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eleanorfenyxwrites · 6 months ago

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Sexual Healing

The Waves Are Rising and Rising extra scene #2

Y'all come get your '3zun finally have good sex' Extended Edition Director's Cut here! (As in this extra directly follows on where chapter 12 fades to black lol)

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Is it possible to be hypnotized by sex?

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with Jin Guangshan; maybe his lecherous tendencies are only partially his own fault, maybe he’s been so steeped in them for so long that he can’t help it.

Maybe thinking of that disgusting cad (who is entirely in control of his lust, Nie Mingjue knows logically) at a time like this is wildly counterproductive. (Or, he supposes, it could be productive considering he’s meant to be focusing on the ledgers, and losing some of the heat simmering in his belly can only help with trying to reason through the accounts.)

“Focus,” Meng- Jin Guangyao murmurs, and how does he always know? He braces himself for the usual flash of suspicious spiralling that always accompanies thoughts of his sworn brother these days, even lately, even considering…everything, and exhales a slow sigh of relief when it doesn’t come slinking out of the miraculous quiet in the back of his mind.

“Blame yourself if I can’t focus as well as you’d like,” he tells Men- Jin Guangyao, currently perched in his lap like he’s decided to take up permanent residence there. (Considering his initial performance tonight, Nie Mingjue would be more than happy to let him do so.)

Jin Guangyao sniffs a playfully disdainful, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” right as he leans forward to hold the ledger in his hands closer to the candle on the table and Nie Mingjue bites off a swear as the motion grinds Jin Guangyao’s ass right against his dick, currently half-hard, painfully sensitive, and only barely covered by the single robe he’d thrown on for the sake of some vague nod at propriety. Perhaps one of those things is his own fault…but two out of the three aren’t! It’s still definitely Jin Guangyao’s fault that he’s in this state.

“Perhaps the ledgers would be more easily deciphered in the morning,” Lan Xichen posits not for the first time and alright, so maybe it’s not all Jin Guangyao’s fault. He risks a glance over at the bed and has to steel himself against the sight of Lan Xichen sprawled out in a way that would give any other Lan a conniption, and not just because he’s lounging around gloriously nude.

“I felt that,” Jin Guangyao mutters, audibly smirking, and Nie Mingjue considers just dumping him off his lap. Since when is it Jin Guangyao’s business what his cock does upon seeing Lan Xichen so clearly enjoying himself? He hasn’t decided on a course of action before Jin Guangyao is speaking again, turning a page with an entirely too-dramatic flick of his slender wrist, the motion following all the way through the graceful lines of his fingers, as he says, “We’re nearly done, er-ge, and then I promise we’ll have sex with you for the rest of the night.”

Nie Mingjue, feeling contrary and mostly as a matter of principle, growls, “Speak for yourself, I like sleeping after sex,” and immediately regrets it when Lan Xichen pouts at him rather devastatingly.

Too breezy to be sincere, Jin Guangyao says, “We hardly need you to participate if you find you’re not able to…rise to the task, ge-” the paper flutters as he flicks to the next page “-though I believe I can reasonably assert that it wouldn’t be from a lack of physical ability. Or desire, for that matter.”

“Stop feeling it,” he hisses, cheeks burning, and very pointedly ignores Lan Xichen barely muffling a laugh in the rumpled bedding.

“Then stop poking me with it!”

“You sat on me!”

“You didn’t leave me any other seating options!”

“Enough, you two,” Lan Xichen calls, still chuckling. Nie Mingjue half-buries his face in the crook of Jin Guangyao’s shoulder to glare down at the ledgers while still at least somewhat hiding the flush in his cheeks that fades slowly as they settle again. He doesn’t lift his head though, even once there’s nothing left to hide; Jin Guangyao’s too-angular shoulder is surprisingly comfortable, and if Nie Mingjue likes the feeling of holding him close with his entire body then that’s his own business.

“Hmm Mingjue, what’s this one? These are all quite expensive, we don’t typically pay this much for hostlers,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, tapping a well-manicured fingernail against a column near the middle of a page. Rather than allowing himself to obsess over that casual ‘we’, Nie Mingjue glances up at the corner of the page to check the date and reaches around Jin Guangyao’s waist to turn the book enough to see the cover so he can place which type of spending it should be — non-agricultural livestock, and in the spring so it must have been-

“The horse fair,” he replies when it clicks in his memory (gods but he’d really forgotten what it’s like to have a mind that just works, his recall sharp and easy in a way it hasn’t been in longer than he’d care to think about). “We never hosted one while you were here, and then of course we couldn’t participate during the war, but we finally came up again in the rotation. It’s not a normal expense so there’s nothing else to balance it against, but it should all be in order. I did it myself and Zonghui cross-checked it.”

Nie Mingjue can’t decide if he loves or hates Jin Guangyao’s judgy little, “Hm.” Maybe it’s more that he isn’t sure if he loves or hates having this again, even temporarily; the Nie Sect runs well these days between himself and Zonghui…but no one is quite like Jin Guangyao. Meng Yao. His right hand, his confidante, his advisor, his everything—

Nie Mingjue takes a slow breath in, holds it, releases it again just as slowly. Jin Guangyao pats at Nie Mingjue’s arm around his waist like he barely even notices he’s doing it, still bent forward a little to pore over the ledgers sitting open in front of him, cross-checking and flipping back and forth through them with deft fingers as he mutters to himself.

He never thought he’d have this again. He never thought he’d want this again, not after everything that’s happened. Of course he’d missed Jin Guangyao, but he’d missed who he was, and there’s no recovering that. Meng Yao is as good as dead (though Nie Mingjue could never bring himself to be the one to kill him), and a cruel, conniving snake wearing his face replaced the man Nie Mingjue thought he knew.

Except…that isn’t true anymore. So much of him is still the same as he’s always been underneath the rest of it, and Nie Mingjue can’t in good conscience go on ignoring that, not even for the sake of his grudges.

He presses a kiss to Jin Guangyao’s jaw, featherlight, little more than a tease, and Jin Guangyao tuts a fond, “Da-ge,” in the same way he used to chide him (“Zongzhu”) whenever he’d find him still up in the small hours of the morning, working late enough for their paths to cross when Meng Yao was just starting his day.

Jin Guangyao skims quickly through page after page of complex figures, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t have to be able to see his face to know how quickly his eyes are flicking up and down the columns, his quick mind recreating what he’s looking at for his flawless memory to catalog before he flicks to the next page, as good a record as (if not better than) the physical ledger itself. Nie Mingjue still marvels as much as ever over such prodigious talent, and still can’t quite believe that it’s once again being put to use to help him and his Sect — a particular kind of care that he’d always cherished.

He also still pours more of himself than anyone should ask of him into his goals, and Nie Mingjue can’t pretend anymore to be unaffected by the fact that one of his main goals is now, apparently, ensuring Nie Mingjue doesn’t lose himself to rage like every Nie sect leader who came before him. How could he turn away from that? He’s not heartless; far from it, and Jin Guangyao has always been able to reach straight into him to tug on his heart as easily as breathing…for better or for worse.

With the clarity of dual cultivation he can recognize, in retrospect, that whatever plots Jin Guangyao might have against him that can be accomplished by sharing his bed would be so convoluted and twisted as to be nearly impossible to plan while also running Jinlintai as they all know he does. In between beatings and the administrative duties of an entire sect when would he have the time? Nie Mingjue doesn’t doubt that he could do it, but if he were then wouldn’t Jin Guangshan reward him? Nie Mingjue doesn’t doubt for a minute that Jin Guangshan would prefer it if he were out of the picture, and the fact remains that Jin Guangyao is a logical first choice to make that happen. Who else in Jinlintai has such unquestioned access to him both in his own home and outside of the fortress? Who else in Nie Mingjue’s close circle has shown no hesitation before killing someone ostensibly on their own side for personal gain as easily as for public good? He knows his suspicions aren’t unfounded, even when his reactions in the past may have been…disproportionate.

Jin Guangyao sighs and pulls his unbound hair over one shoulder, leaning forward to the candle again, though this time it seems like he actually needs to and he’s not using it as an excuse to wind him up. That’s all to the good, as when he moves Nie Mingjue can’t help but notice the mottled purple shadow of a bruise that looks far too much like a thumbprint on the center of his neck, right on his spine, and feels anger — clean, justified anger, not the nauseous rage of Baxia — harden something in his chest. No, Jin Guangyao can’t possibly be in Jin Guangshan’s favor. Maybe he’s still hypnotized from whatever the hell just happened — whether it was the sex or the dual cultivation or both intertwined — but he finds he would much rather trust Jin Guangyao than hate him.

He’d never wanted to hate him in the first place.

Nie Mingjue leans in to bury his face in the inviting fall of Jin Guangyao’s hair; he nuzzles his nose into the nape of his neck, presses a blind kiss to his skin, closes his eyes to better appreciate the full-body feeling of Jin Guangyao shivering delicately in his lap.

“Da-ge,” he tuts again softly, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to heed him so he doesn’t. He forces himself to release his grip around Jin Guangyao’s waist in favor of holding his hips in both hands before dragging his palms around to his back and then sliding them up to his shoulders. (He’s always carried so much tension right there, his shoulders visibly knotted up from all his bowing, his hours spent hunched over a desk writing until well past the beginning of the guards’ third watch, his pain and his fear and seemingly everything in his life conspiring against him to make him uncomfortable. Nie Mingjue has never really been in a position to help him with it before, not really, but there’s nothing wrong with starting now.)

He presses the pads of his thumbs carefully to the snarled up muscles on either side of Jin Guangyao’s spine, between the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, and rewards him with another kiss to the graceful arch of his neck when he breathes through a little hitch of tension and then relaxes with obvious effort.

“Am I going to find any stray bruises if I do something about your poor back?” he mutters, quiet enough for Lan Xichen not to hear. It feels a little ridiculous to need to ask when they were all naked not even half a shichen ago, but Jin Guangyao hadn’t put his back to him at any point of the process; he’s not too proud to ask when not asking puts him at risk of hurting his partner.

Jin Guangyao hesitates for a long moment before he simply shakes his head in the negative and returns to his analysis of the reports. Nie Mingjue, satisfied with such tacit permission, begins carefully working to loosen up at least some of Jin Guangyao’s tired muscles.

“Get his hip as well, da-ge,” Lan Xichen calls when he catches onto his goal a few minutes into the slow, careful massaging. “It might ache after sitting in your lap for so long.”

“Dual cultivating helps relieve my aches, da-ge need not concern himself with them,” Jin Guangyao says, conciliatory as always. Nie Mingjue ignores him and his ridiculous efforts to deflect to instead dutifully drop a hand to the side Jin Guangyao favors on the very rare occasions he gives into his need to limp. It’s immensely gratifying to hear him choke on some relieved noise in the back of his throat, and Nie Mingjue suddenly wishes they were facing each other so he could kiss him through it.

“You shouldn’t have hurt yourself just to do that for me,” Nie Mingjue tells him. He leans to the side enough to kiss the over-warm curve of Jin Guangyao’s ear and raises an eyebrow that the other man can’t see when he scoffs and flicks to the next page of the ledger a little too aggressively.

“If I were to avoid any and all positions that hurt in some way either during or after the fact, I would have to resort to being nothing more than a passive observer. I’d be able to do little but recline on a luxuriously cushioned sofa and watch you two have sex without me.”

Not that he’s exactly opposed to that idea — not at all — but Nie Mingjue (and Lan Xichen, judging by the sad little noise he makes) hates the thought that Jin Guangyao has pushed himself too far not only once resulting in the the Fainting Incident, but every time they’ve been together. Besides…it’s not like he wants Jin Guangyao’s suggestion to become their sex life permanently. There has to be some way they can position themselves that doesn’t aggravate his old injuries to the point of requiring a massage even when he has a core freshly overflowing with more than enough qi to ease his everyday aches and pains.

“Hm,” Nie Mingjue hums against the crook of his neck to show that he’s heard, at least. Jin Guangyao seems content enough to drop it for now, and a few moments later Nie Mingjue realizes why.

Nie Mingjue is still rubbing gentle circles into his back and hip when Jin Guangyao sits up perfectly straight so fast his bony shoulder clips Nie Mingjue’s chin and he points triumphantly down at a column in the agriculture ledger that looks…perfectly fine.

“I found it! And in half the time it would have taken you as well,” he preens. “You’ve recorded half of your expenses for the horse fair twice — double the amount of grain, far more hostlers than you would ever need for anything, and you’ve counted a commission of saddles and blankets among both the fair goods and as supplies for the soldiers’ mounts. Subtract the fair goods from the normal agricultural report, have Zonghui readjust the tallies against the quartermaster’s reports from the spring, and it’ll balance again.”

Jin Guangyao twists at the hips to look up at him and Nie Mingjue can barely breathe through the want suddenly squeezing around his rib cage; Jin Guangyao’s wide eyes are bright and he’s smiling without any guile whatsoever, pleased with himself and teasing in equal measure. He has no right to be so beautiful without even trying.

“Coincidentally you’re also likely to see complaints from the bladesmiths soon for the rising costs of ore even with your interventions. You should send someone to check the integrity of those operating the mines instead of continuing to absorb the cost, it’s unnecessary when you could simply solve the root issue with some intimidation and stricter accounting. But that’s a separate problem that I must assume wasn’t brought to your attention in the face of…everything else.”

Nie Mingjue scowls but knows that he has no real argument. The Nie are plenty wealthy enough to afford a bit of mishandling somewhere in their various supply chains and he assumes that Zonghui has ordered an investigation into the problem at least, but Jin Guangyao is right. There are things that have been neglected while he’s simply not well enough to address them, and though it makes him burn with a shameful sort of anger, considering it’s entirely directed inward he does nothing to vent that anger to Jin Guangyao, who’s simply doing what he always did before. There was a time when Meng Yao dared to advise him in ways no one else in the Sect would risk trying, arguing in that gentle way of his to help Nie Mingjue see at least a few feet through the fog outside the easy, straightforward path of his own cut-and-dry logic.

Gods but he misses him.

“Thank you, A-Yao,” he murmurs against Jin Guangyao’s cheek, kissing him slowly simply because he can (and he feels like he might burst into flames if he doesn’t).

