A ko-fi mobile screenshot that reads:What should be October's AO3 fic update?
Pick which story goes up first. Don't worry they'll all go up eventually (if I remember):
LWJ & LXC Touch au
Next Chapter of Embers kny
Zolulaw
What Lies Ahead next chapter
Strip Poker Mishanks [NSFW]
End ID
They're all ready to be posted, I write a lot. Meet my backlog.
All of them will eventually go up to my AO3, of course, the poll is to see which one I post in October. And reminder I take November off, so next update would not be until December.
If you're curious about any of them, send me an ask and I'll share a wip?
This poll is for September kofi members! Vote here!
[ @marsdiogenes this one is for you! It’s only a piece of the fic I was trying to write you, but I think I’ve given up on it. I hope you like it! (It’s WangSang-ish?) ]
Zewu Jun always sends Hanguang Jun to Qinghe in his place, unless there’s a Cultivation Conference that necessitates the presence of Sect Leader Lan. And Nie Huaisang does not begrudge his Er-ge for being too much of a coward to return to the place where he had watched his brother die.
(Okay he does, a little. Huaisang still lives here. He still walks down the same corridors that Da-ge had run through, crazed and murderous. He sometimes stands in silence where Ma Ziyuan’s blood had pooled around his crumpled body, one of the several Nie cultivators who had died in da-ge’s rampage, mistaken for Jin Guangyao in Da-ge’s final moments. Huaisang still crosses the courtyard where his Da-ge had. Where he had…
So he does begrudge Er-ge, a little.)
But Lan Wangji comes in his place and truly there’s little difference between the Jades to set one above the other but age, so Hanguang Jun is welcomed with the courtesy owed a Sect Leader whenever he arrives on Lan business. It’s Huaisang’s own fault for knocking on Lan Wangji’s door after curfew, holding jars of wine.
That even the very first time he’d done this, Lan Wangji had just looked at him, really looked at him, then let him inside without protest is depressing. It implies that Nie Huaisang is more unravelled than he realized. But Nie Huaisang is grateful for the company, even if it’s out of pity.
Lan Wangji does not provide much conversation, and he’s not initially the best company, silently sipping his tea while Huaisang drinks his wine. It’s not an apathetic silence though, there’s a shared grief, a shared fury that’s so present that Nie Huaisang should probably bring it cups for its own share of the wine next time.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the loneliness that is barely alleviated by these occasional meetings, maybe Nie Huaisang is just petty enough to want his guest to wallow in the same kind of grief that he is, so Nie Huaisang says, “Jiang-xiong refuses to even speak his name.”
If it works, Huaisang does not know because Lan Wangji’s face doesn’t change.
“Did you love him?” Lan Wangji asks, and Nie Huaisang nearly chokes. It wasn’t like that, it was the Second Jade of Lan that Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian had both ogled appreciatively, had crushed on from a distance, and yet.
He doesn’t know if Lan Wangji is so incredibly perceptive, or if he’s so much a fool that he cannot imagine anyone not being in love with Wei Wuxian.
Nie Huaisang remembers laughing grey eyes on a boy who was more alive than anyone else he had ever known, who would bring emperor’s smile into the Cloud Recesses defiantly, and spend the whole time he was drunk talking about a certain unsmiling Lan while Nie Huaisang giggled.
Yes, of course I loved him, he could say. Was it possible to meet him and not fall halfway in love?
No, he could say. If I loved him, I’d be broken like you.
Nie Huaisang regrets many things, but not checking in with his friends Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian after the war is one of his greatest.
He doesn’t answer for the longest time, cannot, because Lan Wangji does not like lies, and Nie Huaisang does not know the truth himself. He takes another sip of wine.
“To watch with your own eyes your beloved be trampled and ridiculed, yet be unable to do anything,” Nie Huaisang recites instead. He knows that Lan Wangji knows the line. Nie Huaisang had lent him the books himself. Lan Wangji nods, accepting the not-answer. It’s not Wei Wuxian, but his brother’s dying, broken body that Nie Huaisang thinks of as he closes his eyes against the weight of memory. Of failure.
