#Jiang Sibs: let us love you! JGY: [writhing like a ferret in a trap

[guqin-and-flute]

ok but if jiang cheng gives jin guangyao a jiang sect clarity bell he's going to be so confused and shocked and then probably cry. for days. this family wants him! on purpose! not even as a disciple but as part of the family itself! and they're all accepting him intentionally! and publicly! he's not going to be able to handle that at all.

Anonymous said: Yanli is pregnant, about to give birth and JGY is so anxious and nervous. It's his first kid! He doesn't want to do anything wrong, neither for this child, nor for Yanli, nor for her brothers. He's going crazy. As time went by, the more involved with the affairs of the Jiang sect he became, but now, in the face of the birth of his son, nothing was enough to soothe his nerves. He was genuinely going crazy. So JC, WWX and JGY bonding time!!

(WONDERFUL, anons! I’m putting these two together because it felt right! This is a trip and a half to write because I came into it going ‘this is fluff!’ and JGY came into it going ‘this is torture’. Did you know that having nice things is untenably terrible? Cause I didn’t until I consulted JGY, but this seems to be the case)

[First post/fic of the Peony to Lotus verse. Set after these posts]

Jin Guangyao hated when his thoughts became too much to ignore. It should not happen, he should be able to package this anxiety into a neat little box like every other thing that had ever made his hands shake and get on with his business but here he was, gripping the edge of the window sill tight enough to make his knuckles ache as he simply fought to breathe. 

A-Li was far enough along, now, that she spent most of her time bedridden, radiant and tired and soft and patient and--

Sometimes, he would come to himself realizing he was smiling over something ridiculous Wei Wuxian had said, or the way that A-Li looked in the sun just then, or A-Yuan clinging to his leg and he wouldn’t have meant to and it was so fucking awful. And he had no one to discuss it with, not even A-Li, not even Er-ge because they would have no idea what he was talking about. Because they had had the practice of their whole lives to bear the weight of putting their heart into other people and letting them run around and do what they would with it. Soon, he would have a child. A child. 

He already had a wife, and he had felt the uncomfortable stretch of accommodation in his bones when he had realized, with deep terror, that he actually loved her. Deeper still, somehow, when she had loved him back. Then Wei Wuxian had elbowed his way into His People--when had he gotten people? When had that happened?--then Jiang Wanyin, then Wuxian’s little A-Yuan. Lying in bed next to a gently snoring A-Li, staring at the ceiling above, painted in the slow, light ripples from the lake, he had quietly realized that even Wen Qing and Wen Ning would leave holes within himself he would be able to trace in their outlines, were they taken from Lotus Pier.

It had taken him quietly confessing to Lan Xichen the depth of his anxiety over the pregnancy, his gentle chuckle, his hand on his cheek as he assured him that he would be an excellent father that Gods! Gods, he was one of them, too! One of His, living there already, before he even knew to look. How had he not known? When had he filleted his heart in such a manner and with what knife so sharp that he hadn’t even felt the sting? Was it supposed to be this easy to lose yourself in others? The last time he had been a part of anyone, she had died in his arms on a whorehouse bed, whispering about a man who had never come back to collect his token, his son. Her son. 

Jin Guangyao blew out his breath, rocked from heel to the ball of his foot as if limbering up for exercise, trying to expend the buzz of anxious energy that crawled under his skin, excise the slow panic that had been building these many months. 

Wen Qing had said it was going well. That everything was normal. Back pains and knee pains and trouble sleeping were normal. 

A child.

Pushing away from the sill, he shook his arms out at his sides as he turned away from, then back to the window when the nausea within him bloomed, bid him to grab something, hold something, anchor himself against the current of this emotion. He wrapped his fingers back around it, put his head down and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He was supposed to be meeting Jiang Wanyin in the Hall of Swords. He was going to be late.

There was no reason for this. There were duties to attend to, things he must do, errands he must run. A-Li had said she felt fine. They had a while, yet; weeks. Days. 

Days and he would hold a baby. His baby. Their baby. Made from them, of them, out of them and into the world where it could grow and think and laugh and run and leave and die--

A harsh, clamped down sound left him as he squeezed his eyes tighter, tucked his chin down lower as he rocked back again, stretching back from his arms, feeling the burn down the backs of his legs. Focus on the physicality. Focus on the feeling. Accept the inevitable; what was done was done. 

Bring in a life to the world and you bring in a death. How equitable, how balanced. How insane.

How was he allowed to do this? How could someone like him who had never dreamed of fatherhood past a vague, uninterested ‘perhaps’ of a future just...choose that? How on earth could someone like him be allowed to make another human and be tasked with its health, it’s happiness? What did he know of happiness, having had so precious little of it? 

