#we all want to bubble wrap wei ying

[familiar-anonymous]

Lan Xichen: Lan Zhan showed feelings?

Wei Ying: A feeling. Seemed like a human one. But it’s hard to tell with him, you know? It was probably nothing.

Lan Xichen: *already preparing the guest list for wangxian wedding* Yeah, probably nothing at all.

[besanii]

shattered mirrors 73

[ set after #69 ]

He’s stumbling forward before he even realises he’s moving, knocking into the low desk with his foot and almost falling over if not for Lan Wangji’s steady hand around his elbow. His limbs feel like lead and his body moves as though wading upstream against a rushing river. His ears are ringing, his vision spotting at the edges, but through all of that he sees the person before him.

“A-Xian.” A sob bubbles up inside his throat at the sound of his name in her voice. “A-Xian.”

She too is stumbling towards him, arms outstretched and tears in her eyes. He wants desperately to fall into her arms, to bury himself in her embrace and let her warmth wrap around him and wash away the horrors of the last fourteen years. Pretend as though he is still Wei Ying, the ward of Yunmeng, her brother in all but name and blood, the little boy who had grown up as her second shadow.

Instead, he sinks to his knees at her feet and presses his forehead to the floor. Lan Wangji follows him to the floor, hovering protectively around him

“Your guilty subject pays respects to Gongzhu-dianxia,” he says. “I humbly beg Dianxia’s forgiveness for failing my duty to Yunmeng Jiang.”

There. He’s said it. The words that had been eating away at him all these years, the constant shadow of guilt lingering in the corner of his mind. His family had been tasked with the protection of Yunmeng and its royal family, it had been their job to gather intelligence and wield it in their defence.

He’d failed. And Yunmeng had fallen.

A strangled noise leaves Jiang Yanli’s throat.

“A-Xian, no,” she says. “No, A-Xian, there is nothing to forgive. Please, get up—”

She reaches for his hands, tugging at them to make him stand, but he remains resolutely prostrate.

“Gongzhu-dianxia, this guilty subject does not dare.”

Her hands tighten around his almost painfully for a moment before she sighs, her whole body sagging with the movement.

“You did everything you could,” she tells him. When he goes to deny it, she squeezes his hand again. “Look at me.” He reluctantly raises his head and sees her looking back at him with a tremble in the firm line of her mouth. “A-Xian, I would be dead—or perhaps worse—if not for you. You saved me.”

He presses his lips together in a hard line, his breath heavy through his nose as he struggles to keep the tears at bay.

“I could have done more,” he whispers. “I could have—”

“You did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “A-Xian, there was nothing more you could have done. Not under those circumstances.”

A raw, wounded noise tears itself from his throat, through his tightly closed lips.

“I should have realised the reports were false,” he argues, hands twisting in the fabric of his robes. “I should have verified them personally, I—”

She takes his face between her hands, shocking him into silence.

There are new lines on her face, around her eyes and mouth, that hadn’t been there before; she’s older, he realises, and has had to fend for herself for many years. The Jiang Yanli before him now glows with health and vigour, dressed in the thick, coarse garments of the northern border tribes rather than the silks of the capital—a far cry from the sheltered princess from Yunmeng she had been in their youth. Her hands, still so small against his cheek, are rough and callused from hard labour.

“A-Xian, you did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “It is in the past. Do not blame yourself any longer. Alright?”

He closes his eyes with a shuddering sigh.

And then he’s falling forward into Jiang Yanli’s waiting arms with an aborted cry, clutching at the back of her heavy cloak desperately. Her scent is different—the lotus blossoms replaced by something earthier and less floral—and the arms she wraps around him are stronger, the hug firmer than what he remembers. But the way her fingers run through his hair, the warmth of her body, the way she envelopes him in her embrace despite the difference in stature—there is no mistaking it. He would know it anywhere.

“Jiejie.” He’s repeating himself, over and over again, the way he has not done since they were children and it was still allowed. This is not a dream. “Jiejie, jiejie, jiejie—”

“A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli laughs, her voice thick with tears. “Oh, A-Xian, I’m so glad you’re alive. I’ve missed you so.”

He’s missed her too. There are no words to describe how much he’s missed her. So he just holds her tighter, buries his face in her shoulder as they sink to their knees in the middle of the study floor. He’s dimly aware of movement around them—the servants, perhaps, or Lan Wangji, stepping away to give them some privacy—but he doesn’t acknowledge them, overwhelmed by the fact that Jiang Yanli is here, in his arms, safe and sound after so many years.

“Fourteen years…” She pulls away, running her hands over his hair and face as she does, drinking in the sight of him. “A-Xian, you’ve lost weight.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.” He leans into the hand resting on his cheek. “You look good, Jiejie. You haven’t changed at all.”

It’s her turn to shake her head, falling so easily into their familiar banter as she admonishes him for lying.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” She sits back on her heels and raises her arms to show off the travel-worn garb beneath her heavy cloak. “I’m just a humble farmer’s wife now.”

At the word ‘wife’, Wei Wuxian is suddenly reminded they are not alone. His attention is drawn to the doorway where Jin Zixuan stands with his arm around a boy of no more than ten. Gone are the fine, embroidered silks and gilded jewels signature to the Crown Prince of Lanling. Instead, both are dressed in the same thick, northern-style robes as Jiang Yanli, both with the same broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin and matching vermilion marks between their brows. Jin Zixuan offers him a nod when their eyes meet.

“Wei Wuxian, it’s been a while.” After a moment, he hastily corrects himself and bows. “My apologies, I did not mean any disrespect. Jin Zixuan greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

“Taizi—Jin-gongzi.” Wei Wuxian corrects himself quickly, returning his greeting with a short bow. “There is no need for such formality. It is good to see you all well.”

He is surprised to find he means it sincerely; there was no such goodwill the last time they had crossed paths, young and foolhardy as they were. But those days are long past. Gone is the spoilt young prince who had spurned the woman he regarded as a sister, buried beneath the cold ashes of a war that took everything from them in one fell swoop. This Jin Zixuan is a husband, a father, who had done the unthinkable—renouncing his claim to the throne of Lanling to search for Jiang Yanli without knowing whether or not she was even alive—and had been rewarded for his devotion.

Jiang Cheng, ah, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian thinks. I think even you would hold a bit of respect for him now.

Jin Zixuan’s eyes shift to Lan Wangji, standing silently behind Wei Wuxian, and offers a deeper bow, which Lan Wangji returns with an incline of his head. Jiang Yanli follows suit from where she is still on her knees with Wei Wuxian, bowing low at the waist.

“Jiang Yanli greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei,” she echoes. “Thank you for taking care of A-Xian. Yunmeng owes you a great debt.”

Before either of them can react to dispute her claim, she turns to beckon the boy—her son, Wei Wuxian’s heart leaps with realisation—closer with one hand, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of the other. She draws the boy closer, turns him to face both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji with a warm smile and a comforting hand on his back. The boy looks up at them with something akin to awe in his eyes.

“A-Ling, come and pay respects to Wangye and Wangfei,” she tells him. “They are our family’s benefactors. Without their help, we would not be here today, so we must repay this debt however we can.”

“Yes, A-Niang.” Jin Ling steps away from his mother, squaring his little shoulders in a way that reminds Wei Wuxian of his father when they had first met, trying to put on an air of importance despite his small stature; he clasps his fingers in front of his chest and performs a textbook-perfect bow from the waist. “Jin Ling pays respects to Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

Wei Wuxian looks back at Lan Wangji, helpless in the face of their collective insistence, and sees the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. He sighs in defeat.

“Jin-xiao-gongzi,” he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Your mother’s family took me in when my parents passed, kept the roof over my head and the clothes on my back. Without them, I would not be here today. Whatever debt there is between us, let us wipe the slate clean now and start anew.”

He sees Lan Wangji incline his head in agreement, eyes soft as he holds out a hand to help him to his feet. His arm is warm and steady around his waist, his hand firm in his, holding him upright as he works to calm the storm of emotions warring within his chest. Finally, he gives the hand in his a brief squeeze and turns back to their guests with a bright smile.

“Now, let’s dispense with all this formality,” he says. “You must be tired from your journey—you must stay with us, here in Hanguang Manor. In fact, I insist upon it.”

Jiang Yanli exchanges a quick look with her husband.

“We do not wish to—” Wei Wuxian clears his throat pointedly, and Jiang Yanli falters mid-sentence, pauses and acquiesces with an amused sigh. “Then it would be impolite of us to decline such a generous offer.”

--

Translations

Gongzhu-dianxia (公主殿下) - Your Highness, the Princess

wangfei (王妃) - consort to the Duke, his legitimate wife/spouse

--

Notes

Approximately a billion years later!!!!

WWX called JYL jiejie as a child, before they got older and it was inappropriate to do so, after which he sometimes called her shijie in private, but mostly addressed her as Gongzhu-dianxia in public.

Any errors or inconsistencies will...be addressed at some point. It’s been a while and I need to revisit some things to remind myself what’s happened >_>

--

buy me a ko-fi!

more shattered mirrors fic | verse

[stiltonbasket]

I crave wei wuxian and lan wangji discussing / comforting one another about their lost soulmates when lan zhan visits the burial mounds or when wei ying is back years later. I really love what you have written so far and need more!

Lan Wangji stays for dinner, that night.

He doesn’t know what makes him stay, though. It could be that his love for Wei Ying cannot be denied, especially not now that his soulmate is dead, or that Wei Ying’s white mourning sash makes his own heart ache with the realization that he could lose this too, someday; because Wei Ying is alive and he is alive, and the two of them have found one another again after too many months apart.

Of course Lan Wangji stays, after realizing that.

“I’m sorry about your soulmate,” Wei Ying murmurs, rocking a sleepy A-Yuan in his arms as Wen Qing and Fourth Uncle clear away the dinner dishes. “I noticed you started wearing mourning robes by the time we found Wen Chao in Yiling, but there was never time to say anything about it.”

“I am sorry about yours,” Lan Wangji offers in return. “It must have been difficult.”

His stomach bubbles with guilt again at the thought of his own soulmate, whose laughter brought him through his mother’s death and his father’s descent into madness and then through every trial and grief he suffered in the next ten years before vanishing without a murmur, as if they never existed.

And Lan Wangji fell in love with Wei Ying long before the day he felt his soulmate die, with no regard for the warmth and comfort they gave him since he was an infant too young to know what the bond between them meant.

But at least his soulmate never knew what Lan Wangji had done, or what he would have done if Wei Ying--his faithful, honest, righteous Wei Ying--ever gave him the chance.

“It wasn’t so bad, actually,” Wei Ying says, giving A-Yuan a gentle smile before kissing his button nose. “I was young when they stopped laughing, only about five. I don’t think I ever even cried for them, because everyone at Lotus Pier started coddling me the second they found out. Even Madam Yu.”

Lan Wangji casts a puzzled glance at the mourning sash, and Wei Ying laughs softly before laying a hand over his side. “It didn’t feel right to stop wearing mourning for them. We--we were supposed to be fated soulmates, not the kind that happen between friends and family, and there was a time their joy was the only thing I was living for. Sometimes we would even laugh at the same time, and it felt like being born again, even when I was starving in Yiling and running from dogs in the street.

“I’ll never forget them, Lan Zhan, and I’ll wear this sash until the gods see fit to bring me back to them.”

“They were lucky,” Lan Wangji finds himself saying. “Whoever they were, and however long they lived. They were lucky to be bound to you, even if it was only for a handful of years. You must have made them truly happy, Wei Ying.”

“Ah, I can only hope I did!” Wei Ying grins. “I know they made me happy, even if they didn’t laugh nearly as often as I did. But I hope they reincarnated with a better fate than they had last time, and that they found a good soulmate to make them laugh again in the next life. Knowing that they did would be wonderful, I think.”

Lan Wangji nods. “En. My soulmate brought me much joy, too, so I can only hope the same for them.”

And then-- “How do you get used to it?”

“Hmm?”

“My soulmate laughed--unceasingly,” Lan Wangji says hoarsely. “Night and day, I felt their delight, and delighted in it myself. And now that they are gone, I feel...”

“I felt empty when I realized my soulmate was probably dead,” Wei Ying sighs. “But it does get better, Lan Zhan. It really does, even if it doesn’t feel that way just now.”

It hasn’t gotten better, Lan Wangji wants to scream. There is a hole in my spirit where my soulmate was, even if my heart betrayed them, and sometimes I think I will die with the pain of it. Sometimes I wish that I would.

He can’t say any of that to Wei Ying, though. Wei Ying is not the one who cheated his fated beloved, or the one who fell in love with a man whose heart clearly belonged to someone else. Wei Ying is not the one who bound a dear friend with his mo’e out of impulse, despite the knowledge that the forehead ribbon belonged by rights to the person whose joy had been his life’s greatest source of happiness. Wei Ying is not the one who felt as if he could survive his soulmate’s death because the one he truly loved was still alive, either, because the man guilty of all those transgressions is Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji alone.

“Was your soulmate one of kinship?”

Lan Wangji blinks. “What?”

Wei Ying’s cheeks darken a little. “All the guest disciples used to wonder if you had one while I was studying in Gusu. Most of them thought you didn’t, but the rest all thought you probably had a platonic soulmate instead of a fated sweetheart. So, did you?”

“No, I did not. I shared a lovers’ bond with my fated one.”

If only it had been a platonic bond. But it wasn’t, and now his soulmate was dead, and Lan Wangji would never have the chance to make amends for wronging them.

But then again, what kind of amends could soothe such a cruel betrayal as that?

“I must go,” he says apologetically, suddenly afraid that the guilt will kill him if he remains here a second longer. “Xiongzhang will be expecting me, and Shufu--”

He never gets to finish the sentence, because a cloud of silky black hair sweeps across his face, and a pair of warm arms wrap around him with a fire that takes his breath away as Wei Ying leans forward and hugs him.

“You can go, if you have to,” Wei Ying whispers. “But Lan Zhan, it’s late, and you’ll be tired, so if you could stay till morning, then--”

Lan Wangji feels his resolve crack in half.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, but the both of them move together, before Lan Wangji pulls Wei Ying’s slender body flush against his and kisses him.

He stays the night, lying on the rock bed at Wei Ying’s side, and drinks his fill of kisses a second time in the morning.

[inessencedevided]

His fall is strangely peaceful even though angry voices still ring in his ears, he can still see the glint of Jiang Cheng’s sword, the flinty anger in his eyes. He can still hear Lan Zhan calling out for him, pleading him to come back. Oh my heart’s song, he thinks. Did you not know that I needed for you to be safe? Did you not notice that I am already dead?

He falls and falls and the abyss reaches for him, cradles him like a child, the arms of a faceless and yet many-faced mother, wipes the tears from his face.

Why did I not die? he wants to shout, wants to cry out but he lets the Mounds welcome him home. Does not even ask why they are here because where there is battle, there will be corpses. There will be despair and death.

Wei Wuxian, do you want revenge? the darkness calls out as it did once before, overlapping voices of a thousands lost souls.

Accusing fingers, greedy voices, steel on steel. Steel trough flesh. They will be hanged for their crimes.

I want to protect. I want to keep safe. He answers.

The shadows come for him, a cacophony of silence, tangle him in their grasp, swallow him and he knows no more.

————————

In every universe Jin Guangshan is a greedy man, blinded by his own quest for power to see people suffering in front of his own doorstep. In some universes he lets the Wens be hanged right away, lets the doctor burn and lets the shy, moon-eyed Wen Ning be turned into a weapon. This universe made him decide to keep them alive as a last ditch failsafe if Wei Wuxian did survive the battle and would not want to give him the Yin Iron.

The whispers of an unknown, unheard of dark presence in the Burial Mounds start after the Second Jade of Lan comes to Koi Tower and demands for the Wens to be freed. His eyes are flat, cold and dead and Jin Guangyao recognises in him a man that has nothing left to live for but revenge. His robes are tied right over left and the white of mourning.

He gets sent away and punished for his insolence by the Elders who have just looked for a reason. Their screams can be heard in Cloud Recesses after nightfall and when the morning comes, they will not touch another disciple whip ever again.

