#gege had me in a head lock with this fight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hualianff · 2 years

Text

Untethered VIII 《VII》

XL awakens, slow and sluggish like molasses. His hazy mind feels fuzzy. A pleasant tingle tickles his scalp. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, content to nuzzle closer to the warm body he’s safely nestled against.

“Hmmm…” the former prince unconsciously mumbles, stretching his leg that’s currently hooked around a narrow waist. The source of heat beside him chuckles, endeared

A gentle hand pets XL’s head.

“Good morning, my love,” HC whispers, voice rough with sleep. His large hand combs through XL’s dark locks - having lost the blinding shine due to not using royal-grade oils and conditioners - and tucks a few strands behind his ear.

XL’s eyes flutter open at that. How could they not, when seeing his beloved first thing after waking used to be an untouchable fantasy he only envisioned within palace walls.

HC’s soft gaze greets him. One eye black as coal, the other bleeding scarlet. XL is close enough to see the way HC’s pupils slightly shake, as if his expression could not contain the raw adoration he holds for the man in his arms.

XL stares at those long, sloped eyelashes. The eyelids that are uneven in their resting state, the twin craters on either side of HC’s shy smile he only shows XL. His long, loose hair spills upon his shoulders like the ink XL uses for calligraphy.

He is beautiful.

And he is XL’s.

“Good morning, San Lang,” XL responds, eyes crinkling as he smiles sleepily.

HC’s own heart stutters at the sight of his beloved, finally by his side. XL has been getting much more sun compared to when he was a prince. Tiny, light-tannish freckles now dot his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His features are soft in the early sunlight. Serene.

HC commits each and every one of his lover’s expressions to memory.

Immortalizes them.

Even months later, the overwhelming realization that this is his life now muddles his brain into a pile of lovesick mush.

HC trails his other hand along the smooth skin of XL’s leg.

“What’s on gege’s agenda for the day?”

***

“How dare your parents arrange a marriage for you when you already have a bride,” HC had scoffed the night he rescued XL. It was the first night they spent in HC’s bed as free lovers, veins still buzzing from the adrenaline rush of battle. “They should know better that Gege’s wife will not tolerate any mistresses.”

“Oh, my wife wants to keep me all to himself?” XL teased. He held HC’s hand between his own, which were pressed against his chest - above his heart thumping with life.

“How is that even a question? I claimed him years ago. It was love at first sword fight.”

XL laughed out loud at this. Taking it as a challenge to his words, HC’s fingers dig into XL’s hips, under his armpits, knowing very well every one of his prince’s weak spots. XL squeals as he’s attacked by clever fingers, then clever lips as they descend down his throat.

“HAHAHA- !! You mean sword fights or our ‘s-sword fights-‘“ XL manages to gasp out as he’s crushed by HC’s larger frame. The pirate captain cackles at such an innuendo.

The Kingdom of Xianle would never truly know how playful their prince was.

HC had missed his beloved so fucking much.

They fell asleep holding each other close, two pieces of different puzzles that belonged together.

***

XL’s adjustment to pirate life is interesting, to say the least. Aside from it being a complete culture shock - from the long periods at sea, limited resources, and “pirate” etiquette - XL suddenly has so much time on his hands.

Despite HC assuring him that he is not required to help physically man the ship, XL insists on lending help wherever he can. When he helps, he learns. And gets to know the people who respect HC enough to sail the oceans under his command.

Seeing how the crew’s wounds have healed at record speed (not even a day after ambushing the Royal Ship), XL infers that life on Ghost Ship isn’t exactly human.

And XL is more than okay with that.

He smiles at HC who passes by, the stomps of HC’s leather boots encouraging the crew around XL to work harder. The pirate is fully decked out in his captain attire; his signature eyepatch sits snugly over his right eye, and his captain’s hat sits on his head like a crown, making him appear even taller than he is.

“Does Gege want to help steer?” HC asks, raising an eyebrow at the broom XL holds in his hands. The former prince ignores the sneaky side glances from the crew. They can never get enough of HC’s whipped behavior, so out-of-character from the sharp, stone-cold captain they’re used to obeying.

“I would love to! Is San Lang going to show me how?”

HC nods, holding out his hand with the palm facing up. XL gives the broom to a crew member, then places his smaller hand in his beloved’s.

HC tugs XL toward him, pulling them flush side-by-side. With a hand hovering over XL’s lower back, HC leads XL to the area behind the wheel.

XL settles in front of the wheel, and HC stands behind to guide him.

“It’s quite simple. The wind speeds are mild right now, which is ideal for the direction we’re heading today. You can see most of the ship from up here, right? Sometimes, crew members will give you signals, indicating drastic weather changes, or when another ship is nearby…”

HC’s entire explanation is whispered in XL’s ear. It makes it a bit difficult to focus, the hot puffs of breath sending chills down XL’s spine.

“There you go, darling. You’re getting the hang of it already. As expected of my prince,” HC murmurs, dropping his hands to rest on XL’s waist.

“I’m not a prince anymore, San Lang,” XL reminds lightly. He flicks a look over his shoulder to meet HC’s eye. HC shakes his head, leaning down to kiss XL’s cheek.

“You’ll always be my prince.”

XL relents with a giggle. He faces forward again, melting back into HC’s chest. One of the pirate captain’s hands leaves his waist, and to XL’s surprise, the captain’s hat is placed atop his head.

It’s a little too big, covering most of his forehead and both ears.

XL blushes as numerous sets of eyes take in the sight of him and HC visibly flirting behind the wheel.

“There. To complete the look,” HC says mischievously. “After all, what’s mine is yours.”

***

(NSFW)

Two sweaty bodies fluidly move against each other, damp skin sliding against damp skin. If HC could, he’d be gripping bruises onto those pale hips and using them as leverage to wildly fuck up into his lover.

Except XL had gotten the idea to tie HC’s wrists together, then chain them to the headboard. XL moans breathily as he bounces on HC’s slick cock, driving in deeper and deeper, asscheeks clapping against HC’s tensed thighs. XL’s head is thrown back in bliss, both hands splayed on HC’s toned chest.

If HC had a mirror - perhaps a vanity like XL’s old room - they’d probably be able to see the comical picture they make: XL with his virgin, flawless skin, rolling his hips against HC’s heavily tattooed and scarred body.

When XL slams down particularly hard, a grunt is punched out of HC, loud enough to reverberate within the room’s walls.

“Careful. You don’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing, do you?” XL warns with an evil smirk. He’s paused his movements, now grinding his hips in figure eights with HC’s full cock trapped inside.

“Fuck, I’d kill anyone if they heard,” HC spits out, leisurely lifting his hips on his own accord. XL stays effortlessly seated. He reaches behind with one hand and strokes the area where they’re connected, sighing.

“Then you have to be quiet for me. Or I’ll have to gag you. Understood, Captain?”

HC’s chest heaves up and down, peering up at XL, who is entirely bare except for the captain’s hat perched upon his head.

“Y-yes,” HC breathes out. “So kiss me.”

XL doesn’t need to be further convinced. He leans down to capture HC’s lips in a messy kiss, tongues fiercely licking into each other’s mouths. XL begins lifting up and down again, building up a steady rhythm.

HC swallows each of his moans, greedily sucking on his lover’s lips like it’s his last meal on Earth. With a high-pitched whimper, XL clenches tightly around HC’s cock - a sign that he’s close.

SNAP!

HC breaks the chain from the headboard, then tears the rope tied around his wrists in an insane show of strength and desperation. XL feels himself being flipped over, the hat falling off, and opens his legs eagerly.

HC enters with a wet slap and starts pounding into XL with renewed vigor. XL can only wail while clutching the sheets beneath him.

“Please please please please please-“

HC muffles XL’s cries with his palm, giving him a look saying “weren’t we supposed to be quiet?” XL whines pitifully, grasping onto the pirate’s back.

HC pays no mind to the nails digging crescents into his skin. He bows down to nibble at XL’s earlobe, then taunts, “It’s okay, Gege. I know you like it when other people can hear.”

Outside, YY holds himself back from knocking on HC’s cabin door. The sounds of a headboard slamming against the wall, a squeaky mattress, and choked breaths have been going on for far too long.

Because YY’s cabin is the closest to HC’s, he already has to hear those sinners go at it from dusk until dawn - all fucking night. Now, they’re literally preventing YY from doing his job, damn it.

Be HC’s right-hand man, they said. It will be fun, they said.

When he hears a muffled scream followed by long, drawn-out moans - the wet slapping sound of skin speeding up - YY turns on his heel and walks away.

He seriously needs a vacation.

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #cerdrabbles #prince xl #pirate hc #pirate & prince au #epilogue #tian guan ci fu

65 notes · View notes

nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

[10:00 PM] Ryomen Sukuna

LOG 14 OF MY JUJUTSU KAISEN TIMESTAMP DRABBLES

collection masterlist

photo/fanart credits to @/Natsushio on Weibo

"Baby."

Sukuna knows you heard him. Still, you continued walking as if you didn't, going ahead of him about ten paces ahead, your posture and the overall attitude in your gait speaking volumes of your current mood. He easily kept up with you, placing an arm over your shoulder, but much to his surprise, you shrugged it off you and walked the remaining expanse of sidewalk towards your shared apartment. He just watched in annoyance as you walked into the lobby and got into the elevator before him.

"Trouble with your princess?" this nosy grandma, who lived at one of the units at the first floor, asked.

Sukuna just smiled awkwardly, bowing slightly as he passed her by on his way to the elevator. When he finally got into your unit, he found your coat lying on the hallway, picking it up only to see your jeans a few steps ahead then your shirt. He finally found you in the kitchen already wrapped in a robe which you didn't even bother tying up, agitatedly pouring yourself a glass of wine, the cerise liquid sloshing around the glass violently.

You were behaving rather out of character, making a mess out of your clothes when he knew just how much you hated it when he leaves his things scattered about. On top of that, you left the cutlery drawer open with the corkscrew you used on top of the counter, droplets of red wine littering the granite top. You just passed him by without saying anything, refusing to look at him on your way to your bedroom.

I see how it is, he thought, taking long strides to the direction you went. He eyed you sternly, having had enough of your attitude. "Y/N, what's going on?" he demanded.

You flinched visibly at the way he addressed you. He doesn't call you by your name unless he was dead serious about something. "It's nothing. Don't mind me."

"Woman, don't tell me it's nothing when –"

Before he could finish, you walked into the adjoining bathroom, turning on the tap to the tub to tune him out. You were evidently being passive-aggressive now, and he detested it when you did that.

"Just go back to your party. I'm sure everyone's wondering where you've gone," you told him, picking up your glass from the dresser top. "Especially Miss Hanako." You shot him a sardonic smile before taking a swig out of your wine, the way you said the woman’s name dripping with vitriol.

And then it hit him. You've been dishing out barb since you told him you wanted to leave the company party he was partly hosting for his department. You did so when the secretary to the president arrived and started chatting him up. He was now thinking your behavior thereafter had something to do with it. You were fine before that so it could only mean one thing.

He didn't know whether to laugh or what at the thought of it. When he decided to pursue you, he didn't have qualms about it even if you were a good six years younger than him. He knew how problematic it could get having an immature partner, but that's where you were different. You held yourself with such confidence, grace and equilibrium way beyond your age, you shared the same pragmatic mindset he had and you didn't seem to have a proclivity for drama like others your age. You hardly ever fought because of petty things and he loved that about you.

But then, you're still young and he didn't hold it against you that you're suddenly acting like a brat. If anything, he was happy about it because you were never ever jealous. It sometimes made him doubt how you felt about him when you yourself would be pointing at other chicks for him to look at while saying things like, "Baby, look at her ass. Damn, she's sexy." And now that the green-eyed monster is rearing its head to the surface, he couldn't say he didn't like it.

"What about her?" he asked cautiously, making you jump the hoops.

You sneered, the action very intimidating despite your angelic features. “Oh, I don’t know, Sukuna. You tell me. You seemed to be enjoying her company. Don’t stop at my expense.”

He leveled his expressions to you. “Well, she is something, isn’t she? Smart, too.”

“Yeah, you deserve each other,” you hissed, the anger flaring up in your eyes making him stir alive.

“But she’s married.”

“All the better!” Seeing through what he was doing, you turned towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He didn't hear you lock it so he followed suit.

"If you're jealous, just say so already!" he told you. He wanted to hear it out of your mouth.

"Why would I be jealous? She looks like a bad rip-off of 80s Brooke Shields!" you spat, confirming his thoughts. You climbed into the bathtub sulkily, eyes on the bubbly water.

Sukuna knew he shouldn't even be thrilled about the prospect of it. If you were jealous then that means you were kinda doubting him in terms of his loyalty to you, and he should not like that, but at the same time, you were also being possessive which you rarely do. He couldn't help it.

Loosening his tie, he began shedding his clothes off, stripping naked before you, revealing the tattooed expanse of his skin and his impressive musculature as he tossed one garment after the other.

"What are you doing?" you asked as he approached, the way you mumbled the words causing him to just sigh, feeing defeated at how endearing you looked hugging your knees to yourself. "I thought I told you to go back to your party."

He didn't say anything as he went into the tub, sitting opposite you, but it wasn't long before he was pulling you towards him, positioning you between his legs so your back was pressed against his hard chest. He then began planting hungry kisses on your neck, down to your shoulders, his large hands wandering all over your body, one already having found itself on your breasts while the other coaxed your head to turn towards him so he can kiss you, his movements urgent yet languid and gentle.

"I'm all yours," he breathed against your lips, grinning. "You know that, right?"

"I know." You shrugged, facing forward again. “I don’t like the way that witch was touching you though. And you were all smiles about it, too.” You smacked him on the thigh, eliciting that deep laughter you adored no matter how mad you were at him. “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny.”

“It kinda is.”

“If you even think for a second that anyone can have you, Ryomen Sukuna, you’re wrong.” You looked him in the eyes, your dark orbs boring into him while your hand touched the side of his face, your crimson-painted nails looking like claws against his cheek. “You’re mine.”

He wrapped his arm around you, kissing you on the temple before placing his chin on your shoulder. "Jealousy is ugly, baby," he whispered in your ear, "but I gotta say, you wear it so well."

-END-

Okay. Before I get another "untimely (and unsolicited, if I'm allowed to say) lecture" about the etymology of the word "Ryōmen (両面/りょう)" meaning "two-faced/two-sided" and not a surname or given name , let me say it now, I KNOW, but thanks anyway. Sukuna and I are neighbors, just 4 hours by train. Geez. However, I am using his whole name in literature form, so if I do switch it up and use it as a surname for him (cause heaven forbid, the Kamigami rain hell on me) it's all for fun and literary creativity. No need to get too pressed over it.

No more fighting on my comments to point this out @fushigummy @kenkinori XD

And I have nothing against the 1980s or Brooke Shields. *waves at her fans*

It's established. I love bathtub scenes although I detest the idea of stewing in my own filth. But yeah, look forward to more bathtub drabbles.

I say too many things. Bye.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

487 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 3 years

Text

TOJI AND MAKI

The parallels between the two outcasts of the zenin clan have already been pointed out plenty of times in canon, for example they're both incredibly buff. However, I thought I would take a deeer look at both characters, as they share both a role as the abused child that destroys the system that created them, and the same fatal flaw.

1. The Child Who is Not Embraced by the Village Will Burn it Down to Feel its Warmth

"The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas" is a 1973 work of short philosophical fiction, about a summer festival in the utopian ity of OMelas, whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child. The idea is written around the idea of the scapegoat, a reoccurring trope in stories where someone innocent is blamed, or outcast for the mistakes of other characters.

All of this to say that both Maki and Toji represent the archetype of the scapegoats of their generation. Just like the child of Omelas, all of the problems in the Zenin household are blamed on one child.

This is something Ogi does to Maki directly, and also Naoya recognizes that the other members of the clan did to Toji. They were unable to face their own inferiority, so they blamed it on a scapegoat. Ogi blames his failure to become the head of the clan on his children. The entire clan is unable to recognize Toji's strength, because it would make them question their traditionally held notions of strength, Toji requires the use of weapons and can fight without cursed techniques, which means the cursed techniques they were born with don't make them inherently better with other people.

This is also related to Gojo's criticisms of Jujutsu Society at large, of which the Zenin Household is a very toxic microcosm of. Gojo's critique is that the previous generation will sacrifice the lives of the younger generation, to maintain their power, and in the name of pointless tradition. In the Zenin family "tradition" is the idea that inherited curse technique determines a person's worth.

Their entire system is built around one, keeping cursed techniques in the clan, and two, passing down inherited curse techniques from father to child. Which would go farther to explain the treatment of women by the clan, but we're not getting into that this time. Basically, the "peace" and the "superiority" of the household are built on the idea of marking and scapegoating an outsider, that is anyone who doesn't fit in with the clan's traditions. "If you are not of the Zenin Clan you are not a sorcerer, and if you are not a sorcerer then you are not even Human". That quote alone should explain how Maki and Toji were both treated as subhuman 'monkeys' by everyone around them.

However, the story shows us by both Toji and Maki snapping how terrible these abusive power structures are. One person cannot handle all of that alone, so they snap. Of course they snap. It's not a sign of who Toji and Maki are as people, but rather how no one deserves to be treated that way. A major reocurring theme in Jujutsu Kaisen is no one person alone, can take responsibility for everything, not even Gojo who is the strongest can save everyone he wants to save or be responsible for all of society he needs allies too. Toji, and Maki without allies, they snap and lash out against the same abusive power structure that created them. They are so thoroughly othered by everyone around them, that they embrace their own inhumanity, Maki becomes a weapon bent on killing her family even murdering her own mother, and Toji outright calls himself a monkey.

This is also why Toji is referred to as the "destroyer of destinies" there are two reasons for this. One, Gege is making a thematic point here. The abusive system built on othering and excluding children among other things doesn't actually provide the stability it promises. The center does not hold. The abuse of the system perpetuates and only leads to more destruction. Toji's outcasting isn't something that just hurt Toji alone, everyone felt the consequences of it because the abusive system proliferates and only causes further destruction. The second reason is a Jungian idea on which the story is based on. Toji himself is much like a curse created by the actions of his entire family. If Mahito is created from the fear humans have for each other and acts as the shadow of humanity representing their dark side, Toji metaphorically represents the combined shadow and dark side of the zenin clan. In Watch Man, Rorsarch monologues about how the accumulated filth of all of the abuses that happen in the city will one day rise up and affect everyone.

"This city is afraid of me, I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will form up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout save us and I'll look down and whisper no."