Well, until now. And there lay the problem. 

For here he was, in a place he thought was exile but was, in fact, a seeming paradise unlike any he had known, full of ease and warmth and love and it was worse than he could ever have possibly imagined because he was used to the struggle it was supposed to have been. Had always been. Was going to have been. His goals had never been about comfort and love but about safety and what was owed to him. He was a Jin, therefore he would be a Jin--he would work to become it at the expense of everything and everyone else because it was the place he belonged. If he could get there, if he could be recognized, it would be Right. Not necessarily good, not necessarily comfortable, but Right. Safe.

And now here he was, miles and miles away at Lotus Pier, amongst Jiangs and Wens, lilypads and lotuses, and he was happy. Not necessarily Right. Not necessarily...Safe, in the most concrete of definitions. The scorch marks at the base of some buildings, the abundance of tablets in the shrine told how nebulous such physical safety might prove to be. The Jins had the money and numbers for that safety. But ask him--ask him, don’t ask him, please--whether he now wanted that or this and his hesitation would betray decades of his life, his promises to his mother, his plans. 

And it was all transient. Able to be taken and broken in the beat of a heart. Lanling was supposed to have been forever. Yunmeng was supposed to have been a setback, a roadblock, a stalling, a breaking, a dying of a dream. How on earth had this hidden in the folds of that? Just burst into being with no intention? How had this happened?

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of these things throughout A-Li’s pregnancy, hadn’t spent many a night pacing throughout the walkways of Lotus Pier, taking care of this or that at some godsforsaken hour where he would sometimes cross paths with a cheery Wei Wuxian, wiling away the wee hours of the morning on less focused pursuits. But these thoughts had been successfully contained and filed away, not unearthing themselves in the light of day when other obligations required his attention. 

They would grow louder when he saw A-Li’s belly, when he lay his cheek on it in bed and felt the restless life within push back against him, but they were still containable, kept at bay by the sheer joy that lit his wife up whenever she caught him looking at her. She was infectious with it, her excitement to usher in this new person seeming so clean and pure and delightful through her eyes. And he could see it--of course he could--the joy in the idea of a little one who came out loving you, would only ever know loving you, if you did it right--

And that. And that made his stomach churn and his hands clench, made every uncertainty that had ever used his ribs as a ladder to his throat scream in chorus because it was if you did it right. There was no plan to cover everything. No contingency that caught everyone, in all cases. And there were so many ways to fail--in little ways, big ways, catastrophic ways. 

When this tumble of a thought started, it was nearly impossible not to be crushed beneath its roll, the parade of every man he had ever seen in the brothel of his childhood playing across the backs of his eyes, accompanied by the ever present absence and then terribly wounding reality of his own father. How could he not be like them? What treacherous part of his own psyche did he have to avoid so he did not wound this child the ways he had been? Could he? 

Could he only wait, without a plan, without warning, for the time that he would bring harm to his child, whether through action or inaction? He would go insane. He would absolutely lose his mind. 

He felt as if he was already. 

He pushed back from the window again, hard, swung himself around and set off for the Hall of Swords. The sun passed hot on his face through the windows, brief bands of cool striping over when he reached the edge. 

Jiang Wanyin was seated on the lotus throne with Wei Wuxian perched insolently on one of it’s sleek petals, both looking down at something in Jiang Wanyin’s hand. “Hello, Jin-gongzi,” came Wen Ning’s hesitant voice from his side and, wound as tight as he was, Jin Guangyao had to clamp down his startlement and instead offer a smile and nod to the man that moved as quietly as a ghost. 

“Good afternoon, Wen-gongzi. Jiang-zongzhu. Wei-gongzi.”

“Sooo formal,” Wuxian drawled, spinning Chenqing through his fingers with a grin. “Come here, we’ve got something to show you.” Eagerly, he hopped down, then hesitated and turned back to peer at him closely. “You alright?”

Jin Guangyao flashed a smile he knew pressed in his dimples and stuffed down every part of him that shook. “Perfectly.” When he approached, Jiang Wanyin traded a knowing, poorly suppressed smile with both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning beside him and held out his hand.

In it was a tiny silver bell set on a long purple tassel, the knotwork fine and intricate, hung with a little jade lotus above it. The Jiang Sect’s Clarity Bell. Since it seemed to be what he was intending, Jin Guangyao accepted it with a smile and polite nod as he brought it closer to study, absorbing the engraving of the lotus petals on the metal, the clear chime that rang out when it moved. It was a beautiful little thing and it took him half a moment to realize that this was them seeking his approval for a gift for his child. The spread of his smile became slightly more real and he tilted his head. “Ah. It’s beautiful, Jiang-zongzhu.” A bit long for an infant, he added silently, but they will grow into it, certainly. “Very lovely.”