Did you not know that I needed for you to be safe?

It is no surprise that someone or in this case something rises up and demands again, on terms that are much more pressing than those of the broken Second Jade. Shadows haunt Jin Guangshan’s dreams, follow him into every moment of his day, darken his doorstep, make him feel as if his every movement is being watched. And finally, finally he caves. The Wens get ferried off to the Burial Mounds to spend their days serving the demon that resides there now.

————————————

The demon remembers faintly. It remembers a soft smile but cannot pinpoint which face it was that carries it. It remembers the countless ghosts with faces that make something bubble up that it recognises as pain, regret and anger.

It keeps them safe. There is a deep need to keep them safe, almost instinctual. They are scared of it in the beginning but the smallest of them makes them open up and calm down.

There is something else, now that its people are safe. The beautiful one, the strong and just. We need him. He will not be safe where he is now. He broke the rules for us. He is ours. He is mine.

Hanguang-Jun, Lan Wangji comes without protest. Kneels three times next to a monster. Looks so very beautiful in red wrapped right over left. A faint memory of a cold cave as he wraps his headband around his own wrist and the demon’s pinky, every other appendage too big. His eyes, as he lifts the veil, are dark and dead. His brother holds him as if he does not want to let him go. He was the only one who came, one guest for a sham of a marriage.

When they are alone at last, man and demon, the groom, who looks so very small, smaller than he already is, holds himself stiffly, carefully and so very elegantly, back as straight as possible as he sits and summons an instrument. He looks up at the demon, at its many red eyes. “May I play?”, he asks, his voice empty, empty it should be strong, so full of conviction, of morality, where have you gone my heart’s song?

It nods slowly and after a moment, a melody rings out. Beautiful and yet wrecked with pain, soaked through with longing and devotion, a plaintive love song warbling through the oppressive silence of the Burial Mounds. It cuts deep. It reaches out, much like the darkness did when it called but this feels like gentle hands made of the light of dawn. The melody rises and falls. Tugs at the demon, tugs at it as much as the tears falling onto the lacquered wood do.

“Wei Ying,” the tiny human calls out softly, fingers trembling on the strings. “They are all safe. I am safe. Please answer me,” he pleads softly and shakes in his beautiful red robes like a leaf, his hand reaching out to grab his new spouse’s clawed hand almost to reassure himself that he is not alone.

Wei Wuxian

A-Xian

Wei Wuxian!

Wei Ying, please come back.

He knows. He knows now who he is. Oh my heart’s song, the demon, the man thinks wildly. I am right here. Your search is over. You are facing me and seeing me for what I truly am. A monster.

- 🍄 anon

You truly outdid yourself 🍄 anon! ily for this but also how dare you?? 😭

I wish i could draw!!! Because the wedding scene begs to be visualised!

Also i wanna hug Lan Wangji (or you know make him warm soup and straddle him in blankets because he wouldn't appreciate being touched 😅)

Edit: i completely forgot! @thesweetpianowritingdownmylife look! 😱💗

[rustycreekspoon]

On a crossroad in Gusu

It's peculiar, how many mountain paths he's stood on in his life, how many times he'd thought his life would go one way only for it to go left. Life is a maze, one that didn't always reveal its bends before he got to the intersection.

He'd stood on a mountain path as Jiang Cheng walked up a mountain to meet "Baoshan Sanren".

He'd stood on a mountain path as shijie turned to follow Jin-furen, to the heart of Jin Zixuan.

He stands on a mountain path now as Lan Zhan stays rooted to the ground, looking at him with that trembling, uncertain stare.

"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian stands there, Xiao Pingguo's lead hanging limply in his hand. The words feel frozen and resigned as they hang in the air between them, his face relaxing into a knowing one. He should have known their paths would inevitably diverge.

He should have known it would be now.

The second stays suspended mid-flight, caught in the shafts of sunlight slipping through the branches webbed across the sky. His breath feels heavy. Static. Something in him bends, folds, tucks away. If he can hold onto this second for as long as he can, surely, surely the inevitable won't come to pass.

Surely.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan's voice is just as uncertain. Just as tremulous. He wonders if he feels the fragility of the moment, stretching wider and wider, soap bubbles in the summer heat.

He waits for the bubble to burst.

He waits for Lan Zhan to speak. To tell him 'this is where we part.' Or, more likely, to simply look down, that slow flutter of long lashes, mouth closing and lips trying not to tremble, throat working against the words that won't come. Wei Ying will have to fill in the words for them, then, against his will-- will have to tell him it's okay, that they'll meet again, surely. He never expected to share his single log bridge as much as he has already. He will miss it.

"Come back to Gusu with me."

His lips part. Lan Zhan meets his eyes now, steady, not quite pleading but-- as close to it as Lan Zhan gets. The colors on the bubble shift, a kaleidoscope changing his perception. He's heard these words before. He's heard them through the noisy filter of pride and grief and pain and wounds that never fully healed in his entire first lifetime.

He hears them clearly now. The softness. The question. The care.

He's never asked Lan Zhan to come with him before. He's pushed into his space plenty of times. He's turned his back on him and the cultivation world, demanding he not follow. He woke up in an unfamiliar house and landed in Lan Zhan's arms, and ever since then, Lan Zhan has followed him everywhere. Has come with him everywhere.

Now his zhiji asks-- such a simple question. A simple question, with so much history, so many layers behind it, but simple all the same--

Come back to Gusu with me. Come with me. With him. That's the key here. Lan Zhan wants him at his side. Has made it clear before this-- with such dramatics it made his Jiang heart swoon with glee--that he wants to be at Wei Ying's side, on his single log bridge.

Lan Zhan wants that single log bridge to lead them to Gusu. To his home.

Come home. Come home with me.

The bubble bursts with a startled, helpless laugh bouncing out of his chest. He can see it on Lan Zhan's face before he even says a single word-- in the widening of his eyes, the soft part of his lips, the way the slant of his mouth turns upwards and threatens to almost crease the corners of his eyes.

"Lan Zhan." Wei Ying leans against his four-legged friend again and grins at his zhiji, helpless against that sweet look of hope on his face. "Are you asking me to move in with you? So forward."

"Mn." Lan Zhan steps forward now-- pushing into Wei Ying's space, in that way he's done more and more often recently.

"Are you going to keep bringing me Emperor's Smile, ah?" He laughs, heart thudding in his chest as he remembers that night-- seeing Lan Zhan, after talking about him with Zewu-Jun, stepping lightly through his own gate with two bottles of jiu swinging merrily from his fingers. Lan Zhan, proudly holding them out with that tiny smile full of mischief, offering them to the one person who would actually drink them.

"Mn." Lan Zhan has that tiny smile again now-- Wei Ying really shouldn't be surprised when he swipes Xiao Pingguo's lead and wraps it around his palm. He knows already-- Wei Ying's made up his mind. They don't need words for it. This giddy understanding-- Lan Zhan asking. Wei Ying saying yes.

"What about the rule about noise, ah?" He snorts, when his unfaithful donkey starts trotting after Lan Zhan easily-- as if Wei Ying didn't have to drag the ungrateful creature every step of the way! "I'm going to play that song until you tell me what it's called, you know. If I have to annoy it out of you, I will."

"Boring." Wei Ying sputters. Trips. Laughs, open and free and delighted.

"What! Boring, you say! Why, I haven't been called boring in ages, you take that back! I can find very creative ways to irritate you, Lan Zhan, I thought you'd know that by now!"

Lan Zhan huffs, and smiles again, that tiny, delightful little thing, as Wei Ying scrambles to catch up, to keep pace. "Irritation will beget no answers from me. Wei Ying should know that by now."

Wei Ying laughs. Lan Zhan smiles. They walk back to Gusu together, side by side. A single log bridge that didn't seem dark at all anymore.

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Sixteen

I know this is late, and not to be That Guy, but it is the playoffs

In which there is music and Wei Ying is awkward

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen

--

Lan Wangji kicks him out of the kitchen, but kindly. 

“The children will be worried,” he says, nudging Wei Wuxian towards the door. “They didn’t see you last night. I will prepare breakfast, and you should wake them.”

So Wei Wuxian wakes them, just as he always does. It’s one of his favorite moments of the day and is the only thing that makes rising before five worthwhile. Sizhui and Jingyi always stumble over to him where he kneels, rubbing sleep out of their eyes and tumbling into his arms. He holds them for a long few seconds, feeling their warm little faces against his neck, their messy hair tickling his nose, their tiny fists pressed against his chest and shoulders.

“Are you dreaming, little ones?” he always whispers before picking them up and spinning them awake.

This morning he stays down on the floor with them for a long time. Jingyi starts snoring, a little whistling hum, which makes him laugh, which makes him cry. 

“Wei-qianbei,” Sizhui says when he lets them go. “Are you sad?”

“No, A-Yuan. No, I’m not sad.” He wipes his eyes. “Ha! Come on now, everyone. Breakfast! Breakfast! And I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Ouyang Zizhen hops over, grinning down at him.

“Yes! Yes, come on. Up! Up! Hanguang Jun is making breakfast today!”

“Hanguang Jun can cook?” Su Meiling asks with her undershirt stuck over her head.

“Hanguang Jun can do everything,” Lan Ting says.

“Clothes! Clothes, now, come on.” Wei Wuxian gets Su Meiling sorted out and darts around tying sashes and pulling up boots.

Wen Ning stays back in his corner, dressing silently and staring at him, blank. Wei Wuxian, still a coward, sends all the children out before approaching him.

“Are you going to leave?” Wen Ning asks.

“No.”

“Are you going to change your mind?”

“I’m not going to leave unless they send me away. Unless you all want me to leave.”

Wen Ning nods. 

“Do you—” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose. They’re really only a few years apart. He suddenly feels like the young one, desperately seeking approval. “Do you want me to leave?”

There is a very, very long silence. Three years at least. Then Wen Ning throws himself forward, wrapping his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and pressing his forehead into his shoulder.

“No, no, please don’t go. Don’t go.”

“Aiyah, Wen Ning. They’ll have to fight me off.”

Wen Ning mumbles something into his shirt.

“What? Here, I can’t hear you.” He pulls the boy back by the shoulders.

“Why were you going to leave?”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip. “I was wrong about something. I thought something had happened that would mean I couldn’t stay, but I was wrong. Now I know where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do.”

“And what’s that?” He’s shrewd, this kid, gentle but iron underneath.  

“Look after you. For as long as you need it.”

“And Jiejie?”

“What Wen Qing does is her business. The junior disciples are mine.”

Wen Ning makes him wait for it, but finally a sunrise smile takes over his face.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Wen Ning salutes him and dashes out the door to catch up with the others.

--

In the afternoon, the children quietly practice their brushwork. Lan Wangji doesn’t look like he’s been up all night, but he’s passed on teaching lessons and set them busy work instead. Wei Wuxian is leaning against the doorway and keeps jerking himself awake. They’re mostly very attentive, focused on their writing with furrowed brows, tips of tongues poking out from serious faces. Wei Wuxian doesn’t notice that Lan Wangji has left until he comes back with Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren. 

That wakes him up, trying to stand at attention and look responsible. The look Lan Xichen gives him is so kind and almost proud, it reminds him of Yanli and makes it very hard to not do something ridiculous like hug him. Lan Qiren is impossible to read. He doesn’t look completely furious or disgusted, so Wei Wuxian assumes he’s been told the whole story. 

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to say something, can’t think of anything, and bows instead.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren says. Wei Wuxian bows again. “I’m told you will be staying in Cloud Recesses.”

“If allowed by the Grandmaster, of course,” he says diplomatically.

“Hmf,” is all the response he gets. 

“We are honored by your continued service to our sect,” Lan Xichen says. Wei Wuxian scratches the back of his neck and barely stops himself from scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says suddenly. Lan Xichen’s eyebrows raise and his lip curls up in surprise. Now Lan Qiren looks furious.

“Yes, Hanguang Jun?” Better to play it safe.

Lan Wangji says nothing more, just reaches into his sleeve and pulls out Chenqing, holding it out to him with his jaw set and shoulders straight. Wei Wuxian looks hastily around the room, wondering if a set of guards or angry villagers might burst through the windows. Nothing happens. The Sect Leader and Grandmaster also do nothing, though Lan Qiren’s face is nearly as red as Lin Biming’s. Wei Wuxian takes the flute from him, giving an awkward little half-smile, and then tucks it quickly away inside his shirt. 

“Wei-qianbei!” Lan Feifei pipes up. “Is that a flute?”

“Yes, Feifei, just a flute. Just a normal flute, for a normal man. To play normal music.”

“Will you teach us?”

“Oh, yes, teach us!” Lan Hua and Su Ming shout from the back of the room.

“Uh. I, uh . . . We’ll see.”

Lan Qiren storms out of the room. Lan Xichen smiles, bows to them, and follows, graceful as a summer breeze.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian hisses to him. “He may not be able to send me away, but he can still kill me with his mind.”

“Who?”

“Your uncle!”

“He can’t—”

“Never mind!” Wei Wuxian waves him off, suddenly feeling restless. “All right, disciples! You’ve all worked very diligently today, and you behaved so well during the festivities this week, how about we spend the rest of the day with the rabbits? Good, yes?”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow at him.

“Really, Lan Zhan, get your face under control,” Wei Wuxian mutters to him before heading out the door.

“I will see you this evening,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian spins back around to him and pouts. “No bunnies for you?”

He shakes his head. “There is work to be done now that the guests have all left. But I will ask Madam Xiao to supervise dinner and bedtime tonight. Come to the Jingshi.”

Wei Wuxian looks at him for a long moment, waiting for some crack in his expression. “All right,” he says finally. “Deal.”

--

He spends the afternoon playing Chenqing for the children and the rabbits. When the children ask him “What song is that? Is it about something?” he makes up fantastical stories about cranes that turn into old women and children that grow in place of radish bulbs.

He’s hit the point of being awake for so long—and he’s realizing how little he’s been sleeping all week—that he’s tapped into a kind of manic energy. Part of it surely is being able to play music, freely, as much and as loud as he likes, for the first time in years. He lines the children up and tries to assign them each a little melody.

“Now, Yao Hualing, when I play this figure—” he blows a little trill— “then that means I’m calling you. Ready?”

He plays it again, and she hops up. Su Meiling hops up, too.

“No, A-Ling, this is you.” He plays a slightly different trill, and she frowns at him.

“I can’t tell the difference, Wei-qianbei.”

“Me neither!” Lan Yixian yells, hanging upside down from a tree branch.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Well, we’ll call that a failed experiment. Who knows a song to teach to everyone?”

After a number of favorite songs sung too many times, and an intense argument over how many children Mother Chaochong has in the “real” version, it’s time to eat. He turns the children over to Madam Xiao and apologizes for the inconvenience. She just pinches his cheek, which makes the children scream with laughter.

When he gets to the Jingshi, the door is closed, and he’s not certain if Lan Wangji is around. He kicks some stones around on the pathway, nerves bubbling up inside his ribcage, until the door opens and Lan Wangji looks around, face worried.

“Lan Zhan!” he calls with completely false confidence. “Here I am! Are you going to play the gu—”

He loses his voice and his mouth goes completely dry when he gets to the doorway. Lan Wangji is dressed for bed, only wearing one layer of robes, hair down around his shoulders. It’s an odd sight when the sun hasn’t even started to go down yet.

“What—” he can’t think of what to ask, so he takes his boots off and holds them. Lan Wangji sits down on the bed, and Wei Wuxian is quite sure the skin on his cheeks is about to melt away.

“You haven’t slept.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“You should sleep.”

Wei Wuxian coughs. “I have a��� I have a bed.”

“There are other people there, in the servants quarters. You won’t sleep well.”

“There’s other people here. I mean, you’re here.”

Lan Wangji’s brow furrows. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No!” Wei Wuxian shouts and drops his boots. “I mean. Unless you want to. But you’re not dressed, so that would be a scandal. What would everyone say? Wen Qing might see you, and then where would we be? Not—”

“Wei Ying.”

“Yes, Lan Zhan?”

“Come here. And sleep.”

