#eventual lan wangji/wei wuxian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sasukimimochi · 9 months

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me and my friends @yuzanrath and @mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess were casually brainrotting today and we came up with a pretty funny prompt (who knows if I may eventually write it but I do really enjoy it and I don't write enough funny things) For some context, this prompt started as a joke where JC single-handedly invents non-sexual dual cultivation cuz he's so chronically single, but this is a separated idea more focused on wwx haha (no warning cuz no real pregnancies are had, just shenanigans)

TLDR will be at the bottom.

Let's say this is like, 2 years post-canon or more. So the 'juniors' probably aren't all juniors at this point but i'm still gonna call them that.

-wwx gets cursed with some sort of bloating while on a night hunt with the juniors but it doesn't start showing until the next day. wwx teases/jokes with the juniors about various forms of innocent touches/staring and points out he and lwj were holding hands the day previous before he left on his trip and kissed him goodbye and so everyone starts to believe he really IS pregnant from such a little thing. (the juniors are ofc horrified at the prospect of such easily acquired pregnancy AND FOR A MALE, and lsz is secretly excited about the prospect of getting a sib)

-Wen Ning (as part of the night hunting party who is still around rn) is kinda doubtful, but he also ends up believing bc the juniors getting excited (mainly lsz) is infectious. And, wwx really does have abdominal swelling; so, as is the theme here, he ends up believing too despite his doubts.

-lxc is informed via a junior and wwx shows that he is in fact not stuffing his shirt and lxc is stumped, can't defute, so decides it's best to go along with it for now just in case, as to not stress out the potentially pregnant brother-in-law.

-lxc and the juniors are babying him a little bit but wwx finds it funny and enjoyable so keeps it up for now since the curse is something he can easily fix and doesn't really hurt.

-LWJ comes home and at first thinks "wei ying what have u done now" but then sees the swelling is actually attached to his body and falls for it too, cue the doting husband who becomes his shadow. No more spicy food while he's 'expecting', no sex cuz he's too rough, no liquor bc bad for the baby.

-wwx handles this for a couple days, the super healthy food, lack of everything he likes, and a subtle pain in his gut from the swelling getting worse too quickly (skin isn't meant to stretch that fast) before he can't do it anymore and confesses that it was him teasing the kids and kept the joke going too long. (He cures the curse in front of him perhaps and lwj is just devastated but in his lwj way. That or LWJ cures it with something simple like cleansing idk)

-They tell lxc & lqr and lxc looks disappointed bc he likes children but mainly bc lwj is sad too (and of course lqr is celebrating oh thank god it was fake)

-they tell lsz & Wen Ning and that's the final straw, the sad subtle puppy-eye looking disappointment makes wwx drag the three on a journey out of the cloud recesses; They find a little bebe orphan to take in, perhaps they have a goofy journey of offering parenthood to orphaned kids who don't trust/don't want it before they find a local single mother died giving birth or something and they end up having a real connection with the baby, including lsz who gets insta attached, and so its decided one way or another that this is their baby.

-They go back to cloud recesses and the juniors are all like "WHERE DID YOU GO WHILE YOU WERE PREGNANT AND THEN LXC SAID YOU WEREN'T AN- OH" baby reveal. and thus wwx grins and the baby joke continues, says that he just had the baby etc etc and lxc was mistaken they just wanted a private birth or smth blah blah blah

-lsz immediately goes along with it because he is extra happy he has a little brother/sister now and he's feeling mischievous too, and says they need to take the baby to the nursery etc etc and wwx needs to rest (he is a bit tired tho after running around and getting rid of that curse n stuff)

-JC comes storming bc of the rumors bc even in gusu they can't shut their traps and sees baby, deflates but still has grumpy face like wtf happened (probably Jin Ling's fault that he finds out)

-wwx would probably joke a bit then tell him the truth immediately instead of trying to make him believe it too to avoid confrontation but asks for him to keep it secret for the joke, and Jc is like "..." cuz its an opportunity for the two to joke around together again even if he's grumpy™️ about it and so he doesn't dote on wwx but he does play along with the joke in his own way for a bit until maybe jc says something crazy and/or outrageous that couldn't be true to jin ling and he goes to wwx in a panic and so the jig is up but he tells all the juniors with 100% honesty that they did just adopt a baby and that part wasn't a joke but he didn't give birth himself and he was OK and then its just cute baby and junior interactions

bonus that came up later:

-lwj gets drunk and ends up going out again with wwx tailing close behind. they come home with another child, and thus when lwj is sober again he's suddenly a father of two young children. Cue cute timid wide-eyed bunny mode lwj while wwx comforts him (but laughing and teasing him like haha you made me pregnant again what a scandal! one look and I instantly gave birth! lwj you're so insatiable) and lsz not-so-secretly celebrates their suddenly growing family.

-JC is extremely pouty in his JC way about all these nephews he only gets to know about after they're already adopted.

-lxc is feeling quite a bit better getting to baby the babies and help his brother with raising children again, and thankfully with wwx also by lwj's side.

It was too wild a ride not to share 😌💖✨

TLDR; wwx tricks the juniors, the jades, lqr and even jc temporarily into believing he's pregnant as a way to beat the boredom while lwj is out of cloud recesses (and continues until he can't stand the doting/guilt because he succeeds in his joking too well.) wwx and lwj end up actually adopting bc wwx can't stand the disappointed faces.

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toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp · 3 months

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Hello and welcome to Day 9 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"

Today, my brain decided to bring me a classic au for a Mo Dao Zu Shi fic: a Time Travel AU!

Edit: As of February 6th, this fic has a title - "Never too old to learn, never too late to turn"

(Technically speaking, it starts with a Canon Divergence AU, and then the Time Travel starts, but Time Travel and Canon Divergence go hand in hand, so meh....)

To be more precise, it is a Jiang Cheng Time Travel AU (I have read a lot of Time Travel AU in this Fandom but I still have yet to see an "only Jiang Cheng time travels" fic - it's mostly Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji that time travel so give my purple son some solo time travel adventures too)

This idea started from a question: Would Jiang Cheng have realized that Wei Weuxian gave him his core if, instead of Cengqin, Jiang Cheng got Suibian after Wei Wuxian died?

After I got this question stuck in my head, I thought about Jiang Cheng, maybe during Yanli's death anniversary 10 years after Wei Wuxian died, just grabbing Suibian - maybe to scream at it, maybe to try and break it - and accidentally taking the sword out of its sheath. Which, as far as Jiang Cheng knows, should not be possible since it sealed itself after Wei Wuxian died.