Lan Xichen clears his throat delicately and practically purrs, “I believe A-Yao deserves a reward.”

Jin Guangyao smiles wider and turns his head to look at Lan Xichen; with his cheek out of reach, Nie Mingjue drops his head to kiss his shoulder again instead and returns to massaging wherever he feels like touching next.

“Weren’t you meant to tend to Mingjue again?”

“A-Huan’s right, you first,” Nie Mingjue tells him before Lan Xichen is pushed to choose between them. He slides his hand up from Jin Guangyao’s hip to tug at the loose tie of his borrowed robe enough to slip his hand between the layers and press his palm over Jin Guangyao’s lower dantian, where his core is practically spilling over with their combined qi. He feels the hitch of Jin Guangyao’s next inhale as much as he hears it, and in a sudden burst of inspiration he reaches out with a little thread of his own qi, still marveling at how easy and clear it feels, and lets it seep an extra bit of warmth into Jin Guangyao’s skin.

“I have an idea, since you’ve become so interested in learning cultivation techniques,” he adds, hoping he isn’t overstepping. “Since you showed me what you and Xichen learned together, how about Xichen and I show you something?”

There is, of course, the risk that Jin Guangyao is going to take that as poorly as he’s taken every other conversation about his cultivation. (Not conversations, he supposes begrudgingly. Criticisms. Criticisms that he had levelled at him, utterly unfairly. Of course they hadn’t gone over well, but he can make amends, can’t he? He wants to with a desperation that makes his heart race-)

“Oh?” Jin Guangyao murmurs, leaning back more heavily against his chest. “What do you have in mind? Planning to put me through my paces?”

Nie Mingjue relaxes with an exhale that shakes ever so slightly right at the very end and shakes his head, though a moment later he realizes it’s not exactly incorrect and switches to a shrug. “Actually…maybe? That’s going to be up to A-Huan I suppose, he knows how to do this better than I do. I’ll let him lead.”

He glances over at Lan Xichen and smirks when he sees it click, what he’s suggesting, and right on the heels of it the sparkle of mischief in his eyes that he’d very much like to see turned on Jin Guangyao for a change.

“I highly doubt this was the purpose my ancestors had in mind when they created the technique,” Lan Xichen sniffs, but he still sits up to strip the covers back down to the foot of the bed out of their way, so really who’s right and who’s wrong?

(It’s Nie Mingjue, he’s well aware that he’s right.)

“Your ancestors established thousands of rules to keep their passions in check long enough to focus on cultivating. They absolutely knew what they were inventing.”

“As charming as your bickering is-” Jin Guangyao says “-are either of you going to explain?”

“Bring him here, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen orders; Nie Mingjue doesn’t let Jin Guangyao have time to be offended that no answer is forthcoming. He takes a mischievous sort of delight of his own in bundling Jin Guangyao up in his arms and rolling to his feet with him, smirking as he suddenly finds himself in a bit of a chokehold when Jin Guangyao twists in grip to throw his arms around his neck with an uncharacteristic little yelp. He’s never so unguarded, and Nie Mingjue wonders what else he’s hiding behind his perpetual polite barriers. He’s seen his anger now, of course, and his pain, but there must be more than sharp claws under all that desperate need to please, to be liked. Nie Mingjue wants to find it all with a ferocity that surprises him.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough, clever little thing you are,” Nie Mingjue soothes when Jin Guangyao shoots him an offended glare once he’s safely deposited on the bed. He leaves Lan Xichen the pleasure of stripping Jin Guangyao of the single (Lan) robe he’d thrown on as he strips down himself, and when he’s ready to climb back into bed Lan Xichen needs no prompting to lift Jin Guangyao into his own arms and let Nie Mingjue settle in, his upper back supported by the bolster, his head resting against the lacquered wooden frame behind it.

“Why are you both suddenly so bossy?” Jin Guangyao grumps but he makes no obvious attempts to squirm out of Lan Xichen’s grip so Nie Mingjue just smirks and makes sure he’s fully comfortable before he gestures for Lan Xichen to return Jin Guangyao to him.

“Because you’re fun to tease and we will reward you handsomely for tolerating it,” Lan Xichen hums. “Now, I believe you asked for a cushioned seat from which to participate?”

“What-”

Nie Mingjue accepts Jin Guangyao’s weight in his lap again happily, though this time of course he goes further and coaxes Jin Guangyao into laying back against his chest, his legs draped wide over Nie Mingjue’s thighs to help support his hips while still keeping him open for whatever Lan Xichen would like to do to him. Jin Guangyao goes very still for a long moment — in which Nie Mingjue wraps his arm firmly around his middle and double checks that Jin Guangyao’s hair isn’t caught and at risk of getting tugged on where his back is pressed to his chest — and then, suddenly, all at once, he melts. He goes so relaxed, so boneless, that Nie Mingjue nearly thinks he’s passed out until Jin Guangyao turns his head enough to crane his neck and look at him, and Nie Mingjue meets his gaze steadily.

“Hi.”

“Comfortable?”

Jin Guangyao blinks up at him, slow and lazy like a particularly contented cat, and if Nie Mingjue didn’t know any better he’d say that there’s something like vulnerability lurking in his dark gaze.

“Mhm.”

He raises his free hand to cup Jin Guangyao’s jaw in the interest of making sure he isn’t even straining his neck to look up at him, and when he relaxes into the hold Nie Mingjue rewards him with a kiss that part of him (most of him) still expects to be rejected every time he tries it. But as with every careful kiss that’s preceded it, Jin Guangyao doesn’t shy away from him, insead returning it with a cautious sort of enthusiasm that only falters when Lan Xichen apparently decides he’s done testing the waters in favor of getting straight to what they all want.

Jin Guangyao gasps in sudden pleasure against his mouth, stuttering and ragged. Nie Mingjue feels it like a hook tugging in his gut, and he’s unsurprised to find he’s not exactly interested in sleeping as soon as possible anymore. Sharp teeth nip at the tender inside of his bottom lip and he refuses to let Jin Guangyao break the kiss to apologize; if he doesn’t want to be bitten that’s fine, but Nie Mingjue can take it — wants to take it. That’ll probably settle uneasily, he thinks, for a man so unnervingly obsessed with scores and keeping them even, but that’s just not how this works, nothing about this thing between them — between all of them — can be measured so easily as that.

“Relax, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen pauses long enough to say; Nie Mingjue smirks at the offended noise Jin Guangyao can’t articulate past the insistent press of Nie Mingjue’s mouth on his.

His snickering earns him another nip, sharper this time, and he’s pretty sure Jin Guangyao can feel what it does to him considering how tightly they’re pressed together, and especially with Lan Xichen’s weight pressing Jin Guangyao’s hips down that much more firmly against Nie Mingjue’s. Jin Guangyao finally breaks the kiss when he turns his head in favor of tilting it back and resting it on Nie Mingjue’s chest to pant up at the ceiling. A glance down the length of him ends very abruptly with the sight of a very devoted and focused Lan Xichen between his legs with Jin Guangyao’s cock almost completely buried in his mouth.

“You know,” he muses, still smirking a little, “I think I’m actually with A-Yao on this one — how is he supposed to relax when you’re doing that to him?”

“Er-ge is absolutely not allowed to stop and answer that question, but this one thanks you for your support,” Jin Guangyao huffs, shifting restlessly until he finally just reaches one hand up and back to grab a fistful of Nie Mingjue’s hair to ground himself. Nie Mingjue bends his neck a bit to allow it more easily, wary of Jin Guangyao straining his shoulder to reach so far when his one job at the moment is to make sure that nothing pains him at all until Lan Xichen deems himself satisfied.

Nie Mingjue trails his free hand along the contours of Jin Guangyao’s side, starting at his hip and trailing teasingly light fingertips along his ribs (still far too prominent for his liking) and then up the arm still hooked up and back until he’s wrapped his hand around Jin Guangyao’s fist, urging him to keep it right where it is.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks, mouth pressed against Jin Guangyao’s ear. Jin Guangyao shakes his head quickly back and forth but he seems to be, for once, at a loss for words. Not that Nie Mingjue doesn’t like his conversation, but there’s something compelling about reducing someone so damn articulate to wordless, artless, guileless moaning, even when he can’t exactly claim the bragging rights for this one.

Though the answer seems obvious, he still finds himself pressing for more with a smug, “Do you feel good, A-Yao?” punctuated with a kiss tucked away just for them behind the delicate curve of Jin Guangyao’s ear, cut short by his frantic nodding. Part of him desperately wants to know what it is Lan Xichen is doing with his mouth that’s so good, and when he got so good at whatever it is, but there are more immediate matters that need his attention.

“I think he’s close, A-Huan.”

He watches Lan Xichen work his way back off slowly, feels Jin Guangyao’s back arch and his legs tense where they’re still draped over Nie Mingjue’s, and at what must be the absolute last moment before Jin Guangyao comes Lan Xichen pops off him with an obscene, wet little noise and Nie Mingjue abruptly feels his qi between them, muffled and muted but close enough to soothe even though he’s not the target.

Jin Guangyao keens, frustrated and confused, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t even wince as his hair is yanked and Jin Guangyao shivers, a full-body thing in the wake of the orgasm Lan Xichen has just stopped and redirected with an expert thread of qi.

“I- What-”

“Focus on your core,” Lan Xichen instructs, calm and collected save for how his voice is rough even after he clears his throat. “You’re alright, I’ll give you another, just cultivate for a moment.”

Jin Guangyao clearly struggles with it for a few long moments, his qi moving in fits and starts, slipping in and out of his control only to be caught by Lan Xichen’s deft touch whenever he fumbles it so that he doesn’t lose the progress entirely. Nie Mingjue tracks it all through his hand on Jin Guangyao’s belly, his arm still wrapped around him to support his weight and hold him steady, keep him grounded, as Lan Xichen sort of… brute forces his way into teaching Jin Guangyao a new cultivation method.

As always, though, he’s a quick study no matter how steep the learning curve, and before the energy has been completely absorbed into his overflowing core Jin Guangyao takes over directing it himself, Lan Xichen’s qi slowly withdrawing until he breaks the thread of it connecting them and pauses to let Jin Guangyao catch his breath.

“And he swears that technique was never a sex thing,” Nie Mingjue mutters just for the pleasure of hearing Jin Guangyao laugh while Lan Xichen sits up on his knees to give Jin Guangyao some space to come down from his almost-orgasm.

“It works for redirecting any type of building energy, Mingjue, it doesn’t have to be sexual pleasure.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you’ve only ever used it while sparring or practicing your forms? You’ve never used it in the privacy of your own home during ‘personal meditation’-”

“That is beside the point!”

Nie Mingjue is a gracious victor, so he simply raises an eyebrow at Lan Xichen to claim the point and then turns his attention back to Jin Guangyao still recovering, though he’s nearly back to himself if Nie Mingjue is any judge. He runs an assessing hand over any potential sore spots and lingers on Jin Guangyao’s bad knee just barely in his reach. He rubs careful circles around the knob of it and earns a smile from Lan Xichen as Jin Guangyao sighs, slumps more firmly against him, and finally releases his grip in his hair to drop his arm again and reach for Lan Xichen instead. Nie Mingjue watches their hands tangle together without a shred of jealousy.

“This humble one thanks er-ge for his instruction,” Jin Guangyao mumbles, and it’s interesting to watch Lan Xichen practically melt for him when Nie Mingjue can do so without the usual accompanying flash of irritation (that he realizes in hindsight and without Baxia’s influence might actually just be jealousy, plain and simple). “It’s a Lan technique?”

“Mm. Do you think you’ll find it useful?”

“Oh yes.” Nie Mingjue tries not to visibly perk up at the mischief he can hear lurking in Jin Guangyao’s drowsy voice. “It can only be to my benefit to have such an effective method of making my nights in Lanling so… productive. I’m sure er-ge understands.”

Er-ge definitely understands, Nie Mingjue thinks, as Lan Xichen hides his reddened face in his hands and his shoulders shake with helpless laughter, clearly fond even with his expression hidden.

“I don’t,” Nie Mingjue lies to make Lan Xichen swat at his leg in reprimand, “maybe someone should explain it plainly.”

“Well, since you’ve asked so politely, Mingjue, when a man has desires he can’t otherwise fulfil with anoth– er-ge!”

Lan Xichen doesn’t so much as pause to appreciate Jin Guangyao’s laughing admonishment as he lays down again with single-minded determination tightening his handsome features into intense focus, stretched out on his stomach and his arms tucked under Nie Mingjue’s spread thighs; he only glances at Jin Guangyao through his lashes on his way down to make sure he gets the expected nod before he’s sliding Jin Guangyao’s cock into his mouth for a second round. Jin Guangyao’s breathless laughter ends on a groan and Nie Mingjue decides to enjoy the view properly this time, doing nothing more than holding Jin Guangyao steady and keeping him as relaxed and pliant as he can manage while he watches Lan Xichen work him in and out of his mouth with occasional flashes of his tongue to give some hint of what he’s doing that’s making Jin Guangyao whimper and shift restlessly in Nie Mingjue’s grip like he can’t quite help himself.

As far as distraction methods go, it’s an extremely effective one.

“I have another technique you know,” Lan Xichen tells Nie Mingjue when Jin Guangyao is recovering again after being gotten off properly, panting harshly in Nie Mingjue’s ear and shivering through intermittent aftershocks lengthened by Lan Xichen’s lazy stroking of his spent cock. “I didn’t want to suggest it when you’re meant to be careful with your cultivation, but tonight…”

It’s fine now that Nie Mingjue is clear-headed and cultivating cleanly for the first time in a long time; Lan Xichen doesn’t say it, but the meaning is clear.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“You’re already familiar with the effects, but not the method,” Lan Xichen hedges, smiling his ‘I’m about to do something sexually mischievous’ smile that Nie Mingjue may or may not be developing some sort of embarrassingly eager physical reaction to. “I believe a demonstration is going to be the most appropriate method of teaching.”

“Of course you do. Will I move A-Yao?”

“He can stay if he’d like, he looks quite comfortable.”