This is expressing the same Jungian idea, a society that ignores these problems will only cause the muck to rise up further and further until it affects everyone. The Zenin clan was a microcosm for the abuses of Jujutsu Society as a whole, they weren't the only ones affected by their abuse because abuse perpetuates. They endured it until they snapped and then acted out that abuse. The Jungian idea put forth is that this sort of reckoning was always going to happen, as long as the Zenin clan continues to create these outcasts in order to hold themselves up as superior, another Toji will happen.

2. Love is the Worst Curse of Them All

Toji and Maki also share the same flaw as people. Their abuse revolved around the idea of outcasting them from the rest of the family, othering them, continually putting them down and also most likely not even doing the job of raising them as children or providing them with the help they needed. We don't see much of it, but in the databook apparently Toji regularly had cursed spirits sicked on him to mock him, and Maki was locked in the cursed spirit room as punishment.

This taught them not only do they need to be strong on their own, but also in order to prove themselves they both thought they needed to be stronger than anyone else in the clan. Toji left Jujutsu Society as a whole, whereas Maki just left the house, both of them with the motivation of proving themselves stronger than the people who looked down on them.

This strong sense of individualism is their greatest strength, and also their weakness, as the situation is more complicated than being stronger than a bully. Maki and Toji are made to feel alone because of their abuse, however, neither Maki nor Toji suffer their abuse alone.

Mai was abused right alongside Maki, they were both outcasts due to being twins. There's no point in arguing which one of them had it worse, because Ogi was perfectly willing to kill both daughters right alongside each other. Maki does and doesn't remember that Mai is right alongside her in her abuse, it's... a bit complicated.

I mention this because Makiaated reason why is that she would have hated herself if she stayed inside that household with Maki. She put pursuit of becoming a stronger sorcerer above her relationship with her sister.

Maki later states "I can't create a place where Mai would feel like she belongs". I don't believe that was always her intention from the start that she secretly left the household for Mai's sake, and wanted to get stronger to create a place where Mai belongs, because Maki's always been really clear she was doing it for her own sake. I think rather after the loss she suffered in Shibuya, and also the fight she had with her sister in the school met, that she came to change her mind and realized she wasn't just in this alone. She changed her mind, that she wanted to be together with Mai, but she didn't change it in time and tragedy struck.

I mention this because Maki and Toji both share the same tragic flaw. Both of them have no idea how to be close even to the people they love, so they end up pushing away the ones they love the most. Maki continually shows behavior of pushing away Mai, and in Toji's case he does everything he can to try to show himself he doesn't love his son.

Maki continually pushes away her sister Mai. Mai reacts to getting pushed away in a not-so-healthy way. Toji full on deadbeats his son. He doesn't raise him or participate in his life to the point where Megumi can't remember his face or name at all. Toji did everything he could to try to give Megumi to someone else, anyone else other than him and avoided his responsibility as a father.

It doesn't come from malice on Toji and Maki's part, but rather it's a less savory aspect of their abuse. Both Toji and Maki believe themselves to be worthless, and that they can't be accepted or loved. They've internalized the way the clan has treated them. They are so isolated that this comes out in how they treated their closest loved ones, their response is to always push them away and isolate themselves further. Toji narrates this, he chose to throw his son aside because he wanted to affirm himself and prove that he was better than Jujutsu Society. Maki says to Mai that she left the house and left Mai because staying would have meant hating herself.

They are both trying desperately to prove themselves as individually strong, to the point where loving anyone else, or even requiring that love from someone is a weakness. They prove they are strong by avoiding the vulnerability of loving someone else. Toji and Maki both try to separate themselves from their heart in order to become even more physically stronger. For Toji his heart was his son Megumi who he did everything to distance himself, forgetting his name, selling him to the Zenin clan, while at the same time paradoxically believing that he was somehow protecting Megumi and arranging for things that would have been better than Toji just stepping up as a father and taking care of him.

At the same time Maki pushes Mai away when Mai does not want that, and believes that also she can return to the clan and make it a safe place for her sister by being individually stronger than everyone else.

They both approach their loved ones this way, because they were taught that one, they are unworthy of love, and they choose to try to get stronger by throwing away anything that might make them vulnerable.

TWhich is why Maki breaks so hard, and lashes out at everyone when Mai is gone, because Maki believed that keeping Mai separate from herself and protecting her was her way of showing love.

However, Mai and Megumi are like... people. They're people entirely separate from Maki and Toji and also affected by their actions. Megumi was neglected his entire lives, whereas Mai didn't get to have a relationship with her sister and felt like she was worthless and only holding her sister back. This is the central idea of Toji and Maki's abuse narrative, that abuse is complicated, and abuse proliferates and hurts people you don't even intend for it to hurt. It has consequences. Megumi suffers the consequences of the Zenin family's abuse because it turned Toji into such an unfit and emotionally immature father. Mai was being abused alongside Maki, and even ended up dying from her abuser's hand as her father Ogi beat her half to death and locked her in a room. Now, as a consequence Maki is lashing out at everything around her. That's also why the connection between Toji and Maki is drawn, to show that as long as the abusive institution still stands, it's just going to keep creating more outcasts like Toji and Maki.

#toji zenin #maki zenin #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #zenin maki #mai zenin #zenin mai #megumi fushigoro #fushigoro megumi

363 notes · View notes

megumisbimbo · 3 years

Text

- Twelve -

megumi fushiguro x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

summary: (y/n) was nothing special. A human being who had no idea that curses walked the same earth they walked. But then they locked eyes with Megumi Fushiguro. Can Fushiguro focus on the task ahead or will he be distracted by the king of curses and his new love interest?

series masterlist

Credit for the main storyline and characters goes to Gege Akutami.

taglist: @aspenss @kitkozume @vanilnya20 @micheleinumaki @yuuji-supremacy @tobi—o

the songs are indicated throughout the story at certain points!

songs used:

kazino - BIBI

— kazino - BIBI —

A grueling month of training and preparation passes. Megumi’s confession weighing heavy on your mind everyday. Practices with him became easier as you managed to grasp the movements and techniques Maki diligently taught you. You couldn’t thank her enough for making you stronger. You’re reminded of the compliment she gave you, your natural strength refined through her regiments. You didn’t feel ready for the Kyoto exchange, but Megumi’s encouragement made you feel slightly more secure in your ability.

“Don’t worry love, as long as we have you as defense we won’t lose.” He says, his bright eyes full of love and a small smile playing across his slightly blushed face.

His comfort around you has grown, the small touches he used to give turning into tight embraces and short pecks. Thought Megumi doesn’t particularly mind displaying his affection publicly, he treasures the moments he has alone with you. Your soft hand that lands on his cheek, stroking it gently. Your chapstick covered lips meeting his, the scent of cherries filling his nose. You were everything and more to Megumi. He couldn’t lose you, like he lost Yuuji. Yuuji’s death haunted Megumi, the thought of not being able to protect those he cared about when they need him most. But you gave him purpose, a reason to get stronger, a reason to be prepared for an unwanted next time. He was sure the Kyoto exchange would display his improvement, but he was just as eager to see yours. The Kyoto students would not go easy on either of you, and you both knew that, but you were prepared.

With Megumi’s hand in yours, you make your way to the front of the school where Maki, Panda and Inumaki were standing.

“Well hello lovebirds, glad you could join us.” Maki says with a proud smirk.

“You nervous y/n?” Panda asks, sensing your apprehension.

“A bit...but I’m ok.”

You wrap your self around Megumi’s arm burying half your face in his shoulder.

“Why is everyone empty handed?!” Nobara asks, her suitcase and backpack by her side.

“Why do you have your luggage?” Panda asks.

“We’re going to Kyoto right? For the goodwill event IN Kyoto?”

“The goodwill event WITH Kyoto...in Tokyo.”

“YOU’RE JOKING!”

“So that’s why our conversations have been off...”

You giggle at Nobara’s comical misunderstanding.

“Oi..they’re here.”

A group of students around your age walks towards you, each looking more intimidating than the other. Your grip on Megumi’s arm tightened. Noticing your nervous behavior, he interlocks his fingers with yours and gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’ll be ok.” He says, a soft whisper of reassurance making you feel a bit stronger. You had worked hard for this moment, Maki had worked you hard for this moment. There’s no way you could run away now.

“Is this a welcome party?..gross.”

“I don’t see Okkotsu.”

“Would you forget about Okkotsu. Isn’t it too much of a handicap taking on two first years and a newbie with no cursed energy.” The tall robot looking sorcerer, Megumi referred to as Mechamaru says.

“That is irrelevant when it comes to jujutsu sorcery. Especially with Fushiguro, he is a Zen’in after all. I’d say he’s more reliable than the head of the family.”

Your eyes fall on the raven haired boy. His teeth gritted at the sound of being called a Zen’in. You didn’t know much about the Zen’in clan, but you did know Megumi wanted nothing to do with them.

“Hey now! No fighting. Now..where is that idio-“

The Kyoto sensei’s words are cut off as her eyes fall on your shrunken form.

“y/n?...” She asks, her eyes fixated on the familiar glint in yours.

“Um...yes?”

“You look just like her...”

“Sorry?...her?”

Your small exchange is interrupted by Gojo’s loud voice making his presence known.

“HERE I AM!”

He wheels in a large box filled with who knows what. You give Megumi a puzzled look only to receive a shrug in response.

“Looks like everyone’s here! I was actually on a business trip overseas, and I brought some souvenirs for you all!! Not you Utahime!” Gojo-sensei says as he hands out a small tribal doll to the students from Kyoto.

“And for the Tokyo kids!”

The large box pops open startling both you and Megumi. The open box reveals something you could have only dreamt about. Or at least you thought it would only have been a dream.

“It’s the dearly departed Itadori Yuuji!!”

“Ha Gotcha!!”

Your e/c eyes fill with tears as you stare at the face of your apparently alive friend. You thought you would never see him again. You had suffered through months of tears, months of sitting in your bed refusing to eat or drink. Months of being in Megumi’s arms sobbing into the collar of his cotton t-shirt. How could he be here? This must be a sick dream. But the way Megumi clings to you, the harsh grip he has on your hand, proves that this is no dream. Yuuji was in fact, standing in front of you alive and well.

“...how..” You utter, the tears collecting on your lash line refusing to fall.

“Sensei! They don’t looks happy at all!” Yuuji blares, the familiar voice sending chills up and down your spine.

Megumi’s hand loosens slightly as he guides you toward the box Yuuji was still standing in. Nobara kicks the box slightly startling the pink haired boy.

“You got anything to say?” She asks, small tears collecting in her eyes as well.

“Uhhh sorry for not telling you I was alive?”

“Yeah you should be sorry..” You say, your voice shaky but threatening.

“Y/n I-“

“I don’t want to hear it Yuuji, do you know how long I cried, how painful it was to be reminded every day that I’d never get to see you again. But here you are!! Just fine!! Nothing wrong at all! I understand how it would be dangerous to tell everyone...but me? Why couldn’t you have just told me? Just given me an ounce of relief? How could you Yuuji..” You turn your face onto Megumi’s arm, the sleeve of his jacket collecting the tears that never fell. Megumi’s hand comes to your head stroking the top lovingly.

“Y/n..there wasn’t a day that went by...that I didn’t think about you. I missed you so much, I really did. I had to keep it a secret..you know I would have run to you if I could..you know that right?”

“I don’t really know anything right now.” You say, your hand slipping out of Megumi’s as you walk away from the trio.

What were you supposed to think? Suddenly your best friend is back..the Kyoto sensei giving you weird looks and saying you remind her of...her? Who’s she? How were you supposed to feel. This was all just too much for one day. You contemplated dropping out of the exchange, curling up in your bed and sleeping the awful moment away...but something in you refused. You knew, Yuuji would never purposefully hurt you, not after what you two had been through. You will stay, you will fight, and you will find the answers. Nothing can stop you now. Not when you’ve worked this hard. This isn’t for Yuuji anymore, not even for Megumi. This is for you, only you, and you were gonna make that obvious.

a/n: wow…that took so long to put out omg. but there it is you guys !! the first part of the series is over ! i might just revisit this because i left it on a cliffhanger and i have so many more ideas about this book but for now here you go ! thank you so much for sticking with me for so long and i apologize for the lack of updates towards the end. i love you all so much <3

87 notes · View notes

demiace-wen-ning · 3 years

Text

Just a silly little one-shot about Modern!AU Jin siblings doing absolutely nothing because I love them and wished we had gotten more of them (although, considering canon that's probably for the best).

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

"Girls are pretty," Qin Su mumbled, her face buried into the nest of pillows and blankets she had made for herself on the sofa.

"Girls are very pretty," A-Yao agreed from face down position on the floor. He had not moved from there ever since he entered the room and didn't seem like he was going get up anytime soon. "But Xichen-ge is prettier."

"Shut up about Xichen-ge. Shut up about Xichen-ge," Mo Xuanyu groaned. "Also, boys are prettier."

"Says who?" Jin Zixuan shot back. "Also get off of me. My shoulder's numb."

"No... Xuan-gege comfy," he replied, only latching onto his older brother tighter.

It had been a long week for the four of them. College (school for Mo Xuanyu) had been wearing them out and they were all grateful that they could finally take a break from... well everything.

Their father had taken to bringing Jin Zixuan more frequently to work with him so he could get a glimpse of his future as the next CEO after his father retired. The oldest even had to skip a few of his college classes, in order to accompany him.

At least this meant their father laid off of Jin Guangyao more so than usually, actually allowing him time to focus on his own classes, something he struggled to do regularly, since his father would demand he always remain at his side at the company, and even help Mo Xuanyu with his Maths.

The four siblings had decided to all spend the rest of the weekend at A-Yao's, where he lived with Mo Xuanyu after the younger's mother passed away, apartment, taking a break from the turmoil of week.

Mo Xuanyu had rented a few movies from CD shop downtown where his friend A-Qing worked at. They mostly consisted of early 2000s rom-coms and a few Gong Li classics because Qin Su would die for her. No horror movies though. After watching the Exorcist, they had made a pact against it, mostly because A-Yao did not want another noise complaint after all three of his siblings screaming last time.

Right now all four of them were curled up in the living room, doing absolutely nothing. As he lay on the floor, A-Yao noted that it was a rather nice change to be relaxing and surrounded by his siblings. Much better than spending all day at the company, listening to the demands of both his father and other worker who had taken to treating him like a servant.

"I want pizza." Mo Xuanyu announced, sitting up.

"You had pizza yesterday," Qin Su replied.

"I want more."

"I'll cook something in a while. Just not now," A-Yao said, stretching a little.

"Why not just get take out from that shop Yanli-jie works at?" Qin Su asked. This caused Jin Zixuan to sudden straighten at the sound of Jiang Yanli's name.

But before he could reply, Mo Xuanyu shook his head. "Xuan-gege will only end up trying and failing to flirt with her."

A pillow then hit his face and Jin Zixuan scowled at him. "Just because I compliment her cooking skills, it doesn't mean I'm flirting with her."

Qin Su snorted. "Complimenting? You called her soup slightly above adequete the other day."

"And complained that the breadsticks the restaurant served were stale."

"And the dishware cheap."

"And-"

"Shut up! Shut up!" He shouted, his cheeks ablaze as he pushed Mo Xuanyu off of him, to the younger's displeasure.

"Alright, let's not fight. I'm sure Yanli-jie understood the sentiment," A-Yao tried to reason with them.

Jin Zixuan sniffed, turning his head away. "That's it. A-Yao's my only brother. You two can rot for all I care."

Qin Su let out an strangled gasp. "You're so mean, Xuan-ge."

"Also," he continued, pretending not to hear her. "Do whatever you like but I'm not paying this time."

This caused the rest of them to pause and turn to Jin Zixuan with expectant expressions. This only served to offend their brother even more.

"I'm just a walking ATM machine to all of you, aren't I?" He glared at them accusingly.

"No, no, Xuan-ge. You completely misunderstand," A-Yao shook his head appeasingly.

"You're our oldest brother and we all love you very much," Qin Su continued.

Jin Zixuan continued to look skeptical.

"Plus, we'd starve to death without you. You'd be an only child then. You wouldn't want that," Mo Xuanyu piped.

Qin Su and A-Yao locked eyes with one another, their expressions weary. It was clear that they were thinking the same thing. It would take a lot more than their deaths for Jin Zixuan to be an only child, considering their father's... nightly outings.

"Whatever," Jin Zixuan rolled his eyes. "But I get to choose what we're eating."

Mo Xuanyu cheered.

"Xuan-gege you're the best," Qin Su gushed adoringly.

"Yeah, yeah, you're both brats. A-Yao, put something on the TV."

"Preferably something Studio Ghibli," Qin Su said, lying down on the pillow Jin Zixuan had thrown at her. "We've watched enough rom-coms to last us a lifetime."

"There is no such thing," Jin Zixuan and A-Yao exclaimed.

"I wanna watch Howl," Mo Xuanyu demanded. "Howl sexy."

"Howl doesn't know how to fold his own bed," Qin Su retorted. "How is he sexy?"

Mo Xuanyu gasped. "You take that back."

Qin Su continued "Sophie though. Sophie literally becomes an old lady and instead of crying her head off, she just gathers up her shit and heads out to break the curse. What is more sexier than a woman with a braincell?"

A-Yao motioned his hand in a way to get them to calm. "Okay, okay, don't fight. I'll put it on."

The opening credits started rolling in, all the occupants in the room quieted down as they focused on the movie. Mo Xuanyu huddled closer into his brother's side, resting his head on his shoulder, something which Jin Zixuan did not reprimand him about again.

Qin Su nudged Jin Guangyao with her foot, causing him to look up at her questioningly. She moved in a little, repositioning herself to make space and tapped at the spot next to her.

Yes, A-Yao decided, as he got up and sat down next to his sister, making himself comfortable inside her little nest. It really was a nice change, relaxing with his siblings. Very nice.

#ajjdhdj this sucks but there's such little jin siblings content so just take it #fluff #my fics #I'm planning on writing an actual full length fic about them but not today #i lobe them so much #jin siblings #jin guangyao #jin zixuan #mo xuanyu #qin su #meng yao #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed

91 notes · View notes

fragilefangirl · 3 years

Text

Nomad (lost and found, what’s new?)

Read on AO3

When Xialing first ran away, she brought nothing but the things she wore on herself and the rolled up Dance-Dance Revolution carpet, slung on her shoulders.

It was a daring escape, considering their hilltop fortress of a home; there were many guards, many traps, many weapons ready to impale anybody going in or out unauthorized. Xialing spent months just mapping the inner-maze of the house, and some more learning the sewer system, since that was a sure path down below, somewhere with civilizations.

Gege definitely had it easier, she thought to herself as her nose wrinkled due to the smell, knees deep in murky and questionable water, at least he got a free ride out of this godforsaken mountain.