He has some kind of hypnotizing powers. That’s the only explanation for how Wei Wuxian is suddenly next to him, one knee up on the bed.

“And what about you?”

“I will also sleep,” Lan Wangji says, as if it’s that simple. He rises and closes the door, then crawls onto the bed, settling near the wall. There is plenty of space. 

“There’s no way I’m going to sleep,” Wei Wuxian breathes. Lan Wangji just looks at him, a challenge, and far be it from Wei Wuxian to not meet a challenge. 

He lays down on his side and stares over at Lan Wangji. “I mean it, there’s no way—”

“Shh.”

Wei Wuxian glares at him, then squeezes his eyes shut as dramatically as possible.

He’s asleep before he can take another breath.

Part Seventeen

[disastermages]

this is chapter 12 of the au where Xiao Xingchen raises Wei Wuxian

--

Xiao Xingchen’s hand is tight around his husband's as they walk back to the inn, uncaring and unhearing as merchants and townspeople try to call out to them. A quick swipe of his thumb over Song Lan’s knuckles asks a question and the squeeze he gets back is all the reply Xiao Xingchen needs. They would talk once they were locked away inside their own room.

Song Lan crumples once they're inside, after A-Qing had hugged them both tightly, asking them where they'd gone and understanding all too quickly when the four of them hesitated in answering her. Wei Ying had distracted her then, grabbing her up and asking if she'd like to take a walk with himself and Lan Wangji, and refusing to set her down no matter how much she laughed and pretended to fight him on it.

Another squeeze at his hand pushed the answer out of Xiao Xingchen’s mouth, telling the three of them not to go far before he and Song Lan went up the stairs, Song Lan’s grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white, even after Xiao Xingchen had shut the door of their room behind them.

Now, Xiao Xingchen is all but sitting in his husband's lap, his cheek squished against the top of Song Lan’s head while his free hand runs through his now loosened hair.

"Tell me what you're thinking?" Xiao Xingchen asks quietly, ready to accept silence if that was meant to be his answer.

Warm wetness begins to seep into Xiao Xingchen’s robes, his own throat drying out and he presses his lips to the crown of Song Lan’s head. "This is my fault," Song Lan heaves against Xiao Xingchen’s chest, his shoulders shaking along with the rest of him, "I could have warned them. I should have warned them. If I hadn't-- If we hadn't gotten involved-- I did this to them."

The longer he speaks, the louder and rougher Song Lan’s voice sounds, his free hand gripping Xiao Xingchen’s upper arm tight enough to twist and wrinkle the fabric.

Swallowing thickly, Xiao Xingchen shakes his head, untangling their hands so he can wrap his arms as tightly as he can manage around his husband, his own eyes squeezing shut. The words don't come for the longest time, the grip of their absence tightening around Xiao Xingchen’s heart like a vice.

"My Zichen could not do this." Xiao Xingchen says finally, the words still sticking in his throat while they form. "My Zichen is patient and he is kind, he has been since the day I first knew him." Song Lan moves to pull away from him, but Xiao Xingchen holds him still and shakes his head again, fingers stroking through long, dark hair. "We did not and still do not know Xue Yang's plans," Xiao Xingchen is speaking slowly now, resting his chin on top of Song Lan’s head and reminding himself to breathe. "The fault for this is Xue Yang's, it will never be yours."

If it hadn't been Baixue Temple, it would have been another, another village, another clan, another sect wiped out for the sake of a mad man's ambitions. They both know that, there's no reason to say it out loud.

"Your Zichen is foolish." Song Lan murmurs once Xiao Xingchen has stopped talking, heaves slowing to hiccups, though he still hides his face against his husband's chest.

Sitting back, Xiao Xingchen lets his hands slide up Song Lan’s arms and over his shoulders before he gently pulls Song Lan out of his hiding place, his thumbs stroking over his cheeks and underneath his eyes. "The only time my husband has ever been foolish is when he asks our nephew to cook dinner."

It's meant to be a joke, and at first Song Lan laughs, tears forming in his eyes after. "I've been trying to teach him to cook since he was ten years old, Xingchen, and he's still just as bad at it as you are." Xiao Xingchen laughs then too, even as he strokes his husband's cheeks. Wei Ying’s earliest attempts at cooking had ended in flames and charred vegetables, whatever remains that could have been picked through were too spicy to consider eating.

Xiao Xingchen wasn't much better at it, they'd both been regulated to chopping and clean up duty ever since.

"I learned from my sister." Xiao Xingchen defends himself weakly, the ghost of a smile coming back to his face as he brushes Song Lan’s hair out of his face. His hands drop down to his shoulders as Xiao Xingchen leans forward and presses their foreheads together.

Song Lan hums, but says nothing else, his eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s middle. He still sniffles occasionally, but nothing bigger comes.

"Xingchen," Song Lan says, his voice barely a whisper as he lets his hand reach up and curl around Xiao Xingchen’s wrist. "Thank you." There was more, Xiao Xingchen knew that much just looking at his husband, but it doesn't stop him from melting just a little as Song Lan presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, the hand left unheld sliding around to the back of Song Lan’s neck.

"We're married," Xiao Xingchen answers, pressing a kiss of his own to Song Lan’s forehead, "to have you lean against me is no hardship."

He'd only ever asked his grandmaster about love a handful of times, and each time, Baoshan Sanren had looked distant and melancholy, her eyes faraway when she told him that love was making the choice to catch someone when they fell.

Xiao Xingchen would make that choice over and over again without question.

He almost doesn't notice that Song Lan is looking up at him until a thumb brushes over his pulse, a light pressure that brings him back to the present, the smile on his face widening.

"How are you feeling?" Xiao Xingchen asks.

For a moment, Song Lan looks away from him, eyes focused on his wrist instead. "It hurts." He says finally, looking up and setting his hand on Xiao Xingchen’s cheek, "But it would hurt more if you weren't here."

Xiao Xingchen doesn't stop himself from turning his face into Song Lan’s palm and pressing a kiss there. "I wouldn't leave you to do this alone, Zichen, I couldn't."

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Song Lan says softly, blinking something away before he hides his face in Xiao Xingchen’s chest again. “If you hadn’t been there, if A-Xian and Lan Wangji hadn’t been there, I don’t know what might’ve happened.” His voice is thick and muffled as he speaks, grief ebbing into something else, something that makes Xiao Xingchen curl protectively around him, his own hair falling off his shoulder like a curtain to section the two of them off from the rest of the room.

Opening and closing his mouth, Xiao Xingchen’s chest aches as he searches for the right words, the smile dropping off his face. What could he say? That anything Xue Yang could do would most likely be worse than either of them could imagine? That Xiao Xingchen was grateful Song Lan hadn’t been there when the massacre started?

Before any of those thoughts can bubble to the tip of his tongue, Song Lan is speaking again and dragging Xiao Xingchen out of those thoughts, both of his hands tight on Xiao Xingchen’s wrists now. “We can’t let A-Xian or Lan Wangji put the spell on Xue Yang, we can’t, it’s too dangerous.” Anger and grief mix on his face as Song Lan talks, though his eyes are pleading. “They could get killed, Xingchen, Lan Wangji has already gotten hurt, we don’t know how far he’ll go the next time.”

“I’ll do it myself if that’s our only option.” Xiao Xingchen decides, swallowing thickly as he pushes past thoughts that went down paths he didn’t want to follow. He’d looked over Lan Wangji’s wound before he’d allowed Wei Ying to dress it, fearing that Xue Yang had cut him to the bone, though it had only been a near thing. Xiao Xingchen was grateful for that. “He won’t get near either of them again.”

Not without going through Xiao Xingchen first, he would make sure of that.

“One of us will do it.” Song Lan corrects, taking his hands off of Xiao Xingchen’s wrists to hold his hands instead, his voice still tight as he shakes his head. “I won’t let you carry this alone.”

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t argue.

~

“Lan Zhan, how’s your shoulder?” Wei Ying whispers, pressing himself close to Lan Wangji’s uninjured side as they walk together, his other hand holding onto his sister’s. Lan Wangji had scarcely had time to change before he was being pulled out of the inn again, his wrist held tightly in Wei Ying’s hand as Qing Sanren leading them through the streets, telling them about the things she’d seen from the window after she’d woken up.

Wei Ying had asked her if she’d played tricks on anyone, half laughing and half scolding, but Qing Sanren had refused to answer her brother, saying that nobody had seen her except for the innkeeper.

“Fine.” Lan Wangji answers simply, shrugging and regretting it when the movement pulls at his wound. The hiss he lets out is involuntary, but it’s still enough to make Wei Ying bring the three of them to a stop in the middle of the street, his eyes widening just a little. “It is sore, but it is manageable.”

Lan Wangji wasn’t lying, the pain was manageable as long as he didn’t shrug or move his arm above the elbow, it would be fine until he could meditate in his room later. “You have to tell me if it’s too much, Lan Zhan, don’t just put up with it.” Wei Ying is speaking gently now, frowning just a little and making Lan Wangji wish that he were able to brush it away where they stand, his own mouth falling open just a little as he takes half a step forward. He means to tell Wei Ying that he wouldn’t lie about the pain, but before he can, Wei Ying is speaking again, his fingers loosely curling around Lan Wangji’s. “Uncle Xiao says I’m getting better at bandaging, but if it hurts, we can always ask him for help.”

A streak of spiritual energy curls up Lan Wangji’s arm like a vine then, starting at their fingertips and reaching up to soothe the worst of the stinging from the wound. “Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji whispers hoarsely, feeling as though he has butterflies trapped in his throat, even as the smile comes back to Wei Ying’s face.

They’d had lectures on medical cultivation techniques, but Lan Wangji had thought that Wei Ying had tuned them out. He, Jiang Wanyin, and Nie Huaisang had spent the duration of it passing notes back and forth, looking at each other and laughing after they’d been caught and scolded for it.

“Don’t call me shameless this time, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying teases, letting another burst of warm spiritual energy curl up Lan Wangji’s arm, “this is one of your Lan clan’s healing techniques.”

It was a healing technique meant to occur between cultivation partners, Lan Wangji wants to remind him, blinking owlishly as the red energy fades, though Wei Ying doesn’t pull his hand away from Lan Wangji, the ache in his shoulder trickling down into a dull throb rather than the flood of raw nerves. His uncle had only brushed over this form of healing, telling their class that they wouldn’t need it for years to come, had Wei Ying learned it on his own?

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries again, heat spreading across the tips of his ears, “I did not know you had an interest in medical cultivation.” Well, he hadn’t called Wei Ying shameless, that was all he’d been asked, hadn’t it?

There was no way Wei Ying hadn’t known the intention of the technique when he’d researched it, it was plainly spelled out in the books, there were even diagrams.

Wei Ying’s laughter derails Lan Wangji’s thoughts then, his unoccupied hand pressed against his own stomach. “Lan Zhan! Don’t look so surprised that I listened to your uncle’s lecture, he wouldn’t answer my questions after class, so I had to look it up by myself. It helped, didn’t it?”

Eyes flicking down to their hands, Lan Wangji feels himself nod, “Mn.” He should say something else, anything else, he should at least thank Wei Ying, but before he can, Wei Ying is taking a step back and looking around, the smile dropping off his face in less than a second.

“Where did A-Qing go? Did you see her?” Lan Wangji looks down at Wei Ying’s side then, his eyes widening minutely as Lan Wangji takes his own step back to look over his shoulder. She’d been there when Wei Ying had stopped them, and they’d only been talking for a few minutes, she wouldn’t have had time to go far, would she?

“A-Qing!” Wei Ying calls out, finally stepping too far away to continue holding onto Lan Wangji’s hand while they both look through the crowd.

Qing Sanren had been wearing white robes that matched Xiao Xingchen’s when they left her in the care of the innkeeper that morning, but now Lan Wangji couldn’t remember if she’d changed by the time they’d returned.

They walk the street up and down together, with Wei Ying calling her name and stopping whichever strangers would give him the time of day to ask them if they’d seen her. Lan Wangji tries to find her face among the rest of the children, hoping to find her playing in one of the larger groups, but none of them can place her when he dares to ask.

An hour passes between laps of the street and the streets nearest to the one they’d started on before an old man interrupts them, catching Wei Ying’s arm and telling them that he thought he’d seen her walking with an older woman in the opposite direction that they’d been headed.

Wei Ying had only been able to shout a quick thanks over his shoulder before he was taking off again, and Lan Wangji bows quickly to the man before he chases after him, just barely able to stop himself from crashing into his back as he comes to a stop in the middle of a square, the both of them looking over the occupied tables and Lan Wangji feels his own stomach sink when he can’t find her sitting at any of them.

“Xian-gege!” A voice calls out from behind them and they both spin around, their eyes still searching until they see Qing Sanren’s arm waving, an unfamiliar woman sitting behind her with an amused look on her face. “Xian-gege! Grandmaster’s here!” Perhaps she was only unfamiliar to Lan Wangji then.

Baoshan Sanren rises from her seat as they come over, she was taller and stockier than Lan Wangji had expected her to be, though he dares not say it as she clasps her hands behind her back and watches them bow before she returns it, sharp eyes focusing on his headband.

“A-Qing, you can’t just wander off by yourself like that!” Wei Ying whines, any and all formality dropping away in a second as he sinks down to his knees in front of Qing Sanren, already pouting as he looks at her.

“I didn’t wander off by myself, I was with Grandmaster.” Qing Sanren answers, grinning and not looking at her older brother as she rocks back and forth on her heels, “You were busy with Lan Wangji anyway.” Baoshan Sanren’s eyes flick between her granddaughter and Lan Wangji, her face betraying nothing as she puts one hand on the back of Qing Sanren’s head and the other one on Wei Ying’s shoulder.

“Enough.” Baoshan Sanren speaks deliberately, ending any argument before it could truly start, “Apologize to each other, A-Qing should know better than to wander off the second she gets bored and A-Xian should know to hold her hand properly.” For a long moment, both Wei Ying and Qing Sanren sit back and look at each other, as if they were weighing out their options before they apologize to each other, though it doesn’t happen without the both of them wearing similar pouts on their faces.

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his mouth pulling upwards before he catches himself, though Baoshan Sanren has already seen him, raising an eyebrow as she looks between him and Wei Ying, neither smiling nor frowning.

His skin prickles under her eyes and Lan Wangji feels himself draw closer to Wei Ying, looking away from Baoshan Sanren first and swallowing thickly. Wei Ying nearly collides with him as he stands up, taking Qing Sanren’s hand into his own and pulling her closer. The smile comes back to his face once he’s able to look his grandmaster in the eye without looking up.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend, or am I meant to wonder who he is for the duration of my visit, A-Xian?” Baoshan Sanren asks, getting to the point with lethal precision and just a flicker of something brighter in her eye.

Temporary embarrassment crosses Wei Ying’s face, and Lan Wangji reaches out and brushes his fingers along his wrist on instinct, trying his hardest not to let the surprise show on his face when Wei Ying’s fingers curl and try to catch his.

“That’s Lan Wangji!” Qing Sanren interrupts, pulling at her grandmaster’s sleeves, “They’re like Baba and A-Die, but A-Die says they aren’t married yet.” Color spreads high and hot at the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears, spreading down to his neck while he startles and freezes like one of his rabbits. He and Wei Ying hadn’t even gone that far in describing it yet, but Qing Sanren seemed to have no issue doing so.

He doesn’t dare look over at Wei Ying, but he can hear him sputter, telling his sister that she can’t announce things like that for other people, but he doesn’t object to it. Swallowing again, Lan Wangji allows himself to let his fingers linger where they’re caught by Wei Ying.

“Grandmaster,” Wei Ying starts sounding nervous, and Lan Wangji can’t help but look up at him, his heart freezing and his throat threatening to close when Wei Ying looks back at him with a smile, “This is Lan Zhan, courtesy name, Wangji, he’s my…” Wei Ying trails off then, looking back at Lan Wangji and then at Baoshan Sanren, her shoulders rolled back and her head leaned to the side as she listens.