Jin Guangyao, now fully boneless and relying entirely on Nie Mingjue to hold him in place, lifts a weak hand to pat at and around his face until Nie Mingjue relents enough to duck in and kiss him.

“Keep me right here,” Jin Guangyao presses against his mouth. “I want to stay like this.”

Nie Mingjue very carefully doesn’t think about how much he’d like for the request to mean something much more long-term than just tonight and nods, tightening his arm around Jin Guangyao’s middle in silent reassurance.

It takes a little bit of careful readjusting at Lan Xichen’s rather handsy direction to manage a position that makes it both possible to do whatever it is he has in mind that also keeps Jin Guangyao sprawled out so decadently in a way Nie Mingjue is sure he’s never allowed himself to be before, but they manage it with minimal jostling and Nie Mingjue discovers that what Lan Xichen had in mind is another round of slow, steady sex that feels strangely like sinking into a particularly good, warm bath at the end of a long day.

The beats of it are all familiar now, the way the tension in the pit of his stomach coils tighter and tighter as he becomes aware of everywhere he’s being touched all at once, overwhelming and pleasurable and just on the right side of too much in the final moment before Lan Xichen nudges him carefully into the almost comfortable pulse of an orgasm unaccompanied by a rush of his qi. (He realizes on a slight delay that actually there was no qi involved at all.)

He savors it, of course, he isn’t ungrateful, but he is ever so slightly confused as he starts to come down from the peak of it; it was nice, it was good, but there was nothing particularly new and unusual about it. He opens his eyes and his mouth, intending to ask Lan Xichen what he wanted to show him, only to feel a little zing of qi, a sharp zap of it that doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it definitely gets his attention.

And he’s hard again.

“Oh for— Is that how you do it?!” he asks, incredulous, and Lan Xichen smiles at him so sweetly he must have picked up the trick of it from Jin Guangyao.

“What did he do, ge?” Jin Guangyao mumbles, sounding half-asleep but curious, unwilling to not be a part of this night full of sex he’d so foolishly promised to a man with terrifying stamina and no apparent sense of how much sex is normal and appropriate. Nie Mingjue finds himself abruptly glad that there’s two of them here; he’s not sure if he were alone he’d survive a full night of Lan Xichen when he’s so clearly in a mood.

“To be fair, I didn’t quite realize I was doing it at first,” Lan Xichen explains. “It’s second nature to use my qi for such mundane things like a bit of fatigue, I didn’t make the connection until I was with A-Yao and the first influx of my qi helped him recover much more quickly than anticipated.”

“Mmm I can vouch for that,” Jin Guangyao mumbles; Nie Mingjue ignores the lingering jealousy still nagging at him that he wasn’t a part of that night in favor of turning his head to nuzzle Jin Guangyao’s cheek until he’s pouting and pulling back from the scratch of his mustache.

“Wake up, A-Yao, you’ve created a monster and you should take responsibility.”

“I am fully awake, er-ge’s naked.”

Those two statements don’t seem to be as related as Jin Guangyao apparently thinks but it makes Lan Xichen laugh anyway — his bright delighted one that happens surprisingly rarely for someone as happy as he generally is — so maybe it’s just that Nie Mingjue doesn’t get it, and that’s fine.

“Well if you’re awake then you should realize it’s your turn again.”

“Er-ge didn’t get me hard,” Jin Guangyao points out rather haughtily for someone as muzzy around the edges as he seems to be. Nie Mingjue looks down at him to find him tilting his head back enough to meet his gaze again, and from what Nie Mingjue can see he’s smirking just as much as Lan Xichen is. Nie Mingjue wonders if sex mischief can be deadly, and certainly hopes not. (He will not currently be examining just how desperately he hopes not.)

“You don’t want to go again?”

Jin Guangyao squints up at him for a long moment before he takes a deep breath in and sits up with what looks like a monumental effort. Nie Mingjue hisses for the unexpected friction on his groin and he’s glad that Lan Xichen is already catching Jin Guangyao’s arms and helping him sit up because Nie Mingjue isn’t currently capable of doing anything except trying not to come again from the sensation alone.

(He hadn’t quite realized until tonight that he’s apparently prone to reaching an orgasm more easily after the first few, rather than less.)

“It’s not exactly a question of not wanting to,” Jin Guangyao hedges as he goes up onto his knees (Nie Mingjue’s dick is very grateful) and carefully turns to straddle Nie Mingjue’s waist, his hair a tangled mess and his mouth tipped up into a gorgeously playful little smile. It’s weirdly soothing to see him so clearly enjoying himself, to see him having fun with them. He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t at least half of the reason he’d so thoroughly enjoyed the little show they’d started the evening with, Jin Guangyao so deliciously pleased to have something to lord over him and tease him with that he hadn’t even minded being the subject of his teasing.

Attraction is a strange thing, he’s finding.

When Jin Guangyao does nothing more than watch him expectantly and trace idle circles around one of his pecs with a fingertip, Nie Mingjue breaks enough to sigh and take the obvious bait. “What’s it a question of, then?”

“It’s a matter of principle. You still have a question to ask me, and I believe er-ge deserves his reward now. Don’t you agree?”

Oh.

Nie Mingjue actually feels his blood pressure drop utterly unaided by Lan Xichen and his little cultivation tricks, and though Jin Guangyao can’t see what the reminder did to him he smirks like he knows anyway. He would like to think that under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be nearly so easy to put him on his metaphorical knees and make him obey, but even now he can tell there’s trying to save face and then there’s blatantly lying to himself; that would most certainly fall under the second heading.

He takes a deep breath in, Jin Guangyao’s hands resting on his chest moving with it, and asks, “May I have Xichen’s mouth?”

Jin Guangyao’s dark, assessing eyes flick down to his mouth and then back up to meet his for an endless moment that leaves him feeling more than a little breathless. He sucks in as quiet of a shivering gasp as he can manage when Jin Guangyao finally deigns to let him attempt to calm down; he twists at the hips to look at Lan Xichen behind him and though Nie Mingjue could try to lean to the side to get a good look at their partner as well he finds himself unable to look away from the pure aura of authority Jin Guangyao is suddenly wearing draped over his narrow shoulders. He keeps his gaze fixed on the corner of Jin Guangyao’s jaw, the soft curve of it interrupted with a little pink mark in the shape of Nie Mingjue’s mouth, and he runs his hands slowly up and down the soft, warm expanse of his thighs as he waits.

The cue Lan Xichen was clearly waiting for had apparently been silent, as one moment Nie Mingjue is waiting on pins and needles for Jin Guangyao to look at him again and the next he’s arching up completely involuntarily with a groan he can’t hope to stop. Lan Xichen’s mouth is hot around him and all hope of higher thought is cheerfully thrown right out the window.

“I know,” Jin Guangyao tells him, muffled against his mouth as he kisses him in a way that’s helping him focus on the present, which really just means that he can feel everything and there’s no sinking away into his own thoughts to try to deal with the onslaught of sensation. Lan Xichen is doing something with his tongue while he sucks on him like he’ll die if he doesn’t, and Jin Guangyao is digging his nails into his chest and biting at his parted lips and it strikes Nie Mingjue in a single heartbeat how very unprepared he feels to have this. He whimpers, there’s really no other word for it, and all it gets him is Lan Xichen helping him throw a leg over his shoulder and Jin Guangyao brushing his tongue along Nie Mingjue’s bottom lip to soothe the sharp echoes of his bites.

It’s the first time he’s felt something on his cock that isn’t a hand, and he feels like that’s a fair enough reason all on its own to find controlling himself nigh on impossible. He must be crushing Lan Xichen between his thighs now both slung over his shoulders, but all Lan Xichen does is suck him harder, take him in a little further with a moan low in his chest, and Jin Guangyao doesn’t do Nie Mingjue the courtesy of muffling the next whine that somehow escapes his throat.

“I know,” Jin Guangyao repeats, sympathetic, and brushes a few sweat-damp wisps of hair off his forehead for him with the pass of a palm. “It’s so much but it’s too good to ask him to stop, hm?”

Coherent speech is just as much of a pipe dream as coherent thought; Nie Mingjue can only nod and choke on a ragged moan bordering on a sob of overstimulation. There’s skin and sweat and heat and such intensely exquisite pleasure everywhere, he’s pinned down beneath both of his lovers and helpless to do anything but accept what they’ve decided to give him, and he’s glad somewhere in the back of his mind beneath the haze of it all that they understand without being told that he feels like he’ll die if they stop touching him.

Lan Xichen doesn’t tease him, whether out of mercy or his own impatience hardly matters. He should probably be embarrassed by how quickly he’s coaxed into another orgasm, Lan Xichen’s cheek pressed against his cock as he rubs circles around the oversensitive head with his fingertips, apparently uncaring that Nie Mingjue must be getting come in his hair as he nuzzles close and kisses the seam of his thigh with eager heat. Jin Guangyao tuts some more, brushes his hair back again, kisses him sweetly — and twists one of his nipples between two knuckles with his free hand until Nie Mingjue becomes absolutely nothing but a vessel for sensation.

“I yield,” is the first thing that comes to mind when he can think again, some strange and syrupy amount of time later. He even goes so far as to tap a hand on Jin Guangyao’s back like a wrestler who’s been born down to the ground, pinned and incapable of escape except by surrender; let him lose face, let him be weaker than the men he loves, he doesn’t care. There’s no valor to be won here, no spectators to jeer and humiliate a Nie who can’t even win a feat of pure brute strength, there’s just his clever lovers and their determination to absolutely destroy him.

“Oh dear,” Jin Guangyao tuts and Nie Mingjue cracks one eye open to glare at him and his smug condescension that’s too fucking attractive for this exact moment in time. “Er-ge, I believe you broke him.”

“I recall you were similarly affected, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen chuckles, “but perhaps we should let him retreat gracefully, since he’s asked so nicely.”

“To think, the great Chifeng-zun bested by nothing more than clever fingers and a talented mouth,” Jin Guangyao muses, tapping his palm against Nie Mingjue’s cheek; he doesn’t stop himself from turning into the gesture, lifting one clumsy hand from beside his hip to catch Jin Guangyao’s wrist and hold him still long enough to kiss his palm in the way he feels like he still can’t get enough of.

“Not nothing more,” he rumbles, “Let’s see how well you fare after you’ve had his mouth and his fingers and his cock in you.”

“Ah?!”

“Oh could I, A-Yao? Please?”

“What?!”

Nie Mingjue can’t help but smirk as Jin Guangyao pushes himself upright again, sitting nearly all of his weight across Nie Mingjue’s waist, and twists to look at Lan Xichen over his shoulder again.

“Er-ge, really? Again?”

“That last barely counted, simply a matter of sympathetic pleasure…”

Did Lan Xichen come just because Nie Mingjue had, with no one even touching him? The evidence suggests yes, as absurd as that sounds.

“You can’t leave him wanting, A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue tells him, still smirking. “How cruel, to let him watch you all night but only please you once. You know how much he likes indulging you.”

“Twice, Mingjue, he’s already had me twice-!”

“So? He’d have you a half dozen times more before dawn if you’d let him,” Nie Mingjue chuckles.

Jin Guangyao blanches ever so slightly and this time Lan Xichen laughs, sweet and delighted, though he calms again quickly in favor of sitting up to straddle Nie Mingjue’s thighs and wrap his arms around Jin Guangyao’s waist, hugging him close and burying his nose and mouth against the crook of his neck.

“Please, A-Yao? Just once, I promise. We should let Mingjue rest. I believe three is enough for him for the night, but you have been more neglected than either of us this evening. Would you like one more?”

‘Neglected’ seems a little strong considering Jin Guangyao has certainly had a couple orgasms of his own already, but then Jin Guangyao is pouting and leaning back against Lan Xichen’s chest with a sweet little, “Er-ge is so attentive,” that’s so clearly an act, though he supposes none of them cares much whether it’s genuine or not.

The pair of them finally climb off him and though he’s left feeling surprisingly bereft after so much intimate contact for hours over the course of the evening, he’s at least relieved that there’s no more risk of stray body parts rubbing or crushing his oversensitive dick. Besides, it’s not like they’ve gone very far. Nie Mingjue turns onto his side and he barely has to stretch his hand half a foot across the bed before he can stroke one featherlight fingertip along the narrow dip of Jin Guangyao’s waist, bared to him and beautifully tempting in its vulnerability.

“Could you pass me the oil, ge?”

Nie Mingjue sits up with a tremendous effort and paws through the bedding clumsily enough the little ceramic pot comes tumbling out and nearly rolls off the bed, the lid thankfully secured by the pair of clever protrusions under the lip of it that mean it can only be loosened in one position. He twists the lid until it comes free and holds the open pot out to Lan Xichen, watching with avid interest as he dips two long fingers into it without bothering to take his mouth off Jin Guangyao’s thigh to watch what he’s doing. He sits there watching, struck dumb by the sight the pair of them make, until Lan Xichen has stretched Jin Guangyao adequately and slicked himself with another glistening scoop of oil on his fingers, and then he closes the pot again to lie down on his side like before, head propped on his fist and free hand stretched out to stroke distracting patterns on Jin Guangyao’s tender waist.

Watching Lan Xichen devote every ounce of his considerable attention to taking Jin Guangyao apart as lovingly and thoroughly as possible is something of a revelation. Watching Jin Guangyao willingly lose himself completely in pleasure, let Lan Xichen break down all his barriers and kiss away all his masks until he’s completely unfiltered for them both to appreciate as he chases his pleasure, is nothing short of miraculous.

“Now I’m satisfied,” Lan Xichen whispers afterwards against Jin Guangyao’s parted lips, kissed and bitten until they’re swollen and rouge-red, “at least enough to sleep.”

“Yes please,” Jin Guangyao whimpers, as much of a tap-out as Nie Mingjue’s literal surrender.

Nie Mingjue can’t even bring himself to raise the question of bathing. He works a rumpled silk brocade blanket the rest of the way out from underneath their tangled bodies and uses some clean section of it to deal with the worst of the mess, the covers underneath it thankfully not so offensive that they won’t be able to sleep under them. Lan Xichen promises to wake them at dawn for a proper bath before they’ll be expected to emerge for breakfast, Nie Mingjue kisses them both with all the tender emotion he can’t articulate, and Jin Guangyao curls up small and protected between them with a happy sigh and the smallest hint of a smile on his lips even after he’s fallen asleep.