She knew she had to be quick, she had to be agile, she had to be unseen; Baba had eyes everywhere, had ears everywhere, had hands everywhere. Xialing didn’t want anything of hers reaching him.

(She wanted to, once upon a time; yearned for it, when she thought that his eyes could still be filled with brightness and his hands were still warm and his ears would still perk up at her voice. She wanted to be seen, to be heard, to be ruffled by the head the way it used to.

But 6 years passed, and it took Xialing that much time to realize that a dying man could only do so much, so little.)

When she finally reached somewhere that was not a forest, asking for a ride to the city from a passing truck, the driver asked what she could give him, eyeing the carpet on her shoulder. “Is that the 2007 DDR mat for PlayStation 2?” He asked. “I liked to play it in my cousin’s house back then—always wanted to get it.”

Xialing tightened her grip to the binding rope, nodding stiffly. “Yes.” She said, curtly. Then when they arrived at the nearest metropolitan, she unlatched her bracelet—pure gold and adorned with rare, beautiful green jade, one of the things Baba gave her on the birthdays after, in lieu of his affection—and gave it to him. “Sell this to a jeweller.” She said, giving the wide-eyed man the accessory. “The money from it should be enough for you to start a trucking company of your own.” She paused, “and even buy your own mat.”

The driver stuttered, but Xialing had already stepped down from the platform, running into the early dawn, blending herself among the crowd, finally, finally free.

***

“Meimei,”

Xialing looked up to see Gege, face obscured by the shadowy silhouette of the living room as he approached her. “What are you doing?” Asked her brother, tone careful.

She paused from unrolling the DDR mat and setting the TV, looking at Gege like he just asked something stupid. “It’s Saturday, Gege.” She said, matter-of-factly, “Family game night, remember?”

Because they all seemed to forget; Xialing had done this for weeks now, recharging the karaoke mic, setting the dance game, picking a movie. She’d waited on the sofa until she fell asleep and Saturday turned to Sunday and she was moved to her room instead of the sofa, but nobody showed up.

Nobody ever seemed to show up, these days—Gege was always training at some corner of the house since the ungodly hours of the morning until the ungodly hours of the night, and Baba…

…well, Xialing didn’t really know where Baba was.

Gege moved forward, and Xialing could see his face now; bruised, with blue and purple blooming here and there. There was a black circle over his eyes, and his lip was split—he looked like he was one of those fighters in the combat games he used to play in their PlayStation so much, the one he didn’t let her borrow.

She gasped, rising from her seat on the floor and reaching out to him, trying to examine him,

(the way mama used to—)

Xialing blinked, throat suddenly feeling suspiciously dry as her eyes grew suspiciously wet.

“Lingling,” Said Gege as he leaned over to her touch, eyes drooping somberly as he looked at her. “I don’t think we’re going to have family game nights tonight.”

Narrowing her eyes, Xialing frowned. “But it’s cus-to-ma-ry.” She said, struggling to say the last word. “Mama said that means we have to play it every weekend, unless we’re doing something even more fun!”

Gege gave her a pained smile, and tucked her under his right side, wincing a little as he did so. His eyes blinked a bit when Xialing mentioned the word ‘mama’, and his gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where there was a newly-built shrine with lightened incense and fresh tangerines. “A-Ling.” He said instead, tone weary and sad and did her older brother aged more than the years that passed through him? “Let’s just sleep, okay?” He looked down on her, offering her a tired smile. “It’s been a long day.”

For him, Xialing couldn’t help but to think, intrusive thoughts rebutting so quickly she was surprised herself. On her end, days blur to weeks on end, making her feel smaller every single time she wakes up unseen, unheard, unspoken.

“…okay.” She said, after mulling about it in a long silence. “Gege sleeps with me?”

This time, Gege’s smile was a little bit more genuine. “Sure, Meimei.” He said, ruffling her head. “You sleep on my right side, okay? My left side… hurts.” He winced just mentioning it, free hand tracing his torso.

Nodding, Xialing snuggled closer as they walked away from the living room, Gege’s longer hands barely able to reach the lightswitch to turn it off. Xialing herself had to use a chair just to get it every time. He paused as they were finally out in the hallway, turning to slowly close the sliding door.

“Gege.”

“Hm?”

“When…” Xialing hesitated. “When do you think we’ll play at family game night again?”

Her older brother paused, hands still holding the door handles. “…maybe not for a while.” He said, finally, back still facing her.

“Oh.” Xialing’s hopeful face fell. “Okay.”

Gege led her off, away from the living room, but he didn’t shut the sliding door completely, and from the gap Xialing could see mama’s shrine, lightened by the moonlight from the window.

She swore mama’s gaze looked so sad.

(The day after, Baba locked the Living Room.

A week later, they moved into the mountains.)

***

“Aiya, these beggars!”

Xialing arrived at Macau after three days of truck hopping and self-smuggling herself into unbelievable vehicles. It helped that she was on the smaller side and had nothing with her—but it also meant that she arrived with no destination and no place to live.

She arrived at a packed apartment complex in Iau Hon, paying the receptionist with some of the money she acquired from selling another bracelet of hers earlier in the Mainland, only to be told that there were no longer rooms for the night and she had to queue on the waiting list just to get a piss-poor excuse of a housing.

“Give my money back, then!” She protested, face red with anger.

The receptionist counted the bills, unblinking. “Sorry, no refund.”

She growled, “wáng bā dàn.”

The receptionist paused, glaring at Xialing. She knew she could take him out on a fight right then and there if he tested her further. “Careful with your words, now, girl—a child your age shouldn’t be cussing to their kind elders.”

“Fucker,” she muttered under her breath in English as she walked away, out of the complex. It was the last of her cash, too, after a series of expenses involving buying food, paying the smuggler who helped her through immigration, and compensating the truck drivers she rode with openly upfront and hidden on the back. She had to find another pawnshop to trade her remaining jewels if she wanted to acquire more money to survive. But it was nearing midnight, and all of the shops were closed.

So on her first night in, she lumped herself out with people on the back alleys, away from the main streets. There were homeless people there, huddled up together in worn carpets and makeshift tent. Macau was cold at night, and Xialing’s clothes were worn, too thin to block out the wind.

That night, she rolled out the DDR mat and slept on it; curled up like a cat because she was growing taller than the mat’s length, staving away the cold. She put herself at the back corner, near the trash can, so she wouldn’t be seen.

(Because she could not be seen—Xialing told herself that she needed to blend in, to disappear into the crowd, because Baba must be sending men out there, snooping, searching; he must be looking for her, the only child he had left, the last child he let slip through his fingers.

Baba must be looking for her.

Right?)

The tacky design of the mat was her only company, and she fell asleep tracing the arrows—left, left, right, up, down, left again—while humming on a long-forgotten song. She fell asleep trying to remember a warmer night and a warmer night. She fell asleep yearning to wake up to warm laughter.

“Mama, Gege,” she muttered, barely conscious, “Baba.”

The cold wind blew her hair, gentle and mournful.

***

“Mama.” Xialing said, fifteen and sitting at the shrine Baba had built in their new home, head leaning onto the altar. “I hate you so much.”

The smell of jasmine incense surrounded the room, and Xialing buried herself further into her own arms, warm in all the way except what mattered. She knew silence would greet her, and yet still she paused, hoping for some of the magic mama used to tell her back then would come back, would make their family whole again.

“I hate Gege too for leaving.” She said, one eye peeking into the picture of her mother, smiling behind the glass, forever immortalized on paper. “And I hate Baba for—“

She paused, unsure on what word should she use to describe that living husk of a man, more than eager to track down the lowly goons of his enemies but barely willing to look her in the eye during dinner. She shook her head, letting the silence complete the sentence.

“But I hate you for dying the most.” She whispered, a quiet confession. “I hate you because now Gege’s gone, and Baba’s never around, and I feel like—“ she choked up, clutching her chest as she gulped. “I feel like one of these days I’m gonna disappear too, with the way nobody here acknowledges my existence.”

The smoke from the incense danced, and Xialing sobbed, not for the first time and not for the last, a desperate attempt to be acknowledged by someone, by anyone—even the dead.

“Why didn’t you just hide in the room with us?” She asked, voice thick. “Why did you have to fucking fight those goons like a goddamn hero? Why didn’t you—I don’t know—wait for Baba to come home?”

Again, silence greeted her, and Xialing sighed out of frustration. “If you were still here, I’d still go to my old school and actually have friends and—and family game night would still exist.” She chuckled, darkly. “Gege wouldn’t leave me, and,” She said, “Baba would still look at me.”

The way he used to, when they were a heap of exhausted laughter after a particularly hard song to dance at. The way he used to, when Xialing whined because he kept repeating old opera songs none of them knew for the karaoke. The way he used to, when Saturday dinner was served and she and Gege fought over the last piece of guotie.

“My tutors said I should dream big,” She lamented to herself, “But how can I do that when I feel far smaller now than when I was four?”

The silence was suffocating her now, but it was better here than anywhere else in the house.

“Tell me what to do, mama.” She said, voice faltering and tired. “Please tell me what to do.”

The smoke from the incense rose up, up, up, carried by the wind into the windows, drifting away into the night, freed from the five walls surrounding the shrine.

***

Jiang Er-Gege—“Just Jon-Jon, please. Or Mister Manager,” he insisted for the umpteenth time, unrelenting in this clearly losing battle, “and am I not older than your actual brother?” But Xialing is nothing if not stubborn—whistled at her new apartment.

“Sweet!” He said, grinning, hair bobbing around as he turned at Xialing’s direction, who was still unwrapping her hand from the bindings, wincing a bit every once in a while due to the aftermath sting from tonight’s fights. “You got yourself a pretty nice crib, A-Ling!”

“Thanks.” She said, giving him a small smile as she discarded the wrappings to the waste bin and took off her shoes, finally coming in. “Not that bad, isn’t it?”

“For a seventeen-year-old street fighter? Psh. Not bad at all.” Er-Gege waved a hand, his hair—currently blue now, which reminded Xialing of the Sonic the Hedgehog poster hanging at her Gege’s old bedroom door, well, before—flowing and flailing with each of his enthusiastic movements. “Did it come fully furnished?”

“Yes.” She said, throwing herself to the sofa, closing her eyes. Dawn was breaking, and most people would rise from their beds, starting their day—but Xialing wasn’t most people, and all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep. She was sure that if she insisted on taking a shower, she’d fall asleep under the streaming water, and that would just be wasteful.

(“And we can’t have that, Baobei,” a deep, gentle voice softly told her, as larger hands guided her on how to soap all the wet plates together first. “Water is scarce in many places in the world in this day and age, and we must show our gratitude by not wasting it so easily.” Xialing felt a light pat on her hair, a slight ruffle, “can you do that?”

She nodded, enthusiastic as she scrubbed the grimes a little harder, trying to detach the remnants of oil and spices from the porcelains so that the water would rinse the objects more thoroughly. “Mmhm!” She hummed, offering a bright toothy grin up, “Lingling will do as Ba—“)

“—Ling?”

She snapped awake, blinking rapidly to regain full consciousness. “Sorry, I was pretty out of it.” She said groggily as she straightened herself up—fix your posture, Baobei, don’t slouch—looking at Er-Gege with slowly focusing eyes. “You were saying?”

Er-Gege raised his eyebrows, but he shrugged and waved a hand at the direction of the TV. “That DDR Carpet looks a little… out, compared to your other furnitures.”

Xialing snorted, throwing Er-Gege a ‘tell-me-what-I-don’t-know’ look. “That’s vintage.” She said, cupping her face with her hands, leaning over to the coffee table.

“To whom?”

Sighing in annoyance, Xialing couldn’t help but to feel a little defensive about the old mat; it might be ragged and old, it might be worn and torn at its sides, nibbled by the sneaky rat at Xialing’s old loft, but, “It’s the thing I slept on, my first night here.” She said, “It’s a reminder.”

Er-Gege’s judgy expression softened, as he fully turned at her with his arms crossed. “A reminder?” he echoed, curiously inquiring. There was no malice in his tone, only an invitation to open up in a way that eerily reminded her of Gege, “of what?”

Xialing looked at the worn arrows and recalled laughter; scanned the tacky colors and remembered warmth; eyed the frayed edges and missed three pairs of eyes, looking at her like she was someone, her own person, not a walking remnant of someone else, not a ghost before she even died—

“Of good times.” She smiled, small and bitter and yearning.

Er-Gege nodded, glancing at her one last time before moving on, letting it go. He made a comment about her kitchen counter, how it was too Americanized and needed a revamp, but Xialing was very sleepy, suddenly.

(Baobei—

Meimei—)

She sighed, laying herself to the armrests of the sofa, and closed her eyes, dreaming of nothing.

When she woke up, it was noon, there was a steaming porridge on her coffee table, and there was Er-Gege, fumbling over her TV. “What—” she stretched, cracked her joints. “What time is it?”

Turning at her in surprise, Er-Gege grinned almost immediately. “Look who finally woke up.” He said, tone light and teasing. “I bought the porridge from that Auntie’s restaurant you like so much—go eat it first.”

Xialing straightened herself, gingerly taking her first spoonful, letting the warmth of the meal melt away the weariness in her bones. “Thanks,” she said, smiling at the bowl, feeling like she was truly her age for the first time in a very long while. “And what are you doing to my TV?”

“Oh, this?” he jabbed a finger to the screen, which was displaying the HDMI menu. “I’m plugging in a PS2.” he said, shrugging before he dove again, lifting a black bulku box that looked just like the one they used to have at home. “I got this baby at a second-hand electronic shop, and they apparently sold old DDR game disks!” He grinned, before returning the device and returned to his work, this time to the mat’s underside, seemingly searching for its wirings.

Xialing blinked, spoon suspended mid-way to her mouth, warm meals suddenly forgotten. “...why?” She asked, something simultaneously familiar and foreign slowly easing their way into her chest, squeezing it with something sharp but not painful.

Er-Gege watched her oddly, like she was asking something stupid. “To play, of course.” he said, as if the answer itself was obvious. “This bad boy seemed like it hadn’t been used to its purpose for years, and I’ve never seen you dance before.” He grinned mischievously.

Her throat constricted into something tight and heavy, and Xialing looked further down. “I—” she mumbled, “I don’t really remember how to.”

She heard a snort and looked up, nearly fearfully, to see Er-Gege looking at her with something akin to mirth. “So what? We can always re-learn!” He said, waving a hand at the carpet, “it literally has arrows to tell you where to go; if you can kick people’s ass ordinately, you can definitely play this.” He grinned.

It was true, but something about the familiarity of all this made Xialing feel like she should run away, like she should protect herself because what if she was happy and then it was taken from her again— “I don’t think we should,” she said, voice still so uncharacteristically small and vulnerable and fuck she missed Gege’s uncoordinated legs stepping into her and mama and she missed Baba cheating to win and she missed mama, she missed mama so much it hurt—

“Hey, Xu Xialing,” Er-Gege’s voice snapped her out of her spiral, softer tone breaking her reverie. “You said it reminds you of good times.” he rose from his squat, hand reaching out to touch her hair—always a perfect bob—and ruffle it lightly. “Far as I know, good times should be experienced, not just reminisced.”

She blinked, and for a split second she saw two other faces, grinning at her in a smile she’d yearned to see for so long.

“Okay.” She said, nodding slowly, “Okay.”

They ended up missing the night’s match, and the manager of the ring-fight yelled at Er-Gege for not bringing his best Champion to the arena, but as they laughed late into the night, teasing each other’s stiff moves and calling out their horrible attempts at cheating against each other, Xialing felt like she was home for the first in a very long time.

***

“Baba?”

She peeped at the door, loose hair falling, curtaining over her face. She was eleven now, spending her birthday with an array of nannies and tutors, gifted jewelleries and served the best dishes on an empty dinner table, singing happy birthday to herself.

Baba’s work room was always dark, only luminized by the reading lamps, and sometimes those damned rings. He didn’t look up from his papers, but Xialing had trained herself in reading the miniscule when she realized that she would never be given something visible again, and she saw how his shoulders stiffened, how his eyes blinked rapidly, how his ears perked, slightly.

He said nothing to acknowledge her existence, but he also didn’t shoo her away, so Xialing took what she could get. “It’s my birthday today.” She said, voice small, always feeling small, too small in this big room, this big house, “and I was wondering if—if we could spend it together? Just—” she shrugged, helplessly, already compromising her own wishes if it meant a nod from Baba, an affirmation, anything, “I don’t know, watch a movie or something…”

Her eyes glanced at their new living room behind her, barely inspiring those inside it to live; it was cold and spartan, so unlike the Living Room back Home, where everything was warm and alive. In her old home, everything was strewn haphazardly, dance mats kicked several meters away from the front of the TV and karaoke mics on the couch. Here, the TV was never on, and all the mics and mats and cassettes were locked into the top shelf, the unspoken instructions clear; do not touch. Do not take. Do not open.

Do not Relive.

Baba moved, straightening himself, and in the silence that passed Xialing blinked, letting her hopes go up—

“I’m quite busy right now, Xialing.” He said, tone detached and performative, not even looking up to her as he spoke. “Maybe later.”

Definitely never.

“Oh.” Xialing deflated, looking down, slowly retreating. “Okay.” she whispered, mostly to herself as she pulled the door close once more. “Goodnight, Baba.”

She was replied with only a hum, and she dared not to look up lest she saw him still focused on that damn paper, refusing to look at her, to see her even when it was her birthday because in his eyes she was not A-Ling anymore, not Baobei, not Meimei, just some personification of his fucking dead wife and—

Xialing fell asleep waiting for him on the couch anyway, despite everything, waiting for that later despite knowing that it was a lie.

She woke up in her room, alone, always alone.

It had been like this for a long while, now, but with Gege not returning home and her being the only child he had left in the compound, she had hoped—

Well. she had hoped.

That was her first mistake.

***

“You know, for a compound this big, I thought your dad would have more stuff.” Said Katy as the three of them cleaned up the main house. With Baba cremated and his ashes placed on the same altar as Mama, they only needed to clean his place.

Which apparently didn’t require that much effort, given how little of him existed there.

Somewhere deep within her, she recognized that it was heartbreaking to live like this, but that part was buried layers below anger and pettiness at how that exact way of life had sacrificed her.

“He’s so… spartan.” Commented Gege as he observed the high shelves, trying to find a more personal belonging to salvage. “There’s barely anything here.”

“You can use big words? Shocking.” Replied Xialing, tone flat and sarcastic as she took what she thought was valuable; the Lucky Cat figurine they brought from their old Home, family photos that were pushed into the far back, some sick-looking swords… “I thought the US’ horrible education system had stripped out all of your intelligence.”

“I liked you better when you were smaller and less sarcastic.” Grumbled Gege as he threw her a look. Xialing snorted.