“So, you have a Lan of your own.” Baoshan Sanren sighs to herself, her face betraying her for the first time as she looks away from them, instead focusing on brushing Qing Sanren’s bangs out of her face, though her eyebrows knit together when she looks up again. “Are the three of you alone? Where are Xingchen and Song Zichen?”

Both Lan Wangji and Wei Ying go still beside each other then, their hands dropping away as Wei Ying glances down at Qing Sanren and then back up at his grandmaster. “They’re back at the inn,” Wei Ying answers carefully and truthfully, frowning as he looks down, “but something happened at Uncle Song’s temple.”

Baoshan Sanren’s expression doesn’t become any less confused as she frowns, blinking at them quickly before she gestures to the table she’d claimed for herself and Qing Sanren, long sleeves folded back as she waits for the other three to sit.

Wei Ying tells his grandmaster the story from the very beginning, from the day he and his uncles had seen the Wen clan’s dire owl, to what they’d discussed in Nightless City, listing out Xue Yang’s crimes and allowing Lan Wangji to remind him of details that he’d forgotten, their knees pressed against each other’s underneath the table.

“I see.” Baoshan Sanren says after a long moment, her hands pressed flat against the surface of the table, her face is taut, though her eyes are calm. “Song Zichen, how is he?”

It’s Wei Ying’s turn to look down at the table now, his shoulders dropping as he shakes his head, “I don’t know, he and Uncle Xiao had already gone up to their room when we left.” Something sad and tired spreads across Wei Ying’s face and Lan Wangji feels a pull in his chest accompanied by the urge to wrap his hand around Wei Ying’s wrist.

Movement out of the corner of his eye drags Lan Wangji’s attention away from Wei Ying as Baoshan Sanren draws something familiar out, her energy a deeper red than Wei Ying’s when she flings it out, though nothing seems to happen.

“Settle down, it’s only a cloak.” She says quietly when Wei Ying, Lan Wangji, and Qing Sanren begin to look around, all three of their eyes falling back onto her in an instant. “Let me see the Yin Iron pieces, A-Xian.”

“We only have this one with us, the other one is in the cold pond cave, Lan Yi is guarding it.” Wei Ying says, already reaching for the qiankun pouch, but stopping when he realizes what he’d said and looking at his grandmaster with wide eyes. Baoshan Sanren’s hand is frozen in midair, her strict face losing it’s place for a moment too long as her fingers curl in on themselves.

“What do you mean Lan Yi is guarding it?” Baoshan Sanren asks, her hand dropping back down to the table, even as Wei Ying sets the qiankun down beside it, wriggling in his seat under the weight of his grandmaster’s gaze. “A-Yi died, A-Xian, there wasn’t even a body left to bury after what the Yin Iron did to her.”

For once, Wei Ying seems to flounder for words, his mouth opening and closing as his hands curl into fists on his lap.

“The spirit of my ancestor resides in the cave.” Lan Wangji speaks up, allowing the weight of Baoshan Sanren’s gaze to fall onto him instead. Lan Yi could allow herself to be seen, she could speak to them as she might’ve in life, but she was intangible and see through at times, her face flickering in and out of transparency the longer she was forced to present her physical form.

“Her spiritual cognition is tied to the Lan’s Yin Iron, she can’t leave the cave.” Wei Ying speaks up suddenly, almost interrupting Lan Wangji, but not quite. Lan Wangji does not fault him for it.

Baoshan Sanren’s face has morphed into one of disbelief as she looks between the two of them, her mouth falling open before she remembers to close it again.

“I should have known she would do something like this.” Baoshan Sanren says finally, closing her eyes for a long moment, her hand reaching forward and grasping the Yin Iron through the bag, her fist shaking as a cracking noise rings out around them, though the people outside their cloak take no notice of it. “She’s always been stubborn, doing whatever she wanted no matter who argued with her. I liked that about her, once.” The cracking begins to drown out Baoshan Sanren’s words, wisps of smoke curling between and around her fingers as she stares straight ahead at her own fist.

“Grandma?” Wei Ying asks, though Baoshan Sanren doesn’t seem to hear him as the Yin Iron starts to give underneath the pressure and Lan Wangji puts a hand on Wei Ying’s arm, his own eyes wide as he watches the wisps of smoke become darker and darker.

The Yin Iron breaks like lightning cracking through the sky, the sound of it startling enough that Qing Sanren presses herself tight against her brother, climbing into his lap and watching as Baoshan Sanren lets the now limp bag fall back onto the table before she slumps backwards.

Their passing of Qing Sanren is quick, Lan Wangji snatching her up as Wei Ying bolts forward and catches his grandmaster and holds her upright, calling out to her and shaking her shoulders. For a moment too long, Baoshan Sanren says nothing, her breath coming in gasps and her chest heaving, though soon, her face becomes as calm as it had been when Lan Wangji had first seen her.

“Grandmaster will do, A-Xian, there’s no need to call me Grandmother.” Exhaustion is evident in Baoshan Sanren’s voice as she speaks, nuding her grandson back, though she makes no real attempt to shake off his hands.

“Are you alright?” Wei Ying asks, his eyes wide as he kneels down next to his grandmaster’s stool, both of his hands still on her shoulders. Despite her exhaustion, Baoshan Sanren lifts a hand up and brushes Wei Ying’s hair away from his face.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’ll be fine.” Baoshan Sanren tries to sound stern as she speaks, but the battle she fights is a losing one, and her eyes change again, softening as she smooths the crease between Wei Ying’s brows. “You look like Cangse when you worry.”

Wei Ying’s mouth falls open as he looks at her, his eyebrows turning up and Lan Wangji looks away, half expecting Baoshan Sanren to continue, but nothing else comes. “We should take your grandmaster back to the inn, Xiao Daozhang will want to know she is resting.” Lan Wangji speaks quietly, his grip on Qing Sanren only loosening when she begins to fight against it.

Lan Wangji watches as she runs over and stands at Baoshan Sanren’s other side, small hands pulling at her grandmother’s robe and calling her like she hadn’t just heard the reminder her brother had gotten.

Baoshan Sanren only barely allows Wei Ying to help her stand, holding onto his arm nowhere near as tightly as she should as they begin to walk.

Lan Wanji tucks the bag of iron dust inside his sleeve before he catches up to them, allowing himself to walk just behind Wei Ying and his grandmaster.

~

The knocking at the door of their room is quick and insistent as Xiao Xingchen drags himself out of the nap he’d coerced both himself and Song Lan into, his hand grazing over his husband’s cheek even as he sits up.

He expects Wei Ying, or perhaps even Lan Wangji, but he doesn’t expect to come face to face with a Wen cultivator, the young woman’s face looking serious as she announces Sect Leader Wen’s arrival. She offers no more information as she bows and walks away, leaving Xiao Xingchen standing in the doorway to look after her.

Why had she come all this way? They’d sent her regular reports, with the exception from this morning, but night hadn’t even fallen yet.

Xiao Xingchen dresses quickly, barely taking the time to properly secure his hair before he exits his room, a note left behind on the dressing table should Song Lan wake up and find him missing.

He can hear Wen Qing speaking quietly amongst her contingency as he descends the stairs, though when he’s far enough down to catch sight of her, she’d be just as easy to lose. The ornate robes of a sect leader had been cast off and exchanged for something more practical, leaving only the gleaming, golden jewelry to set her apart from the rest of her sect.

The conversation happening below comes to a halt as she sees him, her face smoothing into something neutral. “Wait outside for Young Master Wei and Second Young Master Lan, I am in no danger here.” Wen Qing orders, her sword held low in her hand.

Xiao Xingchen watches as the cultivators file out of the inn, the dining room feeling much, much larger without quite so many bodies standing in it.

“Sect Leader Wen-” Xiao Xingchen starts, but stops as Wen Qing bows to him, neutral mask falling away into something remorseful.

“I received Second Young Master Lan’s report early this morning.” Wen Qing says, offering up the answer to a question Xiao Xingchen had yet to ask. “I have come to offer my condolences to Song Daozhang and my thanks to Xiao Daozhang as well as Young Masters Wei and Lan.”

Xiao Xingchen hadn’t considered the possibility of Lan Wangji writing and sending off the report, but he’s almost grateful for it as he nods, moving into a bow of his own, Shuanghua stretched out in front of him, but he’s stopped.

“There is no need.” Wen Qing shakes her head, taking her hand away and looking down at the floor between them. “I will not ask you to bow after what you’ve gone through because of my request.” She doesn’t look at him as she speaks, but Xiao Xingchen can hear the truth of it in her voice, and any remaining worry that had pulled at the hems of his robes drops away.

“I’ve asked for your aid in protecting the life of my younger brother, but I hadn’t considered that the lives of the ones closest to all of you might come into danger as a result of it, I can only hope that this sect leader’s deepest apologies could be accepted.” Wen Qing squares her shoulders as she speaks again, trying and failing to raise herself to Xiao Xingchen’s height, though he doesn’t call her out for it. “The only request I will make of you now is that you pass my message along to Song Daozhang.”

“Sect Leader Wen,” Xiao Xingchen tries again, but the doors of the inn are opening, letting blinding daylight in as Xiao Xingchen and Wen Qing both turn to face them, though only his mouth drops open once his eyes adjust.

“Grandmaster.”

[poetatertxt]

32 + sangcheng!

32. “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Jiang Cheng has a secret.

It isn’t a very cool secret. He doesn’t bite his nails or lose sleep over it; he doesn’t lock it away in a box. It’s the kind of secret held in plain sight—a secret of nonadmission, made in the simple absence of telling.

Jiang Cheng has a secret and it is this: he can sing.

The Jiang’s aren’t the most artistically-inclined family on the block. Wei Ying’s paintings look like splattered tea; A-Jie’s dancing is just satisfactory. Jiang Cheng can’t bake to save his life. 

But there’s one thing they all share: the voice. A familial art passed from elder to younger, cultivated in lullabies, poetry, and spoken tales, until each carried a separate piece of a full choir. Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan bookend their quintet, while the three Jiang children fill the middle: Jiang Yanli in mezzo soprano, Wei Wuxian in tenor, and Jiang Cheng in baritone.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he’s good. He’ s not showy like Wei Wuxian, who always gets the leads in school musicals, or carefree like A-Jie, who sings wherever she goes. Jiang Cheng’s music is a skill he’s never bothered to share. There are few reasons to sing beyond family lessons. So he doesn’t.

Until Nie Huaisang.

“There’s a new karaoke place,” he says over lunch one day. “Over next to the bowling alley. Do you want to go?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. “It’s up to you.” He pauses, glancing. “Are you going to finish those?”

Nie Huaisang sighs and shoves the tray across the table.

Now Nie Huaisang—he’s artistic. In fact, Jiang Cheng is positive there isn’t a single unimaginative bone in Nie Huaisang’s body. He breathes art from the way he moves—elegant and graceful, a dancer’s body—to the way he laughs—musical and bright, like a glass struck gently. 

The very sight of him makes Jiang Cheng want to simultaneously hide and bask in his presence. It’s maddening.

One wouldn’t think them to be friends. At a glance, one certainly wouldn’t think them to be boyfriends. Where Nie Huaisang is crafty and sweet, Jiang Cheng is blunt and sour. He doesn’t play word games or listen to gossip. He just is.

Jiang Cheng, the expert at being an expert of nothing.

But he loves Nie Huaisang. Really, he does—a terrifying kind of love in its greatness and newness, like discovering the universe’s vast landscape. He loves the way Nie Huaisang wrinkles his nose in thought, or the way he secretly snorts when he laughs too hard. He loves everything about him.

Which is why, when Nie Huaisang pushes to go to karaoke, he agrees.

Jiang Cheng does his best not to quail under Nie Mingjue’s heavy gaze as he picks up Nie Huaisang from his house. They may be about to have their five month anniversary, but the elder Nie brother terrifies him no less than when he first discovered Jiang Cheng leaving a love letter in the mailbox. 

An unfortunate memory, that one.

“You look good,” he tells Nie Huaisang. He’s dressed for the occasion in green pants and a cream sweater big enough to hang over his palms. Jiang Cheng wants to squeeze him. “Cute.”

Nie Huaisang flushes gently. He’s a perfect match for the sunset like this: pink-tinged, soft and pale. Jiang Cheng aches to kiss him, so he does. And then again. And again.

“Stop,” Nie Huaisang mumbles against his lips. He’s laughing already, bright and sweet. “Karaoke, remember? We have to make it there first.”

Jiang Cheng sighs, but acquiesces. “I didn’t know you were big on singing,” he says. “I thought you preferred oil paints. And ballet. And cake decorating.”

“I do.” Nie Huaisang jabs at a crosswalk button. “But I also like to sing.” He slides a sideways glance. “What about you?”

What about him? Jiang Cheng looks back, steadfast. “What?”

“What do you prefer?”

A loaded question. Jiang Cheng is getting better at answering those. 

“I like,” he decides, following Nie Huaisang’s lead across the street, “to watch others perform.”

“But you don’t perform yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Why do you think?” He gestures at himself with his free hand, ignoring the sudden bitterness in his throat. “Who would want to see this?”

Nie Huaisang gazes back at him. “I could think of a few,” he murmurs softly. “But only if you want to.”

An open invitation—a way out. But will Jiang Cheng take it? Will he hide this secret away for another that may never come?

“We’ll see,” he tells him. “We’ll see.”

The karaoke place is shiny and bright. Gaggles of girls cluster around the front sign, their laughter echoing into the establishment. There are neon road signs hanging and black and white tiles; there’s a food bar, formica and chrome, with a glowing sign above. Jiang Cheng’s never been into a retro joint before, but he’d like to think this place exactly fits the bill. It’s visually loud.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang breathes. “We should take Wei Ying and Lan Zhan here next time.”

The idea of going anywhere where Wei Ying can show off gives Jiang Cheng a premature migraine. “Or not,” he mutters, and steps up to the counter.

The place is pay-by-the-hour. Jiang Cheng pays for two (“my treat,” he tells Nie Huaisang, “since you paid last time,”) and a whole order of fried chicken to take in with them. 

“Room Six,” the attendant girl says. She smiles, passing the key. “Enjoy!”

The room is small. Cozy. There’s a squeaky plastic booth, a table for their food, and a giant TV with eight microphones that can be turned on and off at will. 

Jiang Cheng gulps.

They start off slow. Nie Huaisang turns on some slow ballads to croon while Jiang Cheng digs into the fried chicken. It’s pleasant like this: gentle piano keys, Nie Huaisang’s sweet tenor, the disco lamp’s slow spin at the center of the room. 

And then Nie Huaisang has an idea.

“Do they have pop music in here?” He scrolls with the remote. “Jiang Cheng, get a microphone. I want to sing a duet.”

“Huh?” He squints up from his chicken. “But..”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes go big, his bottom lip jutting out. “You.. don’t want to sing with me?”

Jiang Cheng hesitates. Sets down his chicken. Stands.

“Fine,” he mutters, shuffling forward to take the proffered mic. Nie Huaisang beams. “I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t look when Nie Huaisang picks a song. There’s a strange bubbling rising in his stomach; his palms, tingling, begin to sweat. 

It’s not a big deal. Really. It’s just..

The lights dim. The disco lamp begins to spin steadily again—faster this time, with bright spots of lemon and rose. Heady bass thrums between them into the room.

Nie Huaisang turns, smile playing at his lips.

Keep your eyes on me.. 

It’s one of Nie Huaisang’s favorites. Jiang Cheng isn’t one for indie pop himself, but he’s heard it enough to know the lyrics. He watches Nie Huaisang sing for a moment, voice wrapping like a caress in the dark, and finally—pushing past his nerves—sucks in a breath to join.

You make me focus

When you love someone the rest just falls away..

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widen. His lips part, eyelashes fluttering, but he rallies surprisingly quick. Before Jiang Cheng can stop—does he really sound that bad?—Nie Huaisang joins in again, layering over his baritone in dulcet tones.

It all just falls away..

Jiang Cheng’s heart thrums in his chest. It’s.. strange. Letting go feels like stepping forward off of a railing or letting go of a tire swing: a freefall, weightless and exhilarating, that makes his bones sing with an unspoken voice. He can’t stop looking at Nie Huaisang, who can’t stop looking at him, and they sound so good together— 

More, his heart whispers. I want to sing with you more.