Nie Mingjue sleeps like the dead with his arms carefully wrapped around both of them.

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #The Waves Are Rising and Rising #extra scene

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brownhairedbookworm · 7 months ago

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Jack In, Monika.CHR, EXECUTE - 1: The Boys Are Back in Town

The year is 20X7. It has been six years since the capture of Dr. Albert Wily and his incarceration, and Net Crime has been on a slow decline ever since. With the WWW ceasing all operations and any remaining operatives going into hiding or joining more petty criminal organization, Net Society has been much more peaceful than usual.

In this new peace, one of the greatest Netbattle pairs on the planet have grown into young adults. Can they solve the dark mysteries behind a new set of friends?

"Comin' through, needed for an experiment!" A young man skates through the SciLab lobby, deftly dodging around the various visitors and scientists in his path. Lan Hikari is on his way upward into the Netbattle testing area.

"Elevator's on your right, Lan!" A voice comes from the blue device clipped to Lan's belt. MegaMan.EXE, Lan's NetNavi and battle brother, is as helpful as ever. "I'd say you'll find it in... About 10 more near collisions?" As helpful as ever, and as beleaguered as ever. Even after being partners for nearly Lan's entire life, the excitable young man in orange hasn't slowed down nearly as much as MegaMan would have hoped. "I know you're excited to see Dad, but it isn't like we're late for this."

"Aw, come on, Mega. I could never miss the chance to be a part of anything like this. Besides, I know you feel like we're getting rusty." Lan swiftly leaps across a railing to reach the elevator. He holds the blue PET up to the elevator's keypad. "Key's in your hands, MegaMan, get us in."

"Roger!" MegaMan tosses the ID data over to the keypad's data reader, and the elevator opens for the two of them. "And... I can't say you're wrong about me feeling rusty. But it's not like we're slacking on our NetBattle training."

Lan steps into the elevator. "It's the only class I'm acing, this year. But at least I'm not doing too bad at trig. The only class I'm really kinda bungling is-"

"Literature Analysis." MegaMan doesn't even hesitate. He may already have a file open showing Lan's grades.

Lan immediately twists the PET upward to see the screen. "MegaMan, come on, that class is awful."

"You should still put more effort into it. Interpreting art is part of being a more well-rounded human."

"I don't NEED to be a well-rounded human, I need to be a sharp, focused scientist." Lan nods down at his device's screen.

"Focused might still be a little far away..." MegaMan sighs.

"Wh- Hey, we're here to do an experiment with Dad, I can focus on that when we get up to the testing floor!" Lan grumbles. He folds his arms as he clips his PET back to his belt.

MegaMan rolls his eyes. "Once I'm jacked in and fighting, at least. Do you even remember what this test is supposed to be for?"

"Yeah. A new Navi type. Something about a test for easier synchro ratings between Navis and NetOps. Which makes us the perfect pair to test against!" Lan smirks proudly.

"I think it's more likely we're just on Dad's speed dial. Anyone else would probably say ProtoMan and-"

"Aaagh, don't even mention them. Somehow they're even more insufferable, ever since we got into high school."

"Protoman's the same as he's always been, and Jiyuu's not that bad. She's just more herself, now that she ditched her dad completely. Among the other obvious changes." MegaMan chuckles to himself. "I remember she started laughing about you calling her an 'egg' because of her old hairstyle, once she was out of the closet."

"...I used to be such a twerp with her. I'm mostly glad she forgave me for that. You think I've gotten better about... I dunno, social things, since then?" The elevator continues rising, leaving the brothers to their own devices for just a bit longer.

"You're better in some ways, but you'll always be yourself, Lan. Especially with your chronic impatience and addiction to rollerblading..."

"It's efficient."

"It's reckless, and you're lucky you haven't smashed me to pieces under your own power."

The elevator doors open, releasing Lan and MegaMan out into the Netbattle lab. "Yeah, yeah, you're in a bulletproof, elephant-proof case, you'll be fine. Hey, Dad, I'm here-?"

Well, that's a surprise. It seems that, today, the Netbattle lab...

...is full of incredibly cute girls!!

#drabble #as soon as I had that closer line I knew I had to end this there #Jack In

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weiying-lanzhan-fics · 1 year ago

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The tea to my heart by blackmorphos

What a soft, sweet story. I really loved the emotions and pacing - adorable! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Quotes:

Early next Saturday morning, the brothers were at work in the bakery, enjoying the calm, quiet time together after a busy week. Lan Zhan was focused on shaping long ears out of pink dough and placing them on his rabbit-shaped buns, a Saturday only special that was very popular with children.

In the back of his mind, he was running through a new melody that had come to him. He also hadn’t been able to get the young man from last week out of his thoughts, remembering his restlessness, how he talked too much, and his bright blazing smile. Lan Zhan did not receive smiles like that very often unless it was to flatter him, or chat him up, both of which he detested. He had honed his cold stare put-down into an art form. But that man’s smiles had been charming and natural, not at all calculated and false.

————

Lan Zhan resumed his work in the kitchen, pointedly ignoring Lan Xichen’s amused glances. Casual conversation was difficult for him, but Wei Ying didn’t seem to mind his silences. That man could talk enough for both of them in any case, he mused. Sometime later, he heard Wei Ying call, “your payment is on the counter,” and then the bell as he departed.

Left behind was a delicate sketch of two rabbits with angel wings. He picked it up and smiled. Then he noticed that there was something on the back as well.

Written in a messy scrawl was:

‘Elm Street Community gardens, 58 Elm Street. We are there every Saturday from 1 - 4pm, mostly - (if it’s raining, don’t bother). Come along sometime. Only if you want to. WY’

T, 84k

Summary:

A tray being placed onto the table in front of him startled Wei Ying’s attention away from his phone. He looked up with a smile before seeing what the man had brought him.

“You will have tea,” the man said in a low deep voice that brooked no argument.

By the time that had filtered into his brain the guy had already walked away and disappeared out the back. Wei Ying looked down. No coffee, but there was a blue teapot with a small matching cup and a plate with a steam bun on it. Wei Ying blinked stupidly at it for a few moments before deciding it wasn’t worth arguing with the scarily intense man over it, and reached for the bun. It looked so inviting, and it was still warm. Biting into it Wei Ying then realised just how hungry he was, and within seconds the bun had been devoured. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.

—

A sleep deprived Wei Ying stumbles into a tea shop, meets an impossibly beautiful man, and is served a cup of tea that changes his life in more ways than he could have possibly expected.

A modern day meet cute with heaps of Wangxian fluff, mutual pining, and A-Yuan adorableness galore!

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #the untamed fic #wangxian fic rec #the untamed fanfiction #untamed fic #mdzs fic #modern au #meet cute #endearing and sweet

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justawanderingbabbit · 4 months ago

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love!

Babbit babbling ahead!

The story that pulled me into writing fanfic was Scum Villain Self-Saving System. I won't say my first or second fic is my favorite, though; both have flaws that I'm not ashamed of but mean they're not up to snuff. Since then I've written for Scum Villain, Modao Zushi and Heaven Official's Blessing, as well as for Dao Mo Biji (AKA the Graverobber's chronicles)

1) What Is Not Said

The Scum Villain universe is changed by the simple matter of Liu Qingge rescuing Shen Jiu from the Qing before Shen Jiu is driven to homicide. This results in Shen Jiu getting the training he needed when he needed it and shifts the course events away from ever needing a Shen Yuan to fix things. (I may, one day, address what happens with Shen Yuan, but not any time soon.)

The title comes from the line, "Communication is the understanding of what is not said." Since lack of communication is the primary cause of death in Moxiang Tongshu's works, this fic is all about properly communicating.

2) Different Paths to the Same Route

In a world where Nie Mingjue kills (sort of) his 3rd sworn brother, he and Lan Xichen work together to save Jin Guangyao's spirit and - when he's mostly restored to them - to prevent Jin Guangshan's plans for the cultivational world from wreaking havoc. Just this once, almost everybody lives.

The title is based on a Modao Zushi music video called Different Paths, in part because despite the changes, certain fixed events are fixed and still sort of happen.

3) Moxiang Tongxiu Crack and Drabbles

As the title says, this is a huge compilation of short fics based on various of Moxiang Tongxiu's works. Some are silly little fics, some a bit more serious. Not really drabbles, perhaps, but so it goes.

Some of the fics form the basis for other fics but those aren't finished and (I'm sorry) may never be because they're sitting there laughing at me.

4) The Wang Who Came In From The Cold

I've been pretty focused on Daomo Biji lately, so most of my more recent fics come from there. This one posits that Wang Can from Sand Sea (1) survives, (2) is Liu Sang's 'twin', and (3) what would happen if he showed up at Wushanjiu after rescuing Xiaomai from thugs.

It has a follow up, wherein Yan Sanxing is their parent and is rescued from durance very cold and vile and the truth about their family is revealed.

5) Alias Yue and Huo

Another Daomo Biji fic, yet another focused on Wang Can. (I love Liu Sang but Wang Can is so FUN to write!) Here Wang Can falters in his escape from Wang Pangzi, Xiuxiu and the Blue Robed Master, and ends up revealing his Zhang kinship and joining Wang Pangzi on a trip to Changbai. Liu Sang makes an appearance later, but the focus is on the buddy trip.

Could be a ship fic if one wants it to be, it's certainly implied later, but the primary goal is understanding.

Title comes from Wang Pangzi and Wang Can's given names. Pangzi's actual name is Yue Ban, whose characters together become Pang, or fat. Can is made up of the characters for fire and mountain, so they used the aliases Yue and Huo on their trip.

----

It was hard to choose which fics to highlight here. My preferences change depending on my mood.

And now the tagging... @pearlpugly, @littlesmartart, @foxofninetales, @sharkbeneaththelotus, @merinnan

#fanfic #ask and you will be answered

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braveclementine · 3 months ago

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December

Warnings: 18+readersonly, fem x fem smut, nudity, slight mentions of touching, mostly obscure references

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

Steves reaction to Penny telling him that she was pregnant with his child was probably one of the happiest days that Penny had. He couldn't speak for a full minute, before pulling her into a hug and pretty much sobbing his heart out in happiness. He then didn't let go of her for hours, cuddling her and kissing her to his hearts content.

Penny also finally got to meet Elizabeth's kids. They were all really adorable and so unique. Mateo had his fathers dark colouring and eyes, but had softer hair that was more like Elizabeth's. Elijahs' daughter Kisa had a beautiful yellow-brown skin tone, with dark black-brown eyes to match Elijah's. She also a head of fluffy black hair, and her face was structured like Elizabeth's.

Elijah had also given his daughter a Chinese name that Penny could neither spell nor pronounce. She figured he'd probably done that on purpose so that it was something special between him and his daughter. So that, no matter what the group dynamics were, she would always know that he was her father.

Bucky's daughter Rue looked the most like Elizabeth with her hair colour, her face structure, and so on. But Bucky's blue eyes had been copied over onto her and she also slept the most.

December apparently also meant that Elizabeth had become a bouncing ball of excited energy. She had things planned every single day for the Christmas month.

One day they were building gingerbread houses- which turned into an orgy after Wanda tripped and got icing all over her arms and Rhodey and Loki had immediately started sucking it off of her.

Another day they went ice skating, which was a ton of fun and then they got hot apple cider and gingerbread men from a vendor.

Over a weekend, they went to a couple of different zoos and aquariums to just see the different light displays and animals.

And then two days ago, Elizabeth had made them all watch Scrooge. Penny had only seen the movie a couple times as a kid, and not really liking older movies, hadn't really watched it. But that day she had, cuddled up between Natasha and Thor. She had enjoyed the movie immensely.

Until Elizabeth wanted to learn the dance in the movie.

And now, today, Elizabeth had dragged all the girls out Christmas shopping.

Okay. . . dragged was a bit of an understatement. They had all wanted to get out of the tower for a while now.

So now they were out shopping and Penny was stuck. She had gifts for literally everyone except Steve and Bucky. She had no idea what to get them or what they would even want. What did you get two people from the 40s without offending them with old men gifts?

Looking around the crowded mall, she spotted Elizabeth who, unsurprisingly, was looking through Christmas candy.

"Got everything?" Penny asked.

"Yep." Elizabeth beamed. "I was just looking for candy to add to the presents. You got everything you need?"

"No." Penny said glumly. "I have nothing for Steve or Bucky. Gosh, even finding something for Elijah was easier than them."

Elizabeth laughed and turned to Penny. She pulled out two old records and handed them to Penny. "Here, take these. The Mills Brother record is for Bucky because it has the song 'Paper Doll' on it. And the other is Louis Armstrong, who is Steve's favorite old time singer right now."

"Aren't these the gifts you were going to give them?" Penny asked in confusion, marveling how they were such perfect gifts. She felt a little upset that she didn't know her soulmates well enough. Maybe they needed to stop focusing on sex so much.

"Yeah, but I can get them other things." Elizabeth shrugged. "Besides, you're their soulmate so you should probably give them the meaningful gift, not me."

Penny really was tempted, but she also didn't want to take it. She wanted to get something for Steve and Bucky on her own.

"Thanks, but I just need suggestions." Penny answered back.

Elizabeth nodded, putting the records back into her bag.

"I swear." Elizabeth groaned in disappointment, "The only Christmas candy is bloody candy canes and green and red m&ms-"

She froze and Penny stiffened, wondering if there was trouble. Then, she nearly shouted, "I GOT IT!"

Penny literally jumped. "STOP That! You're giving me a heart attack."

Elizabeth grinned at her, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder. "Sorry."

She grabbed peppermint Hershey kisses and a bunch of the green and red m&ms. "I'm just going to make Peppermint Pretzel Bites. Now, where are the pretzels?"

"We're in a mall, not a grocery store." Katya said, coming up from the side, making both of the other girls jump.

"Jesus!" Elizabeth snapped angrily. "It's not Halloween Kat!"

"You're just unobservant." Violetta added in a bored voice and then winked at Penny. "All set?"