The soft lips that press against his are an acceptable distraction, though Nie Huaisang makes a poor substitute for Wei Wuxian.
The dead are gone though, and it’s up to them to take what solace they can, from whoever is left alive. Nie Huaisang blinks up at those liquid gold eyes as he’s pulled into Lan Wangji’s lap, reaches up to trace the familiar line of Lan Wangji’s jaw as he leans down for another kiss.
Nie Huaisang is not the man Lan Wangji wants, but he’s the one he gets. Isn’t this love? Nie Huaisang wonders, clinging to the warmth of him. I want you to stay forever, is that not enough?
i just love wangji and nie huaisang together so much, even without the addition of wei wuxian (though i am very, VERY fond of the three of them together). when wei wuxian dies they are the only two who care enough about him and little enough about public opinion to actually. mourn him. he was the only friend either of them ever really had (aside from jiang wanyin for nie huaisang but i think he pretty much Shut Downs to any outside relationship after nightless city or the burial mounds massacre, depending on which canon you go by). and the concept of lan wangji staying in the unclean realm while he is chasing chaos and avoiding his ghosts while indeed actively searching for them too, the two of them growing slowly entangled with each other, still tender hearted and wounded. they are almost something before nie mingjue dies and for lan wangji it is like the death of a lover all over again with the way nie huaisang shuts down and out. he is alone again. when wei ying comes back, when his revenge is completed, there is a question posed with two hands twined and one reaching to mend the gap of years and grief.
It is not a fact that would strike many others as strange – he is the ice cold Hanguang-Jun, separate from others, seeming to be carved out of jade. Yet… that does not mean he does not enjoy it.
His students, he touches on occasion. A hand on the shoulder for a job well done. It makes their eyes alight, makes them flush with pride, and it brings him great joy.
Sizhui is his son – he was not someone who grew up with many embraces, from his brother on occasions only, and he makes sure that his A-Yuan and then his Sizhui has never wanted for such. That he has always known that there is a safe place for him within his father’s arms, should he want it, that he need never fear to reach out and touch, that he will always be accepted. Sizhui is not overly physically affectionate, but he knows he can be if he wishes, and that is what matters.
When he was a child, he hugged his mother – when she was gone, and he a little older, the only one whom he touched was his brother. He still does, of course, but it is different. Long gone are the days in which they would hug each other, curl up in bed together as brothers, just a few years apart and so achingly close.
He loves his brother dearly, still considers him to be one of his most important people, but he is not so achingly close, and touches restrict themselves to the occasional touch to the back, his brother setting a hand on his shoulder.
The others are like drops in a lake. Ripples. Quiet and calm – affecting, but not greatly so.
Wei Ying and Huaisang are sweeping waves.
They are whirlwinds of energy, of touch – in different ways, in very different ways, but they came into his life like a storm, left just as suddenly, and now are here to return, an endless wind that churns the lake, and Lan Wangji revels in it.
He likes touch – he likes to be able to reach out to those he cares about, feel their warmth, the signs of them breathing, perhaps even their heartbeats under his fingers. But he is… not used to it. Not in this way. Not with them.
They are patient, and he loves them for it.
---
They tug him by the wrist.
Wraps their fingers around his wrist and pull him, gently or not-so-gently, and he always allows himself to be led. Huaisang used to lead him this way when they were children. When he and his brother visited Qinghe Nie, he would wrap his arms around Lan Wangji’s wrist and pull him carefully and they would walk. He liked to show him around – like to explain the architecture, the paintings, the history, and Lan Wangji would dutifully listen. “Lan Zhan,” he would ask periodically, anxious and wanting to be sure, wanting to keep this friend. “Is this okay?” And Lan Wangji would always tell him yes.
Wei Ying wraps his fingers around his wrist and tugs so hard Lan Wangji has to run, sometimes, to keep pace. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, come look at this!” he yells, tugging and pulling, as if Lan Wangji will not come if he simply asks, as if he needs to latch onto his wrist and not let go to be able to get him to see whatever it is, do whatever it is he wishes to do. Lan Wangji does not tell him this – he does not wish to change it, and perhaps Wei Ying does know and does not care.