“And I liked you better when you were smaller and not abandoning me,” jabbed Xialing, to which Gege replied by pinching her on her arm, not much to hurt so she knew it was in good nature. “Besides, you only do not like me because I’m cooler than you.”

“Now on that front, she’s definitely right.” Katy piped up, and Gege groaned, grumbling something about all the women in his life ganging up against him. “Face it, Shaun, you’re a little lame compared to the rest of your family.”

“I was laying low!” He protested to Katy, to which Xialing snorted. “And besides, you’re working in the same field as I am, receiving the same pay. If I’m lame, you’re lame too.”

“Oh, I know.” Katy said, not missing a beat. “But my family is a bunch of immigrant workers, not some thousand-year-old warlord and a magical guardian of the mystiques. I have excuses, Shaun—you don’t.”

“I can see why you keep her.” Xialing said, in-between her chuckles. “Keep it up, Jiejie.” She raised a thumb up to Katy with her free hand, and Katy—did Katy blush?

“Okay, back to cleaning up!” Gege’s bellowing voice cut the both of them, only slightly annoyed. “A-Ling, what did you get?” She showed him her reapings, to which ke gestured her to place it on the open suitcase at the couch.

“All these books were dusty, unopened from their wrappings…” Katy said as she scanned the bookshelves, “and is the TV wiring corroded? Shaun, did your father never watch TV?”

Xialing and Gege exchanged glances, shrugging. The image of Baba doing anything fun after mama had died was so … foreign to them. “I guess he’s too consumed by his work.” Gege said, though she knew he doubted his own words as much as she did, for the Ten Rings had barely done anything for the past ten years.

Katy shook her head in disbelief as she scanned more of the cupboards. “Books, jewels, antique swords—what are even these weapons?—oh! Here’s a fun rack!” Her steps stopped, “now there’s more personality; PS2, karaoke mic, a bunch of game discs, and—” she snorted, “A fucking DDR mat? Hey, Shaun, did your dad really play DDR?”

Xialing paused, head turning to Katy abruptly. “A DDR mat?” She echoed, straightening herself and walking to Katy’s side, interest piqued.

“Yeah!” Katy affirmed, pulling the rolled up mat down from the storage, unbinding it with one pull. “Looks old and worn, too.” She snorted, “What I really would give to see your scary dad dancing to this…”

But Xialing wasn’t listening. She felt like everything around her was buzzing.

“...Lingling?” Someone’s hand was on her shoulder, and she snapped, looking up to see Gege looking down on her, frowning as his grip on her tightened. “Meimei, you okay?”

Xialing wanted to say something, anything, because that wasn’t just some mat; she recognized it—had danced to it countless times when she was young, had brought it with her when she ran away, had slept on it on her first night in Macau, had—

“I threw that away.” She said, not quite recognizing her own voice as she reached to the frayed edges. “In Macau, when I moved to a better apartment—I threw that away.”

I had it with me, was unspoken, he wasn’t supposed to—

And suddenly she was reminded on that night in her Club, Baba standing in front of her and Gege, offering them his smile, and she thought she’d been dreaming then, a childish delusion resurfacing after seeing a familiar face for so long, but—

“I always know,” he had smiled, and there was something there, something not quite cold, not the way he usually was after, something akin to the expression Xialing saw at the mirror in the morning when she had a particularly bad day and all she wanted was Baba’s guotie and mama’s soup— “where my children are.”

***

CODA.

Opening her bedroom door with his elbow, Xu Wenwu made soft, careful movements so as to not wake his youngest from his arms.

She was deep in her sleep when he found her sprawled on the couch at the wee hours of midnight, leaning her head on one side of the armchairs. When he lifted her up, she felt like she weighed far lighter than she should have—he frowned, he’d have to talk with the chef about that—and she only grumbled lightly, before snuggling her face to the crook of his neck, seeking comfort.

Gently, he placed her onto the bed, adjusting the pillows and tucking in the blankets. She was eleven years old but she still looked like she was a baby when she was asleep like this—his baby, his Baobei.

Xialing harrumphed when he slowly released her, one hand unconsciously clutching to his white shirt. Wenwu paused, freezing, fearing that he’d got caught.

(Fearing what?

He didn’t know.)

Wenwu let her fingers clutch the fabric until they relaxed on its own, before slowly extricating her grip away from his clothing. He tucked her hand inside the blanket with the rest of her, and swpt her unruly bangs, looking at her face.

Like this, she looked just like Ying Li.

Something caught in his throat, heavy and shuddering, and Wenwu looked away. A thousand years, he thought bitterly, and his undoing is just some little girl’s face.

He shook his head, swallowing the emotions away, letting it be buried deep once more. He knew he had sinned, knew he wronged his children to a fault, but he just—

Not for the first time that night, he wished his wife was still here, telling him what to do, telling him she loved him, telling him how to love.

But she wasn’t, and their daughter was turning eleven, and he was sitting there at the edge of her bed, wishing more than anything for some magic to come and unbreak this broken family the way Ying Li had to his cold, greedy heart all those years ago in the forest.

Xialing—His A-Ling, his Baobei, his child—stirred in her sleep, and Wenwu could see tear tracks on her cheeks, crusty and fading.

He leaned over, forehead to hers, and whispered, softly, “Happy birthday, Baobei.”

Baba is sorry, he thought, hoping the unsaid would reach her anyways, even if he didn’t dare to say it out loud.

The night was clear, the windows closed, but the wind tousled his hair lightly, gentle and mournful.

#shang chi and the ten rings #shang chi #xu shang chi #xu shangqi #xialing #xu xialing #xu wenwu #wenwu #ying li #this movie made me sob two days after i saw it and i'll be DAMNED if i don't do it justice #Xialing deserves better baby!

17 notes · View notes

subbyyang · 3 years

Text

Winyang - 21 (A kiss in a place of insecurity)

“Can I go with you guys to the gym today?” Yangyang asked as he joined Sicheng and Xiaojun, a gym bag over his shoulder.

“Of course!” Sicheng replied with a big smile on his face, excited to spend more time with his boyfriend, even if Xiaojun would be there too.

“Dude, are you sure you want to do cardio? You’re already so small…” Xiaojun said when Yangyang approached one of the treadmills. He tried his hardest to not let the hurt show on his face, knowing Xiaojun hadn’t said it maliciously.

“He can do whatever he wants…” Sicheng piped up from where he was preparing his dumbbells.

Yangyang shyly went to another machine where he could work on his arms while the others went back to what they had been doing.

They continued working out, moving from one machine to the other, keeping their conversation light. Yangyang tried to concentrate on his exercise but he couldn’t shake away the uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t belong there with the others.

“Sicheng-ge, can you spot me?” Xiaojun asked as he walked towards the bench press.

Yangyang watched in awe as Xiaojun lifted the weights, the muscles in his arms flexing with each movement. It was no wonder their fans were always praising and complimenting him and Yangyang wanted that too. He didn’t want to be just the cute youngest, he wanted their fans to find him sexy and manly.

And he wanted Sicheng to think that too.

“Can I try it too?” Yangyang said as Xiaojun got up from the bench, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, you wouldn’t be able to take it…” Xiaojun said, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Everyone has to start somewhere, come here…” Sicheng said as he removed all the weights except for one on each side of the bar. If he gave Xiaojun a dirty look no one noticed.

Yangyang lay down and immediately regretted his decision. What was he thinking? Xiaojun was right, he would never be able to do it and he was probably going to hurt him-

“Hi,” he was brought out of his thoughts by Sicheng’s upside down smiling face appearing right in front of him, “you can do it…if you need me to take over just tell me, okay?”

Yangyang couldn’t help the smile that took over his lips when Sichen leaned down and kissed his forehead, their noses brushing together softly. Yangyang gave him a curt nod, internally hyping himself up for it and then finally lifted the bar. It wasn’t so bad, a little heavy but he could do it.

And so he did it again. And again. And okay, by now it was definitely starting to feel heavier, his arms trembling as he lifted it one more time. He took deep breaths, ignoring the burning in his muscles as he pushed through two more lifts.

“Yangyang, dude, I think that’s enough…” Xiaojun said, his dark brows furrowed in a hint of concern.

“No.” was all Yangyang could say, not wanting to lose focus on what he was doing. He needed to do at least ten - as many as Xiaojun had done.

He managed to lift the bar two more times before he realized he had made a mistake. His arms wouldn’t stop trembling and the bar swayed from one side to the other. Yangyang felt stuck underneath the weight and the panic must have shown on his face because before he could even say a word, Sicheng was pulling the bar up and away from him.

Yangyang wanted to cry, his cheeks burning in humiliation. They decided to end their gym session and trudged towards the locker rooms so they could take a quick shower before leaving.

“Hey, that was pretty impressive for a first try!” Xiaojun said when he noticed the sour look on Yangyang’s face as they changed clothes.

“I locked up…” Yangyang muttered, sounding defeated.

“So? That happens all the time! You did really well today, don’t worry.” Xiaojun continued as he tried to cheer him up, unsuccessfully.

The whole ride home, Yangyang sat with his head down, his wet hair covering his eyes. He just couldn’t face the other two, especially Sicheng. He turned his head to face the window when he felt Sicheng slipping his hand into his and intertwining their fingers together.

Once they got home, Yangyang barely had time to take off his shoes before Sicheng was pulling him by the hand all the way to his bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” Sicheng asked as he sat down on the bed, pulling Yangyang sideways on his lap, “I don’t like seeing you upset…”

“I just - I just wanted to look sexy for you but no, of course that will never happen and I made a fool out of myself in front of everyone…” Yangyang said as he hid his face on the crook of Sicheng’s neck.

“You didn’t make a fool out of yourself…and what are you talking about? You already look sexy, baby…” Sicheng’s voice was low and soft as he rubbed Yangyang’s back with one hand and squeezed his thigh with the other.

“Look,” Yangyang said as he lifted his head and pointed at Sicheng’s hand, “my thigh is probably smaller than your hand! Everyone always calls me cute but I want to be seen as handsome and sexy…”

Sicheng said nothing, he simply nodded as he got up from the bed and wordlessly walked towards the door, missing the confused look in Yangyang’s face. He closed and locked it before turning back to Yangyang, his eyes dark and with an intensity Yangyang had never seen before.

“What are you doing?” Yangyang asked when Sicheng got close to him, Sicheng’s hands falling to the hem of his shirt.

“Take it off, take everything off…” Sicheng slipped his hands under Yangyang’s shirt, lifting it up slightly.

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me…” Sicheng whispered, fingers ghosting lightly up Yangyang’s sides leaving goosebumps on the warm skin.

Yangyang let Sicheng pull his shirt off, not once breaking eye contact. He could feel himself blush under the loving intensity of Sicheng’s gaze as he leaned down to capture his lips in a soft kiss, so contrasting to the hungry look in his eyes. Yangyang couldn’t help letting out a whine when he no longer could feel Sicheng’s lips on his only to let out a contented sigh, his eyes fluttering closed when Sicheng moved on to kiss his jaw, then his neck, giving special attention to that sensitive area just behind Yangyang’s ear before kissing a straight line all the way down to Yangyang’s shoulder.

“Wh-what -“ Yangyang’s eyes snapped open at the feeling of Sicheng’s warm mouth leaving wet kisses on his arms. His mouth went dry at the feeling of Sicheng nosing his inner arm before leaving a small bite right on his bicep.

“You drive me crazy when you walk around in sleeveless shirts…can’t stop picturing how your arms tense and flex when you touch me, or how they feel wrapped around my neck,” Sicheng stopped briefly before holding onto his other arm, leaving some more kisses there, “or even how they look like an halo when I hold them above your head…”

“Sicheng…” Yangyang whimpered, his eyes shining and wet as he let Sicheng kiss his way back to his shoulder where he nibbled on Yangyang’s birthmark - as he always did, in an almost obsessive fashion - before moving down to Yangyang’s chest.

With a dry thump, Sicheng fell on his knees, his arms wrapping around Yangyang’s hips as he mouthed at his stomach.

Yangyang shivered, a shuddering moan escaping his lips when Sicheng licked up his skin, right between his abs before blowing some cold air on the overheated skin.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby…did you see the fans’ comments when you opened your shirt on stage?” Sicheng stopped kissing Yangyang’s stomach so he could look up and stare at his eyes, a smile growing on his lips when Yangyang nodded, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, his bottom lip swollen from biting on it.

He was beautiful. And he was his.

“Si - Sich - gege” Yangyang whispered, it seemed to be the only words his brain could come up with, too focused on the way Sicheng’s lips left a blazing trail of heat on his skin.

“Shh, lie down…” Sicheng pushed gently on Yangyang’s hips until he started walking backwards towards the bed, letting himself fall on the soft covers. He held himself up by the elbows, legs slightly spread and watched as Sicheng got up from the floor and walked towards him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sicheng’s face, fighting the urge to shudder again at Sicheng’s dark eyes, so full of hunger and desire.

Sicheng couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips when Yangyang subconsciously spread his legs wider when he climbed on the bed with him. He placed his hands on Yangyang’s knees before slowly sliding them all the way up to his covered thighs and then to the hem of his shorts, watching in awe as Yangyang let himself fall back on the bed, his hips lifting in a clear invitation.

“So beautiful for me…” Sicheng whispered when he finished pulling Yangyang’s shorts and underwear down, raking his eyes up and down the soft skin, committing every single inch to memory.

Yangyang’s breathing caught in his throat as Sicheng leaned down, their eyes still locked in an intense gaze that neither of them seemed to be able to break. Yangyang was the first to give in, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of Sicheng’s warm lips on his hip bone, first on one side and then the other before moving further down.

“Love your thighs, how tightly you wrap them around me when we fuck” Sicheng said between kisses, “and they bruise so prettily too…”

Yangyang let out a small yelp that immediately turned into a drown out moan. Sicheng smiled against the skin he had just bitten, his tongue licking at the red skin, soothing the sting.

“How can you think you’re not sexy? Look what you’re doing to me…” Sicheng rasped out, taking Yangyang’s hand and placing it on his crotch, an evident hardness inside his underwear.

Yangyang blushed, his eyes becoming shiny and red. It looked like he was about to cry and as much as Sicheng loved it when he cried, he couldn’t have it today. He lifted Yangyang’s arms, holding them above his head before swooping down to kiss him hungrily.

They kissed until they couldn’t breathe anymore, pulling away from each other with a deep gasp, their pants echoing in the room. And then Sicheng was kissing him again, down his neck, his chest, his stomach, pouring as much love into his kisses as he could, random praises and compliments flying out of his mouth.

Yangyang let out a quiet, contented moan at finally having some friction on his cock while Sicheng started jerking him off slowly. He let himself relax against the pillows, his body tingly and warm from all the kisses Sicheng was still showering him in.

And that’s when his orgasm - that had been slowly building for a while - finally hit him, coming out of him in waves as he arched off the bed, Sicheng’s familiar voice whispering praises in his ear through it all.

“Thank you…” Yangyang whispered, his arms snaking around Sicheng’s neck and pulling him close.

Sicheng returned the hug, turning on his side and bringing Yangyang into his arms. “I love you” he whispered into his hair, smiling at how quickly he seemed to be falling asleep. He was always so pliant like this, so soft in his embrace, so sleepy and warm. He tightened his hold again, one last time, letting the scent of Yangyang’s shampoo invade his nose before deciding, right there and then, that a nap with his boyfriend sounded like the best idea in the world.

#YangYang #winwin #winyang #sicheng #wayv #wayv smut

24 notes · View notes

gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

Wangxian: The Autumn Chrysanthemum

Post-Canon, Rated G, 1.5k - read on AO3

Background Info: The Chongyang Festival, or the Double Ninth Festival, is a lucky date for longevity, celebrated with customs such as climbing mountains and drinking chrysanthemum wine. The word for 'nine,' jiu, sounds like the word for 'long (time),' creating a link between the meanings.

* * *

Wei Ying raised the jar of liquor to his lips. The sweet, floral liquid swirled inside him, sending a rush of heat, then coolness through his chest. A small, sticky dribble slid down to his chin. He wiped it off.

“The chrysanthemum wine is good,” Wei Ying said. “Very rich.”

He turned to the man beside him. The sight of the gentle curves of his face, his tall, steady frame draped with light blue robes—this image filled Wei Ying with warmth that met the unique coolness of the flower’s liquor, the currents flowing into each other and relaxing his entire body.

He smiled. “Lan Zhan, do you remember the first time we shared a drink?”

Lan Zhan stirred a bit. His lashes lowered as he glanced toward Wei Ying’s feet, raised as their eyes met for a brief moment. Then he looked back out to the landscape stretching before them, a vast green valley beneath the mountain they had climbed, dots of the autumn’s scarlet and golden colors reflecting in his eyes.

“I remember that you used a talisman to coerce me.”

Wei Ying choked on the wine a bit, until his coughing melted into a syrupy chuckle. “Of all things you could’ve chosen to reminisce about, you had to pick that.” He drew in a breath of crisp air and sighed. “Why must you incriminate me so? Tell me that you secretly felt exhilarated by breaking the rules, or that you wished you had let me play with your headband, or that you liked calling me Wei-gege. Don’t leave me to say all the sappy memories myself.”

A flock of geese flew overhead, their wings stroking the morning sun and blending with the sound of the mountain breeze.

“All these things, I remember fondly,” Lan Zhan said.

“So do I.” Wei Ying swirled the jar of liquor, watched the pale, honey-colored liquid encircle itself. “You know, the Chongyang Festival is the only time I would drink chrysanthemum wine over Emperor’s Smile.” He shot a grin at Lan Zhan. “Otherwise, I would always prefer this one splendor I know from Gusu.”

The corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth crept upward. “Flattery will not bring you more to drink.”

“Aiya, you see right through me.” In one swift movement, he locked arms with Lan Zhan and nuzzled his cheek into Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Lan Zhan’s breath slowed, a comfortable swell against him. “I already have too much of one certain splendor from Gusu. Better not to have more.”

Lil’ Apple hummed quietly behind them. The donkey was tired after long months of wandering with Wei Ying, until finally meeting with Lan Zhan at the halfway point to Gusu. And actually, Wei Ying was tired too, for they had only returned from their travels a few days ago.

He sank deeper into Lan Zhan’s side.

“When I was traveling with Lil’ Apple, I kept dreaming about our days in the Cloud Recesses. I…I miss it. Back then. How we were all so young. Not even as old as A-Yuan is now.” He lifted the jar up to eye level and shook his head at it. “You know, I think this wine is making me a little too nostalgic.”

Lan Zhan’s arm softened in Wei Ying’s hold. “Chrysanthemum blooms in autumn when other blossoms are fading.” He tilted his chin up slightly, looking out over the trees changing colors in the valley. “Naturally, upon drinking, one would remember moments passed.”