And that makes Jiang Cheng start thinking - when did Wei Wuxian last USE Suibian? And why can he take out Suibian after Wei Wuxian's death?

Jiang Cheng is smart. He may have a temperament that rivals that of his mother, but he is definitely not dumb. I do believe he will figure out what happened when he remembers that Wei Wuxian had a bad memory and is a self-sacrificial idiot.

On that day, Jiang Cheng mourns for more than just his parents and sister. He mourns for his brother. The brother he led a siege against. The brother who gave up his cultivation for him. The brother that he should have backed up and protected, not scorned and hated for years even after his death.

From then on, Jiang Cheng lives only with grief in his heart and questions of "what if" in his head. He doesn't like to interact with the other Sects more than necessary because he can't stand to hear them bad mouth his dead brother. Nor can he speak up to defend his brother's memory now since Jiang Cheng knows no one will hear him out and believe him at that.

Well, maybe Nie Huaisang will. He was friends with Wei Wuxian after all, and he never spoke against him, even when Wei Wuxian was protecting the Wens.

Jiang Cheng reconnects with Nie Huaisang because of this. As such, Nie Huaisang tells him about his suspicion of Jin Guangyao being behind Nie Mingjue's untimely death. He also tells Jiang Cheng that he has searched for a lot of ways to bring Nie Mingjue back - one of which was time travel.

Jiang Cheng, despite wanting to just go and kill Jin Guangyao right then and there, is intrigued by the concept of time travel. ("If I could time travel, then maybe I could save Wei Wuxian," is what Jiang Cheng thinks). But, like with all things, there is a catch to time travel: if it fails, you die; if it succeeds, this timeline will be destroyed. As such, the only reason Nie Huaisang is not going to use time travel is because no one else has any idea of Jin Guangyao's crimes and, as much as he wants his brother back, if this fails there will be no one left to avenge his Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng tells Nie Huaisang (in a fit of recklessness and spontaneity) to let him try the time travel method. Although Nie Huaisang tried to make Jiang Cheng rethink this, seeing no result, he relents and helps Jiang Cheng with the preparations - on one condition: if the time travel method (array?) succeeds, Jiang Cheng must try and save Nie Mingjue. Jiang Cheng agrees.

The time travel is successful, and Jiang Cheng wakes up back to that day when Wei Wuxian was first brought to Lotus Pier. Jiang Cheng is overjoyed - his brother (and Wei Wuxian is his brother, and no one, not even his mother, can tell Jiang Cheng otherwise) is alive - scared and malnourished, but alive. Wei Wuxian (for now, Wei Ying) is alive.

Jiang Cheng might have a ton of things to plan for and prevent this time around, but he finally has his older brother and sister back. Lotus Pier is still untouched by war. His parents are alive as well. He vows that this time around, he will do better; be better, so that the future he came from won't come to pass again.

And he is gonna start by making sure his big brother is not as traumatized by dogs. (Wei Wuxian will do well to have a guard dog around him since he gets in so much trouble. Might as well teach him that not all dogs will bite him. Jiang Cheng's dogs will bite others for Wei Wuxian)

A couple of things to note:

I fully believe Nie Huaisang searched for a lot of ways to bring his brother back or to prevent his death altogether. Time Travel included.

Jiang Cheng does NOT like Lan Wangji here. And it's not because Jiang Cheng sees Lan Wangji as arrogant or anything else (even if that does help), but because Jaing Cheng (just like Wei Wuxian) interpreted Lan Wangji's intention to protect Wei Wuxian by bringing him back to Gusu as "come to Gusu so we can punish you" and fully believes Lan Wangji was an "enemy" - as many called him - of Wei Wuxian, not a possible ally. (I swear WWX and JC do share a braincell sometimes.) So here, Jiang Cheng doesn't want Wei Wuxian to interact with Lan Wangji because he doesn't trust Lan Wangji with his brother's safety.

Jiang Cheng will make sure his dogs will maim whoever is mean to his big brother. He will personally train one of the puppies to be Wei Wuxian's personal bodyguard. And he will get Wei Wuxian to get over his fear of dogs - at least partially.

In this AU, baby!Jiang Cheng does not take shit from anybody. He will protect Wei Ying this time around. Jiang Yanli is just happy that her little brothers get along so well.

And that is about it.

So, how was it? Good? Bad? Let me know!

This specific plot bunny is really taking over my brain because protective baby time traveler Jiang Cheng is just so cute. Wei Ying is also adorable because I fully believe he will make a vow to himself to be the best gege in the whole world for Jiang Cheng. They deserve to be happy, and they will be happy in this little plot bunny of mine - even if Jiang Cheng has to go through a lot of angst™️ to get there.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this idea and have a great day/night. Take care of yourselves!

I will see you tomorrow,

-TooManyPlotBunnies- Send Help

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #time travel au #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wei ying #fic ideas #fanfic ideas #nie huaisang #only jiang cheng time travels #let my babies be happy for once #wei wuxian gets over his fear of dogs #eventually #nie huaisang is as always big brained #jiang cheng is impressed and a bit terrified #lan wangji will have to go throug jiang cheng if he wants to aproach wei wuxian #protective jiang cheng for the win #he is not letting his big brother die or be stupid again

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qinghe-s · 2 years

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THIRTY DAYS OF HANGUANG-JUNE | 15/30 (last year’s post by @lanyuan)

[id: two gifs from episode thirteen of cql/ the untamed. the first shows wei wuxian and lan wangji in the cave in muxi mountain. they’re sitting side by side on the cave floor, turned to look at each other. a small campfire is burning in front of them. the second gif showsa closeup of lan wangji as he’s looking at wei wuxian, blinking slowly and inclining his head a fraction, as if incredulous at what he’s just heard. a rainbow gradient frames the bottom gif. end id]

#lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #the untamed #cql #hanguang-june #'no wei ying i do not like luo qingyang on account of being both gay and a homosexual please get real'#the rainbow frame might be a biscuit on top of another biscuit as we say in sweden but it makes me laugh so #the look is just so funny. i'm sorry honey he'll get it eventually #might have to wait a couple of decades but he'll come around #lwj #wwx #mycql #cqlgif #cql: all #gif

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thisisallthehattersfault · 10 months

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Since AO3 is still down and we’re all going feral over it, here: Have the first chapter of what would have been my Bottomji fic but got completely out of control

There is always something to kill, this close to the ruins of Nightless City.