When the song finally comes to an end, Nie Huaisang is close enough to kiss. So he does.

Nie Huaisang sighs against his lips. “You should have told me.”

Jiang Cheng’s blood pumps through his veins. “What?” he breathes.

“You..” Nie Huaisang’s blushing again, golden eyes bright like faraway stars. “Jiang Cheng, you sing beautifully.”

And it shouldn’t mean much. He’s no performer—not like Wei Wuxian, flashy and bright, or A-Jie, solemn and open. He’s just Jiang Cheng.

But the way Nie Huaisang glows through the darkness, excitement all over his beautiful face, makes Jiang Cheng want to sing for him again. And again. And again, until all the notes in the world have been given new life through Nie Huaisang’s ears.

So he does. He chooses another song—a solo, one of Nie Huaisang’s favorites again—and cradles his head close, rasping into the mic, until they’re kissing instead of singing and the backtrack trails away, leaving them lost in the darkness together. 

[ragewerthers]

Sleepless Night

Summary:  All Lan Zhan wanted was to enjoy a good nights rest. Sadly there is a beast lurking nearby and he won't get any rest until it gets what it wants.

A/n: This is a birthday fic for my friend @ticklygiggles! I wanted to write something fun for her and I have to say I enjoyed getting to write for these two again!

Hopefully it'll bring a smile to whomever reads it!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262945

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 2026

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

“... -angji…..,”

“....”

“... -angji?”

“....”

“Lan Zhan?”

“.... mn?”

“Ah!  Lan Zhan!  I knew you were awake!”

Blinking his eyes open, Lan Zhan was met with the smiling and far too cheerful face of his husband.  His gaze slowly shifted over to the open window of their Jingshi, the moon still shining brightly in the sky and the sound of cicadas filling the night air.

“Wei Ying… you should be asleep,” Lan Zhan murmured, his voice a little deeper from having fallen asleep not that long ago if the position of the moon was anything to go by.

Pouting at his husband, Wei WuXian shook his head and scooted closer, pressing his nose right against his partners and watching as the action caused Lan Zhans ears to turn that beautiful shade of pink he loved so much.

“But you’re not asleep,” he mumbled, leaning back a little and reaching forward with one of his hands to soothe over the shirt his husband had worn to bed.

It was only through much patience and personal training that Lan Zhan was able to keep himself from rolling his eyes.  “That is because you woke me up,” he tried to explain, but if Wei WuXian heard him he pretended not to.

“Isn’t it just a lovely night, Lan Zhan?” he continued, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling.  “I love nights like this.  When things are quiet… and peaceful… and just… calm.  Everyone leaves you alone and you can just think whatever thoughts you want.  No one to bother you!  Isn’t that nice, Lan Zhan?  Don’t you just love these sorts of nights too?  With no one ot bother you?  Huh?  Lan Zhan?”  He turned his head, his smile beaming as he looked at his husband.

Lan Zhan blinked at his husband a few times, his eyes narrowing slightly before quickly flipping over and facing away from the man.

Wei WuXian gasped at the audacity!

“Lan Zhan!  Why are you so cruel?!  Here I am sharing my thoughts with you on this lovely and quiet night when we both are awake and unable to sleep and you turn away from me!  How can you be so mean to your husband?!” he grumbled, scooting closer and closer until he was spooning against his husband's back, his face buried in between the man's shoulder blades.  “I’m hurt!  I’m wounded!  My own husband refusing to enjoy our sleepless night together!”

This time Lan Wangji did roll his eyes, but without anyone to see it he could easily pretend he hadn’t done something so juvenile.

“Wei Ying…,”

“My tears will not be silenced!”

“Wei Ying….,”

“My heart will be forever burdened by this shame!”

“Wei…. Ying,”

“Why did you do this to m-..,”

“WEI YING!”

Wei WuXian squeaked in shock at hearing Lan Wangji raise his voice like that.  He hid his face completely against his husband's back, one of his arms instantly wrapped around his middle as his fingers gripped at the front of Lan Zhan’s shirt.

Sadly, this meant that Wei WuXian had also managed to brush his fingers against Lan Wangji’s stomach, causing his husband to gasp and instantly curl forward.

Both men stilled for a moment as each realized what had happened.

Lan Zhan could actually feel the devious smile slowly appearing over his husband's face and he brought his hands down to wrap around Wei WuXians wrist as he felt his hand still resting over his stomach.

“Wei Ying… please… it is late and…,”

“My dear husband… have I ever told you of the most notorious night time beast?” Wei WuXian murmured, making Lan Zhan falter a moment.

This really wasn’t what he had been expecting as a conversation considering what had just happened and he turned his head slightly, trying to catch sight of his partner to try and figure out what he was doing.

“Wei Ying?” he asked curiously, his hands still holding onto the man's wrist.

“He likes to appear… on nights just like these,” Wei WuXian continued, his voice dropping lower and softer the more he spoke.  “Oh yes.  On nights like these… when you find it difficult to sleep, he likes to come.  You never know when he will strike and even some of the strongest men have fallen to him.”

Was Wei Ying trying to tell him that this beast was the reason for him being awake?  Was that why the man had tried to wake him up too?  Because he felt this beast’s presence?

“Wei Ying… is it nearby?” he asked quietly, now trying to focus all of his senses to try and pick up the danger that his husband must’ve been feeling.

“Oh yes.  I’m afraid he’s already here,” Wei WuXian whispered and Lan Zhan’s eyes widened.  “And there will be no getting rid of it now… not until it gets what it wants.”

“And do you know what it wants?” Lan Zhan whispered back, feeling Wei WuXian move just a little closer to him, his breath ghosting right against the shell of his ear.

“I do… and what this monster wants more than anything… is your laughter.”

Lan Zhan’s worry instantly vanished at that and he turned his head once more, catching sight of his husband’s smiling face.

“My laughter?” he asked, his expression seeming to amuse his husband who only seemed to smile more.  “What sort of monster wants my laughter?”

“Oh the best kind of monster, Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian murmured softly, pressing a soft peck to his cheek before his fingers quickly scribbled against his husband's stomach.

“W-Wei Yihihing?!” Lan Zhan squeaked, instantly curling forward and trying to quiet the giggle that threatened to bubble up from his chest as the man's fingers continued to wriggle against his poor stomach.

“What?  Haven’t you ever been visited by the tickle monster before, Lan Zhan?” Wei WuXian cooed softly, slipping his free hand under his husband to send light little nibbling pinches along his side.

“N-Nohohoho!” Lan Zhan yelped as he felt the other hand wriggling against his side, attempting to roll back toward Wei WuXian in the hopes he could push the man away! Sadly he was very, very mistaken!

As he rolled back, Wei WuXian easily shifted in response, allowing Lan Zhan to land on his back while he quickly moved to straddle his waist.  With the momentary surprise he took Lan Zhans hands and pinned them under his knees, leaving his poor darling's torso all to himself.

“You haven’t?  Well… then tonight is your lucky night!” he said cheerfully as his fingers gently rested on Lan Wangji’s sides, making him gasp softly.  “You finally get to meet him… and he can’t wait to feast on your laughter!”

“Wait!  Wait… Wei Ying I just want to sle-EEP!”  Lan Wangji’s plea was interrupted by a little shriek as Wei Ying began to flutter his fingers up his sides.  Lan Zhan instantly began to squirm, his lips fighting a smile as he tried to draw his arms closer to himself for protection.

“What’s this?  You don’t want to give the tickle monster your sweet laughter?” Wei Ying cooed, his fingers moving up and up until they rested against Lan Zhans lower ribs.  Slowly his thumbs began to massage against the sensitive bones there, making Lan Zhan snort and arch his back off the bed as the ticklish sensation started to urge his laughter closer to the surface..

“Nonono plehehehehehease!  Stahahahap!” Lan Zhan pleaded, his battle to keep his giggles at bay lost as those horrible thumbs continued to vibrate just so against his lower ribs!  

“There it is!  Oh the tickle monster is so happy to hear his Lan Zhan laughing!” Wei Ying said brightly, moving his hands away for a moment and turning them into claws.

“No!  Wei Ying!  Don’t do thi-HAHAHA!”  Lan Zhan’s giggles were completely surpassed as wild laughter instantly erupted from him.  Wei WuXian had gone for his worst spot, his fingers vibrating quickly all over his poor stomach and leaving the great Hangaung-Jun in hysterics!  “NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!  NOHO-AHAHAHA!”

“Oh but this is the best spot, Wangji!  Listen to that perfect laughter!  The tickle monster is quite pleased!” Wei WuXian teased as he scribbled his fingers to the sides of Lan Zhan’s poor stomach, tickling against the super sensitive areas and causing his poor husband to buck and giggle hysterically beneath him.  Deciding to be a little extra devious he snuck his fingers under his husband's shirt.  As soon as his fingers touched the warm bare skin, Lan Zhan snorted, his face going pink at making such a sound even as more laughter bubbled up from his chest.

“Wei Yihihing!  Don’t eheheven thihink a-about ihiHIHIT!  STAHAHAP!”  Poor Lan Zhan didn’t even get a chance to finish his warning as those evil fingers began to lightly flutter and scribble against his bare skin, making him shimmy back and forth to try and stop the ticklish feeling zipping through his body!

“Don’t tell me to stop!  This is all the tickle monsters fault!  I tried to warn you, Lan Zhan!  Now you have to pay his price!” Wei WuXian teased as he continued to lovingly torment his poor husband's tummy.  His fingertips swirled and scribbled lightly over his stomach, finding the spots that made him giggle, the spots that made him snort and the combination of spots that sent his husband arching up into the touch and laughing so hard tears of mirth clung to his eyelashes.

“I think the tickle monster has almost had his fill, Lan Zhan!  He’s just looking for some dessert… and do you know what tickle monsters love for dessert?” he asked, letting one of his fingers trace around his poor Lan Zhan’s belly button and making the man giggle and hiccup adorably.

Lan Zhan shook his head at the question, giggling ridiculously with each touch and flutter of his husband's fingers against him.  “I… I d-don’t knahahahaow!” he giggled harder at the end, bucking up once more as Wei Ying’s finger wiggling into his belly button for a few seconds before he felt the man leaning over him and pausing his attack.  Lan Zhan took the moment to catch his breath, panting as residual giggles still managed to sneak past his lips.

“Why… raspberries, of course!” Wei Ying cooed before ducking down and blowing a few of those horrible raspberries against the side of his neck.

Lan Zhan positively squealed at the sensation before falling into another fit of laughter, his shoulders attempting to shrug up to protect himself, but to no avail!  There was just no getting away from his tickle monster husband and all he could do was lay there at his mercy.

Luckily, it was only after a few of these that his husband seemed to finally relent and Lan Zhan soon felt warm kisses replace the horrible raspberries on his neck.  And soon his giggles slowly started to calm.

“Y-you… ahahare horrible,” Lan Wangji murmured tiredly, though as Wei WuXian finally moved to lay beside him he was quick to draw his trickster husband closer, hiding against him and feeling the way Wei Ying giggled at his clinginess.

“I think you mean the tickle monster is horrible… though you don’t seem too upset, Er Gege,” Wei Ying murmured softly, allowing his strong husband to hide against his chest, his hand coming up to soothe through his long, dark hair.

“Mn..,” Lan Zhan murmured quietly, his eyes already closing from the mixture of laughing so much and the feeling of Wei Yings fingers in his hair.

“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan.  You’re safe now.  Your tickle monster is content,” Wei WuXian murmured though by the sound of his husband's steady breathing he doubted that he had heard him.  Smiling gently, Wei WuXian ducked down, pressing a soft kiss to his Lan Zhan’s brow as he yawned and finally settled down as well.

“Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” he whispered softly, feeling strong arms give him a little squeeze around his waist.

“Goodnight… my monster,” Lan Zhan whispered back and finally… finally Lan Zhan was able to get the sleep he had longed for.  Now that this nighttime beast had been satiated.

[biwenqing]

wen qing birthday prompts! any of the following would be lovely, please and thank youuu! #1 with jyl (fave ship!), #8 with lwj (friendship, one my of my fave brotps), #66 with wwx (friendship, also one of my fave brotps), #4 with wen ning. thank you!

Thank you so so much for these prompts! Gosh they are all so good, but I went with the first one because I haven’t written these two together in a while and I miss them! This is a bit of an AU because I want them to have their happy endings. Prompt: “I’ll never forget you.”

The summer day was bright and warm, even in the mountains of Gusu. The area they were in was shaded by the trees and there was little chance of anyone seeing them. Jiang Yanli had taken that as freedom to shrug off the outer layers of her robe, and Wen Qing was finding it a lot harder to focus on their sparing.

"You're going easy on me now," Jiang Yanli teased, the tip of her practice sword nearly against Wen Qing's throat. "I'm not going to be able to strengthen my core if you don't try."

"Of course," Wen Qing cleared her throat, looking away from Jiang Yanli's waist. She was immediately confronted with the way that the other woman's under robe hung open just a little. Wen Qing turned and went back to her side of the clearing. "Let's go again."

Twirling back, she found Jiang Yanli grinning. "Or do you want to take a break? You look flushed."

That only made Wen Qing blush more. She was able to control her expression at least to be carefully neutral. "I did find some cold springs further up in the hills?"

"Oh, a-Ying mentioned something about those!" Jiang Yanli gathered up her clothes but didn't put them back on. "That sounds perfect right now."

Wen Qing picked up the practice swords and made her way towards the path. Jiang Yanli caught her arm, looping her own through it and leaning close. Despite their level of activity, she still smelled like lotus blossoms and sharp tea. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck and collar bone, before slipping further. Wen Qing turned her focus back to the path below their feet. It could be rocky after all.

Her thoughts weren’t so easily swayed. Wen Qing had been ordered to observe and find the secrets of the Cloud Recesses. Instead, her mind had become a collection of the ways Jiang Yanli smiled and what she said her favorite foods were. How she looked in the early morning light and through crossed blades. The sound of her laughter when her brothers did something particularly ridiculous.

And now, the sound of the sigh she made as she sunk into the cold water. 

The feeling of the tug of her hand, slipping in Wen Qing's own, so that Wen Qing joined her. 

Jiang Yanli swam and played in the water as if it were second nature to her. Wen Qing allowed herself a moment to watch, before sinking below the surface, cooling her heat on her cheeks. 

...

When it came time to leave the Cloud Recesses, Wen Qing didn't know what to say. She avoided Jiang Yanli, slipping close only to tie a message onto her sword. She hadn't known the best words to use, so she left a single sentence and hoped Jiang Yanli would understand.

[I’ll never forget you.]

She didn't think she would ever see Jiang Yanli again, and it was best not to say too much. This piece of the truth would do.

...

It turned out she had been wrong and she did see Jiang Yanli once more. Around the little bubble of her home, it felt like the end of the world. Wen Qing knew her uncle's intentions, knew well the cruelty of her cousins. But there had never anything she could do without putting Wen Ning in danger.

Jiang Yanli understood this when Wen Qing had whispered the confession. They were in a room beside where Jiang Cheng lay, Wei Wuxian close to his side. Of course, Jiang Yanli knew what it was to have to weigh options and make hard choices.

Reaching out, Wen Qing caught Jiang Yanli's hand, holding it tighter than she normally would allow herself. But the comfort of the soft palm against her callused one was something she needed.

It was apparently something Jiang Yanli needed as well. She moved from where she sat across from Wen Qing to settle at her side. Jiang Yanli rested her head on Wen Qing shoulder, and Wen Qing wrapped her arms around her. As Wen Qing felt Jiang Yanli's silent tears soak through her robe, she knew she was going to have to do something.

It was a relief to decide this, and she held Jiang Yanli tighter. It was clear none of them were safe.

...

It was a few days since Jiang Yanli left, when Wen Qing and Wen Ning came back home after having helped Wei Wuxian be an idiot, that Wen Qing found a little note tucked under her pillow. It quoted back, 'I'll never forget you.'

A promise that could be made, even in a world descending into war. Wen Qing read the words and vowed that if there was next time, they wouldn't part.