“Mm, you’re right.” Wei Ying lifted his head from Lan Zhan’s shoulder to join him in admiring the scenery. “I shouldn’t forget the meaning of Chongyang, should I?”

“Jiu yue, jiu ri,” Lan Zhan said.

“The ninth day of the ninth month.” Wei Ying waved the jar farther out in front of them, lifting it higher, as if offering it to the valley. He called out loudly like a proclamation. “Two nines—two jiu’s—two long times—just like the two long lives we will share together!”

He smiled, his eyelids feeling heavier as he lowered the jar and leaned against Lan Zhan once more.

“I am happy you have returned,” Lan Zhan said, his voice quivering a bit, like a pond suddenly overcome with ripples at the final entrance of a skipping stone. “Wherever your future takes you, I am happy for it.”

Lan Zhan had never been one to repeat himself. But this sentiment, he had said more than once in the days since Wei Ying returned from his travels, always with that slight tone of turbulence. Listening to these words might have done more to move the soul than drinking chrysanthemum wine.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chided. “My future takes me to you, and nowhere else.”

A warm stillness spread through them, passing from one man to the other through their intertwined arms.

“You’ll have to help me with that, though,” Wei Ying added. “I need to build up Mo Xuanyu’s golden core so I can cultivate to immortality with you.” He chuckled. “Who would’ve thought that after everything, I’d wind up as a student at the Cloud Recesses yet again?”

Lan Zhan’s bangs blew in the breeze, waving gently over his cheeks. “At last, you come back to Gusu with me.”

Comfort bubbled inside Wei Ying at those words. He let it fill the cavern of longing that time had dug deeper and deeper into him.

“I am. I am so, so glad to come back to Gusu with you.”

They watched the morning sun rise higher over the valley. A splotch of golden color from a small field of chrysanthemums lay below them, glowing brighter, almost caramelizing, as the sun’s rays strengthened.

“Have you heard of the poet Tao Yuanming?” Wei Ying asked.

“Tell me.”

Wei Ying paused, suspicious that Lan Zhan knew of the poet already and was just pretending. But perhaps he would be content to listen anyway.

“Well, he wrote a lot about the beauty of chrysanthemums. He appreciated their noble nature, their power for healing.” Wei Ying swirled the jar of wine again. “He was a lot like me, really.”

“You have written chrysanthemum poetry?” Lan Zhan said with a small smirk.

Wei Ying laughed sheepishly. “Ah, no, no, I haven’t. Sorry to disappoint.”

Lan Zhan gave him a fond look that said, I know. Continue.

“Okay, let’s see.” Wei Ying stroked his chin, making a show of thoughtfulness. “As Tao Yuanming was growing up, he was surrounded by hardship. Clans were fighting with each other, overthrowing each other, wreaking violence and betrayal at every turn.

“He joined the civil service to help his people, but all he met was hypocrisy. Scheming, thievery, wars.

“Then, his sister died.”

Lan Zhan’s frame grew tense, as did Wei Ying’s own body.

“The death of his sister was too much for him, and the government officials had only ever abused his good intentions, so he decided to flee public life. He went to the countryside to become a meager farmer, and started a new family.

“Generals came by and asked him to rejoin the civil service, but he refused. He could not compromise his principles by returning to that world. Instead, he lived in poverty, for the single richness in his life was the ability to admire nature and write of its beauties.

“Sometimes he felt lonely.”

Wei Ying breathed in the mountain air, along with the calming scent of tea leaves and pine. This scent usually filled the Cloud Recesses, but now it hung from Lan Zhan beside him, steadying him.

“However, there was a visitor who would come to Tao Yuanming’s farm. This visitor would bring him liquor, and simply sit with him, enjoying his company.”

The faint surface of a low wooden table seemed to grow in the space between them, the chatter of guests at a restaurant, the sting of spicy peppers on soft tongues, the crinkling sound of A-Yuan playing with a toy butterfly.

“So Tao Yuanming grew fond of liquor, and he drank it in front of the chrysanthemum blossoms. He found peace and gratitude where one would have thought he had nothing.”

Having concluded the story, Wei Ying looked to his side.

After a long silence, Lan Zhan said, “In these things there lies a deep meaning. Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.”

“Wow!” Wei Ying’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “So profound! You should be a poet like Tao Yuanming, Lan Zhan.”

A terse, barely-audible huff escaped Lan Zhan. “You speak highly of the artist, yet do not recognize his words.”

“That’s Tao Yuanming’s poetry?”

Lan Zhan’s only answer was to gaze back onto the sunny valley, an air of amusement floating in the breeze around him.

“Oh, well. I suppose that’s what I get for trying to impress you.” Wei Ying took another sip of liquor, felt its heat and coolness rush through him.

“Here, you can have the last bit.” He held the jar up to Lan Zhan’s lips. “Hanguang-Jun should drink the chrysanthemum wine of the Chongyang Festival, so he has a long life with me.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes twinkled, the same golden color as the wine.

Wei Ying tipped the jar of wine between Lan Zhan’s lips. Then he placed his own lips on Lan Zhan’s to savor the chrysanthemums a little longer.

* * *

What is there I can do to assuage this mood? Only enjoy myself drinking my unstrained wine. I do not know about a thousand years, Rather let me make this morning last forever.

-Tao Yuanming, "Written on the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month"

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

I am not of Chinese descent, so feel free to inform me of any cultural missteps.

#i wrote this so long ago and forgot to post it. here it is #my writing feels so different looking back lol #mdzsnet #mdzs #cql #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #cql fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #cql fanfiction #wangxian fanfic #wangxian fanfiction #emilu fics #emilu creations

26 notes · View notes

bigbadredpanda · 5 years

Text

Chapter 111: Wangxian - Everyday means everyday (extended)

I noticed when I received my MDZS box set in Traditional Chinese that the ‘Everyday’ sex scene was a bit longer than what I had previously read so... here we are ^^

Overall it’s written in more explicit language and rearranged differently compared to the other existing version. The first half of the fragment below is almost entirely new and features Wei Wuxian riling up Lan Wangji while the rest is interspersed with more details.

If you notice inaccuracies or mistakes, please feel free to point them out!

Warning: Explicit sexual content

I strongly advise reading the beginning of the chapter first to refresh your mind and continue here when you reach the first line below. Else it will probably be a bit disjointed.

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

[...] "... Does it feel good? Inside me?"

Lan Wangji was a man of action rather than someone inclined to flirtation. His words were scarce but his strength was tremendous. Biting his lower lip, his onslaught turned fiercer to answer this question. Soaked with sweat from the forceful thrusts, Wei Wuxian mumbled, "Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… I like you to death. I'm yours, yours alone… Gently!"

He had been rejoicing too soon and implored again, "Gently, that part is sensitive, don't thrust so vigorously, your strength is too much, your thrusts are too powerful, it hurts a bit… yes… like this…"

Gripping Lan Wangji's shoulders, Wei Wuxian deliberately wrapped his legs around his waist. Lying on the ground, his body was getting worked up in the wake of Lan Wangji’s undulating movements. The continuous grinding against his insides and the brushing of the grass on his skin elicited a low moan from him. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he resumed running off at the mouth, "Lan Zhan, you're really great. How can such a gorgeous beauty play the guqin so well, have such proper penmanship, possess such strong spiritual energy, be endowed with such high cultivation base and even be so amazing in bed? How can you be so outstanding? Tell me how I could not love you…"

Lan Wangji, "..."

Wei Wuxian seemed to be blessed with the innate ability to not feel the least bit ashamed at a moment like this. The more unequivocally he spoke, the more excited he became. "I only want to be fucked by you alone, you can thrust as deep as you want…"

As he spoke frankly, he spread his legs even wider apart and continued, "A bit deeper. All of me is yours through and through, the deeper you go the more I enjoy it. You can also come inside me… Oh!"

Just as he was getting carried away, he suddenly felt the person above him prodding him in a distressingly deep place that had never been reached before. Wei Wuxian's eyes instantly widened. He had never expected that Lan Wangji could in fact go even deeper. He let out a wail and faltered, "Ooh... Hmmn, help, not, not like this, it's too much."

He wanted to curl up to avoid being pounded again but there was no way Lan Wangji would allow him to escape. Pulling out and implacably pushing in, Lan Wangji kept doing him like this and angrily retorted, "You… reap what you sow!"

Wei Wuxian opened his legs in earnest to withstand the rough fucking while whimpering, "Ge, er-gege, I'm going to die, you'll screw me to death. I was wrong, my mistake, don't punish me like this. I'm a virgin, treat me better…"

Drops of sweat dripped down from the ends of Lan Wangji's hair. This person habitually impassive to the point of coldness betrayed at that moment a discomfit expression as if he was on the brink of falling apart, "Are you really begging or are you… purposely… Your hips! Stop writhing!"

Wei Wuxian raised his head and yelled at the top of his voice, "Someone! Help! Hanguang-Jun is… ah! Hanguang-Jun… I can't anymore…"

As Lan Wangji kissed away the tears he had wrung from Wei Wuxian, he uttered through gritted teeth, "... Wei Ying, I am… speaking seriously, do not do that again. I… I will truly... lose control. I fear I… Sorry."

Even at such a time, with a flush spread across his face, he did not forget to apologise, his brows were slightly knitted and his countenance remorseful. Hearing this, Wei Wuxian's heart softened and ached from the havoc he had wreaked, he said gently, "Why are you saying sorry? Even if it hurts, I'm still glad because it's you doing it… aah..."

The two of them were drenched all over in glistening sweat. Wei Wuxian had always forgotten the taste of pain as soon as his injuries had healed. Despite having just suffered the consequences of his actions, he soon opened his mouth again to pant some more nonsense, "Hey, Lan Zhan… I just remembered, you are done for. We're still missing the last of the three bows, we're not married yet. Do you know what is called doing this kind of thing outside marriage? If your uncle knew… ah… he'd drown you in a pond."

Lan Wangji's tone was almost ferocious, "... I was done for long ago!"

His words were accompanied with an abrupt thrust. Wei Wuxian flung his head back in both discomfort and pleasure, exposing his vulnerable throat. Lan Wangji latched onto it to bite him.

The overwhelming pleasure triggered Wei Wuxian’s climax. His mind blanked out for a moment before a fit of lightheadedness set in. The first thought that crossed his mind was, "... I can't believe it, damn it, why didn't my 15-year old self do this kind of stuff with Lan Zhan? My time really went to waste…"

At the same moment, Lan Wangji held him even tighter and released deep inside him.

Lifting his slightly limp and sore arms, Wei Wuxian held him close in return. The two of them remained locked in this peaceful embrace for a while. Wei Wuxian regained some strength and feeling perfectly contented, he wiped away with his hand the smudges of come he had left on Lan Wangji’s body. As he did, he asked, "Second young master Lan, when did you start liking me?"

He was rubbing an inappropriate place at an inopportune time and Lan Wangji's expression turned strange.

Wei Wuxian continued, "If you liked me before, why didn't you do me a long time ago? The back mountain of your home in the Cloud Recesses is a nice location. If you took advantage of the times I sneaked away alone to hunt wild game to tie me up and drag me away, you could have pinned me to the grass just like now and do whatever you desired to me… aah... Gently..."

Lan Wangji had not yet pulled out completely before he started pumping again.

Wei Wuxian became aware that a warm liquid was trickling down from the part of his lower body where they were connected together but he kept rambling a steady torrent of obscenities in Lan Wangji's ear, "Your strength is so great that I would have had no way to resist. If I shouted, you could have silenced me and no one would have heard my muffled cries. Your Sect's Library Pavilion isn’t bad either, we could have spread some books on the floor and rolled around on them. We could have laid out some erotic pictures and compared positions, any position would have been fine. I would bully you during the day and you would bully me at night. You'd fuck my brains out as soon as the door closed... Ge! Ge! Er-gege! Spare me! Mercy, please spare me. Fine, fine, I'll stop talking, you're amazing, you're the best. I can't bear it anymore, I really can't, don't be like this..."

Lan Wangji was incapable of withstanding his teasing at a time like this. This last dozen thrusts seemed to scramble Wei Wuxian's insides, making him beg for mercy in a pitying tone but Lan Wangji exerted more strength instead. Wei Wuxian had been pinned down for almost an hour without changing position. His waist and ass felt numb from the constant pounding. The numbness was then replaced by a tingling pain as if countless insects were gnawing his bones. The pleasure that had coursed through him subsided and gave way to the spreading sensation of being stretched painfully open. Facing at last retribution, Wei Wuxian kissed him cajolingly while pleading without a shred of dignity, "Er-gege, please have a heart and let me off, we have ample time together, let's fuck another time, you can lift me up and fuck me next time, all right? Please won't you spare this inexperienced one today? Mighty Hanguang-Jun, Yiling Laozu has suffered a crushing defeat. Come on, hurry up and come inside me again, let's fight another day."

The veins lining Lan Wangji’s forehead slightly stood out. He forced his words out, articulating clearly each of them, "... If you truly wish to stop… then hold your tongue and stop talking…"

Wei Wuxian said, "But I have a tongue so I can't help using it. Lan Zhan, what I've said before about me wanting to go to bed with you everyday, can you pretend you never heard it?"

Lan Wangji replied, "I cannot."

Wei Wuxian's heart shattered at this, "How can you be like this? You've never refused me anything before."

Lan Wangji smiled faintly, "I cannot."

At the sight of this smile, Wei Wuxian's eyes lit up, he felt for an instant as if he had ascended and he lost track of his surroundings.

However, the next moment, a stream of tears was forced out of the corners of Wei Wuxian’s eyes by the fierce movements that were at odds with this smile like the pure light reflected by the snow.

Hands clutching the grass, he shouted himself hoarse, "Then four days, let's make it once every four days, all right? If four days won't do then three is also fine!"

Finally, Lan Wangji concluded in a powerfully resolute voice, "Everyday means everyday."

#mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs translation #My translations

4K notes · View notes

abraxos-the-phantom · 3 years

Text

Scum Disciple: Alpha Stage

Alpha, described by google as "...an exploratory phase. Beta means the features have been locked down and are under development (no other features will be added). More commonly: Alpha: Usually the first normally interact-able thing out (private or public use is irrelevant)."

And here are some of the highlights that I liked from the first few versions lol.

Fun Times in Gusu

Lan Xichen walked to quite a strange sight.

While normally he would have greeted the younger Nie with a smile, the image of the famous Wei Wuxian pouting as YunmengJiang’s young master and QingheNie’s second master grinned was a little too ridiculous for him to process without chuckling.

“We both know you aren’t actually going to tell Ming-shixiong,” Nie Huaisang chuckled at the shifted to pat the other.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “I’m worried though.”

Jiang Wanyin had raised his eyebrow, making quite the image as he looked over his crossed arms, “You’re worried about your brother? QingheNie Sect’s Monster Head disciple? The Youngest Rogue Cultivator in the Generations? The Peerless Prodigy? I think you’re a little delusioned Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian’s nose crumbled at that, “They really call Gēge that? Such lame names.”

“I think brother called him the Crane Dragon once,” Nie Huaisang added. “When you and Ming-shixiong went on a Night Hunt.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “Forget it, that’s not what I’m worried about- it’s just. Gēge has never let me on my own like this before. He gets antsy.”

Nie Huaisang pursed his lips, “I can understand but- A-Xian, you’re one of his best students.”

“He just- he gets this look sometimes,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “He doesn’t talk about it but sometimes he looks at me and I’m pretty sure he’s seeing something else. I never asked because he always looks sad after.”

“Didn’t you grow up together?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ming-shixiong with anyone else besides the three of us but the other disciples.”

“He’s never talked to anyone except father, mother, myself, sister, and some of the disciples at our sect,” Jiang Wanyin said in agreement. “You guys didn’t meet anyone when your Brother was still Rogue?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head in Jiang Wanyin’s direction, expression slightly pinched still, “I wouldn't remember, and I know we’re close- but there’s some stuff I know he hasn’t told me. You guys realize that my brother is nineteen?”

Jiang Wanyin blinked, as well as several other disciples who were not so covertly listening into the conversation about the mysterious prodigal Cultivator of the QingheNie Sect. “He seems much older, I didn’t think anyone knew his actual age.”

Because that was the curiosity wasn’t it, for all that he was well-known, there was never truly anyone who knew Wei Ming, because he would never actually say anything about his past save for vague hints. One could ask Wei Wuxian of course, but the latter had the same result because of the mere fact that Wei Wuxian didn’t know much about his older brother either beyond his personality, likes and dislikes. Any years before Wei Ming had lived with his brother was knowledge he couldn’t even forget because he never knew in the first place. Nie Mingjue never asked, and neither did Nie Huaisang. It took Wei Ying meeting other children to realize that nine-year-olds never talked the way Wei Ming did. They didn’t know facts about monsters, and they certainly never talked about demons. Yet Wei Ming had extensive knowledge since who knows how long, and no one ever questioned it.

Whether that was because Wei Ming knew how to subvert the conversation or because they simply never asked, that was a question no one could really answer. Not even Wei Wuxian, for all that he loved his Gēge, knew where to start.

Sensing the sudden dip in Wei Wuxian’s mood, Nie Huaisang brightened as much as he could, “Well it doesn’t even matter does it? He’s your brother, he’s my teacher- and he scares my brother to boot.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, if a little weakly, “He told me he actually enjoys it a little.”

Jiang Wanyin winced, “Isn’t your brother known to your Sect as the Punisher?”

With an enthusiastic nod from both Nie Sect members, they proceeded to scare everyone else by saying, “300 copies of Consequence, 200 paces across the hills and back in three days and patrolls in three of the Qinghe protected lands by the end of two weeks!”

They silently cackled as the other Sect disciples paled at the prospect.

After gently teasing Wangji of his interaction with Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen bid his brother a good night as he suddenly remembered what he had sought the older Wei out for. The technique he used was quite unique and not among any technique he had some knowledge of, though granted it could purely be because he himself was not well learned in any but the Lan Sect style. Regardless, he was hoping to have a discussion about it and to possibly inquire if the older Wei would use his expertise to critique his own swordsmanship.

He was just about to do just that before he heard an audible thunk and grunt of pain from within the room Wei Ming had been assigned for his stay here.

Lan Xichen abruptly opened the door out of instinct, blinking in surprise to find Wei Ming wielding a brush in his hand and a paper in the other, dark eyes roving the entire wooden table with apprehension.

“Mn?” Wei Ming looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, Zewu-jun. I was under the impression you had retired for the night.”

“I had initially been hoping to discuss swordsmanship with you before,” Lan Xichen looked at the papers, elegant calligraphy lining each and every one save for the large stack of paper at the corner of the table. “I admit, however, that this seems to take my interest far more at the moment.”