The nighthunt itself began, if not routine, then at least not strange in ways that could not be explained. A rockslide nearly buried a small village at the edge of the mountains that border what was once Qishan, but the Nie sect reacted swiftly and skillfully. The villagers were rescued with minimal casualties, the survivors given temporary shelter, and Nie Mingjue was working quickly to help find long-term solutions for how and where the villagers will live, now that their home has been destroyed. Lan Wangji likely would not have come to help after his business in Pingyang concluded -- were it not for the startling influx of resentful creatures.

It is perhaps inevitable, in the wake of any disaster, that some resentful creatures will be drawn to the scene. This is why cultivators address mundane disasters in their territories to begin with -- an avalanche, drowning, or forest fire may technically be the jurisdiction of the local magistrate, but its immediate aftermath always brings work for a cultivator. Even for such a small number of deaths, and in such a remote location, a handful of gui and yao are to be expected.

What is not expected is the horde of gui, yao and guai that fell on the mountain like ants to a corpse, spilling out into the village below. Nie cultivators were forced to address the attacks rather than focus their attention on excavation, and more villagers suffocated or were crushed in the time it took to drive the creatures back.

Lan Wangji must stay and offer assistance. Xiongzhan will be unhappy at his late return, but it cannot be helped. The Nie are formidable. Their method of cultivation makes them uniquely suited to carving through large swaths of resentful creatures at a time, but they are still outnumbered, and worse, they are separated by necessity. The very fighting style that makes them able to stand in the midst of such chaos, forcing the outpouring of enemies to break around them like stream water parted by a boulder also makes them a danger to any allies who may stand too close. In the bedlam, the risk of accidentally striking and killing a friend is high.

So: Lan Wangji, steadily making his way up the mountain, using his qin to offer support to the Nie cultivators who cannot allow their own sect siblings close enough to defend them. The farther up the mountain he goes, the stranger the situation seems. Perhaps if the creatures’ ranks were made up primarily of human corpses, it would be explainable. A mass grave, disturbed by the rockslide, would account for the concentration of resentful energy in this specific area. However, the gui are few and far between. Most of the creatures they face are yao and guai; walking trees with grasping limbs and bloated, mutated forest critters, thrashing lengths of vine that have grown hungry mouths at their roots. There is something evil here, and it has been here for some time, soaking into the soil and drenching the air.

It is grueling work. From afternoon to dusk, they fight together to push back the horde. Lan Wangji alone can fight without his sword, and so he does, hovering on Bichen to weave between trees that occasionally attempt to snatch him from the air, plucking singing notes from his qin to lay down cover fire from above. For the most part, the Nie have the situation handled. He is here only to ensure that none of them die in the process. In this, he is successful, although blood is still spilled. Some of it is his.

They are never truly at risk of defeat -- although numerous, the creatures are not especially strong -- but Lan Wangji is nonetheless exhausted and worn by the time the killing is done. He has chased the last of the guai (a haunted tree stump, skittering on its roots like spider-legs) past the treeline and into a clearing before dealing the final blow.

The clearing itself is unremarkable; a pocket of space in the stifling density of the forest. The only thing of note is that there was a shrine here, once. It is rubble now, beaten down by the rockslide just as the village below had been. This alone is not strange. What is strange is the scattering of ward stones, now cracked and misaligned, that dot the clearing around the shrine. What is stranger still is the heavy wave of thick, cold resentment, pouring from somewhere in the ruins of the shrine.

Something had been sealed away here, and now it is not.

Lan Wangji weighs caution against necessity. It is possible whatever waits in the ruins of the shrine will be more than he can handle. His hands and fingers ache from the bite of his qin strings, and he has depleted enough spiritual energy that it would be unwise for him to try and fly home without resting for the night, but this is clearly the source of the outpouring of resentful creatures. If it is not addressed swiftly, more creatures will come. The village nearby has been evacuated, but this mountain is an important pass for travelers and merchants, and there are more villages. If the number of resentful creatures grows, it is unlikely they will all be found and dealt with before they can spread out and claim more victims. People will die.

Carefully, he approaches. There does not appear to be anything active within the ruins. He can sense no movement, and though it is hard to tell through the fog of resentment, he doesn’t believe he senses any killing intent, either. Whatever it is, it is leaking enough resentful energy to have poisoned this entire section of forest, but it does not appear to be doing so intentionally. A cursed item, then?

He uses Bichen to prod through the rubble, taking heed not to touch anything with his bare hands. There are more layers of broken wards, shattered in the avalanche. Eventually, he finds a box. It, too, was once carved with seals, and it, too, is broken. This is perhaps another strange thing. Whatever is in this box was very thoroughly sealed away. It is unlikely a mere avalanche would have been sufficient to destroy every single layer of protection surrounding it. Lan Wangji cannot say for certain what would have been sufficient, because the item the box contains has not been removed from the box, so it seems unlikely that the shrine was destroyed on purpose. Unless whoever sought to claim the item died in the attempt, and is now one of the few human corpses dotting the mountain?

Again, he uses Bichen to nudge aside shards of broken stone, at last revealing the artifact leaking resentful energy like water from a basket. He blinks. The face staring up at him blinks back.

The item is a mirror of polished bronze, gleaming the colors of the sunset overhead. There is a thin wrapping of chain and wire encasing it, yet another layer of seals, though Lan Wangji cannot fathom what might be left to seal, with the mirror pouring out so much resentment. Regardless, this last layer of protection is unbroken. He will take care to ensure it stays that way.

Nie Zonghui enters the clearing, wiping blood from one of his sabers. Lan Wangji explains his findings. There is a moment of discussion -- Qinghe is well equipped to store cursed items, but less equipped to neutralize them, and the sheer power radiating from this particular item would be better addressed than simply locked away, especially as that has been tried once, and already failed. Nie Zonghui helps Lan Wangji wrap the mirror in cloth, and carefully tuck it away in a qiankun pouch. They take rubbings of the remaining seals and ward stones to be examined later, as Lan Wangji’s knowledge in this field is too rudimentary to parse exactly what the wards may have been for. The Nie disciples do a final pass through the forest in search of any resentful creatures, and Lan Wangji plays several rounds of cleansing.

Some of the Nie attempt to invite Lan Wangji back to Qinghe for the night, in thanks for his assistance. He is offered mulled wine, then tea when the disciple is reminded by their sect-siblings that the Lan do not partake. He is promised food and an invitation to dice games to celebrate the day’s victory.