...

Wen Qing could feel the blood under her nails, the way her hair and filth stuck to her neck. The soldiers around her were equally tired and they didn't have a shift working with the wounded to look forward to the way she did. More Wen troops had laid down their arms though, seeing Wen Qing fighting beside Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan. It saved casualties on both sides, something she was grateful for every day.

It was things like this that let her know she had made the right choice.

Jiang Yanli hurried towards her as soon as they entered the camp. She gave her brother a smile, before gently taking Wen Qing's hand. In the tent they had taken to sharing, Jiang Yanli had prepared hot water so Wen Qing could clean off as best as she was able. Jiang Yanli helped her with everything, as she changed into the robes she used when tending to patients. Her sword was set down next to where Jiang Yanli's rested.

As she reached for her medicine bag, Jiang Yanli caught her arm. "You're hurt."

Wen Qing blinked, looking down to see that there was some fresh blood beginning to stain the fabric. She thought back to the battle, but it was always so hard to keep track of what happened. Any confrontation seemed to be over in a moment but while when she was in it, each second stretched out to an hour.

"It wasn't, that is your not-"

Wen Qing shook her head. "It wasn't one of the poisoned ones, I know that much."

"Well, sit, let me patch you up." Jiang Yanli gently pushed her to sit on one of the sleeping mats. She took Wen Qing's bag, gathering everything she needed while Wen Qing rolled up her sleeve. The cut wasn't deep, but it started to throb now that she was aware of it.

As Jiang Yanli carefully cleaned and then bandaged the wound, Wen Qing couldn't help a little smile. "You've gotten very good at this."

"Thank you," Jiang Yanli glanced up through her lashes. "I have been thinking maybe once this is done, we could travel and help those far from any doctors."

Wen Qing felt a warmth wash through her. "Just the two of us?"

"Yes," Jiang Yanli was smiling now, Wen Qing could hear it even if she couldn't see it. "If no little brothers follow us, that is."

Wen Qing knew she had a matching smile, and it felt more real than any she had in a long time. Even a laugh bubbled up. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jiang Yanli gently tugged the sleeve back down before looking up at Wen Qing. Their faces were so close together now, it wouldn't take much to...

"Let's do it," Wen Qing found herself saying. "When the war is over, let's travel and do good. Together."

Jiang Yanli nodded, before leaning forward. Wen Qing found she liked kissing Jiang Yanli's smile as much as she liked seeing it.

[familiar-anonymous]

we all want to bubble wrap wei ying

[besanii]

if your still writing tonight, Double Happiness please? I need fluff if im to survive shattered mirrors ;-;;; thank you for saving my soul with your fics

Wei Wuxian leans against the trunk of the peach tree, his legs stretched out along the length of a low-hanging branch, and tips his head back to swallow a mouthful of wine. He sighs gustily afterwards, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grins down at the approaching Xiao Xingchen.

“You can’t hide here forever you know,” Xiao Xingchen tells him. “Shijie will eventually find her way here.”

Wei Wuxian makes a face. 

“I’ll take whatever time I can get,” he says. “You don’t know how hard it’s been these past few weeks, Shishu. Just…constantly, everyday, ‘when’s the wedding?’, ‘how long have you been together?’, ‘when are you having children?’—I don’t even have the right parts for that, Shishu!”

Xiao Xingchen chuckles and shakes his head.

“If you’re really worried about that, there is a fish tribe living in the West Ocean that has cultivated a special skill for that purpose,” he says. “I’m sure if you asked very nicely, Zichen would be willing to introduce you. Their leader owes him a life debt.”

Wei Wuxian groans and slumps further along the tree branch, one hand over his face. Who wants to think about children? He’s too young to have children! There’s still so much he wants to see—not to mention, if he wants to ascend to High God before Lan Wangji, he wouldn’t have the time for children! 

An image of a tiny, baby version of Lan Wangji appears in his mind. Would he be born in human form, or hatched from an egg? The Qing Qiu Fox Tribe are always born as foxes, and only took human form around their first birthday, when they were old enough to have a semblance of control over their powers. He’d been the cutest kit in the history of their tribe. He’s sure Lan Wangji would have been the cutest baby dragon.

Would their child be a dragon or a fox? He’s not sure they can be both. Jin Ling, disappointingly, turned out to be a peacock like his father, but at least he’s cute and lovable and not at all like his father in personality. In any case, his and Lan Wangji’s future babies would be even cuter.

Wait.

“I’m not physically equipped to lay eggs!” he yells, sitting bolt upright.

“You won’t need to,” a familiar voice says. “We are born in human form.”

He must be drunk. Or having some sort of weird fever dream, because there’s no way Lan Wangji could have managed to find him here. He’d been careful about sneaking out! He hadn’t even told anyone! How does Lan Wangji keep finding him?

“Are you stalking me or something?” he mumbles, cheeks flushed with either embarrassment, or wine, or both. “I’m supposed to be good at hiding.”

“You are,” Lan Wangji assures him with a smile. “I’m just better at seeking.”

Wei Wuxian pouts and takes another swig from the jug.

“Are you here to drag me back to the Nine Heavens, Lan Zhan?” he asks. “Where’s Shishu?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I’m here to keep you company. Xiao Xingchen-shangshen said to let you know he will be in his house if you need him.”

At this, Wei Wuxian perks up. He swings his legs over the branch and faces Lan Wangji, a wide smile spreading over his face.

“So I don’t have to go back?” he presses, just to confirm. Lan Wangji shakes his head again. He whoops, punching the air in his excitement. “Freedom!”

The motion disrupts his already precarious perch and he goes toppling forward off the branch, arms and legs flailing the in the air. Lan Wangji is there in one lightning-fast step, wrapping an arm firmly around his waist to hold him upright, their bodies pressed together from chest to knee as their feet touch down gently on the grass. The wine jug lays forgotten by their feet.

Wei Wuxian’s heart is beating too fast, he can hear it in his ears. It must be the shock of the fall, he thinks faintly. Or tries to, but it’s hard to think when he’s pressed up this close to Lan Wangji, with barely a breath of space between them. He can see the flecks of gold in Lan Wangji’s eyes, the way they darken slowly as they stare at each other, and feels himself falling.

“Wei Ying…” His eyes fall down to Lan Wangji’s lips, mesmerised by the way it shapes his name. “Wei Ying.”

It must be the wine. He must have taken the wrong wine from the storage room, otherwise he wouldn’t be feeling this lightheaded, this hot, after only three jugs. He feels the arms around him tighten, pulling him even closer, and he follows it blindly, closing his eyes and pressing their lips together.

Lan Wangji gasps against his lips and presses in closer, threading his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair and angling their heads for better access. He moans at the first, hesitant brush of Lan Wangji’s tongue against his lips, and parts them for him. He feels, rather than hears, Lan Wangji’s responding moan, low and deep in his chest; it’s a heady feeling, knowing he has this effect on Lan Wangji.

They eventually break apart for air, but Lan Wangji is loathe to let him go too far, the hand in his hair holding him firm as they pant against each other’s mouths.

Lan Zhan is really beautiful like this, Wei Wuxian thinks hazily. He traces the light flush across those perfect cheekbones with his fingers. And only I will ever get to see him like this.

Except, he won’t. Because they’re not engaged, not getting married, not even together. Not really. This is all for show.

The thought crashes over him like an ice-cold wave, chasing away the lust-fuelled haze that had settled over his mind like a thick blanket. He gasps and pulls away more forcefully, struggling against Lan Wangji’s grip.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, startled. “Wei Ying, what’s wrong?”

“I-I need to go,” Wei Wuxian says in a panic. He feels it bubbling up from his chest, into his throat, and gasps again. “Lan Zhan, we shouldn’t—we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Lan Wangji relents. As soon as his grip loosens enough, Wei Wuxian reverts back to his original form in a puff of smoke, and disappears through the trees.

// buy me a ko-fi //

Previous parts here

[stiltonbasket]

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight wrap-up Q & A!

(brief note that this post does contain spoilers, so don’t click past the cut unless you’ve finished reading!)

__

1. Hi Stilton! I love you and TMAAF! The way you write the letters really feels organic and like people writing letters to other people in a time where communication wasn't instantaneous and thats a pet peeve I have with some fics that treat letters like text. I don't know if you've been asked this but what's your inspiration for the letters? Did you just make them up as they are? Did you look at old letters and studied the tone? @iwillbetrash4eva

I made the letters up as they are, but it was essential for me to keep in mind that the characters are all highly educated, and that Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang in particular are very accomplished in the arts. Letters written by someone who composes music and poetry in their spare time aren’t going to be the same as emails and text messages written for the sake of raw information transfer, so I made sure to incorporate that into the letters; they’re written on pretty paper, usually in the sender’s best calligraphy, and it takes time to sit down and write them, so there’s an aspect of aesthetic reflection there that we rarely notice in modern communication.

I also felt that the characters would include snapshots of their lives and feelings while writing; this was more important with Wei Wuxian, since he throws himself so deeply into his daily life, but I also had to remember how important the past is to all of the characters and how enmeshed it is with their relevant current events. Ultimately, each letter serves as an extra look into the characters’ state of mind, which is something the narrative might not give us. 

2. What was your favorite scene in TMAAF, and which OC was the most fun to write? @keela1221

My favorite scene was Wei Wuxian’s departure from Lotus Pier in chapter 46, especially the part when everyone chased after him! I planned it several months in advance (sometime last summer, I think?) so finally getting to write it felt amazing.

Surprisingly, my favorite original characters to write (besides the main additions of Xiao-Yu, Yu Zhenhong, and Li Shuai) were the Jiang juniors. They love their Wei-zongzhu so much ;~;

3. What made you think of writing this fic? And would you consider a special epilogue because I don't think 50 chapters were nearly enough for me.❤ @avezevin

I think I just wanted to speculate about what cultivation politics might have been like after Jin Guangyao died, and TMAAF was born! And I most likely will be posting an epilogue, since I realized that the Zhenqing wedding works best as a coda instead of as a fic of its own.

4. what's your research process for tmaaf? the worldbuilding is so detailed!!

I read posts on tradition and culture and use them as sources if the chance ever comes along. A significant portion of the lore was entirely made up, but @light8828 helped me with some of the language, and offered so much guidance on cultivation worldbuilding <3

5. I really like the way you write the dynamic between Wei ying and lan zhan with their kids in all your stories. Xiao-Yu is a very lovable character and his relationship with his parents is something I go back to read many times. What do you use as inspiration when writing his, or any of his siblings, relationship with their parents?

Real life, I guess. Some of my older friends have recently had children, and they’re very good parents. :3

6. Where will you be going with the series? I need to prepare myself for heartbreak if the end is approaching, (its ok if you dont know tho! Idk is an optimistic answer, its just that you seem to have many things plotting away in that brain of yours)

Up next, I’m going to finish all the fics in the series that are still in progress, and then I’m going to write Lan Xichen’s fic, maybe a fic from Wen Qing’s point of view, a fic focusing on a reincarnated Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, and a fic from Jin Yun’s POV focusing on his relationship with LXC and the latter’s death and ascension. This doesn’t count all the fluffy wangxian oneshots still bubbling on the back burner, so I expect this series to keep me busy well into 2022. *sweats*

7. TMAAF Q&A: when did you decide you were bringing wen qing back? what led you to making her return a result of the soul-summoning array, rather than having her have survived by some other method? @mischief7manager

I decided that Wen Qing would be returning sometime between chapters 12 and 15, since that was when I knew I wanted her to be the one to cure Wei Wuxian. And as much as I liked the idea of Wen Qing surviving, I didn’t want her to be imprisoned for the 16-year interim; it was important that she appear in TMAAF as she was before her death rather than having over a decade of character development off-screen. But she wasn’t a fierce corpse that could just be put to sleep for all that time, hence the soul-summoning.

8. For the Q&A: Stilton, how did you come up with such an adorable perfect little child like Xiao-Yu?? You write him so well it really does seem like it’s a child talking!! @whereisyourcahier​

He’s partly based on a real baby I know. :P It might sound impossible, but he’s even cuter than Xiao-Yu is.

9. Thank you for doing this Q&A! Was Xiao Yu always part of the story? (Ilhim so much!!)

He was! I always wanted Wangxian to experience parenthood together, so Xiao-Yu’s entry was planned long before he actually appeared in the fic.

10. how did you deal with any writers block that came up?

By reading comments!! I have all of you to thank for that <3<3!!!!!!

11. What was the process for plotting each arc of tmaaf? & when did you decide on what the storyline was going to be? Did you know when you started or did you incorporate stuff as you wrote?

I hashed out the whole plot at once sometime last May, and that was when I laid down the rough storyline. The overall plot was finalized by the time chapter 18 went up, though I did add further details as I went along. In particular, the mini-arc of Wei Wuxian investigating the Yangshuo plague was mostly written on the fly.

12. how long have you been planning the wen qing lang xiyan reveal? has it been something set in stone from the start?

I’ve been planning it since last April, though the exact circumstances weren’t clear until around August or September. Originally, Jiang Cheng was going to ask “Lang Xiyan” to marry him after her mourning period was over, only for her to reveal herself as Wen Qing before accepting, but I soon realized that this wouldn’t fit either of their characters. Wen Ning recognizing her was the only way the reveal made sense (both emotionally and logically) so I had to find a reason to bring him to Yunmeng at exactly the right time.

13. I just want to ask two little things (well three). Where we will be able to read the wedding of baby Zizhen and A-Qing? Will there be Chengqing? And with the last question, if it's yes, will you write a one shot, drabble or something like that?? 🥺🥺🥺

I’m going to post a 51st chapter to TMAAF with the Zhenqing wedding as an epilogue, and Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing are married by then! Wen Qing will most likely be getting a fic of her own, focusing on the time between her revival and her engagement to Jiang Cheng.

14. I just finished reading your fic and let me tell you it's one of the best I have ever had the pleasure to read :) For someone who wants to start writing, how did you start the story? Did you wrote everything with a little scheme or you just leave your brain to work in the document?

I wasn’t planning to write fic for MDZS/CQL at all, and then I randomly ended up outlining, drafting, and posting the first chapter of TMAAF within the span of around two hours. When starting a story, I think it works best for me to just let my brain work in the document without worrying too much about how it might turn out--outlines and schemes tend to come later, after I’ve gotten a feel for how the characters act and laid down some dead-basic worldbuilding.

If you’re just starting out, make sure you’re having fun and that everything you write is as self-indulgent as possible! Enjoying the process is the most important thing, worrying about all the specifics can come later. <3

[orthogonals]

亥时已到 | past nine pm

Rating: T Fandom:  魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭/ Mo dao zu shi - Moxiang Tongxiu Word count: 2,218 Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji Summary:  “The past. Do you think… the story could have played to a different conclusion?”

A careful stoicism decorates Lan Wangji’s smooth features, but Wei Wuxian can spot the anguish lurking in the press of his lips, the pools of his eyes. He scoots further into Lan Wangji’s lap, cradling his face and placing soft kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his cupid's bow.

“Ah, my good Lan Zhan. I know what you’re really thinking. You’re asking if you could have done anything to change things.” Wei Wuxian angles Lan Wangji’s chin so that they stare eye-to-eye, noses centimeters apart and breaths intermingling in the cool night. --- OR: Wei Wuxian gets Suibian back. This leads to a much-needed conversation between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

[read on ao3]

It’s far past nine when Wei Wuxian creeps back into the Jingshi, footsteps carefully light despite the weariness that laps at the edges of his body. He expects Lan Zhan in bed— if not asleep, then in light meditation, his brows slightly tightened in Wei Wuxian’s absence.

Instead, as he slips indoors with the grace of a dancer, he’s greeted with the stringent lines of Lan Zhan’s unyielding profile. Clad in billowing white underrobes and cast in the asymmetrical glow of the moon, Lan Wangji appears almost like a deity knelt at the wooden table. A sword rests in his lap. At Wei Wuxian’s entrance, Lan Wangji tilts up his head, and his constricted expression softens.