He wonders if they can feel his heartbeat under their fingertips. If their thumbs rest just right to feel that flutter, to feel the beat of his soul as he’s touched by the two that he loves.
They hold hands.
It’s strange, the first time it happens. Wei Ying on his right and Huaisang on his left. They glance at each other and then, easy as breathing, slip their hands into his. He- pauses. He misses a step, just a faint little stumble that probably only they notice.
They interlace their fingers together, and Lan Wangji’s breath comes short, fast, and he wonders if they can feel the way his head reels through the touch, if the palm against palm is as hot as it seems. Wei Ying swings their hands, chatting merrily, pumping them up and down as he grins at Lan Wangji, each step more a skip than a walk.
Huaisang is more serene about it – when Lan Wangji looks at him, he lifts his eyebrows in a silent question of Is this okay? Lan Wangji doesn’t know if he can verbalize a response, can even give a little nod, but both of them can read him. Both of them know him, know the minute movements of his face, and Huaisang smiles as well and squeezes his hand.
They walk, hand in hand – and yes, a few stare. Even though all know how important they are, how highly he regards both Wei Ying and Huaisang, knowing he holds them in esteem and holding hands with them are two different things, two different factors.
But the juniors do not care. Their eyes light up when they spot them, spot the three hand in hand, and Wei Ying laughs and waves eagerly with his free hand, summoning them, as Huaisang hides behind his fan with a grin of his own.
Lan Wangji has no hands to motion, no hands free to hide his face if he so wishes.
He has no desire to.
Instead, he squeezes the hands of both of his beloveds, and lets himself smile, just slightly, as the juniors approach.
---
He knows hugs – knows embraces. Knows the warmth of someone wrapping their arms around you and holding you close, even if it has been years since he has received one like that.
Sizhui has hugged him. He thinks that Sizhui is the only one that has hugged him in the last decade, more than a decade, until Wei Ying returned from the dead and shot himself back into Lan Wangji’s life. Of course, Sizhui’s hugs were not the same as his mother’s. Hugging your child… you’re enfolding them, keeping them safe, holding them tight – not the other way around. And even when Wei Ying did return, did vault out of the past in another man’s body with a flute to his lips and a sparkle in his eye – his hugs were not like that, but for Lan Wangji to shield him. To protect him. (From dogs, primarily.)
In the morning, Lan Wangji awakens first – this is how it always is. He awakens, perfectly on time in according to the Gusu rules, even though he is not currently in Gusu.
Huaisang is always second – later to rise than Lan Wangji by a few hours, getting up at a respectable time of seven, emerging to give him a smile. He is often not functional for a few minutes, until he has drank some tea and eaten a little, but he is conscious. Wei Ying, of course, is last, dragging himself out of bed with a groan at nine.
So it is one morning, in the hours in Qinghe when it is just Lan Wangji and Huaisang, that the other hugs him.
Lan Wangji does not know what inspires it. Huaisang appears to have been thinking, thoughtfully and carefully. He is not an open book like Wei Ying often is – Lan Wangji cannot always tell what is on his mind, but he trusts him to share if it is necessary.
And sure enough, he does. They sip their tea, the morning rays illuminating his love gently from behind, when Huaisang sets down his cup and looks steadily at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan,” he asks, his words thoughtful – he is the least impulsive of the three of them, the least likely to make a snap decision. “May I hug you?”
To say that Lan Wangji does not startle would be a lie – he does. His startlement is more of a still, the cup paused partway in its rise to his lips, and he blinks at Huaisang once, twice. “Only if you’d like,” he says, as if there was anything that Lan Wangi could possibly like more.
He sets his cup down. Gives a careful nod. “I would like,” he says, and Huaisang enfolds him.
Huaisang pulls him down, as the shortest of the three, wrapping his arms around him and letting Lan Wangji gently rest his head on his shoulder, cheek pressing against the material of his robe. It is… it is good. Soft. Not just the fabric but the feel of Huaisang’s fingers curling in Lan Wangji’s own robe, the little breaths of the other that stir his hair, warm his neck, the quiet little hum that Huaisang lets out as he reaches up with one hand to curl in Lan Wangji’s hair. It is… good. Welcome.
