grasp.

"Fuck," he murmurs with feeling.

Lan Wangji hums and does it again. He uses his tongue and his fingers with skill, mindful still of the delicate paint on his face, until the young man is fully hard and beginning to drip. Lan Wangji catches some with the tip of his tongue, and though the taste is not pleasant, he wishes he could taste more. The dichotomy of this troubles him, but distantly, as does that of the tightness and pleasantness of the grip on his hand. It hurts, but in combination with the sounds of labored breathing and muffled groans, he likes it very much. At one particularly labored gasp from above him, Lan Wangji sits back on his heels and reaches for the young man's boots. This seems to startle him.

"Ah! No, no, let me," he says, leaning down.

Lan Wangji would normally not protest. But he catches his hand, firm.

"Allow me," he says.

They lock eyes, the young man's wide and dark with pleasure, with desire, and something else Lan Wangji does not wish to understand just now.

"Alright," the young man says softly, as if defeated. "Alright."

Lan Wangji removes his boots, and pulls his trousers off. He does not allow himself time to look, to appreciate his easy grace, the well-shaped planes and curves of him.

"On the bed," he says instead.

The young man lets out a shaky breath and does as he's told. Lan Wangji stands and looks at him, perched on the edge, nervous. He goes to him, and brushes a hand across his cheek before removing his simple guan and his vivid red ribbon, letting his masses of soft hair fall free. He runs his fingers through it, automatic, as if he has always meant to, though he has never done so before.

They are staring at each other again, something conflicted and pleading in the young man's expression.

"Will you lie back?" Lan Wangji asks.

"Yes," he says, closing his eyes.

But he does not move at first, simply nuzzles his head into Lan Wangji's hold, and breathes deeply. Lan Wangji waits, and lets him, his impatience fading under the weight of a deep, ancient fondness. It is terrifying. Lan Wangji holds onto it like a lifeline.

Eventually, the young man does move. He presses his lips to Lan Wangji's palm with a furtive glance at his face before pushing back. Lan Wangji's palm tingles as he watches him scoot over and lie down. He does look, then, his eyes selfish and thoughtless and hungry for the muscles of his stomach, the dark jut of his cock, the strength of his thighs. He climbs onto the bed after him and does not even think of stopping himself before dropping another short kiss to his lips.

"Be still," he murmurs to him.

He nods jerkily, blinking as if coming awake. Lan Wangji kneels astride him, and settles the silk of his robe so that it does not catch or drag. Elegance and ease are important aspects of what he does. Then he slips a hand beneath the hem, behind him, and around the cock beneath him. He holds it steady, and lines himself up to sink down on it.

He is not prepared for the way it feels. For the hot stretch, the interminable, filling pressure.

He gasps for air, momentarily confused by his shock, but that strange dizziness drives it from his mind, and he settles. He breathes, though his lungs try to spasm. His thighs shake, but he lowers himself slowly.

"Oh," breathes the young man, "oh, fuck, ah—"

The sound of his voice blooms warm and familiar in Lan Wangji's chest, and all at once, everything feels very, very good. He sinks down farther, taking more of him, circling his hips, leaning into the pleasure that lies just past the burn.

"Oh," he breathes, as his own cock twitches. It has never been hard during this before. In fact he is not certain if it has ever been this hard. "Oh."

The young man is heaving beneath him, a sheen of sweat glowing on his tan skin.

His hands are fisted in the bedding, pretty mouth open in pleasure. Lan Wangji rests a hand on his hard stomach as he seats himself fully.

"Is it good?" he asks, breathless and shaky, but somehow needing to know. He has never needed to be told before. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," the young man groans. Lan Wangji can see him straining to keep still. "Yes, it feels, yes. Please, Lan—ah, fuck...please."

Lan Wangji wants to kiss him, filthy and deep. He does not. He breathes, and lifts himself up, then grinds down, the beads of his hair ornaments clinking. They both make satisfied sounds, and Lan Wangji knows he cannot control himself much longer, his careful restraint fraying. He moves again, slow and purposeful, though it is possibly driving him insane.

"Would—oh—would gongzi like," he says with difficulty, "to see what he does to me?"

There is a ripping sound as the young man's fist jerks, tearing the bedding.

"Yes," he groans tightly, "yes, fuck, oh, Lan Zh—fuck."

Lan Wangji does yet another thing he should not, and unties his sash, unraveling the costume. He rips it away, and opens the robes to put his whole self on display. The young man groans, his hands reaching out, then stopping.

"So beautiful," he says, quiet. Fiercely reverent.

His hips buck up into Lan Wangji, and a hot surge of pleasure courses through him, ripping a moan from his chest.

"Fuck," the young man says, "I—I'm sorry—"

"Please," Lan Wangji begs, beyond all reason now, "please, oh—"

The young man fucks up into him again, and he almost collapses with the force of pleasure, his back arching, his head falling, his muscles failing briefly. The young man reaches out for him again, but still stops himself.