"Nearly." Penny said glumly.

"Let me guess." Kat said with a grin, "Rogers and Barnes?"

"How'd you know?" Penny asked.

Violetta rolled her eyes, "Because the only one who gets them good gifts every year is Sam and Elizabeth."

Penny felt better that she wasn't the only one anyways.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I just think, 'what would I get my grandfather'."

They all laughed and then moved on to find Ghaida and Trang ogling over weird jewelry in Hot Topic. Trang was pairing different ear to nose chains on Ghaida.

"What is that for?" Penny asked.

"In India, wearing a nose chain is a sign of womanhood and elegance." Ghaida explained, holding still as Trang connected it. "But all of the ones I have right now are like hoop rings. I want one that actually connects from my nose to my ear. The ring ones feel trashy to me."

"Oh, can I ask?" Penny asked awkwardly. "Why don't you have a bindi dot?"

"Cause I'm not married." Ghaida answered. "You're only supposed to wear the red dot to show you're married. But some have broken our ancient traditions and simply wear it as a beauty trend. I find that offensive, and I won't do it myself."

Marriage.

They hadn't really talked about marriage, had they.

She knew Elizabeth was married. And Steve, Bucky, and Sam were married. Thor of course had married Sif. Natasha and Bruce were married. Wanda and Vision. Tony, Loki, and Stephen had married. But none of the others had. Katya and Lan hadn't yet. She wondered when her soulmates would want to marry her.

But Ghaida would never marry, would she. Because her soulmate was dead. Penny felt guilt at asking the question. It had been insensitive.

"Don't sweat it." Ghaida said suddenly and Penny looked over at her. "It's always better to ask than to not. I know that."

Penny nodded and then moved on to where Elizabeth was scanning a bunch of Harry Potter things wistfully.

"Why is Hot Topic always so expensive?" She grumbled, checking a really cute Hufflepuff mini backpack purse and then moving away from it. She joined Wanda at the entrance to the store. Penny giggled, watching as Natasha snagged the bag, a Hufflepuff sweatshirt and sweatpants, and a few Hufflepuff jewelry, paid for it, and slipped it into her bag.

"Dude," Nat muttered, "I literally never know what to get her. I always wait till I hear her say she wants something."

Penny laughed again.

"Are we all done?" Nat asked. Everyone was laden down with bags. Penny felt a regret of leaving without something for her two older soulmates though.

"Nearly." Elizabeth said. "Do you guys mind taking mine and Penny's things out to the car? We have one last stop to make."

"Sure thing." Wanda said. They divided Elizabeth and Penny's things up between them. Then, Elizabeth was looping her arm through Penny's, nearly running through the mall.

"Where are we going?" Penny huffed, nearly tripping over her feet.

"Spencer's." Elizabeth said, a wicked grin on her face.

Spencer's looked like a rather forbidden store and Penny blushed as Elizabeth dragged her past gag t-shirts and shot glasses. In the very back of the store was sex supplies.

"Have you and Bucky done anal play yet?" Elizabeth asked with no filter.

Penny blushed bright red, twirling around to make sure no one had overheard her. "No! Shut up! Someone-"

Elizabeth waved her hand, uncaring, and then handed Penny a beautiful silver but plug with a red gem on the end of it. Penny admitted it was perfect.

"And then here." She said, giving her a box that had three, rose coloured, flower decorate butt plugs. They all had different shapes and ridges to them and Penny blushed the same colour as them.

"Why am I getting these for Bucky?"

Elizabeth smirked and picked out a cock ring and raised her eyebrow. "Would you rather give him this?"

"Are you trying to give me a bruised ass?" Penny hissed.

"Do you trust me?" Elizabeth asked seriously.

"Of course." Penny answered.

"Great, than give him this. I'll help you with the decorating and presenting." Elizabeth said, turning back to the wall and hummed, "Hmm, maybe I should get one too. Elijah will get a kick out of this. Go pay for your stuff."

Penny was blushing bright red as she headed up to the counter, not able to look the receptionist in the eye as she paid, and then was going to head out of the store without Elizabeth when Elizabeth came up with her arms full of very tiny, shot glasses. They were all different, shapes and colours.

There was one that looked like Stitches' head from Lilo & Stitch. There was one that said "You're Pretty when I'm Drunk." There were some decorated from Demon Slayer. There was one that looked like an Avacodo and another one that looked like that Asian lucky cat thing. Some were circular, some were oval, some were even square.

Both the clerk and Penny raised their eyebrows.

"I thought you had gifts for everyone." Penny said.

Elizabeth shrugged, unabashed, "I like to go all out."

As they headed back out of the store, Penny said, "So that's a sex shop."

Elizabeth laughed, "Not quite, but basically, yes."

🖕🚠 т丨ｍ€ ŜⓀᎥƤ 👇🦧

"You know I still don't have anything for Steve, right?" Penny asked as she added pearl earrings to her ears. They were going out to church tonight- those of them that were Christian and Catholic anyways- and Penny had gone down to Elizabeth's room because Elizabeth had said she wanted to help Penny with the gifts.

Elizabeth's own gifts were neatly wrapped and placed in the corner. Penny couldn't even count how many there were, but they were all neatly tagged with identifications stickers and they also seemed wrapping paper coded. . . but surely Elizabeth couldn't have come up with. . . 36 different kinds of wrapping paper could she?

Elizabeth hesitated, and then went over to the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out something, putting it on the bed.

Hesitantly, Penny opened it up.

Inside was a thin sheet of paper with an address. There was a photo in the top corner, which showed a beautiful, new gravestone. On the stone was 'Delilah Rose Rogers' And the epitaph underneath nearly made Penny started to cry just from reading it and knowing whose daughter she was.

𝘈 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘣 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘮. 𝘚𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦

"Who chose it?" Penny asked softly.

"I did." Elizabeth admitted, holding one arm in her hand. "It was either that or 'If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.' But I thought that one was to personal. Because Sharon didn't love her."

Penny nodded. "Why don't you give it to him though?"

Elizabeth stared at the paper sadly. And then she met Penny's eyes. "Because I'm not the right person."

And Penny knew from her conversations with Elijah and Stephen, that it was true. The right person really did matter.

🥸🔩 Ť𝒾𝓶𝔼 𝓢𝐤𝓲𝓟 ♐️🧕

Penny stood between Steve and Rhodey, holding her candle as the congregation sung silent night. Penny couldn't sing though. Ever since Elizabeth had given her the single piece of paper, her throat had been stuck in a choked feeling. Like any moment she would start bawling. And the song that was playing struck the atmosphere right.

Penny leaned into Steve and he put his arm around her. She turned her head into his side, smelling his comforting scent. She could feel the vibrations in his chest as he sung quietly, his candle flickering in his hand.

On the other side of Steve, Bucky was holding Rue in his arms. He was cradling her, his metal arm tucked around her protectively as he rocked side to side, his eyes closed, looking like he was in his own little world.

"You okay sweetheart?" Steve asked quietly.

Penny just hummed a response, not wanting to say yes and lie, not wanting to say no and worry him. Steve picked up on it anyways, his arm tightening around her.

When they sat down and blew out the candles, Steve pretty much pulled her into his lap, without actually doing so of course.

Penny snuggled into him, nearly falling asleep, before they were all heading home and were soon back in the tower.

The others that hadn't gone to church had been busy while they were gone. Steaming cups of hot chocolate and apple cider and cold eggnog and grape cider were sitting on the tables, topped with whip cream. There were Christmas cakes and small trays which consisted of pepperoni, salami, cheese, crackers, olives, and grapes.

Pietro was the one designated to hand the presents out, and soon everyone was going in a circle, opening presents.

Penny noticed that every person usually got only one present from one person. But it seemed everyone had at least five gifts from Elizabeth and Penny felt herself smiling for the first time that night.

The presents eventually started to dwindle and Penny got more and more nervous. She could tell Elizabeth was nervous because she was playing with her fingers constantly.

Finally, Penny's gifts were given to Bucky and Steve.

Bucky opened his, stared inside the box, and snapped the lid back shut, snapping his head up so that his eyes met Penny's. Tony started to snicker, guessing pretty well what was in the box and Penny blushed red.

Steve on the other hand, started to cry, tears trailing down his cheeks. He looked up at Penny with red rimmed eyes.

"If you hate it, it's my fault." Elizabeth blurted out, clearly anxious. "I was the one who suggested it as a gift."

Penny was almost glad she said that because she was starting to regret the gift now.

Bucky and Sam stared anxiously at Steve, trying to see what it was, but Steve folded the paper up, sticking it in his pocket, before walking over to where Penny and Elizabeth were almost sitting next to each other, pulling both of them into a hug.

"Thank you." He whispered quietly enough that only the two of them and maybe Bucky and Loki could hear. "Thank you so fucking much."

"I love you Stevie." Penny whispered.

"You're welcome Steve." Elizabeth murmured quietly. "If you want, we can go early tomorrow."

Steve just nodded. Elizabeth kissed his cheek and pulled away slowly, leaving Steve and Penny by themselves.

"Let's go upstairs, yeah?" Sam asked quietly, having come up to the two of them.

Steve carried Penny upstairs and into the bedroom. He sat on the bed, cuddling her for the longest amount of time before he finally pulled the paper out of his pocket and handed into to Bucky.

Bucky unfolded it, with Sam reading it over his shoulder. "Oh punk." Bucky murmured softly, putting the paper on the bedside table and climbing on the bed with them. Bucky pulled Steve into his arms and Sam wrapped his arms around Penny's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "We'll go tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah." Steve choked out. He cleared his throat, "Who chose the epitaph?"

"Elizabeth." Penny answered.

Steve nodded, wiping his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at Bucky. "What'd Penny get you jerk?"

Bucky smirked, grabbing the box and carefully pulling out the rose coloured butt plugs. Penny blushed and nearly whimpered out the words, "Can I blame Elizabeth for this one too?"

"Oh no doll." Bucky smirked, holding the second one with started with a small bulb, and then had three more, each one increasing in size. "No, this is all for you."

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onyour-right · 1 year ago

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S02E05 of wheel of time was amazinggggg omg! It's all starting to come together now and even though this episode answered quite a few of my questions it's also raised so many more, lol, which is what a good tv show should do.

I cant wait for the next episode because I want to find out what happens to my girl Egwene!!! I also need to find out how/why the hell Maksim and Ihvon can even open their mouths to accuse Lan of being a darkfriend, like huhhhh???? I also want to see where he'll choose to go - will he indeed search for Moiraine or will he head to the tower in hope of finding Nynaeve???

I want more of Perrin and Aviendha (they make such a great pairing & I'm so enjoying seeing Perrin come out of his shell and grow into who he's supposed to be). As for Liandrin, I genuinely dont know whether to love or dislike her - either way she's a layered character and fascinating.

I hope Nynaeve and Elayne get some training with this yellow aes-sedai and her warder because boyyyy, the things that are coming after them. They need to be ready.

Ishamael and Lanfear. Just LOL, the way they feed off each other is just, ugh, they're like brother/sister almost. I'm not surprised they're both so obsessed with Rand tho. I really get it, Rand is so baby boy & I think that's mostly because of Josha and his acting.

That head aes sedai, I forgot her name (who supposedly filled in the book saying the trio had gone to Elayne's house or something) I deffo think she's a darkfriend but the show's just wanting us to think that it's only Liandrin so they're not focusing too heavy on her like that.

I feel like the season is gonna end with the whole gang meeting up again at Falme & discovering that Rand isnt dead & also another member of the forsaken gang being woken up/freed.

#the wheel of time s2 #g's thoughts #this show is just so good omfg

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kamreadsandrecs · 2 years ago

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Title: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) Vol. 3 Author: Mo Xiang Tong Xiu Genre/s: danmei, xianxia, historical, fantasy, mystery, queer romance, romance Content/Trigger Warnings: death, violence, body horror, emotional abuse, death of parents, forced marriage, arranged marriage Summary (from publisher website): The bloody war against the Wen Clan once led Wei Wuxian to seek power in demonic cultivation, and the dark acts he committed drove a wedge between him and Lan Wangji. Now, those old sins come back to haunt him as his reincarnated identity is revealed to the cultivation world. But even as the other clans call for Wei Wuxian’s death, Lan Wangji stands by him, making Wei Wuxian realize what he took for disapproval in the past might have been a much deeper emotion. Buy Here: https://sevenseasentertainment.com/books/grandmaster-of-demonic-cultivation-mo-dao-zu-shi-novel-vol-3/ Spoiler-Free Review: BOY WAS THIS A READ! So the previous volumes have had a tendency to jump between the past and present quite easily and casually (which, kudos to the translators, they were able to handle quite deftly, and kudos too to the author for managing to make things coherent despite the frequent jumps between timelines) but this volume DEFINITELY focuses more on the past than the last two volumes, with huge swathes of the volume being devoted to moments pre-, during, and post-Sunshot Campaign. The emphasis is mostly on Wei Wuxian’s relationship with his adopted siblings Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, which is complicated by the relationship between his adopted father Jiang Fengmian and his wife Madam Yu. It’s a very sad, tragic story that I won’t elaborate on due to spoilers, but I’ve been informed that if I feel the need to bawl my eyes out, I should watch how the drama adaptation of this series portrays certain specific events in this volume. Given how I feel about those events WITHOUT having seen the drama version yet, I can only imagine just how heartwrenching they’d be when acted out. Speaking of drama (of a different sort), this volume also REALLY expands on the romantic connection between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji - mostly by playing up the fact that Lan Wangji is a VERY poor communicator (his own brother admits to this!) and Wei Wuxian is SO VERY BAD at reading the room. I joked with my friend that the real heroes here are the people around them who have to watch their romance (such as it is) unfold - mostly Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng, who have front-row seats to the two-person circus that their siblings are in. But that being said, my friend and I also got to discussing a crucial theme that runs throughout the course of the series, but which really gets highlighted here: the idea of a “right” path versus a “wrong” or “deviant” path. This is often associated with cultivation in the series (with most people saying Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is “demonic” and therefore “wrong”), but also applies to how one lives one’s life in general. Said friend remarked that this was associated with Confucian ideals and values, with the “right” path aligning with those values and ideals, and “wrong” paths being anything that didn’t align with those ideals and values. I don’t think I can speak to how true or accurate this is, given how I have minimal cultural connection to the Filipino-Chinese community and Chinese culture as a whole, but given a quick (and likely woefully insufficient) google research spree, I think this aligns quite well with what I’ve read so far. This aligns very well with another thing she pointed out: how we, as westernized readers, tend to view Wei Wuxian in a positive light, thinking his tendency to innovate is something laudable. This runs contrary with the Lans’ point of view, and the point of view of many of the cultivators in this series: innovation is questionable at best, and dangerous at worst. While someone with a more westernized perspective would view Wei Wuxian as a positive figure, others with less western views might see him as heroic, but tragic: an example of what happens when someone takes power by any means possible, no matter the cost. With this in mind it’s becoming easy to see why Wei Wuxian’s trajectory around the time of the Sunshot Campaign and beyond is one of meteoric heights, followed by a sharp and catastrophic fall: a fall which is considered entirely justified, if one chooses to see it from a certain perspective. Still, despite this framing, the author does not always frame adherence to tradition as a positive thing, especially in interpersonal relationships. Adherence to tradition, after all, is what led to the unhappy marriages portrayed in this volume (including one I didn’t expect). Given that the romance between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji doesn’t quite adhere to tradition, does that mean they stand a better chance at happiness? Gonna have to read the rest of this series to find out I guess - and I am honestly looking forward to that. Rating: five lotus blossoms (for Reasons) Thoughts (spoilers under the cut):

- While I was messaging my friend she commented how the Jiangs had such a tragic marriage, and how it did an awful number on Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. I later remarked how the Lans probably had a better marriage, given how Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji turned out - and my friend, bless her, DID NOT tell me the awful awful truth until I got to it. Not gonna explain any further because it is GENUINELY WTF, but that whole thing has convinced me that there are NO happy marriages in this series. AT ALL.