He has not been held like this for a long time, and if tears prick at his eyes and wet Huaisang’s robes, the man says nothing.
---
When Wei Ying holds him, it is done with much less ceremony.
There are days when it is… it is difficult. He needs to rouse himself often in the night to reach across, to reassure himself that Wei Ying is here, that he is alive. That he needs to look for the rise of his chest, the simple breaths and exhales.
Seeing Huaisang is less a reminder that he is alive and more a reminder that he is here, that both of this men are truly here by his side and that this is not some wild dream he has concocted that will fade like the mist when he awakes, where he and Huaisang have never done more than greet each other like old classmates and Wei Ying is still gone from this earth.
So sometimes he wakes and has to check to make sure that Wei Ying is breathing – and one time, Wei Ying wakes as well.
“Lan Zhan?” he asks quietly, sleepily, as Lan Wangji leans over him. “What’s wrong?”
He cannot lie to him, even if he wishes, and so Lan Wangji tries to find words that will reassure him and send him back to sleep, but they stick in his throat – he’s never been good at putting emotions, thoughts into words, into statements that others will truly understand.
Wei Ying is one of the few that can read him, though, and whatever his face is doing, it’s enough to make Wei Ying reach for him. (Or perhaps Wei Ying simply wants to reach for him – either thought is enough to delight Lan Wangji.)
He reaches for him, pulling Lan Wangji gently down on top of him and wrapping one arm around his shoulders, the other cradling his head as he places his head directly on his chest. “The heartbeat, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, his words slurred with the sleep that he will soon fall into once more, but he is warm, every part of Lan Wangji seeping with that gentle warmth where they touch – like a fire in winter, a soothing warmth, a soothing heat. “Listen to my heartbeat, okay?”
Wei Ying slips away, once more, but his hold does not fade – he embraces Lan Wangji, holds him close, carefully and cherished and loved, and Lan Wangji listens to his heart against his ear, beating in time with his own.
---
When they sleep, no one is ever alone – there are never any partners nor pairs, never any single beds nor nights spent apart. Not anymore. Not when they have taken so long to get to this point.
Sometimes Wei Ying is in the middle. He throws his limbs askew, curves an arm over one of them and a leg over the other, drooling on someone else’s pillow as he snuggles into someone. He twitches in his sleep, sometimes, wriggles or maybe says some words, but it is no bother. Nothing can ever be a bother, not after so long without him.
Sometimes Huaisang is in the middle. He likes to be held, or be on top of another, warm and content. He wakes easily to noise, to movement, but sleeps easily just as well, shifting between the two as easily as breathing. He buries his face in Wei Ying’s chest, or Lan Wangji’s neck, breathing warm and hot as it spills over whoever it may be, the other person with a hand hooked around the crook of their arm, tucked into his back, holding him all the same.
Sometimes, it is Lan Wangji.
He cares little for how he sleeps, for the exact arrangement. Perhaps he will be on his back, both of them curled into him from either side. Perhaps one will lie on top of him – perhaps he will be on top of someone else. Legs may cross or they may not, hands may curl together, pillows may be shared – breathing may ghost across another’s skin or maybe it will be a back to him, instead, warm against him.
The only thing Lan Wangji requires is both of them – is each of his loves, however they want to be, with him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 6/?
Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Nie Huaisang/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Nie Huaisang
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, What Comes After Revenge, Loss of Purpose, Learning to live again, Nie Huaisang Needs a Hug, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Wants to Help, Fixing Loose Ends, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji has to be the emotionally intelligent one, he is also a tease, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, M rated for wangxian's sexual tension
Summary:
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet Nie Huaisang again after the events at Guanyin Temple.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Niè Huáisāng/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Niè Huáisāng/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Niè Huáisāng
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, What Comes After Revenge, Loss of Purpose, Learning to live again, Niè Huáisāng Needs a Hug, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Wants to Help, Fixing Loose Ends, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji has to be the emotionally intelligent one, he is also a tease, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Summary:
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet Nie Huaisang again after the events at Guanyin Temple.