"Touch me," Lan Wangji rasps, taking hold of one of his wrists. He places it on his waist, and the sudden, squeezing grip forms a strange, pitiful sound in his throat.

The young man holds onto him, and fucks him, and murmurs praise, and Lan Wangji goes weak. He falls, bracing himself on the bed.

"Oh," he groans, "please."

The young man wraps both arms around him and rolls, pressing him down into the bed, pressing down into him with all his weight, with new force. Lan Wangji's vision begins to go dark.

"Yes," he breathes, "yes, Wei Ying, oh—"

The young man gasps, moans, "Lan Zhan," and fucks him deeper, shaking as he comes.

Lan Wangji's world goes blindingly white, and then black.

When his vision clears, the young man is lying beside him, watching him. His beautiful hair is a damp, tangled mess, and his robes trail from his shoulders, but his eyes are bright and intent. With such a face so close, and so open, Lan Wangji finds it difficult to recover his breath.

"You remember?" the young man asks.

"Remember?"

His lovely face clouds with confusion. "You said my name."

Lan Wangji blinks at him. "Your name?"

He frowns. "You said it, just now. When we were..."

With effort, Lan Wangji thinks back to just moments before.

"Wei Ying," he says. The syllables feel good in his mouth. Familiar.

Wei Ying smiles, heartbreakingly sunny. "My name. You remembered it."

Lan Wangji shakes his head, confusion making the dizziness threaten the edge of his mind. "I have never heard it before."

The young man—Wei Ying—looks devastated, and drops his face into the bedding.

"Why do I know it?" Lan Wangji asks, his heart beating hard.

Wei Ying shakes his head.

"I...I can’t explain it," he says. "I...knew yours too, before you said it.

"You called me Lan Zhan."

Wei Ying groans. "That was...a joke. It was dumb. But I...knew your name was Lan Wangji. And that...you like rabbits. And...I just..."

He lifts up his head to look at him. He looks miserable. "I knew you. You don't...feel like you know me?"

Lan Wangji considers him, though trying to think clearly with his body still humming and wrung out is difficult. He fights past it all, past the encroaching dizzying blur, and finds…he did...does…feel. Something strange and inexplicable for him.

"...Yes," he says. "I do."

"Lan...Lan Wangji," says Wei Ying. He goes up on his elbows to look down at him, serious. "I think...I...I don't know what I'll do if you make me leave here without you. I think we're fated. It's meant to be you and me, and I—I want. I don't want to leave you...ever again."

This declaration is nonsensical. It is horrifyingly emotional, and unrealistic, and Lan Wangji deeply, deeply feels the same. It is the scariest thing he has ever heard.

"Wei Ying," he says.

Wei Ying nods, his expression grim. "Come with me, right now. Nothing else matters—I'm a cultivator, and I can bring you to a great sect. You'll be safe, and...you'll be with me."

Lan Wangji sits up, feeling blindsided and confused. His heart is beating hummingbird-quick.

"I know this is a lot," says Wei Ying, "but we have to go now. Before...before your patron comes."

He pauses.

"And if you don't want me then...let me at least—"

Finally, finally, Lan Wangji gives in. He kisses him, slow and deep and with no concern for the paint on his face. When he pulls away, Wei Ying is looking at him with an embarrassingly unguarded, happy expression. He looks away, his ears heating.

Wei Ying takes his hand.

"Let's get dressed. I'll fly us away.

~~THE NEXT DAY~~

Wei Wuxian knocks on Lan Zhan's door with a heavy heart.

They got into Qinghe very late, and he's been up all night in their library looking for answers. He's never been so depressed to solve a puzzle in his life. He just hopes Lan Zhan listened to him and hasn't gone out or spoken to anyone.

Well. He hopes other things, too. But he's staunchly not thinking of them just now.

Lan Zhan opens the door, and smiles when he sees its him.

Wei Wuxian's heart sinks further.

"Hey," he says, "sorry, I, um, had something to work on. But it's finished."

Lan Zhan nods, and sits at the table to set out teacups.

"Actually I...need your help."

Lan Zhan looks up at him. "My help?"

"Mn," Wei Wuxian nods. "I have to...ah, have an extra set of hands, to...make something."

"But I have no knowledge of cultivation,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Wuxian just barely stops himself from making a horrible face at the awful wrongness of it.

"That's okay," he says. "I just...would rather do it with you."

Lan Zhan's ears go pink, his face gently pleased. Wei Wuxian thinks very hard about all the ways he's going to have to punish himself for all of this once it's over.

He draws the array he found, with a few modifications, and gets Lan Zhan to stand in the middle of it.

"Okay," he says, "now copy what I do, and picture a dam breaking, and clear water overflowing riverbanks."

Lan Zhan gives him a quizzical look, but nods. Wei Wuxian guides him through the motions of unlocking spiritual energy.