The Nie disciples cluster together. They throw their arms casually about one another’s shoulders. Many of them count heads, and visibly relax when the last of their companions make their way into the clearing. They tease and shove one another, grinning. The youngest whine at aching feet and empty bellies, and are laughingly scolded by their elders, even while field rations are passed around to tide everyone over until they can have a proper meal.

Lan Wangji would not be good company for such a group. Lan Wangji is very rarely good company for anyone. He politely declines. The Nie disciples insist on at least escorting him to the nearest available inn, the next town over, and because they are going the same direction to return to Qinghe Lan Wangji makes no attempt to refuse.

Despite the Nie reputation of brutishness and militarism, Lan Wangji has never known them to be lacking in hospitality. Even if he is only shown such regard because he is the younger brother of Lan Xichen, who is well known to be Nie Mingjue’s oldest and dearest friend. Nonetheless, he is reminded as they travel that there will always be a bed available for him in the Unclean Realm, and that the hot springs are his to use as he sees fit, should he choose to spend the night in Qinghe after all.

It is tempting, but to take advantage of their courtesy would mean locking himself (and them) in an uncomfortable pantomime of etiquette. Should he accept the offered bed, social obligation would dictate that he join their company for the evening, while they attempt to indulge in their drinking and dice games and he lingers awkwardly on the sidelines, intrusive and invading. He has no interest in such things, and they most certainly have no interest in his stilted attempts at socializing. He declines once more, and reassures Nie Zonghui that he intends to go promptly to bed and leave at first light, and as such, staying in the Unclean Realm would be both wasteful and disruptive. The Nie are stubborn as a rule, but Nie Zonghui has known Lan Wangji for most of his life; they have spent many a day quietly existing in one another’s presence. When Shufu visited the late Nie-Zongzhu and Xiongzhang visited Nie Mingjue, Lan Wangji and Nie Huiasang were typically shoved together, and Nie Zonghui was assigned to watch the younger boys. As such, he only sighs, nods, and bids Lan Wangji safe travels. Lan Wangji returns the courtesy.

This late at night, the main room of the inn is nearly empty. The owner, who had been all but sleeping at the desk, jerks sharply upright when Lan Wangji approaches to pay, and blinks sleepily through their transaction. The qiankun pouch will hold the mirror safely for the night, though Lan Wangji will have to hurry straight home come morning. In the still and quiet of his room at the small but serviceable inn, he bathes, and eats, and goes to bed.

Dawn brings with it a sense of urgency. The resentment from the mirror is leaking from the qiankun pouch -- only barely, so faint Lan Wangji had not noticed it until he was halfway through dressing for the day, but it is leaking all the same. He eats breakfast quickly, meditates for only as long as is necessary to ensure that his qi is circulating at acceptable levels after yesterday’s strain, and departs from the inn. He is in the air before the last colors of sunrise have faded from the sky.

He lands, once, for lunch and to play cleansing for the mirror. He does not linger.

Trouble does not arise until late afternoon, when he has already passed between the border of Lanling and Gusu. He is considering landing again -- he will make it to Cloud Recesses before curfew, but he would like to play another round of cleansing for the mirror before he arrives -- when the choice is taken out of his hands.

It begins with a prickle at the back of his neck. Instinct alone has him swerving sharply, tucking his chin to his chest as a bright and burning thing grazes past his head, close enough to feel the heat of it. He doesn’t get a chance to see what it was or where it came from -- there is another, forcing him to pull up sharply and clench his jaw through the wash of vertigo, and another which he barely avoids as he wrenches himself through the air, and then --

Pain.

The stink of burning silk.

Like a stone, Lan Wangji plummets.

What he sees, as he scrambles to tear off his burning robes and regain his footing on Bichen, is this: dead, human-like things that twitch and jitter. Their flesh is charred. Cracks where the burned skin has split show a deep orange glow, like an ember not yet coated in ash. If they at one time had discernable eyes or noses, that time has passed. Their faces have melted and blackened. Only their teeth remain in lipless mouths, ash-gray and chattering, occasionally revealing the scorched lump of their tongues. In the sky, among the fresh air, he had neither heard nor smelled them. On the ground, he can do both. They stink of burned meat. They move with the clicking and clattering of bone dice on a stone floor.

Lan Wangji has seen a great number of terrible things in his life, and has built a strong stomach in response, but there is something wrong with these creatures, in a way he can neither explain nor articulate. Something unnatural. There is a dull clenching in his gut, not-quite-nausea, as his instincts rebel against the very existence of these -- things.

Lan Wangji lands hard. Jerks to one side as one of the creatures throws another palmful of strange, sticking fire at him. Dodges back and back again.

They are, he learns quickly, fast. He spends a hundred breathless seconds dancing half-hazardly from burning blows, every frantic toe-tip step taking him away from one attack and towards another. The creatures pounce. Lan Wangji evades. At last he scrapes together the scant second he needs to call Bichen back to his hand.

They are, he learns quickly, durable. His first slash carves neatly through the chest of one of the creatures, cleaving through black flesh and charred bone. There are no organs inside, only the fireheart gleam of dying coals beneath the outer husk. Sparks fly from the wound to sting Lan Wangji’s hands and face, float drunkenly in the air. Burned flesh crackles like wood on a fire. Clicks itself back into place. The creatures gnash their awful stone teeth.

They are, he learns quickly, intelligent. His next blow jolts to a hard stop, Bichen wrenching in his hand as it’s caught -- first between black fingers and then between gray teeth, the creature thrashing to disarm him. A scorched foot snaps out, thuds heavily against his sternum hard enough that something cracks, sends him reeling back. The place the creature touched him burns.

When he drags in his next breath, it is choking-thick with smoke and resentment. The taste of blood lingers on the back of his tongue.

One of the creatures lunges for his abdomen, and Lan Wangji must again abandon his sword. The dance drags on.

It is a misstep that leads to terrible understanding. The place he has been attacked in is a stretch of dry, rocky land with sparse vegetation. He knows he is being driven onto unsteady ground, but he cannot find an opening to break free. Again and again, Lan Wangji must dodge back from grasping fingers. Again and again, he must seek footing on precarious piles of stone, or twist at the last second to avoid catching his foot in a deep groove.

It is perhaps inevitable that he eventually fails.

When he does, it is because he is forced to take uncertain footing to avoid yet another blow -- one which glances close enough to singe the skin of his ear. The stone gives out under him, sends him stumbling, and in that moment one of the creatures snatches the qiankun pouch from his belt and disengages from the fight, leaving the three others to continue their assault.