“Ah, well.” Wei Ming gestured to the papers. “These are lesson plans, notes if you will- but plans all the same.”

“...Lesson plans?”

Wei Ming nodded seriously, “It’s important for a teacher to understand what they are teaching every day, so as not to leave anything important out.”

“Ah…apologies, considering the subject you are teaching I thought-”

“To be fair, the material I’m teaching does require less theory than practical. Had I been teaching something akin to a bestiary subject or perhaps even medicinal practices, I wouldn’t be as extensive as this,” Wei Ming once again gestured to the large stacks. “This is not the case however, as I am teaching fighting techniques. I also have to come up with tests and exams, sort the students into pairs for sparing purposes, note everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, formulate proper lectures concerning the techniques I am teaching- that sort of thing. Besides the fact that I’m considering adding other techniques so that my students are well informed.”

Though granted the stuff he was doing was easier than when he had been Qing Jing Peak’s head disciple, the paperwork for that Sect was monstrous because of the additional lessons for music and the tactitionary course. Both were a requirement as a disciple of Qing Jing, as they were the main jack of trades within Cang Qiong as their roles were both in support and primary fighters when it came to battles. This was especially true during the pseudo war between Lou Binghe’s forces and during the battle with Tianlang-jun. Shizun would normally do most of the work but with the absence of Lou Binghe, a lot of it arrived to Ming Fan and he didn’t have the heart to inquire about it.

After Binghe’s return Ming Fan just never thought to question it anymore, Shizun was happy and he got used to the workload. It wasn’t as if he never had help either, he took charge of the male disciples while Ning Yingying took charge of the females. After Lou Binghe soon took up some work every now and then; it’s just the way things were after...After.

Wei Ming blinked after returning from his thoughts, “Hundreds of apologies, may Zewu-jun repeat himself?”

Lan Xichen smiled, “Of course, I only wished to ask if you would be open to giving me advice on my swordsmanship? Nie Mingjue mentioned before that your advice had helped him improve his saber technique and I would very much like to also improve myself now that the opportunity is open to me.”

“Or perhaps Xichen-ge would not like to be left behind by his dîdi?” Wei Ming said with an amused smile.

At this Lan Xichen’s ears colored slightly even as he smiled neutrally, “That is also a motivation, but I believe no brother would want their younger brother to leave them behind.”

“Very well, when Zewu-jun is free; we shall spar.” Wei Ming’s lips quirked. “I would also like to know if my observations are correct.”

“Let us have this spar soon Teacher Wei, thank you for your time.” Lan Xichen stood and dipped his head slightly before exiting with a final ‘good night’.

“Gege what are you doing?”

Wei Ming was currently in the Lan Sect library, pouring over old books that amused him and greatly reminded him of some of the brighter moments in his past life. Namely: The Resentment of Chunshan. The book itself was poor in terms of accuracy, but amusing nonetheless. He and the other disciples found themselves horrified and amused by the story described within. Even more so when the Song of BingQiu became popular among the locals.

He was also starring an old map of the land, clearly looked into by someone considering the small hand-written notes in black ink. The penmanship was oddly familiar but Wei Ming couldn’t exactly remember where.

There was also an area circled, the name Cang Qiong Sect written in careful script.

“What do you think?” He asked absentmindedly, fingers brushing over the circled area. It was far from the other Sects, inaccessible due to the mountain ranges that circled it. If one tried, they’d have to do so by climb rather than sword. The air would be thinner; challenging even for a Cultivator.

He vaguely wondered if the land had changed so much as to the sudden growth of mountains around the Cang Qiong Sect area.

“Looks like someone was trying to look for the mythical Cang Qiong Sect,” Wei Ying peered over his brother’s shoulder. Tilting his head at the map. “Weird.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Eh,” Wei Ying shrugged as he sat next to him. “Cause it’s just a legend, no one actually knows if the Cang Qiong Sect is still around. If it ever was around. I mean- demons, the War- it’s described in pretty poetry and details, but other than that- most people write it off as a fantasy since no one’s ever seen it.”

Wei Ming considered the next question carefully, “What do you believe?”

“I think there’s some truth to it,” To himself, Wei Ying vaguely wondered why the sudden inquiry. His brother had no interest in the stories that were normally told to children, he had been busy at the time and Wei Ying only knew of it because the Nie Brothers held a rather large collection of the stories of the illustrious Cang Qiong Sect and one of their most famous Lords: Shen Qingqiu. Nie Huaisang had admitted that most of these were his brother’s, and he himself was promptly amused. Now he was starting to wonder. The stories of the Cang Qiong Sect were often used for the children of Cultivators as lessons, Lan Sect used it too if what was in the library was any indication- it was an impressive collection.

Though it did have nothing on Sect Leader Nie’s secret collection of nearly all the tales of the General from Qing Jing Peak: Huázháo-jun.

“Hm, perhaps,” Wei Ming noted non-committedly, shaking his head. “Let’s talk about what to do for tomorrow.”

“Mn! You should teach-“

[Fun fact about this one up here! In this version of the story, MF brings WWX's body up through the mountains to Cang Qiong Sect in the hopes that he could get help in reviving his brother, thereby re-meeting with his fellow disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect]

5 notes · View notes

hualianff · 3 years

Text

Untethered III 《II》

Hold On – Park Yun Seo

White noise rings through Xie Lian’s ears, replacing the brutal assaults of battle until they fade away into the background. Beads of rain make contact with Xie Lian’s face, soaking his hairline and his clothes. But nothing else matters in this moment besides the ring Crimson Rain holds hostage, away from Xie Lian’s heart.

“It’s common courtesy to answer when someone asks a question, little Prince,” the pirate captain sings, pulling tighter on the ring until the chain feels like it’s going to snap.

“No!” Xie Lian gasps worriedly. His hands fly to grasp the ring, effectively unhooking it from Crimson Rain’s sword, but cutting his right hand in the process. Blood immediately oozes from the small wound, cleansed by the rain and sliding down to splash onto the deck.

Xie Lian grimaces while inspecting his hand. His other palm closes around the ring protectively, pressing the cool surface to his lips. The prince unconsciously closes his eyes, memories flooding his mind, letting through five year’s worth of forbidden euphoria.

He envisions the grungy tavern on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Xianle, where Shi Qingxuan had convinced him to sneak out to explore outside the palace walls. He can taste the muskiness in the air, hear the drunken pandemonium. Shi Qingxuan had eventually gone off to gamble–particularly well-versed in wagering despite being of nobility status–leaving Xie Lian sitting at the bar alone, unsure of what to order.

Xie Lian remembers a mysterious figure taking the seat to his left, draped in a red overcoat with an eyepatch covering his right eye. The stranger did not hesitate to call the bartender over, ordering two beverages with a slight lilt in his baritone voice. Xie Lian awkwardly fixed his gaze onto his glass of iced tap water, hoping his common robes, untied hair, and makeup-less face would go unrecognized.

That, and the fact that he had no experience ordering or drinking alcohol, even at twenty-years-old.

The bartender brought over the eye-patched man’s drinks, setting them down with a thunk! Xie Lian was content to watch for the stranger’s drinking partner from his peripheral vision, perhaps even pick up on how to drink in the proper manner. He would be damned if he didn’t learn one useful thing during this night of freedom.

However, Xie Lian was not prepared for the man to grab one glass and slide it in his direction. Xie Lian froze in his seat, sitting with his back ram-rod straight, hands neatly placed in his lap. Should he kindly refuse the offer? Unsupervised drinking was certainly risky. Or should he take a cautious sip? He would think that was the polite thing to do.

But before Xie Lian could react, the man casually angled his body towards him, leaning his elbow on the bar and propping his face with his palm.

His next words made Xie Lian’s heart come to a complete halt.

“Good evening, Your Highness.”

Xie Lian’s memories abruptly shift, and he is transported to the day when he first saw Ghost Ship. It appeared out of nowhere, easily twice the size of the traveling ship Xie Lian had taken to a neighboring kingdom. When the royal guards jumped to attack, Xie Lian simply held a hand up, stopping them in their tracks.

The prince walked to the side of his ship, assessing the Ghost Ship with keen eyes. Ghost Ship was traveling at a faster speed, quickly passing the royal ship by with no intention of initiating battle. When the better half of its length sailed beyond Xie Lian’s sight, the man steering the wheel came into view. As if in slow motion, Xie Lian locked eyes with the man, who donned familiar red and an eyepatch, and also wore a signature captain’s hat.

A captain. A pirate captain, Xie Lian remembers thinking, captivated by those broad shoulders, tattooed skin, and eccentric clothes. The same pirate captain circles in on him like a hungry shark, scimitar scraping along his arms and back, tearing the drenched fabric of his robes.

“Who knew the Prince of Xianle cares so much for a plain piece of metal?” Crimson Rain continues spitting his words like poison.

Xie Lian curls in on himself, trembling.

When pirates began uncharacteristically wreaking havoc on the docks of Xianle’s ports, Xie Lian often rushed to the scene to fend them off himself. Specifically, a pirate who could give Xie Lian a run for his money when it came to sword fighting, but always escaping with an evil smirk painted across his lips.

When Xie Lian had nearly drowned, those same lips had pressed against his own to breathe air into his lungs.

That had been his first kiss.

A few months later, Xie Lian had snuck out of the palace once again to the very same dock at the end of the port, where a certain pirate awaited him.

The images flitting through his mind now blur together, becoming unrecognizable except for the sensations imprinted on his body.

A warm body claiming him in a king-sized bed, among silken sheets and the pale glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. It was almost too dark to make out the man on top.

Almost.

One lust-filled eye bore down at Xie Lian.

“You like that, Your Highness?” the baritone voice growled into his ear.

Xie Lian hears his answering moan play inside his head and inhales sharply.

Between the secret meetings came secret letters specially addressed to the prince. They appeared with the changing winds, anonymously delivered under the pretense of confidential mail sent from other royalty. But no one could imitate that atrocious handwriting, nor invoke the same joy from Xie Lian when seeing his favorite red, butterfly seal.

Isabella’s Lullaby – Takahiro Obata

“It’s from someone special,” Xie Lian grits out, hanging his head low. The ring–presented to him with the most tender gaze and gentle hands–symbolizes hope. A promise of unconditional love.

“Trust me,” a low whisper ghosted against Xie Lian’s temple. “I’ll come back for you.”

And Xie Lian believed him.

That was one year ago. The spontaneous visits stopped, and so did the carefully crafted letters. With no one to confide in, Xie Lian spiraled down underneath everyone’s expectations and his own realized failure. He had been foolish. Blind. Naive.

Within that one-year period, Xie Lian lost faith.

Not in his love. Never in his love.

But in destiny. In free will. In god.

The one thing, one person, he needed most in this lifetime, was no longer within his reach.

Until now.

“Where will you run now, dear Prince?” Crimson Rain’s voice brings Xie Lian back to the present. His eye holds none of the familiar warmth it once did when he slipped the very same silver ring onto Xie Lian’s finger.

The rumbling and squeaking of footsteps make their way towards the pair, Xie Lian’s royal guards abandoning the protection of the ship to come to their prince’s aid instead. But even as Xie Lian gazes up at Crimson Rain’s, brandishing that strong jaw and classy smirk, the prominent eye patch, and the shimmering eye that radiates insanity, Xie Lian feels a certain sense of peace wash over him.

It’s finally time.

Xie Lian gives the pirate captain a hostile smirk of his own, taking out the white ribbon holding up his hair and letting the rain weigh down his brunet locks.

“Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian croons knowingly, widening his eyes in faux innocence. The instant look of surprise on Crimson Rain’s face is all Xie Lian needs before kicking the pirate’s sword to the side, scattering it a few meters away. Xie Lian dives for the exact sword, adjusting to the new weight and shape of the weapon. His palm throbs where the cut splits further open, blood staining the hilt.

Xie Lian swiftly points the sword at Hua Cheng’s jugular, their positions now switched.

Now, it is the pirates who are yelling chaotically, demanding their captain not let a rotten prince get the best of him. Hua Cheng simply clicks his tongue, signaling his men to retreat.

“Your Highness...” the pirate captain murmurs. Xie Lian digs the sword more insistently into Hua Cheng’s skin, forcing the pirate back. Xie Lian herds him onto the official plank, where traitors are typically executed, sentenced by the prince himself.

“Back. Up,” is all Xie Lian offers bitterly, his long hair curtaining his face, body still tense even though he has the upper hand. Hua Cheng holds his hands up in surrender, his hair drenched with rain, the long braid crooked where it cascades down his right shoulder.

“Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng addresses in a sweeter tone. “My dear Prince, if you could see yourself now.”

Xie Lian swallows thickly.

“You are a beautiful sight,” Hua Cheng rasps out, no more than a whisper. Yet, Xie Lian catches every word, and his heart clenches painfully.

Of course, Hua Cheng would think that.

Xie Lian’s sword wavers, but only because the pouring rain has stolen every bit of warmth as it washes down his body, making him shiver. The prince knows everyone’s attention is on them, the royal guards cheering their prince on in hopes that this conflict will end in their victory.

But they remain unaware of their biggest defeat.

The Prince of Xianle had fallen in love with a pirate.

With an unbearably heavy heart, Xie Lian draws his sword back. Tears leak out of his eyes and stream down his face, mixing in with the rain. In this very moment, Xie Lian feels the most suffocated he’s ever been, and wonders if this is truly what it feels like to be on the brink of death.

As if it happens in slow motion, Xie swings the sword with all the power he possesses. Hua Cheng’s arms stretch open in vulnerability, lips forming into a small, understanding smile.

“Gege.”

Something inside Xie Lian shatters. The familiar term of endearment is for Xie Lian’s ears only. His heart pounds against his rib cage with the ferocity of an imprisoned soul, screaming at Xie Lian to ask not what he would wish for in death, but what is he willing to live for?

The answer is right in front of him.

“I’m back.”

《Bonus I》

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #pirate & prince au #TBC #cerdrabbles #tian guan ci fu #xie lian is going through some things #forbidden love

58 notes · View notes

pumpkinpaix · 4 years

Note

Sending all the good vibes your way!! ✨✨ Wangxian + laundromat prompt, but only if you’re feeling it!

happy birthday sarah~~ (*´▽`*)

(crossposted to ao3)

—

Someone has taken Lan Wangji’s laundry out of the dryer and dumped it all on the counter in a haphazard heap, even though he started heading down as soon as he received the notification on his phone. He frowns. The clothes are still warm, and the room is empty but for the steady whirs and thumps of the machines. And—it’s fine, it’s just that he always comes promptly when his clothes are done to avoid this exact situation. He likes being the only one to touch his clothes, to know where they’ve been and how they’ve been handled. It hasn’t even been two minutes.

As it is, they’re now on the counter beside another heap of clothes, these ones cold, wrinkly, and probably still a bit damp. He suspects the owner overloaded the dryer, actually. Lan Wangji sighs, lifting his clothes into his basket just as he hears the door bang open and raucous footsteps running down.

“Oh, Lan Zhan, it’s you!” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully, bounding his way over to the counter.

Lan Wangji takes a moment to control his traitorous racing heart, like he always does, before turning to face him. “Mn.”

“Did your laundry just finish?” he asks, grabbing the pile of wrinkly clothes in both arms like a gremlin, instead of loading them into a basket like a human being.

“You’ve dropped a sock,” Lan Wangji points out. “Two so—three socks,” he corrects as more fall to the floor.

“Ahahah, Er-gege, won’t you pick them up for me?” Wei Wuxian asks, probably pouting if his tone of voice is to be trusted. Lan Wangji can’t actually see his face around the mountain of clothing in his arms. “I can’t reach.”

Lan Wangji acquiesces because he’s weak. “Next time, bring a basket,” he suggests.

“Jiang Cheng’s hamper was full,” Wei Wuxian says, shrugging dangerously. Another sock falls to the floor. Lan Wangji picks it up and puts it back on top of the pile.

“Next time,” Lan Wangji repeats.

“Yes, yes, next time!” Wei Wuxian says. “Thanks, Lan Zhan! See you around!” And then he’s gone in a teetering whirlwind.

Lan Wangji takes another breath to steady himself and picks up his basket.

–

It takes a few moments for Lan Wangji to realize something is wrong. He pours the fresh laundry onto his bed to fold it and grabs a shirt, then another, and then catches a glimpse of unexpected color in the pile.

He blinks and sets down the shirt to reach for the corner of red sticking out amidst all the white.

He finds himself holding a pair of bright red briefs that definitely do not belong to him.

Were they in the dryer before he loaded in his clothes earlier? He thought he had checked, but perhaps not thoroughly enough. He sets them aside to bring back down to the laundry room later, and continues folding.

He finds another pair of briefs, these ones patterned in… lily pads? He puts them on top of the red ones.

It’s when he finds the third pair (a deep violet) that he finally stops folding and starts digging through the pile, discovering, to his increasing horrified bewilderment, that no fewer than twenty-three pairs of briefs and one pair of boxers have made their way into his clothing.

He also appears to be missing all of his underwear.

This doesn’t make any sense. This doesn’t make any sense! He stares at the pile of offending underwear with a sinking heart. He knows exactly who they belong to—it’s obvious enough from the aesthetics on display, and when he gingerly picks one of them up, he discovers “wwx” written in fat black marker on the inside of the waistband.

Wei Wuxian writes his initials on his underwear?? Why??

Lan Wangji stands helplessly amidst his unfolded laundry, Wei Wuxian’s underwear, and his own messy feelings.

–

Lan Wangji knocks sharply on the door to the suite that Wei Wuxian shares with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, stack of neatly folded underwear in one hand, ears hot and embarrassed. The hallway is blessedly empty, but he still feels ready to crawl out of his skin.

There’s the sound of what sounds like a rapid argument and brief scuffle before the door is wrenched open.

“Oh, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says, hair mussed and clothes askew.

“Did you… just have a fight over who would open the door?” Lan Wangji asks in lieu of a greeting, definitely not looking at Wei Wuxian’s exposed collarbone.

“Yeah, and he lost,” Jiang Cheng calls out from inside the room.

“You and Huaisang ganged up on me!” Wei Wuxian protests. “But since I’m honorable, I opened the door anyways.”

“Aren’t you glad? Turns out it was for you in the first place,” Huaisang says with a sly bent that Lan Wangji doesn’t appreciate.

“How do you know that?” Wei Wuxian demands. “Maybe he’s here for you guys!”

There’s a disbelieving, ringing silence that follows.

Lan Wangji clears his throat. “I came to return these to you,” he says, trying very hard to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes as he offers the pile of underwear.

“Return—wait, what?” Wei Wuxian stares at the tidy stack. “What the fuck? Is that—is that my underwear? Is that all of my underw—hold on—wait—”

“It was mixed into my laundry,” Lan Wangji explains. “I came to see if you had mine.”