“Uh...mn,” Jiang Wanyin answered, the way he had started doing when he was unsure of what just happened and when he glanced up, he caught him sharing a befuddled look with Wei Wuxian.

“Wow. I dunno what I was expecting, but not that,” Wei Wuxian laughed, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head as if he were puzzled. 

Jin Guangyao let his placeholder smile emerge, holding the pleasantness in place while his mind whirred, attempting to piece together what had gone wrong. Was he supposed to be more excited? He could certainly do that. “I appreciate it very much,” he elaborated, stroking a finger down the sleek tassels in obvious admiration. “The workmanship is incredibly intricate and lovely. A-Li will be very pleased and I’m sure it will serve our child well.” Perhaps it was supposed to be of bigger consequence--but if that were the case, wouldn’t there have been more ceremony?

Wei Wuxian snickered again, very clearly at him, and even Jiang Wanyin grinned, tilting his brother another one of those infuriating  looks that, at present, was sending irritation skittering down Jin Guangyao’s spine. Usually he had the patience for their antics, but with the background noise of his fear, it was a bit much. 

“Jin-g-gongzi,” Wen Ning spoke up again, the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s for you.”

Jin Guangyao looked back at him, uncomprehendingly blank. It’s for him. What was for him? The bell? The bell was for the Jiang Sect--

His head jerked back around to stare at it again, his fingers closing like a vice around the smooth flow of the tassels. For him. It was for him. “But….” choked from him without warning, so he snapped his mouth shut and simply...stared.

“Oh-ho, that’s a new one. What does that one mean?” Wei Wuxian leaned down in his peripheral, the indistinct blur of his face cut with the white of his smile.

He could not answer. That burning, trembling fear was bubbling up his stomach, his throat, his spine until it throbbed in his temples and sinuses. 

“--figured it was about time, I mean, considering how long you’ve been here and all--” Wei Wuxian was saying breezily in the background, but Jin Guangyao felt the cold weight of Wen Ning’s gentle hand on his arm like gravity, pulling him back to this room. 

“Jin-gongzi, are you alright?” he asked, softly.

Wei Wuxian stopped at this and the brightly colored forms in the corners of his eyes drew closer, reached out to touch him as well, his shoulder, his arm. “Hey. Hey, Jin-xiong, look at me.”

He did, because it was simple, because it was asked of him and when he did, Wei Wuxian blinked. “Wow. You really didn’t know, did you?”

“We have one for the baby, of course,” Jiang Wanyin added in from his side, as if that was even remotely the problem. “It’s smaller, but….”

They seemed to be waiting for him to say something, which at this moment seemed absurdly impossible. It was for him. For him. Without asking. Without begging. Without having to bow and scrape and kowtow and….

They wanted him. They wanted him. They wanted him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, anything but all that came out was a strangled, shaky, “Ha….” that squeezed shut at the end as his stupid fucking traitorous ill-behaved throat closed and he, all at once, had to crouch down to stop the spinning in his idiot head, burying his face in his knees. There was a hand on his back as he sucked in a shuddering breath, then another on his wrist as someone crouched before him but he couldn’t look up because his eyes were dripping unsanctioned tears onto his purple robes and the clarity bell rang out sweetly with every ridiculous tremor of his hand. 

He didn’t want this. A child. A family. He couldn’t want this because he wanted this and if he wanted something, it would hurt to be taken away, it could tear him, it could kill him. He wasn’t big enough to have this many People huddle inside of his chest. He hadn’t enough heart to go around. 

But they wanted him anyway. Not out of obligation or guilt or political savvy or because he had done something so exceptional it could not be ignored but because they did. Him.

Help.

At least he had always cried quietly. The one blessing in this whole ordeal. If he couldn’t control his damn self, at least he wasn’t wailing like...an infant. A baby. His baby.

Gods, what in the hell was he doing?

“Should we get A-jie?” was muttered and he surged to his feet, startling Wei Wuxian stumbling back a few steps.

“No!” he gasped, allowing his hand to clamp onto Wen Ning’s supportive wrist so he didn’t topple over. “No, no, don’t bother A-Li, I’m fine, I’m--”

“You’re definitely not,” Wuxian interrupted with an incredulous laugh. “Did we break you? Is it bad?”