#book review #book reviews #Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #Mo Dao Zu Shi #Mo Xiang Tong Xiu #mdzs #danmei #xianxia #historical #mystery #horror #fantasy #romance #queer romance #books #lgbtqia

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jadecest-ao3feed · 4 months ago

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#fan fic #jadecest #cw incest

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unreadaethel · 5 months ago

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I want more fics focusing on Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli being really great friends/maybe romantic partners. Mostly because I want JYL to get more attention as a competent, diplomatic adult in her own right, not merely as the Soother of Younger Brothers.

#the untamed #jiang yanli #let jyl be great damnit

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mingjue · 1 year ago

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I'm still sorting out everything bt recap

Nmjs corpse busts out of the temple, and after beating the shit out of some people that get in his way, he gets swept into a river and gets blasted to the other side of the damn country. Like cultivators don't live there side of the country

Jgys corpse isn't found or was even seen at all. Man is just GONE

While there are still search teams being put out (mainly from the Nies), its a good 6 months before anything of substance comes up

About a month into said 6 months, nmj washes up into a very very small community completely nonverbal and honestly barely functioning. He was almost deemed dead by the people who found him but um well he opened his eyes and was looking around so that was ruled out

Wen Qing is in this town! Whole bit there but she managed to escape the Jins and thats when they "killed" her and wen ning, to cover up the fact they dont kno where tf she went.

She doesnt IMMEDIATELY recognize nmj bc hes got no braids, his veins are black, all that, it isnt until she really looks at his clothes that shes like. Well shit. Why are you here.

She deals w nmj for the next cpl of months, really vetting that there isnt a second party nearby thsts controlling him, fixing him up the best she can, etc etc.

Nmj has to relearn how to speak & walk. He can still go into fits of rage which makes him able to do those things, but once hes chilled out he just drops and islike i dont wanna do this anymore

Anyways once wen qing is sure that hes safe, she sends out two people to deliver letters. One to NHS and one to LWJ. She isnt aware thst wwx or wn are alive and only has very little suspicion that wwx may be alive just due to the nmj situation. She honestly didnt even kno that nmj died, and only even knew wwx DID bc a cultivator happened to pass by and mentioned it

Once nhs sends the letter hes just asap going to go find nmj. He doesnt really bother with going to find lwj despite wq mentioning she sent him a letter as well, bc hes more focused on getting his damn brother back

Lwj receives the letter With wwx, and they kind of take more time on going after nmj Mostly bc of the fact that wq revealed she was alive. So they needed to get wen ning and lan sizhui. And then wwx was like wouldnt lxc want to know . . . . . And lwj is like he will fucking spiral if i tell him

Lwj tells him Anywyas and yeah lxc spirals and kind of kicks him out bc hes still technically in seclusion

So they kind of head off a little after that . . . . Lxc does eventually join them but he tails them like a wild animal for a while bc hes like going through things

Lwj does eventually catch on thst theyre being tailed and when he realizes its lxc hes ljke can you knock it the fuck off. Freak. And lxc stsrts shivering and crying like a sopping wet dog

Anyways nhs gets to the town before they do and so hes able to reunite w nmj despite nmj not being nmj. Right. Wen qing encourages him to stay until lwj gets there, bc they get word that they Are coming. And nhs is like noooo i dont wanna waaaiitt but he does. Begrudgingly.

Thennn wangxian and co get there. Reuniting w wq. Lxc reunites with nmj. Spirals again. Etc.

Idk from here.

Its mainly just nmj gets pulled into a family who dont realize he is a zombie except for the local doctor that keeps staring at him. And travel fic w wangxian

Thinking about my fierce corpse nmj au again . . . . . Thinking about post canon wngxin dynamics gets to me sometimes

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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LXC offhandedly says something about his relationship with NHS that would be totally innocent from *anyone* else, but sounds scandalously filthy coming from *him*. Bonus points if it's around LWJ and/or WWX and they are floored. Double bonus points if he did it on purpose for revenge over having to listen to *them* all the time. - 🦇

Petty - ao3

The first time was an accident.

No, that wasn’t right. More accurately, the first time was entirely Wei Wuxian’s fault.

(Lan Xichen sometimes thought, not very kindly, that many things were, more than Lan Wangji would necessarily admit to. He had not yet settled with himself if those were his actual thoughts or if it was merely bitterness about everything that had happened and in which Wei Wuxian had played chief role, but that was one of the things he was working on, for himself.

After all those years of being deceived, it was important for him to get to know his own mind, his own thoughts, and to be sure about them.)

“It’s good to see you out and about,” Wei Wuxian said warmly to him when they met again, as if Lan Xichen had only been confined at home with a brief illness rather than in strict seclusion for over a year.

Lan Xichen thought, perhaps, that Wei Wuxian was attempting to translate for Lan Wangji, standing beside him, practically radiating welcome and hopefulness and other such things that Lan Xichen honestly wasn’t equipped to deal with at the moment and had been purposefully ignoring. If so, it was not a very accurate translation, and unnecessary – no one knew his brother better than him.

Certainly not his brother’s long-dead lost love, who hadn’t even known.

“Indeed,” he said, not smiling, and Wei Wuxian’s own smile faded a little, as Lan Wangji’s own hope already had. “Nie Huaisang will be coming to visit me, and I plan to host him at the hanshi.”

That might also have been at Lan Wangji’s request, although only obliquely, if at all – even when he had appeared at his weakest, his most fallible and pathetic, Nie Huaisang had always been as stubborn as an ox (as stubborn as his brother), and no one could make him do anything he didn’t want to do. This included running his own sect, no matter how much they had tried, and it also included actually listening to the people he’d just begged to solve problems for him. Lan Xichen could remember all the countless times Nie Huaisang had sobbed on his shoulder, and Jin Guangyao’s, too, until they’d given him advice, at which point he would thank them effusively and merrily go along and do whatever he felt like doing regardless. He was very good at getting his own way in the end.

As subsequent events had shown.

Lan Xichen could tell from the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face that he didn’t understand why Lan Xichen would choose to break his seclusion to host Nie Huaisang of all people, especially when he had declined all similar efforts by Lan Wangji, but he wasn’t especially inclined to explain.

If he even could.

How to explain that contemplation had shown that he had been the one to fail Nie Huaisang and not the other way around? Long before they’d ever sworn brotherhood, he had promised Nie Mingjue to watch over Nie Huaisang and aid him whole-heartedly in all his endeavors. Nie Mingjue had always worried, first and foremost, that Nie Huaisang not be lonely, knowing that his brother, born with a weak body, had long struggled with finding his place in his martially-inclined sect – everything else was secondary in Nie Mingjue’s mind, even Nie Huaisang’s personal safety. He’d always said that Nie Huaisang was a proper Nie in that fashion, that he would devote every part of him to the things he loved no matter if it meant death, and there was nothing anyone could do about it; all he’d ever wanted, instead, was for Nie Huaisang not to be alone as he did so.

Lan Xichen had sworn to be there for him.

He hadn’t been.

He’d sworn to stand beside Nie Mingjue, too, promised it in his heart and in the eyes of all the world, and he’d even meant it when he’d done so. And then, despite it all, he’d spent nearly half his life supporting and shielding his murderer – he’d broken so many promises. To the Nie, to himself. The only thing Lan Xichen could do to atone for those failures was to try to do better: to learn from what he’d done, to teach himself what he’d lacked, to make up for his deficiencies. To live up to what little remained of those promises.

And so, if Nie Huaisang wanted to see him, he would see him, even if he had seen no one else.

Wei Wuxian didn’t understand that.

Couldn’t, maybe.

Wei Wuxian was his brother-in-law, he made Lan Wangji happy, and Lan Xichen was grateful for that. He was even grateful, in a painful, agonizing sort of way, for Wei Wuxian’s help in revealing the truth about Jin Guangyao and his dark deeds. But Wei Wuxian forgot pain as soon as it happened and believed everyone else ought to be the same: they were together now, so never mind about all those years Lan Wangji spent alone and in mourning; Jin Guangyao had been a murderer, so never mind about all the good things he’d done or the good times they’d shared; Lan Xichen was out of seclusion, so clearly he’d gotten over everything that had happened.

At least for Lan Xichen, pain did not work that way.

“Well, that’s nice,” Wei Wuxian said after a while, when the silence had gone from merely familiar to actively awkward and Lan Wangji was staring at the ground, his hopes dashed to bits, even though that had not been Lan Xichen’s intent. He loved his brother very much, but he couldn’t heal himself fast enough to assuage Lan Wangji’s guilt at winning his happiness at the expense of Lan Xichen’s pain, nor did he intend to try. “I didn’t know he was coming.”

Lan Xichen did not point out that he was Sect Leader, not Lan Wangji, and that his word was final regarding who did and did not have the right to enter the Cloud Recesses at any time. It would be petty.

He was trying not to be petty. It was very hard.

“I hope to spend some quality time together with him,” Lan Xichen finally said, some meaningless filler designed to let them get out of the current conversational impasse, and was bewildered when Wei Wuxian, possibly inspired by the high tension of the moment, burst out in raucous laughter, reaching out to elbow Lan Wangji in the side.

“I bet you will,” he said, his tone almost jeering. “Quality time, yeah? Just the two of you together in the hanshi and everything.”

It wasn’t until Lan Wangji’s ears reddened slightly that Lan Xichen comprehended what Wei Wuxian was implying. That he had left a year’s seclusion because, what, he wanted to hop into bed with Nie Huaisang?

The mere notion was so puerile that it could barely be considered as rising to the level of a joke, the implication not only crude but actively cruel and disdainful of all the work Lan Xichen had done to put himself back together over the past year, and Lan Xichen had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to respond.

He glanced at Lan Wangji, wondering if his brother would say something – apologize, maybe – but he was clearly unable or unwilling to help. Finally, he shook his head and walked away.

That was the first time.

The second time – and many of the other times thereafter – were not accidental at all.

Talking with Nie Huaisang had been wretchedly painful but cleansing, necessary, just as his silent and extended contemplation in seclusion had been. They had not wholly forgiven each other for everything that had happened, whether the harms they had knowingly or unknowingly inflicted or for the agonies they had each suffered, but they were on a path to get there together – each one of them agreeing to learn from what had happened, to try to extend trust to each other, real trust, so that neither of them had to continue on their lonely roads alone.

It might be nearly two decades late, but Lan Xichen was determined to make good on his promise to Nie Mingjue, and Nie Huaisang equally determined in his own way to live up to what his brother would have wanted now that it was an option.

One unexpected aspect of this, interestingly, was how the clash between their values – Lan sect rules, Nie sect principles – gave rise to any number of very interesting analytical conversations. Nie Huaisang was a poor scholar for rules that required rote memorization to learn, but he understood his sect’s moral code down to his bones, well enough to be able to fashion himself a path within it. When pressed for his thoughts on any given subject, his arguments were well-fashioned, logical, and difficult to refute.

Lan Xichen had not enjoyed himself so much in years.

Even in the days when he had wholly believed in Jin Guangyao, his former friend was simply too facile to have a proper back-and-forth with: he would always yield, or seem to, or else dance around the main subject until they were on another on which they could agree; he had always prioritized good feeling over intellecutal growth. He’d never understood what enjoyment could be gotten out of standing your ground on some theoretical or philosophical issue.

At any rate, one of the points Nie Huaisang had won, curiously enough, was in regards to the subject of pettiness: bad in large doses, but acceptable in small, in his view. He compared it to venting frustrations or to understanding and indulging oneself in the positive sense – if you’re a petty person, he said matter-of-factly, you can try to improve yourself, but you’re not going accept yourself unless you just admit it. If that’s the sort of person you were, you wouldn’t get anywhere constantly resisting the urge to fight things out in petty, stupid ways.

Sometimes you just wanted to get into it over something stupid because otherwise you’d get into it over something important, and that was, in Nie Huaisang’s view, not a bad thing: if someone got in your face, get back in theirs.

Lan Xichen was, in many ways, a petty person.

“So, how is Nie Huaisang doing?” Wei Wuxian asked when lunch was not entirely over. Etiquette dictated that Lan Xichen had to respond, and family rules that he knew Wei Wuxian knew made clear it was impermissible to talk over meals: the only acceptable solution, therefore, was for him to consider his half-eaten meal as already complete, respond, and wait until dinner to fill up. And all because Wei Wuxian simply couldn’t wait another half-ke to blurt out his question, because he was too free and unrestrained to honor the rules of the family he had married into just because he personally didn’t think they were important. “Where is he, anyway? I would’ve thought he’d be here with us.”

