Nia_Kantorka



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Like a parasite, Wei Wuxian has this way of growing on people when you least expect it.

    Over the seasons, Lan Qiren slowly pieces back together his relationship with Wangji and learns to like Wei Wuxian in the process.

    (“Will you rejoin your sect?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Lan Qiren regrets his wording.

    He is not surprised when Wangji’s eyes narrow, flashing with offence. “There is no need to rejoin what one has never left. I did not turn my back on my sect. My sect turned their backs on me.”)

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    “What if I were to tell you I’m a mob boss?” Wen Kexing asks, his expression neutral. Zhou Zishu pauses for a fraction of a second, considering, and it’s enough time for Wen Kexing’s face to crinkle back into his standard grin. “Really? You think I, Philanthropist Wen, could be a mob boss? How little you think of me. I’m wounded.”

    “If you ever do become involved with the mob, you’ve got the dramatics down for sure,” Zhou Zishu deadpans.

    OR: the coffee shop au + musician au we all need??

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    One moment he is pouring every last bit of qi into Wen Kexing, feeling his life force fade. Wen Kexing is gone, and Zhou Zishu will not, WILL NOT be left behind. He pours his qi into the now empty vessel.

    His last thought is this, “If I could go back-”

     

    This started as one of the chapters in my 5 Things that never happened story, but I fell in love with this verse and wanted to continue it as a separate work.

    Series
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  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Lan Wangji, generally speaking, did not make note of people. Of course there were exceptions, once faced with special kindness or distaste, but most often others left an imprint so light that it would fade from his mind in only a few days, if not minutes.

    He didn’t feel right in his skin for the rest of the day after meeting Wei Wuxian.

     

    or, lwj cannot remember wwx

    Language:
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  5. Public Bookmark 20

    Summary

    A series of YeXie fanfiction.

     
    When I sleep all these nights,
    what am I named or not named?
    And when I wake up who am I
    If I wasn’t I when I slept?

    Pablo Neruda "Too many names"

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