“Is it bad?” Jiang Wanyin echoed, quieter, more uncertain from his side and Jin Guangyao shook his head, tried desperately to latch back onto his control. 

“No, it’s not. It’s...um….” That stupid quaver spoiled it again as his gaze landed back on the bell, innocent and fine, resting on the backs of his knuckles from where it sprouted through his grip. His face crumpled anew, this time a little softer, at little less wildly transporting, but still fully out of his control and dammit, shit, and fuck. This was stupid. He was stupid. This didn’t need to be happening.

Wen Ning gently patted his back as he covered his face, trying in vain to stifle this absurd, unceasing flow that seemed to come from deep within him as every part of him writhed, knowing he was being seen doing this. Knowing that he could not stop. That this weakness was….

 On purpose? A small, helpless part of him was asking repeatedly. Did you mean to do this? You know everyone will be able to see if I wear this, right? This is on purpose? 

A stupid question. An obvious answer. The reasons for which eluded him. 

“If it upsets you so much, I could take it back for you,” Wei Wuxian teased--obviously teased--while reaching out and in the most terrifying motion he had ever made, Jin Guangyao jerked the bell away from him and pressed it to his middle. He hadn’t even meant to do it. 

He needed to leave.

“No. I’m fine. I...thank you. Thank you for this, I….” He looked over at Jiang Wanyin, saw the alarm and furrowed bemusement in his face and managed to force out, nakedly. “I’m...having a difficult time...absorbing this.”

“Well, that much is clear!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Look, Jiang Cheng! We’ve made him speechless! Took the silver tongue right out of his head and turned it into a bell.”

“Are you...happy?” Jiang Wanyin asked, hesitantly.

Jin Guangyao was not so certain--was happiness supposed to burn like this? Dredge your deepest depths without mercy? But he could not lie and say that that small voice hadn’t now transmuted into simply chanting mine mine mine mine mine. He needed to absorb this. He needed to be away. It was wrong because it was not Right--but when had Right ever made him so warm? Golden. He swallowed and took a deep, shuddering breath, stifling the steady swell of tears with immense difficulty. “I think so.”

“You are so strange,” Wei Wuxian grinned, throwing his arms around him and Wen Ning. “Here, I’ll put it on.”

When he cheerily plucked the bell from Jim Guangyao's frozen grip, Jiang Wanyin shot his brother a scowl. "Don't you think I should be the one to do that?"

"I don't see you shifting yourself to, so it's my job as oldest brother to welcome him in," Wei Wuxian announced. "Deal with it."

It all seemed so wretchedly possible as he knelt down before him and gleefully manhandled his belt around, as Jin Guangyao just...let him, staring down at him in a daze. A life here, raising children--happy children with a happy wife and happy brother-in-law's and happy sect-mates. Happy. Ephemeral.  Delicate. Unprotected.

“There,” Wei Wuxian proclaimed as he rose again, wrapping his arm around his shoulders again and thumping his chest affectionately. “Now you’re officially one of us. It was all Jiang Cheng’s idea, to tell you the truth.”

It was all Jin Guangyao could do to take an iron grip of his throat’s functions, look up at Jiang Wanyin’s nervous smile and ask in a tight, small voice. “You’re sure?”

While his smile turned slightly sour with puzzlement, the Clan Leader gave a huff of amusement. “Of course I’m sure. What kind of question is that?”

“Congratulations, gongzi!” Wen Ning beamed eagerly, bobbing his head. They all looked at him with wide smiles. Now knowing smiles. The knowing that he wanted to hate but couldn’t muster more than a prickle.

When Jin Guangyao bowed, deeply, they scoffed and the tiny bell hung from his belt gave a little chime. Still smiling, they watched him go and he blindly made his way back and back and back to his room. To A-Li. 

She was reading on the bed when he burst in and she blinked up at him. “Oh! Are--” her eyes went to his hand, clutching the slim silk line that connected to his belt, and her worry melted away into beaming excitement. “So they did it? They made me promise not to be there. Here, come here, come here, you.” She held out her arms and he shakingly made his way to the bed and practically collapsed within them, burying his nose into the softness of her as she wrapped around him. 

Here, he was safe. Here, he could ask. “Is this alright?” he whispered, voice choked again. “Is this allowed?”

“Is what, A-Yao?”

He clenched the bell in one hand and laid the other on her stomach, both still trembling as he shook his head, encompassing all of it, everything, anything here.

“Oh, love,” she crooned into his hair, stroked his face. “Of course.”

And here, against her, in the quiet and the safety, he let the tears come again as the pressure threatened to burst him--let himself weep, either in joy or grief, for all the things he now had to lose.