“Wei Ying.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, I told you not to wait up!” Wei Wuxian admonishes even as he plops down at Lan Wangji’s side, slipping his cold fingers underneath the opening of Lan Wangji’s nightrobe.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hums in response, setting aside the scabbard to wrap his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist, drawing him closer against his body. “The night-hunt went well?”

“It was alright. The juniors managed to track and lure the monster without my help, but I had to— ah— lend a hand when it came to the final blow. Oh, and Sizhui performed admirably, as always.” Wei Wuxian lets a hint of pride tint his last words. He shifts comfortably into the warmth of Lan Wangji’s hold.

“I expect nothing less,” Lan Wangji intones.

A breeze carries the crisp scent of dewy grass into the Jingshi, and the two men, caught in each other’s embrace, sit in for a moment in comfortable silence. After a while of nuzzling against Lan Wangji’s chest, Wei Wuxian finally lifts his head.

“Jiang Cheng?” With a nod, Wei Wuxian acknowledges Suibian, which Lan Wangji had abandoned on the tabletop.

“Brought with one of the YunmengJiang guest disciples,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“I guess we couldn’t have expected a personal visit.” Wei Wuxian disentangles his arms from Lan Wangji’s clothes to pick up the sword, swiping a gentle thumb against the “随便” etched into the exterior of the sheath. He catches the gravity of Lan Wangji’s gaze and ducks his head.  

“Okay, okay.” With a fluid motion, Wei Wuxian draws the sword out and sends spiritual energy singing into the blade. Red light thrums and dances along its narrow, glinting edges, teasing at the power that simmers beneath. Lan Wangji watches the performance quietly, his posture still. He has not seen Wei Wuxian wield Suibian since his time as a student at the Cloud Recesses.

“Hm. Not bad, my old friend. Missed me, huh?” Wei Wuxian examines the sword contemplatively. The blade flips with a soft gust of air as he turns the hilt. “I can’t believe you can’t tell apart me and Jiang Cheng, really. Preposterous! I’m expecting you to fix your eyesight, you know. Now that I’ll have to start lugging your weight around again.” At Lan Wangji’s slight squeeze, Wei Wuxian sheaths Suibian and turns to face Lan Zhan with a grin.

“I suppose we’ll have to thank Jiang Cheng. If I break another GusuLan practice sword, your uncle might really kick me off the mountain!” Winking an eye, his expression turns mischievous. “Say, Hanguang-Jun, would you honor this one with a duel sometime? I’m much better now than when I was fifteen.”

Wei Wuxian spots a hint of red crawling up edges of Lan Wangji’s earlobes, and he continues with renewed delight. “Just give me, ah, five years, and see if we can draw again!”

Even now, his cultivation level is already much higher than it had been when he was eighteen, around the time when he had given up his core in his previous body. Though Mo Xuanyu’s originally frail physique hinted of long years of abuse and malnourishment, Wei Wuxian had found that dedicated medication, GusuLan training, dual cultivation, hearty meals, and an absolute wealth of past experience contributed to condense his newfound core rather quickly. He’s still taken aback sometimes, at the orb spinning behind his ribs, the light that surges at his fingertips. At the ease with which he can now tamp down the lingering effects of resentful energy, something which had consumed his old self like arsenic.

“No need,” Lan Wangji says, looking down at Wei Wuxian with a soft glow. “Your talent for acquiring new skills has always been remarkable. We will draw within two summers.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian moans, burrowing his face in the crook of Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Don’t say things like that, I’m only joking. I’ve only got one foot on the sword path, you know. And I’m only good at learning things I’ve made up myself.”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, perhaps to point out that the very ability to invent things speaks to Wei Ying’s acumen, but he’s distracted again by the sheer, painful familiarity of Suibian lying haphazardly next to Wei Wuxian. Instead, what comes out is: “Do you think things could have changed?”

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian pulls back to look at Lan Wangji, reaching up to tug gently at a lock of his hair. Lan Wangji catches Wei Wuxian’s errant hand in his own.

“The past. Do you think… the story could have played to a different conclusion?”

A careful stoicism decorates Lan Wangji’s smooth features, but Wei Wuxian can spot the anguish lurking in the press of his lips, the pools of his eyes. He scoots further into Lan Wangji’s lap, cradling his face and placing soft kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his cupid's bow.

“Ah, my good Lan Zhan. I know what you’re really thinking. You’re asking if you could have done anything to change things.” Wei Wuxian angles Lan Wangji’s chin so that they stare eye-to-eye, noses centimeters apart and breaths intermingling in the cool night.

As a principle, Wei Wuxian tries to avoid analyzing his previous life too closely. To think is to dwell, and to dwell means to revisit a knife slice under his ribs; three months spent scavenging among corpses; the dust of the Stygian Tiger Seal scattered with his last breath of life. But Lan Zhan has to understand, so Wei Wuxian would tell him, just this once.

“There is nothing you could have done.” The words simmer in the space between them, low and clear. “A single-plank bridge only goes one way. I never expected to reach twenty-five.” Lan Wangji inhales like he’s been stabbed.

“Wei Ying.”

“Shh,” Wei Wuxian soothes, smoothing the twist in Lan Wangji’s brows with a brush of his thumb. “Listen. Even if Wen Chao didn’t find me that day, didn’t throw me into the Burial Mounds. Would I have survived the battlefield?”

Lan Wangji does not reply, but the answer shines in his gaze like an open wound. At the time, all the four main sects— LanlingJin, GusuLan, QingheNie, YunmengJiang— had known that a war against the QishanWen sect was inevitable. The massacre of Lotus Pier had catalyzed the Sunshot Campaign, but even if Wei Ying had not been rushed to battle, he and Jiang Cheng would have independently sought revenge against the Wens.

How could Wei Ying, without a core, hope to fight with a sword and live in a cultivation war? How could Wei Ying have refused? His missing core was a secret kept for the grave. And even devoid of spiritual powers, how could he want to refuse? Perhaps Cloud Recesses had burned, but Lan Wangji’s brother had survived. His uncle had survived. He survived, and Wei Ying had even nursed his broken leg back to health. Apart from Wei Ying, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli, every single member of the YunmengJiang sect had been slaughtered.

Wei Wuxian gives a harsh chuckle. “I suppose I should thank Wen Chao for dumping me in that godforsaken place. For leaving me no other options. He extended my life expectancy.”

“I would have protected you,” Lan Wangji says at last. “If you did not have a method of protecting yourself.”

“Lan Er-gege, you’re so good. Do you know that?” Wei Wuxian smiles softly at the man before him. He rewards Lan Wangji with another feather of a kiss, a press at the corner of his lips. “But I wouldn’t have let you get close. You would have found me out in a heartbeat.”

“I—”

Wei Wuxian stops Lan Wangji with a finger against his mouth.

“At the time, Jiang Cheng was just beginning to rebuild the YunmengJiang sect. And he was so young. We all were. I couldn’t take any risks.” He holds one of Lan Wangji’s hands to his face, caresses the soft palm and presses kisses against the slender fingertips. After a beat, he exhales.

“You understand, don’t you? Why I couldn’t come with you to Gusu.”

Lan Wangji seems to have lost the ability to speak. Though his expression has hardly changed during their conversation, a pot of emotions bubble and lurch in his chest, thick and messy.

Wei Wuxian thinks that they're almost at a limit for such a fraught discussion. Still, if he gets all the words out now, clears out all the cobwebs of misunderstanding, then maybe Lan Zhan will let go of the notion that he could've possibly saved Wei Wuxian from an unavoidable downfall.

“I am glad, Lan Zhan, that you did not take a more determined approach. Even then, I liked you a lot. But I would have pushed you away. I would have hurt you even more than I already did.” At this Wei Wuxian pauses, squeezing Lan Wangji’s hand. “I liked you too much to let you seek your death on my single-plank bridge.”

Lan Wangji remembers. Get out, Wei Wuxian had uttered, repeatedly and incessantly, a low growl at his throat. His skin ran hot with fever, and Lan Wangji had bit back tears, desperately transferring spiritual energy into Wei Wuxian. It barely seemed to help. Wei Wuxian was weak, skin and bones, dark circles smeared like ink beneath his eyes. But he had enough strength to demand one thing. Get out!

“The truth is, I didn’t get dealt the cards for a long, happy life. And I made my peace with it, I really did.”

What he does not say, but Lan Wangji hears, is that he had accepted the ticking clock of the end of his life the moment he— a boy not yet twenty— watched the last tendrils of spiritual energy leave his body. When the surging tides of his power stilled into dead water, and a piece of himself, carved out of flesh and blood, took root and blossomed inside Jiang Wanyin.

“Tch, Lan Zhan, I can hear what you’re thinking. Disrespecting sect leaders is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.”

“Mn. Not forbidden,” Lan Wangji grits out, face stony. For once, he resents his characteristic reticence. He holds a jar of jumbled thoughts and not a single word to express them.

Wei Wuxian knows what Lan Wangji must have looked like, when he first heard the truth about his core spill like blood from Wen Ning’s lips. He must have gazed at him the way he does now, with that mixture of shock, grief, and turmoil swimming in the amber of his irises.

He doubts that anyone, even Lan Zhan, will ever truly understand why he had made that initial decision, the one that kickstarted the tragic trajectory of the rest of his life. Because they didn’t hear the dying words of Madam Yu, slammed bone-deep into his chest: protect Jiang Cheng with your life. They didn’t watch Uncle Jiang openly chase his own demise, trusting Wei Wuxian with his only son.

They weren’t there to see the days of Jiang Cheng lying prone on Wen Qing’s bed, tatters of blood-stained purple hanging off his limp form, eyes blank and unseeing. Jiang Cheng, clad in the remnants of a sect with only three living members, a reminder of the revenge he couldn’t fulfill and the world he could no longer lead. Wei Wuxian would’ve given him anything then, to put the pride back in his stare and restore the anger that colored the lilt of his voice. He would’ve gladly given his life. What was a golden core? It was never even a question.

“I’ve made many mistakes in my past life, especially towards the end. But my core— that’s one decision I will never regret.” Wei Wuxian states firmly, nodding at Lan Wangji with intention. Lan Wangji replies with a barely perceptible sound.

“Wei Ying…” He trails off helplessly. What is left to say? Everything had happened more than ten years in the past. He cannot hope to alter the choices he had made, and neither can Wei Ying. Perhaps they would have always ended up here, Wei Ying in a foreign body and him in one marked by the scars born of his love. But if it ends with them together, no matter their shape or form, then Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to begrudge the path.

“Wei Ying, I love you.”

Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh into the folds of Lan Wangji’s robe. “I love you, Lan Zhan." He leaps to his feet, knees creaking, dragging Lan Wangji along by the ends of his sleeves. "Now come, let’s sleep. It’s past nine.”

[lanzhanhoe]

Hugs

Summary:

Lan Wangji was not used to skinship, or any touching at all, he grew up without it, and knew he did not need it at all. But Wei Ying crushed into his life, and now there was nothing he wanted more than to have him close.

------

This is the second part!!! here's the frist one:

[Part 1]

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They travelled together, and for Lan Wangji, that was the best journey of his life. Sure, at first, it was hard to repress his desire to just touch Wei Ying, to feel him and convince himself that he was real, that he was there with him, after all this time. Yes, he came back with another body, but his big and warm smile was the same, that pretty laugh was still there, the endless teasing and the wise look on his eyes was all the same. 

Wei Ying was Wei Ying no matter what.

As time passed, they became closer, Lan Wangji got to understand better what Wei Wuxian went through before his death, all that time alone in Yiling with the Wen's, being an outcast, how hard it was when the world hated you. He also found out about his golden core, and Lan Wangji felt as if his heart broke for a second time, how much pain Wei Ying had to bear because of the love and respect he had for the Jiang Clan? 

It hurt, but made Lan Wangji love Wei Wuxian so much more.

Lan Wangji always knew how selfless, strong and good Wei Wuxian was, but he never really considered how much of himself could he give to the ones who he loved. It was so loyal, so precious, so Wei Ying, it made him want to hide him away so no one could hurt him, and also made him yearn all that love and devotion to be directed to himself only at the same time. 

When they got to Jin Guangyao, surrounded by enemies, Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen and Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian confessed his feelings, how much he loved Lan Zhan, that there was a misunderstanding, and how much he wanted them to do it every day with him, only him, Lan Wangji felt as if the little restraint inside him broke, and all his suppressed desires were free. 

They collided in the longest, warmest and fulfilling hug he ever had, Lan Wangji finally could be with Wei Ying, the demonic cultivator's heart was finally his to keep and cherish. They kissed, laughed and hugged, wrapped up in a happy bubble of love in the middle of chaos, but they didn't care at all. This was their moment.

After all that mess, Weu Wuxian accepted, after all this time, to go to Gusu with him. They went back, together, and, he hoped, forever.

They got married, and since then, no matter where they where, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian would always stick together. And, of course, Lan Zhan finally got to receive all the love and care of Wei Ying. 

Every morning, they would wake up and Wei Ying would play with his hair, making Lan Zhan feel content and calm. After that, Lan Zhan would get up and give his sleepy husband kisses everywhere, from his cheeks, to his forehead, his lips, of course, and, sometimes, when they where feeling playful, some neck or chest kisses (or bites and hickeys) were always welcome.

And for the rest of the day, Lan Wangji would have a hand placed on Wei Ying's waist or hips, or his husband (Yes! His husband!!) would be touching his forehead ribbon or giving him pecks in his cheeks, and both would find (if they were in the Cloud Recesses, or anywhere, really) some time to themselves, to just cuddle, hug and talk about everything and anything. Because they enjoyed being together and needed the other's presence.

Oh, and of course, Lan Wangji also would never let We Ying forget about his promise. Their everyday activities were always something really precious for them, and although Wei Wuxian sometimes complains "Lan Zhan, please~ give me a break, you'll break me…" "I can't go on for another round! How much stamina you have, Hanguang Jun~", he will always give as much as he gets. 

And, yes, their everyday activities are really pleasant and fun, but Lan Wangji loves it because of the intimacy in it, he gets to see his husband like no one else has ever seen him, gets to touch, kiss, lick, suck, bite as much as he wants. Loves to give pleasure, to make Wei Ying feel good. And he loves how good Wei Wuxian was capable of making him feel too, because no one knew how, just him, his friend, his lover, his husband, his everything.

Little Lan Zhan didn't understand the real meaning of touching other people, he found it meaningless and vulnerable, unnecessary. He never realised how much he really wanted it, until he met Wei Wuxian. He was the only one Lan Zhan wanted, but realized it only when he lost him. But now, after thirteen long years, Mo Xuanyu brought Wei Wuxian back.

And, as if the world was giving them both a second chance, it brought them together, and, in the other, they found love and company. They became partners and lovers. In the end, life was not that cruel to them, because they finally got to be happy, together.

----

and they lived happily ever after!! yupp, i finished it. thank you for the comments <3! i seriously didn't expect one, and honestly they gave me motivation to keep writing, because i was gonna post this on thursday tbh hehe.

i hope you liked it! im still new to writing so please be kind hehe, thank you!!

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for garsideofthemoon

Hi! From the prompt I was inspired by @garsideofthemoon’s   Likes: AUs, friends to lovers, shippy fluff, stuff about being queer or being trans/nonbinary. I hope that I did the characters enough justice in your eyes and you enjoy reading this!! Happy Winter Solstice!

Read on AO3

*****

Not Your Boyfriend, Still Your Love

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian called across the lawn of central campus, waving their arms frantically to get the other’s attention, “Lan Zhan! Wait up!”

Wei Wuxian’s brother, Jiang Cheng punched his arm, “Shut up, idiot, he’s clearly on his way to class.”

But Lan Wangji stopped his walking and turned back slightly to face Wei Ying, face impassive but the fact that he stopped was invitation enough for Wei Wuxian, who ran across the quad and pounced onto the taller man, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and hanging on. Lan Wangji took his weight easily.

“Good morning, Wei Ying.”

“Morning Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian chirped, pressing their face happily into the back of Lan Wangji’s neck and smiling against his skin.

Jiang Cheng caught up with them and the three continued their walk through the campus, “Aren’t you tired of this idiot yet, Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian pouted at his brother, “He didn’t tire of being my friend after ten years so it’ll be at least another ten years of being my boyfriend before he gets tired of that, right Lan Zhan?”