It opens the pouch with quick, clever fingers, the gesture sickeningly human in such inhuman hands. From the pouch, it draws the mirror.

The creatures give off heat like bonfires, but Lan Wangji feels himself go cold. There is much he does not understand, but this, at least, seems simple. Whatever these things are, and whatever that mirror is -- they cannot be allowed to have it.

The sun will soon set. He has his signal flares. He can send one up once it is dark, and hope it is seen by someone. Anyone.

In the meantime, he needs to retrieve the mirror.

The next blow is nearly perfunctory. Lan Wangji is no longer the main target, he has become a loose end, and so killing him is a lesser concern. That’s good. That will have to be enough.

Again, he throws himself to the side. Again, he is chased. Again, he forces his body to move.

A quick step, a moment of breathing space. He calls Bichen once more to his hand. She plunges through the chest of one of the creatures on her way back to him, and although the creature does not die, it slows.

He will make this be enough.

This time, he knows they will try and disarm him. He will not allow them to do so. One of the creatures jerks towards him and swiftly loses a hand. The other is sent to the ground with the force of his blow as he thrusts Bichen into its empty chest and heaves its body away from him. The creature holding the mirror makes an -- awful sound, a choking, rasping thing, a scream with no air or voice to shape it. It drops the mirror. Its fingers are crumbling to ash.

A hand closes around Lan Wangji’s ankle, dragging at him. He feels the scorching heat of it all the way through his boots. He stomps on the wrist of the grasping creature with all his force, and is gratified by the charred-wood crackling as it is crushed to nothing beneath his heel. Thus freed, Lan Wangji lunges.

He cannot kill them. Every blow he lands closes itself. Every limb he cuts off reattaches. Only the creature who touched the mirror seems at all properly injured, still hacking its terrible noises of distress. Its disintegrated fingers have not grown back. Lan Wangji would perhaps try to use this advantage, if only the mirror were not spewing more resentment than any living creature could feasibly withstand, clogging the air and limiting his vision. It sticks to his skin and in his mouth and down his throat and settles in his lungs and stomach. He wonders if this is what it feels like to drown. He wonders if the resentment will kill him before his core can destabilize, before he can qi deviate. He wonders how this all went so wrong, so fast.

He wonders if he will get to see Mother again. If she waited for him, or if she has already reincarnated.

Half-blind, he dives for the mirror. Feels the displacement of heat and air as the creatures follow. He lands first. They land on top of him.

Stone teeth, hot like a griddle, latch onto the meat of his shoulder. It is a pain that is difficult to describe, to be cut and torn and burned all at once. The press of the creature on his back is hot enough to blister his skin through all five layers of his robes. The mirror against his stomach is cold like frozen steel. It burns, too.

He wonders if Xiongzhang and Shufu will forgive him for not saying goodbye.

His core churns. His qi surges under his skin. He will have only one chance -- he is strong, and his strength will have to be enough. One great blast of spiritual energy. At worst, it will be felt all the way in Cloud Recesses and that will be as good as a signal flare. Perhaps there will be something left of his body to be buried. Perhaps the mirror will be retrieved.

Lan Wangji coils his qi tight in his chest, gets ready to push --

The resentment spikes, trembles, and crashes over him like a Yunmeng storm. The shock of the cold freezes him solid, leaving him gasping through stiff lungs. Winter itself settles in his marrow.

Then, just as quickly, spring returns. He thaws.

He is surrounded by piles of ash, and he is alive.

He is alive?

Lan Wangji breathes. Raises a hand to feel his pulse point. His heartbeat is erratic, but it exists.

He is alive.

Dazed and dream-like, Lan Wangji rises slowly to his knees. His body hurts. His meridians ache in peculiar ways, likely damaged from what he just tried to do to them. He is very certain he is not dead, but in the strange, hazy headspace he’s found himself in -- dizzy and disbelieving, exhausted and, paradoxically, strangely exhilarated -- he’s not entirely sure he is conscious.

He sees, now, what caused the creature’s fingers to crumble to dust. The final layer of protection, the delicate lace of wires and chains, has been torn away from the mirror. It is unclear whether the seal was broken by the creature or by the spirit within the mirror.

Because there is undoubtedly a spirit within the mirror. The face peering up at Lan Wangji is not Lan Wangji’s own. The face is sharp-featured and handsome, clever silver eyes and a feline grin.

The man in the mirror points that grin directly up at Lan Wangji. “Aiyah,” he says, half-laughing. “That was close! Are you alright, Lan-gongzi?”

#MDZS #The Untamed #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #Wangxian #Dark fairy tale AU #this will eventually be wangningxian #but in this chapter its just lwj and wwx at the very end

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ohmyfairies · 2 years

Text

AU where Yanli survives but Wei Wuxian still died.

Yanli knows her position is precarious in Koi tower, that little baby Jin Ling is now the only obstacle to inheriting the sect. She sees the look in Jin Guangyao’s eyes when he thinks she’s not looking and knows exactly which way the wind is blowing.

But she can’t go to Lotus Pier. The thought of having to live with Jiang Cheng, her brother who she loves dearly but knows lead the charge to kill her other beloved little brother, churns her stomach and she knows the Jiang are too weak politically to protect her anyway.

Yanli doesn’t really have any other friends, she spent all her life caring for her brothers and later her husband so she has no allies to go to. There is her mother’s family in Meishan but she is unsure of Jin Ling’s safety there. She knows Grandmother Yu would protect her but her Jin son is another matter. There’s only one person she can think of who she can trust and knows that Lan Wangji was the sole friend A-Xian trusted and loved until the end.

Anyway Jiang Yanli and Lan Zhan should be friends and coparent their kids together.

Also it would be funny if they got platonically married for further protection and to keep their reputations but because of their genuine respect and affection for each other the whole world thinks they’re actually in love. The world is shocked when Wangxian move in together post canon and are very shameless in public meanwhile Hanguang-Jun’s jilted wife is happily fussing over their kids in the background and making them all soup for dinner.