“Uhh—” Wei Wuxian glances over his shoulder, and Lan Wangji can see that he’s thrown his laundry in a pile on his unmade bed without touching it. “Y-yours? Why would I have—are you missing yours?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, offering the underwear again because he really, really does not want to be holding it any longer.

Wei Wuxian unfortunately doesn’t take them, instead dashing back inside to start digging through his pile of clothing.

“You don’t have to do it now,” Lan Wangji says, starting to panic a little because frankly, he’d prefer not to be present for this. “I can come back later if you find—”

“What the fuck?” Wei Wuxian demands, pulling out a pair of white boxer briefs, and Lan Wangji sort of wants to die, actually, thanks. “Wait, are there more?”

“Really, you don’t have to right now,” Lan Wangji says, a little desperately, though he’s hoping it doesn’t show in his voice.

“Wow, Wei Wuxian, did you steal all of Hanguang-jun’s underwear?” Jiang Cheng remarks snidely. “You know that’s not what people mean when they talk about trying to get into someone’s pants—”

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian snaps, sounding genuinely angry which… well, it hurts. A little. Lan Wangji isn’t going to dwell on it.

“What?” Jiang Cheng retorts unrepentantly.

“You can’t—apologize to Lan Zhan!”

“For what?” Jiang Cheng demands. “It’s not like I was saying anything about his honor.”

“For fuck’s sake—I’m going to—Lan Zhan, let’s talk outside,” Wei Wuxian says, coming back out and slamming the door behind him, muffling Nie Huaisang’s cackling.

The hallway is silent.

Lan Wangji offers him the stack of underwear for the third time.

Wei Wuxian takes it, looking a little dejected.

“Sorry,” he says.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lan Wangji replies automatically.

“You can’t listen to anything Jiang Cheng says, okay? He just likes to rile people up.”

“He likes to rile you up,” Lan Wangji corrects.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes, a small smile sneaking its way back onto his face. “Yeah, you’re right. Everyone else is just collateral damage. Still. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Lan Wangji says. “I’ll come back later to get my clothes.”

“How did you know they were mine?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji resolutely does not say, I know what you like to wear. “Your initials are on all the waistbands.”

“Oh, right!” Wei Wuxian says laughing.

“Why?” Lan Wangji asks before he can stop himself.

“Jiang Cheng got mad that I kept borrowing his and marked them all saying I wouldn’t have any excuses in the future.” Wei Wuxian brightens. “Joke’s on him though! He forgot this one was originally his.” He points at the one patterned with cute cartoon lotus root slices.

Lan Wangji isn’t sure he wanted to know that, but they are very cute and he’s trying very, very hard not to think about Wei Wuxian wearing them. It’s a losing battle.

“Anyways, thanks,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ll come by your room with your clothes in a few minutes. There’s no need for you to come back up here.” He reaches behind himself for the door handle.

It’s locked.

Wei Wuxian rattles it incredulously.

It really is locked.

“What the fuck!” he shouts. “Jiang Cheng! Huaisang!!”

“You aren’t allowed back in,” Nie Huaisang informs him with irritating cheer. “Not until you take care of this situation.”

“I need to come in to get Lan Zhan’s clothes! How the fuck am I supposed to resolve this situation from out here?”

“We’re taking drastic measures,” Jiang Cheng cuts in. “Obviously.”

“Wait, are you the one who switched our—Jiang Cheng! Let me in! I’m going to strangle you!”

“You’re not allowed back in until you get a goddamn date with Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says imperiously.

There’s a full five seconds of absolute silence. Lan Wangji thinks his heart has leapt up into his throat.

“Excuse me?!” Wei Wuxian demands, voice at least two octaves higher than usual, tinged with an uncharacteristic alarm.

“You heard the man,” Nie Huaisang says with the enthusiastic energy of a sports coach. “Get a date, and you can come back in.”

“You can’t be serious,” Wei Wuxian says. He rattles the door handle harder, as if this will change anything.

“If,” Lan Wangji hears himself say. His throat is dry. “If that’s all it takes, that’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“What? Do what—a date? No, don’t let them bully you, it’s fine, I’ll just break in through the window,” Wei Wuxian says waving his hands. “The latches are broken.”

Lan Wangji pauses. “We’re on the third floor.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ve climbed higher.” He perks up. “Wanna watch?”

Lan Wangji can think of almost nothing he’d like less than watching Wei Wuxian literally risk his life to avoid going on a date with him.

“No, thank you,” he says politely to cover for his wounded pride.

“Oh, okay.” Wei Wuxian actually seems to deflate very slightly, which is—huh. “That’s fine. But—oh, but here, you’ll have to take these back.” Wei Wuxian holds out the stack of underwear, not quite looking at Lan Wangji directly. “I can’t climb while holding them. Just uh, take them back to your room? And I’ll break in and bring you your clothes in a few minutes and we’ll swap.”

“It’s dangerous,” Lan Wangji says.

“If you try to break in, I will push you off the building and break both your legs,” Jiang Cheng threatens helpfully.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, but Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Ignore him, he wouldn’t dare. Here.” He all but shoves the underwear back into Lan Wangji’s hands. “I’ll be quick.”

Lan Wangji catches him by the elbow before he can take two steps. “Wei Ying,” he says, because—because.

Wei Wuxian flinches, but doesn’t yank himself away. “Lan Zhan,” he says nervously.

“I would rather go on a date with you than have you risk your life over some underwear,” Lan Wangji says, which—well, it’s not exactly what he meant to say, but it is true.

Wei Wuxian looks away, but Lan Wangji catches the flashbulb flicker of disappointment on his features, and wait, wait—

There’s a scream of frustrated rage from behind the door.

“LAN WANGJI, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE JUST ASK HIM.”

“Don’t bully Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says automatically.

“IT’S NOT BULLYING IF IT’S FOR HIS OWN GOOD!”

And Lan Wangji might be bad at using his words, and he might be bad at confronting his own feelings, and he might be really, genuinely terrible at reading social cues, but at this point—maybe—

“Wei Ying,” he says, fingers tightening around the crook of his elbow. “Please go on a date with me.”

“Lan Zhan, really, you don’t have to listen to them—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji repeats, forcing the words out past the terrifying anxiety. “I want to.”

Wei Wuxian finally looks at him, really looks. “You want to?” he echoes.

Lan Wangji nods because he doesn’t think he’s physically capable of saying it again.

“Oh.”

“So?” Lan Wangji prompts after a moment, because he’s not sure he can continue to take this.

Wei Wuxian blinks, and then suddenly looks very, very intense. “Okay, hear me out,” he says, which usually doesn’t bode well. “What if you go back to your room, I break in anyways, and then I come down with your clothes, and we make out in your bed for an hour?”

Lan Wangji feels like he’s had all the breath punched out of him.

There’s a disgusted, wheezing gurgle from behind the door. It opens just wide enough for a toothbrush to be flung violently outside before slamming shut again and locking with a resounding click.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian protests, but he’s grinning now, so wide his eyes are crinkled into little crescent moons. “You said I could come back in if I got a date!”

“I fucking hate you! Don’t bother coming back tonight! Fuck this! The things I do for you! Fuck!” There’s the sound of another door slamming.

“Congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says drily. The door opens again, and a box of condoms comes bouncing out. Slam. Lock. “Don’t forget to use protection.”

Lan Wangji’s face is burning, but Wei Wuxian laughs as he bends down to pick them up without a hint of shame, and Wei Wuxian smiles at him like that when he links their pinkies together, and well. Lan Wangji could be convinced to forgive them.

—

* jiang cheng and nie huaisang have been FULLY planning this for like, two months, including but not limited to: stalking lwj’s laundry schedule, timing how long it takes for him to get from his room to the laundry room, pestering wwx to do laundry on the exact day that they know lwj is going to be washing his clothes, hiding in the laundry room to leap out and perform the swap in an absolute mad frenzy so they could escape before lwj saw them at the scene of the crime—

* there’s a lot of chaotic dumbass energy in this scenario ok

(prompt list || other ficlets || ko-fi)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wangxian #mdzs fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #I HOPE YOU LIKE CHAOS SARAH #BECAUSE THIS IS FULLY JUST DISASTER CHAOS ENERGY #sarah-yyy #asks and replies #sarahyyy #this has taken me like at least 45 minutes just to format for posting tumblr WHY #mine #myfic #myficlet #cyan writes

603 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 4 years

Text

no one deserves to be forgotten

Summary: Growing up, Lan Sizhui is very interested in learning about the Yiling Patriarch.

ao3

The first time he hears his name is in hushed whispers.

“What do you plan to say to everyone? To Grandmaster?” A man in blue said as A-Yuan woke up, “I-I don’t mean to scold you, Wangji, but you brought a child here without explanation and have been hiding him in the Jingshi. How long have you been hiding him and having servants lie to me about it?”

A-die stayed still and silent. The man in blue shook his head and turned to look at A-Yuan. He met his eyes before taking a step closer to a-die and spoke quieter. A-Yuan’s eyes fell closed again. He was still tired.

“Are you set on this? Raising a child when so much is still happening? This soon after... You are set to be punished for what you did in Yiling, Wangji, even I can’t prevent that,” he said, pausing for a moment. A-die didn’t say anything. “At least tell me where he came from so I can help you.”

“Unimportant.”

“This is important. I don’t understand why you would bring a child here when things are still so fragile. I usually understand why you do things, but I can’t right now. The only reason I can even imagine is if...” There was a long pause. A scary pause. A-Yuan pulled his knees closer to his chest. “Wangji, does this child belong to Wei Wuxian?”

A-die didn’t say a word.

“Do I tell Grandmaster that you simply found him and took him in out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Bastard,” A-die said, “Legitimized.” A few more silent seconds and A-Yuan opened his eyes again. The man in blue looked tired as he nodded his head.

“He’ll be angry.”

“Mn.”

“Goodnight, Wangji,” the man in blue said softly, “Take care of yourself, please. And I’ll see you at your punishment in the morning.”

He made it a little ways to the door before a-die said, “Huan-gege.”

The way the man in blue turned to look at him made it seem like it wasn’t the right name. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted. A-die didn’t say more.

“He’ll be in good care when it can’t be yours,” the man in blue said, watching him with a scared face. A-die nodded and didn’t move again until the man in blue was gone.

A-Yuan watched him write on his hand and throw something at the door before he came closer. He sat on the bed and looked at him for a moment, pulling the blanket up to his chin and then putting the back of his hand on A-Yuan’s forehead.

“Blue gege?” he asked. A-die smiled and touched his cheek.

“A-Yuan will call him Zewu-Jun,” he said, his hand returning to his lap.

“Where is a-die going?” A-Yuan asked, tears already coming to his eyes. He was still sick, a-die said so himself, and he didn’t want to be with Blue gege. He wanted his a-die.

“Nowhere far,” A-die promised, “And I will be back. I will always be back.”

A-Yuan wiggled his arms out of the blanket and reached out to him, grabbing for him. A-die smiled again and laid down beside him and wrapped him up against his chest. It was safe there. He didn’t want him to go away.

But he did go away.

Zewu-Jun was nice and patient, but A-Yuan learned very quickly not to cry too loudly for a-die, especially when Grandmaster was around. Zewu-Jun gave him his own part of the Hanshi, but he didn’t like sleeping alone. It was cold and scary and he heard too many things when it got too quiet. But he could cry for a-die there and no one would ask him to be a big boy and grow up. They never called him a-die, either, it was always Lan Wangji and Hanguang-Jun and it took him too long to figure out who they meant.

Instead of staying with Zewu-Jun as often as he’d stayed with a-die, he spent most of his time with other children and the servants in the sect. They knew more than him about too many things and they didn’t understand where he came from and he didn’t know either. He was taught rules and, after a year, he was taught even more about the cultivation world and more about what it meant to be a Lan disciple. But he learned more than he was taught.

Lan Yuan was a very good listener.

“They say Hanguang-Jun had an affair with a prostitute when he visited the QingheNie Sect before they burning of the Cloud Recesses,” a few servants would whisper, thinking he wasn’t listening, “Then after his great fight with the Yiling Patriarch at the Bloodbath of Nightless City, he decided to bring the child somewhere he could watch him.”

“Ah, I heard it was an affair with another cultivator and she died during the Bloodbath which is why he brought him back,” other servants would say in response.

“Whatever it was, it seems awfully fitting of him to disappear after bringing him here.”

And A-Yuan would smile at them and cuddle close and listen more. It was easy. He was a sweet boy, they’d say, as they spoke of his a-die in words he wasn’t quite sure he liked. He’d absorb every word, even the ones he didn’t know yet.

“Zewu-Jun,” A-Yuan said carefully as they walked to the Hanshi for a meal. He glanced at the Jingshi when they passed it. He hadn’t been allowed to go inside since Hanguang-Jun had disappeared. “Can A-Yuan see a-die?”

“Hm?” Zewu-Jun said, looking down at him. A-Yuan flashed that smile that always worked and leaned against his leg, cuddling close. Zewu-Jun smiled.

“Hanguang-Jun?” he said. The words didn’t fit right, too big for his mouth and too many things to say properly, but Zewu-Jun seemed to understand.

“Did Hanguang-Jun say where he was going?” Zewu-Jun asked. A-Yuan shook his head no. “You might have to wait until he comes home then.”

Tears pricked his eyes again, but he managed to make them go away. He had gotten very good at that. It was better than scolding. A-die didn’t scold him. He missed him.

“Tell me, A-Yuan,” Zewu-Jun said as they sat down. He didn’t start their meal yet. “What do you remember from before you came to the Cloud Recesses?”

A-Yuan watched him and didn’t have words to give him. Should he know things outside of the Cloud Recesses?

“Well, what’s the first thing you can remember?” Zewu-Jun said instead. A-Yuan thought really hard.

“A-die,” he said. Zewu-Jun stared at him for a moment and nodded before he started their meal.

A few days later, Zewu-Jun didn’t send him off with the servants. He took his hand and started leading him somewhere and A-Yuan was on his best behavior. He kept his eyes to himself and his ears to everyone else. No one said anything about Hanguang-Jun with Zewu-Jun so close.

They walked through trees and the grass. It was so high, A-Yuan had to watch his feet so he wouldn’t fall. Still, he almost fell anyway when he accidentally ran into Zewu-Jun when he stopped.

“A-Yuan is sorry,” he said, looking up at him with the big eyes he always used to get out of trouble. Zewu-Jun just smiled.

“It’s alright. Look,” Zewu-Jun said, gesturing over. A-Yuan looked and, sitting in the grass around the bunnies, was Hanguang-Jun.

Running was bad, he knew it, but he ran anyway. He was engulfed in all the gray robes Hanguang-Jun wore as he hugged him and he was hugged back. He wanted to cry. He did cry.

“Be careful, Wangji,” Zewu-Jun said. Hanguang-Jun cradled A-Yuan’s head to his chest instead of answering.

“Hanguang-Jun,” A-Yuan said into his shoulder, holding him tight.

“Mn,” he hummed, “Hanguang-Jun?”

“A-die,” A-Yuan corrected, still crying and still clinging. Hanguang-Jun breathed a laugh and leaned his head against his.

They stayed there for a while and A-Yuan clung to him the whole time. He didn’t want him to go away again. Everyone else made him have to be so careful and scared. With Hanguang-Jun, there was nothing to be scared of.

He carried A-Yuan all the way back to the Jingshi despite Zewu-Jun telling him he needed to be careful, that he still needed rest. He locked the door with a talisman like A-Yuan hadn’t seen anyone else do since he left. Still, A-Yuan looked around and smiled as he put him down. He missed it there.

“A-die is staying?” he asked. A-die nodded again and A-Yuan smiled even wider, clinging to his leg in a hug.

That night, he finally didn’t have to sleep by himself.

It was better after that.

He still was expected to spend time with the other children and the servants and so much of his time was spent with Zewu-Jun, but he got to see Hanguang-Jun. People seemed to know that. Even though Hanguang-Jun wasn’t there and never went outside, they seemed to be more scared to say things around Lan Yuan. It didn’t mean he didn’t hear them anyway.

“I can’t believe Lan Wangji is actually raising him,” they whispered. They were a few feet away and Lan Yuan was playing with Jingyi, but he listened anyway. “And while he’s in seclusion.”

“Maybe he wants to be better than his father,” another said.

“Maybe he feels guilty for not killing the Yiling Patriarch sooner,” a third scoffed, “And he’s just raising another warrior to be more aware of evil.”

“Maybe.”

When he got home, A-Yuan didn’t have to stay silent like he had when he was with Zewu-Jun. He watched him still, though. He was unsure of what question he wanted to ask. When he settled on the right one, it was important he said it the right way. Everyone else said the words like they were bad.

“What is Yiling Patriarch?” he asked. The words didn’t feel right, but Hanguang-Jun froze with his eyes on the floor so maybe he understood anyway. He stayed like that until A-Yuan felt bad and cuddled up to his leg, giving that smile that made everyone forgive him.

“Who did you hear that from?”

“Everyone,” he said honestly. He overheard servants say it, he’d overheard Grandmaster say it, and he’d even heard one of the kids he played with say it. But he didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.

A-die said nothing for a little while and A-Yuan was sure he wasn’t going to say anything. Until he did.

“Rest. Tomorrow we travel to Caiyi.”

When they traveled to Caiyi (without the approval of Zewu-Jun), A-Yuan started to understand why they needed to go to the city for him to explain what the Yiling Patriarch was. People were on the street and saying his name, selling talismans under his title, telling stories with ugly and scary pictures of him. There weren't too many people, but it was enough. They also told great stories of Hanguang-Jun’s epic rivalry with him and how he destroyed him alongside Sandu Shengshou. A-die said nothing no matter how much A-Yuan looked at him for an explanation.

Eventually, they got a room at the inn and they got their food sent to the room. A-Yuan quickly began to eat.

“The Yiling Patriarch is called Wei Wuxian,” A-die said. A-Yuan froze with his spoon in his mouth. There was no talking during meals, but today apparently they could because a-die nodded at him to continue eating. He did so slowly just in case. “The stories that are told about him… The people telling them can never understand. He made mistakes. He is not a bad man.”

“Where is he now?” A-Yuan asked. He’d heard a few people say he was dead, but they still spoke of him by warning his return.

“He’s lost,” A-die said slowly, going to start his own meal. A-Yuan nodded.

They didn’t speak much more about him after that on purpose.

Hanguang-Jun started to show his face around the Cloud Recesses again and began teaching the juniors. Lan Yuan started having classes where they taught about the history of the cultivation world, he found himself more interested in the very recent past than anything else. He wanted to hear everything about the war, about the Sunshot Campaign, about who Wei Wuxian, the great Yiling Patriarch, was. They never really gave him the answers he wanted.