Lan Xichen put down his bowl with just a little extra more force than he should, enough to make it clink against the table, and Lan Wangji’s eyes tightened a little at the unusual display of irritation.

“He’s still in bed,” Lan Xichen said mildly. “I’m afraid I rather wore him out last night.”

Wei Wuxian choked, misunderstanding, just as Lan Xichen had intended him to.

They’d gotten onto an interesting subject of conversation and had ended up talking most of the previous day’s afternoon and evening, as it happened, and Nie Huaisang was still a sect leader, with important business to attend to; Lan Xichen was fairly sure that after he had retired at the usual time for his sect, Nie Huaisang had worked until nearly dawn. Anyway, Nie Huaisang wasn’t much for set meal-times, not even by Wei Wuxian’s lax standards; he’d shared an early breakfast with Lan Xichen before going to sleep.

“Perhaps you can speak with him later, if you need him,” Lan Xichen said, folding his hands in front of him. “I will pass along your regards when I return to the hanshi. Which I should do now, in fact: I have some correspondence I need to attend to.”

Lan Xichen wondered if Wei Wuxian even noticed that his words signified Lan Xichen’s graceful removal of the work of sect correspondence from Lan Wangji, returning it into his own hands. Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji had managed sect business between them during Lan Xichen’s seclusion, and both had recognized that even though he had emerged from that seclusion he was still very much in the midst of his recovery and neither had tried to push him back into the role of Sect Leader. His announcement that he needed to attend to correspondence indicated that he was shouldering that burden once more – moreover, it was, by Lan sect standards, a rather vicious snub to make the announcement of the transition a public one, however subtle the wording, especially when he did not similarly make any sort of announcement regarding the work his uncle was managing on his behalf.

Petty.

Unnecessarily petty, really – it wasn’t Lan Wangji’s fault that he’d married a man who couldn’t even after all this time comprehend that sometimes you valued something because someone else did, even if you yourself didn’t care for or understand it.

It was, however, his fault in not putting a stop to Wei Wuxian’s rudeness.

It wasn’t actually hard for a grown man to at least try to respect a rule as basic as do not speak during meals, or for that matter the one about not making tremendous noise late at night when you knew everyone else was sleeping. Having previously been in seclusion, Lan Xichen wasn’t aware of how bad it had gotten, with disciples rearranging their living quarters further and further away from any place Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian might be found breaking the rules against excessive promiscuity – and really, Lan Wangji should know better. No one was asking that he refrain from being in love, even extravagantly so, but they did live in a community, and he ought to have basic respect for others, even if it meant occasionally saying no to his beloved long-lost and miraculously reunited lover.

Lan Xichen knew how hard it was for him to say no, of course; he suffered from the same generosity of spirit as his brother. But hadn’t everything that had happened a year ago shown the folly of always saying yes?

“Ah, Wei-xiong,” Lan Xichen said a few days later when they crossed paths in the middle of the day. “Are you on your way to the apothecary? Could I ask you to pick up a few items for me?”

Wei Wuxian shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, presumably still aching from the bout of early afternoon delight that he and Lan Wangji had been indulging in over by the cold spring – which was meant to be a place for cultivation for all, not a private garden in which the young master of the sect could frolic like one of his pet rabbits. It would have to be cleaned before anyone else could use it, and Lan Wangji was undoubtedly back there giving those orders now, his forehead ribbon no doubt askew from having been utilized in private activity before being hastily replaced.

“Certainly, Xichen-xiong,” he said. “What do you need?”

“Some ointments of the sort used for stretching and to ease pain,” Lan Xichen said. “Huaisang has been complaining of soreness and stiffness as of late.”

He had, of course – among his misfortunes, Nie Huaisang had been born with something of a crooked spine, and his lower back would sporadically spasm, causing him great pain. Not that that was what Wei Wuxian was thinking of, of course.

“I’ve tried using my hands on him,” Lan Xichen added, allowing himself to sound regretful – which he was, as he hated to see Nie Huaisang suffering. “But he says it’s not enough, given the, ah, magnitude of the issue. I want to get him some relief and make sure he’s comfortable…I’m sure you understand.”

He was sure Wei Wuxian did not.

“Uh, sure,” Wei Wuxian said, barely bothering to hide the fact that he was giggling under his breath. “I’ll grab some for you, no problem…you should really ask Nie Huaisang to give you some, uh, books. To provide you with some guidance.”

“He’s provided several,” Lan Xichen said peaceably. Nie Huaisang was extremely fussy; naturally he would ensure that Lan Xichen was well supplied in guides on massage before allowing him to tend to him. “But thank you for the suggestion.”

Wei Wuxian nodded and saluted briefly, clearly ready to move on.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, as if only just remembering. “And tell Wangji that he doesn’t need to come to the meeting this evening – I know the two of you have better things to do with your time than having him listen to interminable reports on agriculture.”

Wei Wuxian actually smiled at that, as if the quarterly agricultural reports from the farms that fed the entire Cloud Recesses weren’t one of the most critical duties for Lan clan members to attend to and one that Lan Wangji had been assisting with since the age of twelve.

That task accomplished, Lan Xichen returned to the hanshi, where Nie Huaisang was scowling over the initial reports that had come in from the furthest farms in writing – he’d already offered to supplement any harvest shortfalls with the excess from Qinghe’s own extremely productive fields, but any shortage in one area could lead to shortages in others; no one wanted another famine among the common people the way there had been during the Sunshot Campaign and the hard years thereafter.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked doubtfully when Lan Xichen mentioned that he’d excused Lan Wangji from attending that evening and would therefore be doubly reliant on Nie Huaisang’s recollection of the meeting afterwards. “Lan Wangji may think you’re punishing him for marrying Wei Wuxian, which you’re not.”

“I’m not,” Lan Xichen agreed, because he wasn’t. If anything, he’d encouraged them to get together, and no matter the cost to himself, he was happy that Lan Wangji had achieved his heart’s desire after wanting it for such a long time.

“He may also interpret it as you punishing him for failing to control his spouse.”

“I don’t want him to control his spouse,” Lan Xichen said. “I want him to have some self-respect. Wangji has always greatly respected the rules of our sect and, until now, has always thought carefully before choosing to break them, accepting the consequences for doing so no matter how harsh. If I believed that Wangji truly disagreed with the rules, I would be willing to engage with him on the subject in good faith, but that isn’t what’s happening. He still believes in the rules.”

“He just doesn’t have the balls to tell Wei Wuxian that he wants him to stop stamping all over them?”

Lan Xichen huffed lightly. “I wouldn’t have put it that way.”

“But it’s what you think,” Nie Huaisang concluded.

“It is,” Lan Xichen said. “They’re going to spend the rest of their lives together – is Wangji planning on letting Wei Wuxian to win every argument without fail, no matter the cost to himself? Is he even planning on informing with him what the cost of his actions is? To always give and never take is not an equal relationship.”

“And your increased sensitivity on the subject of keeping secrets from your loved ones for, purportedly, their own good is completely beside the point, I assume?”

“The fact that I’m sensitive doesn’t make me wrong,” Lan Xichen said. “If Wangji is keeping secrets from Wei Wuxian, if he’s unwilling to rely on him or share his troubles with him, if he intends to one-sidedly sacrifice everything for him without even consulting with him as to whether he would be willing to accept such a sacrifice, then what they have isn’t a marriage.”

There was a house filled with purple gentians in the Cloud Recesses that stood as the eternal reminder of what that sort of marriage looked like, a terrible sacrifice that eventually became as much of a shackle on the recipient as it had been on the giver. Lan Xichen wouldn’t allow Lan Wangji to make that mistake.

And as for Wei Wuxian...if he truly oved Lan Wangji, he wouldn’t want it, either.

Lan Xichen certainly hadn’t.

Nie Huaisang sighed gustily. “All right, fine, fine. You know me, I’m always in favor of people standing up for what they think is the right thing even when it’s hard –” This was an almost grotesque understatement, but the friendship they were forging now was in some large parts based on the gallows humor emerging from their shared traumas. “– so I will reluctantly endorse your actions and, even more reluctantly, attend your meeting with you to take notes for later.”

“I appreciate your help. And your endorsement, of course.”

“Nie Huaisang has gotten much better at playing the xiao,” Lan Xichen remarked to Wei Wuxian on the day he removed Lan Wangji from the teaching roster and disqualified him from accompanying the juniors in night-hunts. “He’s a very – hands-on learner.”

Wei Wuxian snorted.

“I’ve been demonstrating the proper technique for him. Breath control is paramount, naturally, but of course you also have to know what to do with your tongue…”

Wei Wuxian was full on sniggering. “Oh, I bet,” he said salaciously. “I’m sure you’re a very hands-on teacher, eh, Xichen-xiong?”

“I want him to excel,” Lan Xichen agreed. “And that means plenty of practice…oh, I’m sorry, Wei-xiong. I shouldn’t have interrupted you – you were running somewhere?”

Right in the middle of the main pathways, no less, where the quick footfalls and sudden movement had startled countless people into very nearly raising an alarm before they realized there wasn’t anything to worry about. There were too many of them that remembered the war.

They had taken comfort in the enforced tranquility of the Cloud Recesses, before.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” Wei Wuxian said breezily. “Just had an idea and wanted to get back to my workshop as quickly as possible, that’s all.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen said. “I won’t stand in your way, then.”

He actually was teaching Nie Huaisang how to play the xiao, at his request – he’d made some comparisons to it while debating a matter of ethics, and Nie Huaisang was determined to learn just enough to argue back in kind.

Lan Xichen didn’t have any illusions that Nie Huaisang would stick with it any more than he’d stuck with any other type of cultivation – he’d first tried teaching him musical cultivation when he was a child without any success at all, and Jin Guangyao’s example had definitely not endeared Nie Huaisang to the concept – but it was rather nice to discuss music without necessarily focusing on the backdrop of cultivation within it.

Accordingly, he continued the metaphor with Wei Wuxian for several days running. He talked about how energetic a student Nie Huaisang was –“He’s wearing me out,” he said, shaking his head. “Draining me dry…” – and mentioned that they were having an interesting time going back and forth on the subject of fingering, despite Nie Huaisang’s claims that his weak fingers weren’t nearly as suited for quick, assured movement as Lan Xichen’s.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Lan Xichen had said, even as Wei Wuxian had nearly cried from laughter. “His fingers are very flexible, and I get a great deal of enjoyment from his enthusiasm. Skill comes later.”

“Definitely something you have to work on together,” Wei Wuxian said enthusiastically. “It gets better as you go, doesn’t it?”

In the past few days, he had brought alcohol into public places, rather than leaving it in the jingshi where the breach would be a minor one, and tried to encourage the juniors to share it with him, although they’d refused; he’d even tried to bully them into doing so using his superior age and the respect they’d owed him until Lan Xichen had intervened with ‘urgent’ tasks for the juniors instead.

He had loudly speculated regarding one sect elder’s marital affairs after the man had refused to speak with him following a disagreement, breaking both the rules against malicious gossip and those against disrespecting the older generation all at once. He had gone hunting and fishing right outside the boundary line of the Cloud Recesses in clear sight of the disciples, including several who were attempting to practice cultivation based on compassion for all creatures; several others were pulled from their usual tasks to go purify the ground according to their customs, including a careful check of their wells to ensure that the blood and viscera had not seeped into the groundwater that ran so high and near to the surface.

In return, Lan Xichen relieved Lan Wangji of his requirement to go patrolling – “You’re married now, after all,” he’d said to Wei Wuxian, as if it wasn’t a duty shared by adult every sect member, “I’m sure you want the benefit of his company at night. Isn’t that right?” – and revoked his access to the restricted areas of the sect, including the discipline hall of which he had had sole charge since before the age of fifteen. He asked his uncle to resume the full schedule of teaching, including the classes which had previously been shifted in part over to Lan Wangji – his uncle agreed, understanding his motives, although he looked sick to his stomach with anxiety the way he always did when Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were fighting – and had publicly chided one of the juniors for “bothering” Lan Wangji with questions regarding his cultivation.

“Aren’t you so old already?” he scolded gently, a smile fixed on his face and his eyes firmly on the junior instead of his brother standing beside him. “You can’t go running to Wangji with every little issue that comes to mind. Reflect on yourself, and take pains not to be a burden to others.”

The junior appeared very nearly on the verge of tears, and he was not the only one. He, at least, understood the significance of Lan Xichen issuing the reprimand in public – if the junior in question had truly been pestering Lan Wangji with too many questions, it would have been a tremendous rebuke to him personally; as he had not, and everyone knew he had not, it was a clear order from the sect leader that no one was to bring any questions to Lan Wangji.

“Brother,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low and hurt.

“I know you must be tired, recently,” Lan Xichen said, looking back at him with a steady, unflinching gaze. “I understand that you and your husband have been taking long walks at night.”

Through residential areas, no less, and Lan Wangji knew better. Perhaps their sect was too strict with the rules about waking and resting, strict enough that the other sects laughed at them over it, but the rules were in place for a reason. Even if Lan Wangji himself was feeling restless enough to wander at night, there were places he could go that were designated specifically for that – gardens, mountain paths, what have you – where their wanderings would not bother others who had already gone to sleep.

Lan Wangji hesitated, his shoulders rising to his ears, but he dropped his gaze to the ground and nodded, conceding the point.

He knew better.

He knew better, he cared about doing better, and he let Wei Wuxian walk all over him anyway.

“It must be difficult to go walking at zi hour and wake at mao,” Lan Xichen said. “Perhaps waking at si hour would suit you better.”

Lan Wangji looked stricken. After over thirty years of waking at the appropriate time, he would have to be suffering from true bone-deep exhaustion for him not to rise at mao hour per their rules; Lan Xichen’s suggestion, if he enforced it, would do nothing but restrict him from leaving the jingshi until that later time.

Confinement was not a punishment Lan Xichen inflicted lightly on anyone, least of all his brother. His brother, who had suffered just as much from what had happened to their mother as he had.