#maybe she’s also banging lxc on the side who knows #MDZS #cql #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #jiang Yanli #lan zhan #lan Wangji #Wei wuxian #jiang cheng #Jin Ling #oh wow Jin Ling would actually be fairly well adjusted in this #he also wears a gold ribbon like a Lan forehead ribbon it’s very cute #jiang cheng does get visitation rights eventually #or rather Yanli takes Jin Ling to lotus pier in the summers #because Lan Zhan still hates jiang cheng #they do somewhat reconcile but not fully until after WWX returns #oh but no fairy because no pets in cloud recesses :((#key reads danmei

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gravitywonagain · 11 months

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Beating Like a Hammer; Part 3

continuing this story about wlw wangxian hate-sex :) [part 2]

tags: genderswapped characters, enemies to lovers, slow burn, dapper butch!lwj, vaguely femme!wwx, gratuitous mentions of woodworking and rugby minutiae, “dyke” but never as a slur, queer fam movie night, public sexual activity (it's not sex, but it's definitely horny)

more tags to come later (including but not limited to: pop culture references as flirting, trucks with sword names, bad bdsm etiquette, and better bdsm etiquette)

[E (eventually), 8k, 3/9, WLW Wangxian]

iii.

—

[she won’t get out of your seat on movie night so you spend the whole movie in her lap to prove a point. she strums her fingers on your thigh and you wiggle into her crotch and cross your arms. she laughs and it’s soft against your neck. asshole.]

—

Movie night is a monthly thing that Nie Huaisang’s sister insists on hosting. It started as a way, Wei Ying is fairly certain, for Nie Mingjue to check in on her younger sibling and make sure they weren’t starving or getting into drugs or generally falling down a well. It has become a kind of community night that includes anywhere from three to twelve people, depending on the week.

Wei Ying, as Nie Huaisang’s roommate, is not allowed to skip it.

It’s not usually a hardship. Nie Mingjue has a truly massive TV -- it takes up almost an entire wall in her living room. Her sound system has better acoustics than most movie theaters. The food is usually good, the beer is plenty (and local!), and Wei Ying has figured out the best seat in the house, sinking into the soft, velvety corner of the couch next to the loveseat where she never catches a glare and the sound is loud enough that she can lose herself in the experience.

(Hearing loss is a non-negligible risk in her career. Especially when she only uses headphones as protection, and not even the good ones. Yes, she can still hear her mother’s disappointment from beyond the grave, thank you for asking.)

The movies and films they watch are varied enough that it’s never boring, though occasionally they get a bit weird. Nie Huaisang went through a Lars von Trier phase some years ago that was… well. Wei Ying still has weird dreams about Charlotte Gainsbourg and Kirsten Dunst sometimes. Lately the group has decided to revisit the kung fu classics of the seventies and eighties. Not all of them have aged particularly well. Many in the group have trained in some form of wushu or wing chun. Heckling is not so much welcome as it is the goal.

So, it’s a great time. A night a month where Wei Ying gets to hang out with friends and chosen family and just relax. Except--

Except.

Nie Mingjue is only nominally not married to Lan Huan, and Lan Zhan is Lan Huan’s sister, which means that, even though Lan Zhan now has her own place, she still comes to movie night.

It’s a little difficult to tell why, exactly, Lan Zhan comes to movie night. She never engages with the running commentary, positive or negative. Most of the time she looks mad that they’re all talking during the film at all. (She’s never said anything, but the vibe is there.) She just… watches. Silently. Radiating a vague sense of disapproval.

Wei Ying is half-convinced Lan Zhan’s not even there for the movies, because sometimes she catches Lan Zhan’s eyes focused on her, glaring or something, even when she’s not talking.

And they do continue their… antagonism. Wei Ying snipes, Lan Zhan is aloof. It’s still strangely off-kilter, in that place that hasn’t decided whether it's hot or hostile. But it’s growing, changing.

They’re, maybe grudgingly, learning each other the more they interact. Wei Ying is building a catalog of every twitch of Lan Zhan’s face, noting every reaction and assigning it context and probable cause. Lan Zhan seems to know exactly which of Wei Ying’s buttons to push and when to push them to greatest effect, even if she pushes them harder than Wei Ying likes. (If Wei Ying is starting, maybe, to like it that hard… no she isn’t.)

Like today.

When Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang show up to Nie Mingjue’s house -- not that late -- Lan Zhan is already there, fizzy water in hand, waiting for Da-jie to queue up the film, and sitting in Wei Ying’s seat.

She looks perfectly composed. No hint of mischief on her face -- well, maybe that new tilt to her left eyebrow? But not the lip-twitch of a wry smirk she usually uses to taunt Wei Ying. She is, as always, immaculately well dressed. Today it’s light-wash jeans and a short-sleeved blue and white patterned button-down with the sleeves cuffed tight around her (spectacular) biceps -- fuck.

Huaisang snorts when they walk in and see her there. Wei Ying stops in her tracks and Huaisang continues past her with a gentle pat on her shoulder and a smile made of one part sympathy and two parts amusement. Wei Ying doesn’t appreciate the latter.

Because the thing is--

The thing is: Lan Zhan knows it’s Wei Ying’s seat. Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan knows it’s Wei Ying’s seat because this is the fourth movie night since Lan Zhan started coming and Wei Ying has sat in that seat every single time. That’s a pattern. Obvious. Clear as a fucking name plate.

Which means Lan Zhan is doing this on purpose. She’s sitting there, in Wei Ying’s fucking seat, on purpose.

Wei Ying was raised with Good Manners™ by her mother and then Yu-ayi so instead of throwing the tantrum she very much feels rising on her chest, she turns on her heel and diverts into the kitchen.

There’s nobody in the kitchen. In the kitchen she can Think and Process and figure out what she’s going to do without anybody looking at her like she’s as insane as she feels right now.

She roots around in the cabinet until she finds an oversized coffee mug which she fills to the fucking brim with red wine. The first gulp goes down like acid, but then the alcohol begins to buzz softly in her veins and it’s better. Her fingers twitch tight into fists on both hands. The stoneware mug (probably handcrafted, probably local -- Da-jie is full of hashtag-life-goals like that) does not deserve to bear the burden of Wei Ying’s distress, so she sets it down gently with a little tap as she leans her head down onto the cold acrylic of the island countertop.

She’s being ridiculous. She knows.

Really. This should not be getting her worked up like this. This is a very stupid thing to be upset about. To be this upset about. But--

But.

It’s Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan is definitely doing this on purpose which means she definitely has a purpose. Wei Ying can only defeat that purpose if she knows what it is. But she has no idea what Lan Zhan could possibly want out of this… theft? (It feels a little ridiculous to think of it as “theft.” It’s just a seat in her roommate’s sister’s house that Wei Ying occupies only once every few weeks. And yet…)

Wine sloshes dangerously close to the rim of her mug as she spins it idly (frantically) with her fingertips and her mind works through Lan Zhan’s possible motives.