“That sentence makes no sense,” Jiang Cheng said, “And you’ve been together for three years, what happens in seven years?”

“Husband,” Lan Wangji said, in the solemn way of his.

Wei Wuxian internally winced, and instead danced away from the other two, “Haha, maybe,” he sung, “You have to ask me first, Lan Zhan! You don’t know I’ll say yes!”

Lan Wangji twitched an eyebrow at him as if to say don’t I?

Wei Wuxian chewed on his lower lip all through class, worrying it like the creeping self-doubt worried at his brain. The problem wasn’t Lan Zhan. He loved Lan Zhan. Had loved him since they were seven and Wei Wuxian pushed an older kid off the swings when he tried to kick Lan Zhan as the quieter kid walked by.

Back then, Lan Zhan was the Absolute Best Thing that had ever happened to Wei Wuxian, nevermind that when they first met a year before Lan Zhan kept tattling on him drawing little comics during class instead of paying attention to the teacher.

“Books are so boring!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed at him across their four-kid table, “I pay attention during math, don’t I? And we don’t have a learning time for drawing so I do that when the rest of you talk about books! It’s more fun than reading dumb old words anyway, look, I drew you!”

Now, fourteen years later, Wei Wuxian still thought that Lan Zhan was the Absolute Best Thing ever, but they were less sure that they were good for them. Lan Zhan was gay. Had always been gay, since forever. At their first party that Wei Wuxian dragged Lan Wangji to when they were fifteen, playing spin the bottle and during Lan Wangji’s turn landing on their friend Mianmian. His face had screwed up distastefully as the rest of the group hooted and said, rather primly, “I’m not interested in kissing any girl.”

Wei Wuxian turned and was about to apologize to the girl in question, but she just rolled her eyes and responded, “Well I’m not interested in kissing any boy either.”

Wei Wuxian had wondered why those were the only two options, and in his slightly drunken state wondered why he felt between them. (He didn’t kiss Lan Zhan that night, even when Lan Wangji’s next spin landed on him and with no protest his friend leaned over and pressed his lips to Wei Wuxian’s cheek.)

Much later, at Mianmian and Jiang Yanli’s engagement party they regaled Yanli with this tale, everyone shouting their version at each other over champagne and music. Lan Zhan had pressed a kiss to the same spot on Wei Wuxian’s cheek.

By then Wei Wuxian had a much better understanding of who they were. He had a much less clear idea of how his boyfriend would react. They bit the inside of their cheek and kept quiet. At the confused look their friend Huaisang shot them, Wei Wuxian promptly burst into tears and flung himself at Jiang Yanli, sobbing dramatically about their precious big sister getting married and how Wei Wuxian was so happy for her.

“Wei Ying,” a welcome and familiar voice coaxed him out of his thoughts and he looked around him to realize that class had ended and they were the only two left in the room.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian responded, smiling at him. The man blinked at him, thinking.

“Are you all right?”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, you don’t have to worry about little old me! I was up late working on a piece for the gallery opening in a few weeks.”

Lan Zhan nodded, “Yes, my brother and uncle will be in attendance. I thought you could do with the warning.”

Wei Wuxian winced, “They don’t know I’m showing, do they?”

“Uncle does not, I told my brother that I already had a reservation when he offered to get me in as well. He guessed.”

“It’s not Xichen I’m worried about,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, “I’m the feature! I’m going to have to talk to him! They’ll make me, I know he’s one of the bigger doners.”

“The Jin’s will be there as well.”

Wei Wuxian slumped in his seat, sliding down until he chin was pressed into his chest, “Fuck,” he said, with feeling, “I’m going to have to dress extra fancy now. I can’t afford to upgrade my closet – I need new canvases!”

“I’ll buy you something to wear.”

“Lan Zhan, no. You don’t’ have to do that, I’ll figure something out.”

Their boyfriend leveled them with a stubborn gleam in his eyes, “It is as much for my benefit as it is yours and the art program, Wei Ying. Uncle has reason enough to dislike you, let’s not add ‘under-dressed’ to the list.”

“You’re right, of course you’re right, my Lan Zhan is already right. It’s just…” he trailed off, thinking about red dresses and sparkling ribbons. They wondered if they could get away with wearing some makeup, they were out as gay, they were an art student (the top art student, not that any of the adults in their life talked about that), it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for a cis gay guy to wear makeup.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian jerked out of his thought again and bounded up, “Nothing, nothing! I’ll let you take me shopping tomorrow okay? I gotta go, I’m gonna be late for class.”

Lan Wangji knew that Wei Ying didn’t have class for another three hours, but as his boyfriend rushed past him, pressing a quick goodbye kiss to his lips and slipping from the classroom, Lan Wangji didn’t call him on it. He frowned to himself, tapping the tips of his fingers together in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety.

Wei Ying was lying to him. Or was pulling away from him. Keeping things from him. Lan Wangji respected his boyfriend’s life, understanding that having a life and friends outside of their romantic relationship was healthy and he didn’t begrudge Wei Ying at all.

More and more recently, however, Wei Ying wasn’t having friend dates or art-weekends. Or if he was, he was lying about it. His boyfriend was terrible at lying, at least to him, they grew up together, grew into themselves adjacent and holding hands. He loved him.

And Wei Ying was pulling away. Lan Wangji didn’t know what he was doing wrong. On one of his own friend dates with Mianmian he haltingly expressed his concerns. His friend had frowned at him and tried to reassure.

“Yanli only ever talks about how happy Wuxian is with you. If he was at all unhappy, you know she’d be the first one he’d talk to.”

“If he ever talked to anybody,” Lan Wangji countered, morosely.

Mianmiang patted his hand, “Talk to him, since you’re so worried about it. You two are meant to be. I firmly believe that whatever it is, you two will work it out.” She sipped her coffee and added, “There’s no way he’s cheating on you, anyone with eyes can see how disgustingly enamored he is with you.”

“Says the woman who’s marrying his sister,” Lan Wangji said, rolling his eyes, “If he is cheating on me, who’s side would you take?”

“Moot point. Like I said, there’s no way. Besides, Wuxian can’t live with guilt. We all remember what happened in history 703.”

Lan Wangji’s lips twitched into a small smile at the reminder.

“How’s wedding planning?” He changed the subject.

“Terrible,” Mianmian said cheerfully, “Our future in-laws are insane.”

“You sure you want to go through with this?”

“’Course. And you?”

“Always.”

They clinked mugs in mutual commiseration.

The gallery opening reception started well. Wei Ying, in all their tailored glory, was standing at ease, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and Lan Wangji’s hand in their other. They greeted people who made their way towards them as they stood in front of the first of Wei Ying’s featured pieces.

Everything went downhill fast when The Jin’s rolled in. In a cloud of ostentatious gilt and cologne Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun entered the room like they expected a royal announcement and (in)appropriate fanfare for deigning to grace the rest of the plebs in the room with their presence.

With quick thinking and a thorough lack of etiquette Wei Ying and Lan Zhan dodged their greetings by ducking behind sculptures and canvases until they found themselves out on the patio. Giggling, Wei Ying wrapped their arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and pressed a series of bubbly kisses across his lips and jaw.

Lan Zhan held him tightly by the waist, enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend’s lips alongside the cool freshness of the outside air. They swayed together until the adrenaline faded and they were left leaning against the railing looking out over the small garden below.

“Will you get into trouble for that?” Wei Ying asked, eventually.

“Uncle is still upset at me for switching to a music major,” Lan Zhan told him, “This will not cause more strife than that ever could.”

“You wouldn’t have been happy in board meetings your whole life.”

Lan Zhan kissed his boyfriend’s hair, “I know. He’ll learn to forgive me for that.”

Their peacefulness was disturbed by the unwelcome edition of Jin Zixun swaggering out onto the balcony. He scowled at the two when he saw them.

“Christ, who invited that low-bred orphan,” he sneered, looking directly at Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji bristled, “He happens to be the feature artist, which you would know if you could read the program.”

“You-!” The Jin’s face turned red, it was well known secret that Jin Zixun failed the entrance exams and Guangshan had to pay for him to get into the university’s business program.

“He’s also the Jiang Cheng’s brother, which you well know,” Lan Wangji said, glaring at Jin Zixun. Jiang Cheng was currently top of the business program that Jin Zixun failed to get into on his own merit. “And he’s my boyfriend. So far he has much more reason to be here than you.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but wince slightly at the proud way Lan Zhan called him his boyfriend, unfortunately the Jin noticed and grinned, smelling blood.

“Is he your boyfriend by choice,” he taunted, so venomously that Wei Wuxian actually took a step back, and only belatedly realized how that looked to both Jin Zixun and the love of his life.

“Lan Zhan,” He started to say, reaching out to grab his sleeve.

“I guess not,” Jin Zixun sneered, “I knew the Lans were a bunch of snobby ill-breds, no wonder you were forced to be with a man. Your uncle knew he didn’t want his disgrace of a nephew passing on the family genes.”

He didn’t see the fist that connected with his nose with a sickening crunch. He fell back heavily and looked up dazed. Wei Wuxian was standing over him, gripping their right hand protectively with their left and glaring down at him.

Jin Zixun, for the first time in his life, wished that someone wouldn’t pay attention to him.

“No one is forcing me,” Wei Wuxian said, “I love Lan Zhan. The day he asked me to be with him was the best day of my life. His uncle loves him for more than his career choices, but I guess you wouldn’t understand that, would you? Your uncle would drop you with hardly a thought if you strayed from the path he set.”

Jin Zixun knew that was true, after all, Jin Guangshan had dropped his own son when he confronted him about some of his more lecherous business practices, and Jin Zixun had assumed that that was how it was for Lan Wangji too. He pulled himself to his knees and fled with as much dignity as he could.

Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji, who was staring at them with guarded eyes.

“A’Zhan, what he said wasn’t true. I know you’re not forcing me. I love being with you. I just…”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said when Wei Wuxian hesitated for too long. “Are you… not happy with me?” he fumbled too. And the two stared at each other, the tension between them felt insurmountable, but neither wanted to walk away. Neither could walk away from the other. There was tension and confusion, but there was love there too.

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend!” Wei Wuxian blurted, and instantly he knew that was the wrong thing to say because Lan Wangji’s face fell, his chin trembled for a moment as he forced himself to maintain control.

“No, wait! Lan Zhan that’s not what I meant. I love you, I want to be with you I do! More than anything.”

“Then why can’t you be my boyfriend?”

“Because I’m not a boy!”

Lan Wangji blinked. Of all the things he had expected Wei Wuxian to say, that was not one of them. He was caught completely by surprise and all he could do was gape (though elegantly) at his love.

“You’re not…” he repeated.

“A guy. Right.” Wei Wuxian smiled at him, though it was forced, a learned defense mechanism.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes and breathed. When he opened his eyes he saw his Wei Ying staring at him, hope and fear mingling in his gaze and Lan Wangji suddenly didn’t care about anything else.

“Girlfriend…?” he offered.

Wei Ying shook their head, “No. No Lan Zhan, I’m not… not a girl either. Most of the time I feel more masculine than I do feminine, but… not always. And like tonight, to spent so much money to get the suit tailored for me – and I love it and I love how you look at me when I’m wearing it. But tonight I felt more feminine and I really wanted to wear a dress and I couldn’t because you didn’t know and it’s a formal event and everybody would be here and no one really knows, not that it’s a sure thing and it might change and I know that’s a lot for you-“

Lan Zhan reached out and rested his fingers against Wei Ying’s lips.

“I want to be with Wei Ying, too.” Lan Zhan told him, “If he is a boy, or girl, or neither, or both. You are Wei Ying and so you are who I want.”

Wei Ying’s eyes teared up, he couldn’t help it. “Lan Zhan,” he whined, “You’re being too nice to me. It’s not allowed!”

Lan Zhan quirked an eyebrow, teasing, “Am I not allowed to say nice things about my boy- about my Wei Ying?” He quickly corrected himself and met Wei Ying’s gaze guiltily. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, we can figure out vernacular later.”

Lan Zhan nodded, whatever his Wei Ying wanted. He should know that Lan Zhan would do anything in his power to make happen.

Wei Ying fell forward, knowing Lan Zhan would catch him. “We can go home if I want? We don’t have to stay? You’ll make up something about being sick and I’ll just have to take you home and take care of you?”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying snuggled into their boyfriend’s chest and thought about it for a minute. “We should stay. The school put so much work into the event and I don’t want to disappoint them.”

Lan Zhan ran his fingers through Wei Ying’s growing hair, “You are not a disappointment, to anybody.”

Wei Ying laughed wetly, “Yeah, sure. You know both your uncle and my mother are out there, right? They’re going to hate me so much more when this comes out. He’s going to try to disused you from seeing me, again.”

“I will not let him. Besides, at least he can’t complain about me dating a man anymore.”

Wei Ying pulled away and wiped at his face, he laughed now, and smiled a true smile at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan’s breathe caught in his throat as he stared at the gorgeous creature before him. How had he gotten this lucky? What deeds had he done in past life to deserve someone like Wei Ying to choose him.

“He’s not gonna know how to complain about me now,” he laughed, “His face his going to get so red.” He straightened up and mimed stroking his beard, “Wangji,” he mimicked, “You cannot publicly date a man, your name is attached to the company and it will hurt our image. But ha! Jokes on him! I’m not a man!” He clutched his stomach and bent over he was laughing so hard.

It was, admittedly, an overreaction. But Wei Ying had told his boyfriend, his best friend since they were kids, that they weren’t a boy or a girl, and Lan Zhan had just.. accepted them. It was more than Wei Ying had dreamed about, to be honest. He was giddy with it. He finally collected himself enough to look up at Lan Zhan, he saw a small smile on his love’s face as he watched him.

“I love you,” he said, feeling it truer in that moment than any before because now they knew that Lan Zhan accepted their love, would accept their love fully.

“I love you,” Lan Zhan replied, equally earnest, and they wrapped each other in a caress of a kiss, tender and chaste and so, so loving.

Slowly, friend by friend, person by person, with the support of Lan Zhan, Wei Ying came out. To some it was casual, a dropped joke or teasing comment letting some of their friends the new norm.

(“My little brother came to see me,” Jiang Yanli teased gently, hugging Wei Ying tightly for a moment.

“A’Cheng’s your brother, Jie, can’t I just be your younger sibling?” His voice was light, all teasing and laughter, but his eyes watched Jiang Yanli carefully. She studied them for a moment before breaking out into a welcoming grin.

“Of course! I’m so lucky I have a younger sibling to help me pick out my wedding dress!)

(Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng were over for an all-nighter video game and dumpling party. After winning Mario Kart for the forth time in a row Wei Wuxian got up and stretched out their fingers to go refill their drinks so they wouldn’t get any controlled thrown at them.

They came back into the room while their friends were complaining, “-the worst!” Nie Huaisang finished saying.

“I swear to god he cheats,” Jiang Cheng replied, voice coming out muffled through the pillow he had pressed over his face.

Wei Wuxian cleared their throat, “Excuse you,” he said lightly, “That’s ‘I swear to god they cheat’, if you please.”

Their eyes met Nie Huaisang who raised his eyebrows at him in question. Wei Wuxian nodded back and Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at them.

“What? What do you mean? Who’s they?” Jiang Cheng said, emerging from the pillow-land-of-failure.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes again and smacked Jiang Cheng upside the head, “Your sibling just came out to us, idiot.”

“What? We already knew he was gay!”

“They still are!” Nie Huaisang said, and at Jiang Cheng’s confounded look, explained.

Wei Wuxian, after recovering from their laughing fit, said, “Now are you ready to have your ass handed to you, little brother?”

“Gods, fine. Fuck, you’re so annoying, I hate you.” But he smiled at them over the rim of his glass.)

On Lan Zhan’s and Wei Ying’s wedding, seven years later, Lan Zhan pulled Wei Ying into a swaying embrace at the reception, the red skirts of their dress glowing in the fairy lights surrounding them both, and murmured, “I am so lucky to be yours, Wei Ying.”