“Perhaps you can use the additional time to talk to your spouse,” Lan Xichen said.

Tell him that you don’t like how he ignores all our rules like he’s trying to make a contest out of it, he meant. Tell him that you wince every time he puts his foot in it, every time he offends someone he didn’t have to, every time he disrespects our ancestors and all but spits on everything they cared about. Tell him that you’ll compromise on some rules, the ones that are genuinely hard for him, but that you want him to follow others out of respect for the fact that they mean something to you.

He would do it for you, Wangji. He loves you. You don’t always have to be the one to sacrifice.

Just tell him.

Lan Wangji’s lips pressed together.

Another refusal. It wasn’t that Lan Xichen didn’t know how stubborn his brother could be, especially in matters relating to Wei Wuxian, and he didn’t really want to match wills against him – he never really had, not in all their life. He loved his little brother so very much, and so Lan Xichen always been the one to yield, the one to give in, the one to make up the difference between them. The one to encourage him, the one to look the other way: whatever Lan Wangji had needed or even wanted, Lan Xichen had sought to give him.

Even the dreadful punishment with the discipline whip had been something Lan Xichen had sought to avert, and would have, if only Lan Wangji had not so self-destructively insisted upon it.

He had allowed it to proceed only because he thought that the physical pain would give Lan Wangji some measure of relief from the enormous emotional pain he was suffering from.

But now – this wasn’t just a temporary physical pain that Lan Wangji was trying to choose.

This was the rest of his life.

Lan Xichen was not going to back down over this.

“Si hour it is, then,” he said with a sigh. Nor would he revoke the instruction he had implicitly given to the juniors that Lan Wangji was no longer an acceptable advisor, unable to guide them in the Lan sect rules that he was constantly defying by proxy. “It’s for the best, I suppose. It’ll help habituate you.”

Lan Wangji looked up sharply.

Lan Xichen met his gaze head on. His brother, he reflected, was for once the one underestimating his stubbornness.

“I understand,” he said, his words very slow and very deliberate and very carefully chosen, “that rising at si hour is customary in the Lotus Pier, if a little late. That’s where Wei Wuxian picked up his habits, was it not?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes were wide as if he couldn’t believe Lan Xichen was saying what he was saying.

Perhaps he had become infected by Wei Wuxian’s obliviousness and needed things to be said flat out.

Very well.

“The Cloud Recesses is the home of the Lan,” Lan Xichen said. “Our lives are here, guided by our rules that are laid out on the Wall of Discipline for all to see. It is the life we have all chosen, freely and without coercion – but I know it is not the life for everyone.”

“Brother!” Lan Wangji exclaimed, and he actually looked viscerally upset, the expression clear enough on his face that even Wei Wuxian ought to be able to tell what he was feeling.

“You don’t have to follow them if you don’t want to, Wangji,” Lan Xichen continued, inexorable. He, like most of his sect, disliked this sort of straightforwardness, but he was Nie Mingjue’s sworn brother and Nie Huaisang’s brother by proxy; he knew how to wield his words with the brutality of a saber as well as the grace of a sword or the gentle lilt of the xiao. “But I will not allow you to continue making a mockery of them. Not here.”

Lan Wangji looked as if he’d been stabbed.

No – Lan Xichen had seen his brother get stabbed. He had taken that better than this.

“I will write to Sect Leader Jiang by the end of the week,” Lan Xichen said, and clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from trembling. Tell him before then. Please. “Between the two of us, I’m certain that we can find somewhere to suit both you and your husband, so that you may live as free and unrestrained as you wish.”

He did Lan Wangji the honor of not looking back as he walked away.

He knew his brother wouldn’t want him to see the tears.

It was, if anything, a pleasant surprise when Wei Wuxian burst into Lan Xichen’s home less than a day later. Lan Xichen had thought it would take at least three.

“What is wrong with you?” Wei Wuxian shouted, slamming his hands down on the table in front of Lan Xichen. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Is it me? If it’s me you have a problem with, say it to my face directly!”

Lan Xichen finished swallowing the tea he’d just sipped. “Not everything is about you,” he said, feeling tired. “This is about Wangji.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were red-rimmed as if he, too, had been crying.

“You’re not seriously planning on kicking him out of the Cloud Recesses because I broke a few of your rules, are you?” he asked, biting off each word individually. “He’s your brother. He’s a perfect Lan – he ran your sect for a year!”

“Our sect,” Lan Xichen corrected. “Wangji will always have a place here, as will you.”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why is he convinced that you want him to go?”

Lan Xichen sighed.

“I’m sure his knees hurt,” he said.

“…what?”

“His knees,” Lan Xichen said. “From all the kneeling he’s been doing.”

Wei Wuxian looked truly bewildered now. “Are you – making a sex joke?” he said. “Now?”

“No, though I’m unsurprised you took it as one,” Lan Xichen said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m referring to all the kneeling in penance that my brother has been doing to atone for all the rules he has been breaking on your behalf. You wouldn’t have noticed it, as I assume he’s been deliberately hiding it from you.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him. “He’s been kneeling?”

“Wangji cares very deeply about our sect’s traditions,” Lan Xichen said. “He would never have been made the head of the discipline hall if he didn’t. He knows them backwards and forwards, better than anyone except for my uncle and the sect elders that specialize in it. They’re important to him.”

“But –”

“He keeps track of every rule you instigate him into breaking,” Lan Xichen said flatly. “Every single one, large and small, major or minor, and he tries to do his best to pay for what he’s done because he’d rather kneel all night without getting any sleep, rather hurt his hand copying out rules, rather endure a beating or two if it means he doesn’t have to tell you to stop.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth was slightly agape.

“Do you remember the story I told you about our parents? I shared that story with you for a reason, because I wanted you to better understand Wangji. We all carry the scars our parents left on us, and he’s no different. He’s so afraid of imprisoning you the way our father did our mother that he has decided to follow in our father’s footsteps by sacrificing everything for you.”

“I don’t – I don’t want him to sacrifice anything for me!”

“I know,” Lan Xichen said simply. “That’s why I said that this wasn’t about you. Yes, now that you live here, you should follow our rules, or at least respect them – and respect means respect, not playing around to see how many loopholes you can find in them. Do you think we don’t know about them? That no one in the history of our sect has ever figured out that ‘do not take life within the premises’ could be subverted by taking a life directly outside of it?”

Wei Wuxian was silent.

“We follow the rules because we want to,” Lan Xichen said. “They’re the rules our ancestors put together and handed down. They are meaningful to us, even when they are awkward or seem pointless. Even when other people laugh at us or belittle us or act like we’re stupid for choosing to behave the way we do.”

Wei Wuxian winced.

“Your conduct would be a problem if you were a guest,” Lan Xichen continued. “But you are not a guest. You are Wangji’s husband, my brother-in-law. You are family. If you do not wish to obey the rules, you do not have to, and you will still be welcome here. But Wangji wants to obey the rules – it is only that he fears losing you more.”

“How long have you been having this argument?” Wei Wuxian asked, because he wasn’t actually stupid, merely oblivious.

“I started taking away his responsibilities on the third day following my exit from seclusion,” Lan Xichen said. “I have steadily escalated it with every rule you have incited him into breaking with you since. And still, he refused to speak with you.”

Wei Wuxian’s hands were clenched into fists. He looked down at them.

“I know how much you love my brother,” Lan Xichen said. “If he had told you that it mattered to him, you would have found a way to reach a compromise with him – of that I have no doubt. But if it wasn’t the rules, it would be something else; some other thing that he would choose to sacrifice, another situation where he would choose to endure agony over having a mildly uncomfortable conversation with you. That was why I couldn’t just reach out to you directly. It had to be him; he had to be the one to tell you.”

“I understand,” Wei Wuxian said. “I don’t…I’d rather find it out over this than have him throw away his life instead of telling me I was being stupid.”

Lan Xichen nodded. That had been his fear as well, and the reason that one of his first moves had been to restrict Lan Wangji from going out on night-hunts.

“I’ll talk to him,” Wei Wuxian said, and scrubbed his face. His eyes had started tearing up again. “I’ll – I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him understand that it’s not – he can’t just do that! He didn’t even ask me if I wanted him to give all of that up for me; he knew I wouldn’t want him to, that’s why he didn’t ask, and he just went ahead and did it anyway. He didn’t tell me that he was suffering, that you were taking away his responsibilities! He didn’t say a single word, and I just blithely carried on thinking everything was fucking all right and all the while he was suffering, and – and he – he…oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Lan Xichen blinked.

“I did the exact same fucking thing to Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian exploded. He leapt to his feet. “I’m such a fucking idiot! Lan Zhan and me, we’re both – we’re really well matched, aren’t we?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll talk to Lan Zhan,” he said again, and he looked grimly determined the way he had in the war, the same expression shining through even with a new face. “Don’t worry, Xichen-xiong. I’ll make him understand.”

He turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

Lan Xichen watched him go, thinking to himself that he might have inadvertently done something good for Wei Wuxian as well through all of this. And perhaps it would help Lan Wangji’s own crisis to see Wei Wuxian going through the same – because Lan Wangji’s crisis had already taken place.

He could have lied to Wei Wuxian’s face over why they were leaving. He could have chosen not to tell him that Lan Xichen was forcing him out, cutting him off; he could have kept it secret, hidden, could have come up with some story or just left it all unsaid. If he was truly determined to never let any of his pain onto Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, he could have done that.

He’d chosen to come clean instead.

Maybe now they’d be able to move forward as equals, as partners.

(And, if they were really lucky, maybe finally reaching agreement to stop breaking all the rules all the time would mean that they’d stop having sex on every possible available surface and keep it to the jingshi and a few gardens. No one else needed to see that. Really.)

“I see that Wangji-xiong and Wei-xiong are now even more disgustingly in love than ever before,” Nie Huaisang said. “And that Wei-xiong seems to have finally gotten over his obsession with defying authority through violating each and every one of the Lan sect rules. I was only away at the Unclean Realm for three days, you know.”

“I work fast,” Lan Xichen said with a smile.

Lan Wangji had come to him, eyes red, and put his head in Lan Xichen’s lap the way he used to as a child, and they’d talked. For hours, they’d talked, in the slow and halting way they had – where each word was carefully considered, each emotion analyzed, and only a quarter of conversation was said out loud – and at the end of it, they were both completely wrecked, but stronger for it.

They’d talked about their parents, which they had never verbalized before; they talked about Jin Guangyao, and Nie Mingjue, and Wei Wuxian, both past and present. They talked about their ruined expectations, their hopes, their guilt; they talked about the rules that bound them both, the ones that served them as both strength and weakness, the foundation on which they relied in their times of doubt. They talked about love, and fear, and anger.

They’d promised to never to need to have to have this conversation ever again, and they were both very determined to keep that promise.

Lan Qiren had agreed to work with Wei Wuxian regarding which rules could be bent and which ones ought not be – finally giving him the full version of education he’d missed out on when he’d been returned home too early by Jiang Fengmian all those years before, because copying rules didn’t mean understanding them – and Lan Xichen had returned to Lan Wangji all the responsibilities and privileges he’d taken away from him, much to the relief of all the juniors that had been suffering through their fight.

(Lan Wangji confided in Lan Xichen that he was relieved that Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi had been away on a long visit to Lanling Jin throughout the entire debacle, and Lan Xichen wholeheartedly agreed.)

“That you do,” Nie Huaisang said. “Did being straightforward help?”

“More than expected,” Lan Xichen conceded. That had been one of the things he and Nie Huaisang had been discussing these past few weeks, the merits of straightforwardness against obliqueness, and they’d both argued both sides of the issue, given their personal experiences. “I will grant you that it served its purpose well in this situation.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, and put his chin into his hands. “Now tell me, what’s this I hear about you and me being the subject of a series of apparently godawful sex jokes?”

Lan Xichen froze.

Nie Huaisang grinned.

“It was…a metaphor?” Lan Xichen tried. “A means of communicating with Wei Wuxian while not acknowledging the ongoing situation, and a message about paying attention to underlying meaning.”

“Try again,” Nie Huaisang said gleefully. “You could’ve done that without invoking my name.”

“Who else could I invoke? I spend all my time with you!”

All the time he wasn’t being Sect Leader, that was. If there was one good thing that had come out of this entire debacle beyond his heart-to-heart with Lan Wangji, it was that Lan Xichen had been so anxious over Lan Wangji that he had forgotten his own fears about resuming his position, and now that he was back, it didn’t seem as scary as it had when he’d been alone in his room in seclusion.

Nie Huaisang did not appear especially moved by this eminently logical argument. He put his hands over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes, saying in an affected, almost operatic voice, “And all this time I never knew you felt like that, Xichen-gege –”

Lan Xichen choked.

“To think that all of this time that we spent cloistered together, pure as virgins, we could have been doing all sorts of things – using my, what was the term used, ample assets –”

Lan Xichen wondered if it would be possible for the ground to swallow him up at this very second. Failing that, a sect emergency would do.

Possibly an invasion?

“– and this, of course, refers to my extremely large…stock of picture books.”

“Huaisang…”

Nie Huaisang laughed at his face and settled down across from him. “I’m not ready to court or be courted,” he said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m not either, I don’t think.”

He was starting to think that he might be one day, though. That there would be a day – a distant day, far in the future, just barely coming into view – where his days would be more all right than not, where he could make decisions and be confident that he was making them for himself and not to cover up some mess of trauma.

And maybe, when that day arrived for him, it would also arrive for Nie Huaisang, who was himself digging himself back out of the deep pit he had made in his soul seeking his lonely vengeance.

“Still,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Since Wei-xiong and Lan Wangji are on their way here right now to join us, and given that I’m already crushing your hopes and dreams…”

Lan Xichen foresaw a great deal of mockery in his future, and he was almost looking forward to it.

“…do you want to pretend to be making out on the table that they’ll have to drink tea off until they catch us and plead for mercy?”

Well.

Lan Xichen did always say that he was petty.

#mdzs #lan xichen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #mostly Lan brothers focused #background wangxian and xisang #my fic #my fics #petty #lan sect civil war #Anonymous #not as silly a fic as you might expect from the prompt

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