Does she want to edge Wei Ying out of the room? Does she want to assert some kind of dominance by proving that Wei Ying doesn’t matter to her? Does she want… Does she want Wei Ying to be freaking out about this right now? Because Wei Ying is so freaking out about this right now. And if that’s what Lan Zhan is hoping for…

Wei Ying grabs her wine mug off the countertop.

She opens the fridge and grabs a can of loquat-flavored fizzy water, too. She can be polite.

Nie Mingjue stomps into the kitchen as Wei Ying closes the refrigerator door and Wei Ying marvels at the possibilities that exist when you don’t have to worry about downstairs neighbors (or upstairs neighbors, or wall-sharing neighbors -- wow, houses are cool).

“Wei Ying, sit the fuck down already. Are you twelve?”

“Da-jie!” She doesn’t mean to sound petulant, but the pitch of her voice does lend credence to Nie Mingjue’s age question.

Nie Mingjue is unfazed. She’s put up with Wei Ying’s shit for too many years. Which is a damn shame, because when they first met, Da-jie would give into Wei Ying’s whining so easily it was amazing. But alas, no longer.

“So sit somewhere else,” she says, “or sit on her lap, I don’t give a fuck. I want to start the damn movie.”

Heat rushes to Wei Ying’s cheeks. She’s not sure if it’s the suggestion or the scolding, but the suggestion is… something. Probably not actually a suggestion. Probably just Nie Mingjue being frustrated. But.

“Fine.”

With her mug and the unopened can in her hands she follows Nie Mingjue out to the living room.

There aren’t any other good seats, Wei Ying will tell herself later. Da-jie drops into her own usual spot next to Huan-jie, arms spreading wide to take over a solid half of the long couch. Huaisang is in their recliner, Mo Xuanyu on the floor and leaning against their shins. Wen Ning has his legs stretched out on the short couch, knees over Song Lan’s lap and feet in Xiao Xingchen’s. Wen Qing and Qin Su are curled up together on the loveseat. And Mianmian and Lan Zhan are taking up the rest of the big couch. With Lan Zhan in Wei Ying’s fucking seat.

Which means. That. Wei Ying can either crush herself into the corner of the loveseat -- she could probably fit there with Wen Qing and Qin Su if she tried; none of the three of them take up too much space. Or she can sit on the floor. Or.

Wei Ying likes her seat, is the thing. (It’s the angles, she rationalizes to absolutely nobody.) And she’s not sitting at Lan Zhan’s fucking feet, so… So.

She grabs two coasters from the basket to set the drinks on -- she’s already refinished this coffee table twice and she’d rather not add to the watermarks she’ll eventually have to sand out again later -- and then plops herself down directly in Lan Zhan’s lap.

Lan Zhan makes a tiny oof sound, like her breath was forced from her lungs, but she doesn’t resist. She, in fact, wraps an arm around Wei Ying’s waist and resettles them both into the seat with one easy, fluid motion that belies altogether far too much core strength. (And far too little shock or outrage.)

It’s… annoyingly comfortable.

Nie Huiasang snorts into their beer, Lan Huan makes a choking sound that is quickly muffled, and Nie Mingjue clears her throat.

The movie starts almost immediately.

Wei Ying leans her weight back against Lan Zhan’s chest, angling herself so she’s not blocking the screen -- she’s not unreasonable -- and tucking a foot behind Lan Zhan’s ankle to keep herself steady.

She’s grateful for the darkness of late evening and thick curtains as she feels her cheeks get even warmer. (In the corner of her eye, she thinks she can see Mianmian looking very pointedly at the TV, but it’s hard to tell because Wei Ying is unwilling to look more directly and risk drawing attention.)

It’s oppressively hot outside -- late June, deep summer in the Sonoran Desert before the monsoons come to cool it down. Wei Ying is wearing leggings only because Mingjue-jie has an A/C that works and she likes to keep her house at a crisp 62 degrees Fahrenheit. Wei Ying assumes that’s also why Lan Zhan is capable of wearing jeans in this weather. Now, two layers of fabric separate skin from skin and the summer heat begins to creep back into Wei Ying’s chest despite Nie Mingjue’s very functional temperature control.

She reaches for her mug and sips at her wine without tasting it.

On the screen, Jet Li is stripped naked surrounded by dozens of men in black armor (ah, they’ve made it to the early aughts), and is led into the hall of the Qin king.

Wei Ying tries to follow the story. Watches as Jet Li and Chen Daoming begin their high-contrast, highly-saturated verbal sparring match. She’s seen the film before, so it’s both easier and more difficult than if the story was brand new. Easier in that she already vaguely knows what’s going on. Harder in that she realizes she’s missed opportunities to comment only well after they’ve passed, which only serves to make her frustrated with herself.

Lan Zhan shifts them again. It’s fine. No problems. Another too-easy flex of abs and biceps that makes Wei Ying feel hot all over. Whatever.

But then Lan Zhan just… leaves her hand on Wei Ying’s thigh. Like it belongs there. Like it’s not searing through the stretched-thin cotton of Wei Ying’s yoga pants. Lan Zhan’s fingers are long. Wei Ying isn’t exactly small, her legs are built from Wing Chun and the years of soccer she played as a teenager. And yet. And yet while Lan Zhan’s palm rests (chastely) on the top of Wei Ying’s quadricep, her fingers wrap (obscenely) around the muscle to brand her fingerprints into the sensitive skin of Wei Ying’s inner thigh.

Wei Ying does her best not to flinch or tense with the feeling. She thinks she manages it. Mostly.

She, maybe, managed it less than she thought because a few minutes later when Donny Yen falls to Jet Li she notices that she’s much more relaxed. Internally she shakes it off and just hopes Lan Zhan didn’t notice.

Lan Zhan definitely noticed. Wei Ying knows she did because as soon as Wei Ying is relaxed enough, Lan Zhan’s palm gets heavier, her fingers spread wider, and then she-- And then--

It’s slow. Subtle. A gentle back and forth, fingertips brushing up and down the soft inseam of Wei Ying’s leggings.

Electricity follows the motion, crackling beneath her skin until she swears she can feel the goosebumps rising in Lan Zhan’s wake. Even the smooth twist of Lan Zhan’s wrist, the shifting of the heel of her palm where it presses against Wei Ying’s leg, even that is distracting. The sensation rides the branches of Wei Ying’s nerves down to her toes and back up to her pussy.