He gasps, and his eyes go clouded as he had seen them do briefly the night before. He teeters, body locking up with the effects of the memory curse. Wei Wuxian activates the array. It lights up, and so does Lan Zhan. For a brief moment, he looks weightless, suspended, bathed in the bright white glow. Inhumanly beautiful.

And then it flares out, and Wei Wuxian rushes forward to steady him. Lan Zhan blinks, brow furrowed. Confused. He looks down at the array, and then seems to notice Wei Wuxian's hands on his arm. He stares at them. And then, very slowly, looks up at Wei Wuxian.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, "are you back?"

Suddenly, Lan Zhan stumbles away from him, eyes wide. Wei Wuxian has a pang of terror that he's done something wrong, that he's made it even worse.

"Lan Zhan? Are you alright?"

Lan Zhan's eyes catch on the table, on the hair ornaments he was wearing the day before. He casts about.

"Bichen," he says. "Where is Bichen?"

A tiny reprieve of relief tugs at Wei Wuxian's joints at the name.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I think Wen Xu has it."

Lan Zhan blanches, and then his face goes more livid than Wei Wuxian has ever seen it. He looks like fury personified. Wei Wuxian takes a step back, toward the door. He watches Lan Zhan's fists curl, watches his posture tighten, his anger hardening to stone, to ice.

"I will kill him," Lan Zhan bites out.

Wei Wuxian nods. "You will."

It seems to alert Lan Zhan to his continued presence. He looks at him, surprised, and drops his eyes to the floor.

"You can kill me, too, if you like," says Wei Wuxian. It comes out too lightly. It's not a joke.

Lan Zhan flinches. "Wei Ying."

"I'll go," he says. "Now that you're fine. You can decide on that later."

"No!" Lan Zhan lurches toward him, then stops. He's breathing hard. "Thank you," he says. "For...saving my life." 

He bows.

And then folds himself down to kneel.

"I am sorry."

He touches his forehead to the floor before Wei Wuxian can stop him.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian shouts, pulling him up. "Don't. Don't!"

Lan Zhan fights him to stay kneeling, so Wei Wuxian gives up and kneels beside him, pushing him away from the floor.

"Stop it. Lan Zhan, stop, please don't apologize to me."

"I cannot ask your forgiveness," Lan Zhan insists, still fighting. "Please tell this one—"

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian shouts, shaking him by the shoulders. "Stop. Don't apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I...should have gotten you out, not—taken advantage of—"

Lan Zhan is shaking his head, eyes wide with horror. "I gave you no choice. I made you. I forced you to—"

"Everything I said to you was true," says Wei Wuxian.

Lan Zhan stares at him.

"That...I think we're fated. And I never...never want to leave you again. And that I wanted all of it. It's true." Wei Wuxian lets go of him, fighting back tears. "I wanted it. Before, since—for a long time. So you can take your revenge on me, too, Lan Zhan. It's my fault." He hangs his head. "I'm sorry. You can hate me. You can do whatever you want to me."

It's a long time before Lan Zhan speaks. 

Wei Wuxian spends all of it deep in anguish.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, hoarse. "My memory was...not mine. But the things I wanted. The things I did." He takes a breath. "They were."

At first, Wei Wuxian thinks he's misunderstood. He glances at him, and finds his expression distressingly open.

"...Lan Zhan?"

He looks down. "I have...wanted. I have dreamed. Of—"

Wei Wuxian finds himself clutching the front of Lan Wangji's robes.

"Lan Zhan. Can I kiss you? Would that be—"

They stare at each other, breath equally ragged in the silence.

"Yes," says Lan Zhan, looking dazed.

So Wei Wuxian does. He kisses him, and kisses him, and after a stunned moment, Lan Zhan kisses him back.

Wei Wuxian feels as light as the first time he flew his sword. He feels as powerful as the first time he destroyed a monster. When he pulls away, Lan Zhan stops him with a hand fisted in his robes. He's breathing hard, his eyes alight. His mouth is almost as red as it was when it was painted.

"Again," he says.

Wei Wuxian smiles, and does as he's told.

(Lan Wangji absolutely kills Wen Xu before the Cloud Recesses ever burn, which creates a different but more manageable set of problems. Everyone you love lives, everyone you hate dies, and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian live happily ever after. The end!)

#lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #wangxian fanfic #the untamed #crossposted from a twt thread from a while ago!! #idk i just like dressing lwj up and making excuses for him to get what he wants...but with a lil angst #fake courtesan lwj my beloved #also still pretty proud of the implied horribleness of what memories exactly wen xu implanted #disgusting. terrible. wwx is a hero for putting a stop to it #but also they did uh come in handy i guess alkjfbngf #wen xu trying to be horrific but instead accidentally getting wangxian together and getting himself killed #a good flavor #unfitforemployment