So he asked the only person he trusted on the topic.

“A-die, Grandmaster said the Yiling Patriarch was one of the most promising cultivators of his generation and he just chose to do bad with it, is that true?”

“His thoughts were simply new and people fear what they can’t understand.”

“A-die, they said you both killed the Tortoise of Slaughter together, but you were rivals. How can you fight well with someone you dislike?”

“He is not my rival.”

“A-die, they said he murdered tons of LanlingJin cultivators and tons of Wen civilians, but that doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Wei Wuxian destroyed his reputation to take care of those Wen civilians. I cannot speak on the actual events of that night.”

“Hanguang-Jun, did he really create the Ghost General to be a weapon?”

“He saved someone he cared for. He cared very much.”

“Hanguang-Jun, did Young Master Wei really murder the heir to the LanlingJin sect?”

“I cannot speak on the actual event.”

“Hanguang-Jun, at the Bloodbath of Nightless City, did Young Master Wei really slaughter thousands of cultivators, including his sister?”

“That night is difficult for everyone.”

The more questions Lan Yuan asked, regardless of how explanatory the answer was, he began to put together a picture of Wei Wuxian. A man of questionable decisions, but one who wasn’t shy about his opinions. A man who wasn’t necessarily all good, but he wasn’t evil. A man who was intelligent and an inventor. A man who deserved a little bit of compassion just like everyone else.

“Hanguang-Jun, do you think there’s any way it could’ve gone different for Wei Wuxian?” he asked one day. Hanguang-Jun held his head high, his gaze somewhere else.

“The GusuLan sect rules are a guideline. That doesn’t mean they’re always right. Trust yourself first,” Hanguang-Jun said. Lan Yuan filled in the rest of the sentence for him to get his answer. That, maybe if someone broke the right rules, Wei Wuxian could’ve been saved.

Lan Yuan thought about that a lot. The GusuLan sect rules were strict and they were very clear. You shouldn’t pass judgment and you should simply help those in need, but you should stick to what you know is right above all else. Most people didn’t fare too well with any of those, but Lan Yuan strived for it. If he did nothing worthwhile in his life, he would be that.

When he got his forehead ribbon, he was old enough to be aware of the way Grandmaster Lan felt about him. It wasn’t that he disproved of him outright or blamed him for his parentage, but it was a never ending wariness in his gaze like he was just waiting for him to show his true self. It gave him all the more reason to be himself honestly.

“...and for self-regulation. A staple of not only how you represent yourself, but your people,” Grandmaster announced calmly, his eyes locked on Lan Sizhui despite despite the fact that there were three other boys getting their ribbons as well.

Hanguang-Jun carefully tied it around his head with skill, not even accidentally pulling a single strand of hair as he secured it. He moved to the front to straighten it and gave an approving nod. Lan Sizhui smiled. When he stepped away, though, he was faced with Grandmaster’s wary gaze. He smiled wider and bowed low.

It didn’t take away the concern.

“It’s silly to think you were so small once,” Zewu-Jun said as they walked out of the lanshi. Lan Sizhui stood between him and Hanguang-Jun, but he chose to keep his chin up and his eyes forward so he didn’t mess up his forehead ribbon. Zewu-Jun must’ve noticed because he laughed. “When is he moving out of the Jingshi and into the dormitory?”

That got Lan Suzhui to break his forward stare and he looked up to Hanguang-Jun with furrowed eyebrows. He didn’t really want to move out of the Jingshi. He liked the safety that came with sleeping beside his father, something he very distinctly remembered lacking for too much time when he was little. Something he felt even now when Hanguang-Jun went on night hunts.

“He’s still young,” Hanguang-Jun said simply.

“You were in a dormitory at his age. He’s nearly 12, he begins actual training soon.”

Hanguang-Jun said nothing as he dropped his left hand. Lan Sizhui didn’t need any further instruction as he grabbed his hand and they started to head towards the Jingshi. He spared a look over his shoulder to Zewu-Jun to make sure he wasn’t upset. But he was smiling in that very, very specific way that Lan Sizhui only saw a few times. He knew it was okay.

They got back to the Jingshi and Lan Sizhui didn’t say anything about it as he watched Hanguang-Jun sit behind his guqin. Lan Sizhui was slowly but surely learning to play on his own and he could play simple, little things. He sat near him and watched.

He started to pluck a little melody, something that felt almost unfinished, instead of adding onto the topic of Lan Sizhui moving out of the Jingshi. He knew he would have to eventually, but didn’t he have at least a couple more years? Hanguang-Jun sure thought so.

Lan Sizhui closed his eyes and focused on the music, breathing in time with it as he internalized it. It was a song he’d heard a few times over the years, but Hanguang-Jun had never so deliberately played it in front of him before. He typically played it when he was alone and Lan Sizhui would hear it when he came back from classes. As he listened to it now, he hadn’t expected to get an answer to Zewu-Jun’s inquiry, but he did anyway. It seemed to be written into the song.

People weren’t meant to sleep alone.

“That isn’t him.”

“What are you talking about, of course it’s him, that’s what it says.”

Lan Sizhui smiled at Lan Jingyi and then bowed to the artist selling portraits of the Yiling Patriarch. Then he grabbed Jingyi and tugged him to follow Hanguang-Jun a little closer. He’d brought them to Caiyi for a sort of pre-night hunt before they were officially classified as juniors.

“Wei Wuxian was the same age as Hanguang-Jun, he is young. He probably won’t like people thinking he’s old,” Lan Sizhui said softly. Jingyi looked at him weirdly.

“Who cares what he likes?”

“It’s wrong to lie,” Lan Sizhui said. Lan Jingyi rolled his eyes as they caught up to Hanguang-Jun.

They followed him closely and Lan Sizhui’s eyes lingered back to the portraits. Of all his years hearing his name, he’d never actually known what Wei Wuxian looked like. He looked back to Hanguang-Jun and wondered if he knew. He wondered if he’d tell him.

“Hanguang-Jun,” he called, stepping up beside him, “Do you know any of the talismans that Wei Wuxian created?”

Hanguang-Jun breathed out, his shoulders setting a little more and he looked down at him with that very distinctly fond look. Lan Sizhui hadn’t noticed that he was the only one who received that until recently. In return, he offered that smile that everyone loved. Hanguang-Jun rested his hand on his shoulder.

“I know a few,” he said.

He led the way with Sihzui and Jingyi hot on his trail all the way to the inn they planned to stay in for the night. There was a ghost that showed its face after a traveler had died unexpectedly in his room at the beginning of the night. It was a simple, small task that needed to be handled to save the innkeeper from going out of business. It was the perfect hunt to take children on.

And yet, even with a ghost lurking, Sihzui could sense a new, almost excited air around Hanguang-Jun. Jingyi could too, it seemed, and he fed off it.

“Is it cool? I know he came up with some cool evil things, but you knew him when he came up with cool normal things, didn’t you? Are you going to show us one of those?” Lan Jingyi asked, nearly running to keep up with Hanguang-Jun’s wider strides.

“Mn,” he said.

It wasn’t long before they were in the room Hanguang-Jun rented out and then, all too quickly, he crafted a talisman and there was a direct string from his wrist to Sizhui’s. He straightened up with startled eyes, looking up to him. Hanguang-Jun was smiling.

“Whoa!” Lan Jingyi said, “What’s it called?”

“Bonding,” he said, his voice carrying something Lan Sizhui couldn’t quite place, “Or Binding.”

Lan Sizhui tugged on it and Hanguang-Jun’s arm followed it, the tie never extending. It was impressive. He walked a bit closer and studied it.

“What was used for? To keep thieves from running?” he asked, looking up to Hanguang-Jun, “This is so clever. Did he ever expand upon it?” His smile turned a bit sad before it disappeared entirely.

“No,” he said.

He didn’t say much more as they fought the ghost that night.

Lan Sizhui very quickly rose to the top of his class after that. It wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t wear it with any pride. That felt wrong. Instead, he spent his time assisting those who struggled. Even when the juniors from other sects came to visit, Lan Sizhui spent most of his time teaching them. Slowly and unintentionally, he saw Grandmaster Lan grow to respect him. He tried not to take pride in that either, but it felt nice.

Other sect leaders came to visit during the months that they housed the other juniors, including Nie Hauisang, the infamous Head Shaker. The other juniors seemed to think little of him, but Lan Sizhui found him charming. He watched the way Zewu-Jun handled him as if he was still a child instead of a sect leader and almost instantly wanted to hear the man speak.

So, as he always did, he listened.

It took a long while, until the sun had already gone to sleep and most of the people in the Cloud Recesses were retiring for the night. Lan Sizhui and Yan Zijing, a QingheNie disciple, however, were on patrol. It was pure convenience that they ran into Nie Hauisang.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Lan Sizhui said, bowing deep for him, “What are you doing up?”

“Ah, reminiscing,” he said quietly, his fan open and his face bowed just a bit as if he wasn’t their superior, “I studied here. I, I never learned much, no, it wasn’t for me, I, I don’t know enough for all that.”

Lan Sizhui smiled at him kindly, “You were here with Hanguang-Jun, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, it was very, very different back then. With… everything,” he said, looking around before settling on Sizhui again, “You’re Hanguang-Jun’s ward, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Mm,” he said, looking over him, “You don’t look like him.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m sure you’re just as loyal,” Nie Hauisang said, lowering his face just a little. Lan Sizhui didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply nodded. Nie Hauisang looked to Yan Zijing for a moment then back to Lan Sizhui again before he said goodnight.

The conversation captured his interest nonetheless and he found himself lingering outside the room Nie Hauisang was staying in the next morning. It was probably inappropriate and he would scold himself for it later if he didn’t get in actual trouble with Hanguang-Jun for harassing their guests, but he’d never been able to stop himself from asking questions even when he shouldn’t. It was selfish of him, really. Maybe Grandmaster was right to question him…

“This disciple is so sorry to bother you, Sect Leader Nie,” Lan Sizhui said after he knocked and Nie Hauisang answered, bowing lower than he had the night before, “But there was a question I needed to ask you.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m the wrong person, I, I don’t have answers, I don’t know anything, I just don’t know,” he said, giving a breathy laugh.

“You knew my father when he was young.” Lan Sizhui flashed that smile he always used and it worked as well as it always did when Nie Hauisang relaxed his shoulders a little. He nodded. “I was wondering if perhaps you remembered Wei Wuxian? He is so interesting to me.”

Nie Hauisang’s awkward laughter returned, “Maybe you shouldn’t say that.”

“I usually don’t,” Lan Sizhui admitted, “But you seemed like a friendly face to ask.”

It didn’t take much persuasion until he was invited in and Nie Hauisang told him a few more than slightly disjointed stories. He told the middle before he told the beginning and the ending was always sprinkled throughout and most of the details weren’t what he asked for, choosing to stumble onto tangents and fumble around his words instead of making sense. He made it through the second tale before he was beginning to think he was doing it on purpose. Hanguang-Jun was a man of few words, but the words he said were meaningful. Nie Hauisang seemed to speak so much to get away with not saying anything at all.

“Right, yes, but weren’t he and Hanguan-Jun rivals? Why would they travel to Qinghe together?” Lan Sizhui asked. It was the only part of the stories he could grasp that he both understood and had never heard before. Well, he knew they weren’t rivals, but no one needed to know that he knew that fact. Nie Hauisang tilted his head and smiled.

“And just why would they not? They are men of poetry, that’s the only thing I know.”

Lan Sizhui didn’t have much time to ask as he realized he had to get to class, so he’d excused himself and bowed and thanked Nie Hauisang for the company. He just bowed back, the structure all too similar to a junior bowing to Grandmaster, and did not say he enjoyed his company, nor did he say he would like to do it again. It was a funny little thing.

Hanguang-Jun sat at the front of the class and Lan Sizhui found himself thinking too hard about what he meant by poetry.

Poetry seemed to be too simplistic of a word to describe Hanguang-Jun, especially when he seemed to instantly attach himself to Young Master Mo Xuanyu. Lan Sizhui had never seen him act that way before. It was confusing.

However, the more time he spent around him and them, it slowly started to make sense. Listening to him speaking and having him as their teacher felt all too familiar. He spoke with such confidence and he was always correct. It reminded him of being with Hanguang-Jun. There was nothing to fear with them.

Lan Sizhui would have the moment ingrained into his mind when he first discovered who Mo Xuanyu really was. The way his stomach dropped and he felt overwhelmed and ill at the fact that this man who made him feel so safe, who his father put on such a high regard, was the deviant Yiling Patriarch himself.

It didn’t take long, though, to readjust his mindset. This was a man who had captivated his mind for his entire life. The fact that he hadn’t known it was him to begin with was mindless.

However, when he saw his bare face again with the knowledge that it was Wei Wuxian, he still felt he couldn’t breathe. And when he saw his wide smile, the one Lan Sizhui had been giving people his entire life, he couldn’t breathe. But it didn’t break his loyalty during the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds. If anything, it strengthened it. This was the man he’d been trying so hard to learn about, to know without reason, and here he was.

And the more he thought and spoke and learned and…

“A-die!”

Lan Sizhui gasped as he gathered his surroundings. The last thing he’d remembered was being with Wen Ning at Nightless City, but now he was on the floor of the Jingshi. Hanguang-Jun was on the floor knelt unceremoniously beside him, a hand on his arm and a hand on his cheek. Concern was etched onto his brow despite the fact that he’d clearly been woken up.

“A-Yuan,” A-die said, his thumb rubbing over his cheek as Lan Sizhui caught his breath.

“A-die,” he said back. He didn’t care if he sounded or acted like a child as he scooted closer. A-die pulled him into a hug and held him like he did when he was small. He pressed his face into the white robe and let him console him.

The longer he stayed there and caught his breath, the more he could make sense of his panic. And it was just a bad dream brought upon by too many memories that weren’t his, locking him inside his mind for far too long. Maybe it was silly of him to try to learn more about his true ancestors by welcoming ghosts to tell him. It’d been too much and Wen Ning had apparently needed to haul him back to the Cloud Recesses.

“Are you alright?” a second voice asked once Lan Sizhui had steadied himself. He still stayed laid against Hanguang-Jun, discarding pride and self-control in favor of his father’s comfort, but he managed to turn his head while still keeping it against his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian was crouched beside them in all black in a similar turned down state. A second quick look around made it clear that Wei Wuxian had made himself at home in the Jingshi. Even the bed was messier than Hanguang-Jun ever would’ve let it get on his own. Although his cheeks flushed a bit red, he could appreciate that his a-die no longer had to sleep alone.

“I’m alright,” Lan Sizhui insisted, eyes downcast so he didn’t make the situation more shameful, “I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense, you’re sorry for what? Needing someone? Ha, you know what I always say, never apologize for needing someone,” Wei Wuxian said boldly. Hanguang-Jun huffed a laugh due to how distinctly untrue that was, but Lan Sizhui appreciated the sentiment. “Are you really alright, though? Wen Ning said you got too lost.”

“I-I didn’t get lost‒”

“Ay, then what would you call it? It’s called getting lost, don’t be embarrassed of words, they exist for a reason, you got lost,” Wei Wuxian said, his tone almost a little scolding. Sizhui couldn’t see his a-die’s face, but he felt him stroke his hair and his face in a way he hadn’t since Grandmaster had unintentionally made him cry nearly a decade prior. And Wei Wuxian smiled that smile. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re such a good dad. So strong, so protective.”

“Mn.”

“I didn’t get lost,” Sizhui said again if only to save himself, “It was just too much at once. I got overwhelmed, that’s all. I’ll be better next time.”

“Yes, you will, and I’ll show you how to do better,” Wei Wuxian said, scrunching up his nose and reaching out to pinch his cheek. He didn’t even try to lean away from it.

“Tomorrow,” Hanguang-Jun said.

“Obviously tomorrow, why would I mean tonight?” Wei Wuxian said, but then there was a pause and he gave a guilty smile, “Okay, if he’d wanted to, I probably would’ve said tonight, but you have to forgive me, Lan Zhan! I missed so many years! Boring, boring years.”

“You weren’t conscious.”

“Semantics,” he said. Lan Sizhui smiled a little and Wei Wuxian lit up in response. “Ah, there we are, he’s better now. Or, if you’re not, I can find Chenqing for you to chew on, that always made you feel better when you were little.”

“He is tired,” Hanguang-Jun said. Wei Wuxian turned his smile on him.

“He’s a grown boy, Lan Zhan, he can say if he’s tired himself.”

“I’m tired,” Lan Sizhui said. Wei Wuxian breathed a dramatic sigh and pushed himself to his feet.

“I leave you alone with him for a few years and you turn into him, so unfair,” he said, but the smile was evident, “Fine, fine, I’ll be respectful, you can go to sleep.”

“I’ll go to‒” Lan Sizhui started to stay as they helped him to his feet, but Wei Wuxian shook his head.

“You’ll stay here,” Hanguang-Jun said.

“In case you get lost again,” Wei Wuxian filled in. He was too tired and too thankful to argue, so he nodded.

Lan Sizhui rubbed his eye and started to take off his shoes. Without any warning, Wei Wuxian reached to take off his forehead ribbon. His instinct was to tell him no, but he realized that it was alright. Especially when Hanguang-Jun didn’t say anything to him about it, simply guided him down the pillow and made sure his head didn’t hit too hard as if that would throw him right back into his bad dreams.

“Ah, I had a dream about this once, only A-Yuan was much smaller in that dream,” Wei Wuxian said as he stood beside the bed, his hands on his hips. He watched them with a smile as they settled into bed, A-Yuan on the edge and a-die leaving enough space for him by the wall. “My Hanguang-Jun, so sweet.”

“Come,” Hanguang-Jun requested.

“Later, later, I’m not tired. I have books to read, things to think, people to remember and forget, probably a prophecy or two if I let it. I’ll be asleep when you wake up, don’t worry,” he said. Wei Wuxian then gave them both loud, exaggerated forehead kisses and threw the blanket over them. It felt almost teasing, but he was too tired to laugh.

He walked out of the bedchamber section of the Jingshi, instead heading to the otherside entirely where he created a small talisman to give him light that would let him read but not disturb the two of them. Lan Sizhui could see him sprawl out on the floor with a book in hand. He looked over to his a-die. He was the most at ease he’d ever seen him.

As he drifted back to sleep, Lan Sizhui considered that maybe, through all of his time thinking of Wei Wuxian as a way of extending compassion to a dead man, it didn’t hold a candle to way to the extents Hanguang-Jun had cherished him in his mind.

He could only hope he could do them both justice with this second chance.

#the untamed #lan sizhui #lan wangji #wei wuxian #the untamed fic #my fic #mdzs

24 notes · View notes