It’s torturous. Fucking overwhelming. How--?

Wei Ying cannot pay attention to the movie while Lan Zhan is doing that. She cannot, in fact, pay attention to anything other than her own breath, her own heartbeat. They’re both quicker and shallower than they should be. But Wei Ying meditated regularly as a teenager, she should be able to get her shit back under control.

She cannot get her shit back under control.

She tries counting out her breaths, but then she ends up gasping for air and there’s only so many times she can hide that under a laugh or a cough. So she tries focusing on her heartbeat instead. Calming her mind, slowing herself down.

It starts to work. Wei Ying finds that her breath is slowing, too. Becoming steadier.

Lan Zhan huffs something like a laugh against her neck again and Wei Ying realizes her breath is slower because it’s following the slower strokes of Lan Zhan’s fingers on Wei Ying’s thigh.

She’s not in control of herself at all.

Heat rises in her cheeks, in her chest. She refuses to recognize it anywhere else. This is already mortifying enough, thanks.

The control Lan Zhan has over her is… the worst. Obviously. It’s-- It’s terrible.

She needs… she needs to get even.

This whole night has felt like Wei Ying is one play behind Lan Zhan. Like she’s constantly catching up. Maybe she’s still catching up, but maybe she can do something about it.

She leans forward to set her mug back down on the coffee table and Lan Zhan’s fingers clench around Wei Ying’s thigh.

It’s not an admonishment. Not a retaliation. No. It’s too wild for that, too immediate. It’s a reaction. Involuntary, too, if the subsequent tremble is anything to go by.

Wei Ying smiles.

She readjusts herself in Lan Zhan’s lap. Nothing much. Just a short little wiggle of her hips, a purposeful grind into Lan Zhan’s crotch.

The tiny breath that escapes Lan Zhan is quite possibly the sweetest sound Wei Ying has ever heard.

And then it’s on.

Over the course of the next hour, the movie plays and Wei Ying barely notices the shift in color schemes. It takes all of her attention to keep the game subtle, unnoticeable to the others in the room. Luckily the big couch is long enough that there is actually some room between them and Mianmian. (Mianmian is definitely watching the film with non-zero levels of determination which Wei Ying notes, but she’s too distracted to be much more than passively grateful.) The darkness and the surround sound are also on her side, but where Lan Zhan only really has to control her own reactions, Wei Ying has to consider each and every time she wants to fight back with a roll of her hips. Hip rolling is not nearly as easy to hide as (distressingly arousing) finger strokes.

But fight back she does.

Every rushed inhale, every uncontrolled hand twitch, curls the corners of Wei Ying’s lips with smug satisfaction. Lan Zhan’s retaliations inch her fingertips higher and higher up Wei Ying’s inner thigh until her thumb is nearly brushing the hem of Wei Ying’s shirt. The competition of it, the game, drives the tension higher, the pleasure deeper. Wei Ying only manages to keep herself from moaning out loud by focusing on Lan Zhan -- Lan Zhan’s every motion and sound as the ripples of each are passed between their skin.

Lan Zhan’s heart beats against Wei Ying’s spine, her breath ghosts across Wei Ying’s neck and shoulders. The world fades away until only the two of them exist in it.

Occasionally the film will filter back into Wei Ying’s awareness. Da-jie will scoff a choice in the choreography, or Huaisang will comment on color theory and aesthetic facism. Wei Ying will be reminded that they are actually in the company of friends, and that they are, ostensibly, all here to watch a movie together. She will also remember that usually it’s her own voice making up the bulk of the commentary, and immediately lose that thought to another indecently placed strum of Lan Zhan’s fingers.

Time passes both absurdly quickly and obscenely slowly. The film jumps forward and then stops, pausing for Lan Zhan to drive Wei Ying gradually toward insanity. Wei Ying is uncomfortably wet, but she can also feel how warm Lan Zhan’s body has become behind and beneath her. There is an intensity to each breath that ghosts along the back of Wei Ying’s neck, scattering up into the short hair of her undercut -- not labored, but… intense. Fevered. Hot.

And then it’s over.

The credits roll. People begin to stir. Mianmian is off the couch faster than anyone else can get their feet under them, expressing an urgent need to use the restroom.

Wei Ying slides off Lan Zhan’s lap and into Mianmian’s vacated seat. The couch is so much colder than Lan Zhan’s lap had been, which is… good. Probably. Definitely. Wei Ying desperately needs to cool off. And she could use a moment to… reign herself in before standing. And maybe somehow trick Huaisang into bringing her her flannel to tie around her waist. Or something.

Almost as soon as Wei Ying has moved, Lan Zhan is up and following Mianmian down the hall to the bathroom.

It makes something strange twist in Wei Ying’s gut. She’s not sure why. (And she will not be examining it right now, thank you.) It leaves her sitting alone on the couch, tucking her toes up under her own thighs in a very loose lotus pose.

She feels Mingjue-jie’s A/C hit her skin, goosebumps rising on her arms.

Nie Huaisang flops down next to her and, far too loudly, says, “Wow, Wei Ying! I think that’s the quietest you’ve ever been during a movie.” They grin wide like the traitor they are as the focus of the room shifts to Wei Ying.

Qin Su snickers into Wen Qing’s shoulder and adds, “Looks like Lan Zhan finally figured out how to shut you up.”

Blood rushes to Wei Ying’s cheeks.

She has no defense to offer them, though. She was uncharacteristically quiet, and it was Lan Zhan’s fault. But she’s not exactly going to say that out loud if she can help it.

Her body is still buzzing with arousal, unsated and confusing. Humiliation feels sickly sweet in her throat. But not, necessarily, in a bad way. Definitely in a way she’d rather not share with her friends. Especially while it’s still happening.

“I mean,” she says, tongue thick in her mouth, “maybe I just wanted to watch the movie, for once.” It falls flat and she knows it, but she’s not sure she can do anything about it right now. She just wants to leave. Immediately, if possible. “Whatever,” she says. “Sangsang, my head hurts. Can we go home?”

Huaisang gives her a look. A knowing look. But nods and -- with no small amount of amusement in their eyes -- hands Wei Ying her flannel shirt. Because they really are a good roommate. And also they see way too much.

Wei Ying takes the shirt gratefully, and lets Huaisang shuffle her out of the house before Lan Zhan can return.

“You good?” they ask, once they’re in the car.

“Yeah!” says Wei Ying. “Just a headache.”

Neither of them believe her.

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