Thread by @sunshotchampagn

Okay so, post-canon #yexie h/c vibes only ficlet where yby has plucked Xie’er from the snow like a crocus and they are living (recently in sin) on his mountain.

But what can you do with a former scorpion king who is bored & whose sense of self-preservation is SO SMALL?

Yby surely doesn't know or this wouldn't have happened...

Warnings so far for emetophobia, and, um, deliberately ingesting things that could be (definitely are) poison??

Xie’er holds the berries loosely in his hand. They are small and red, the skin thin enough he can see the small cluster of seeds suspended in the center of the fruit, bursting with sour-sweet juice.

He’d eaten one–some–no, probably just one. It tasted good. Only a little bitter. Then he’d waited a little while, passing the time by staring at the leaves on the branches of the small thicket he was kneeling in front of. He still isn’t sure.

The leaves are so similar and the berries could be red or purple depending on the season, except he can never remember which season for which variety. But he’d eaten them–one, he’d only eaten one, he was pretty sure–already, so he would know soon.

Cw: emetophobia

When his heart starts to pound and doesn’t stop, he sticks his fingers down his throat and brings that single berry back up along with the rest of the contents on his stomach.

He looks down at the mess, frowning. He’d eaten most of a bowl of Ye Baiyi’s hearty congee that morning before setting off into the forest not far down Changming Mountain from the house they still somehow shared.

The congee is on the ground in front of the thicket. It doesn’t look very different now than when he’d eaten it, but there is a splash of red too, broken up a little. Is it just one berry there? Or more?

Xie’er looks back at the berries still in his hand. How many had he picked? Four or five, he guesses. He can’t remember now. One is crushed against his palm. He’d clenched his fingers when he’d upended his stomach.

There are two more, whole, in his palm. His heart is still pounding and his vision is growing a little fuzzy. There are definitely two there. Unless his vision is doubling now. That would be bad.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Ye Baiyi yells from an outcropping maybe twenty paces away. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You missed lunch!”

Xie’er looks up, blinking slowly at his…what? Lover? Friend?

They are probably friends now. Most definitely lovers. It’s been several months since the Changming Sword Immortal pulled Xie’er from the snow on the side of a different mountain and brought him here, to his secluded home, far away from the ruins of Xie’er’s old life.

And it’s been what, three weeks perhaps, of nearly nightly intimate encounters that have ranged from filthy and desperate to sickeningly sweet and tender. They pushed their beds together five days ago.

But Xie’er doesn’t have to think of what they are right now. Right now, he has to not be sick again on the ground so Ye Baiyi doesn’t worry. He’s fine. He only ate one berry.

“Hey!” Ye Baiyi yellss again, face bright and lively, hands cupped around his mouth, although he is easy to hear from such a distance. “What’s your deal? Get over here. I brought you a bun to eat.”

When Xie’er doesn’t move, because he’s not sure he can. Ye Baiyi makes a face at him and shouts, “What the hell are you doing?”

Xie’er waits to answer until Ye Baiyi has alighted next to him and the thicket. He blinks sluggishly, willing his pulse to slow, even a little. It does not. “A test,” he says quietly. There is too little breath in his lungs for matching the Immortal’s buoyant shout.

Ye Baiyi scowls at him, clearly confused and grumpy about it. Xie’er would smile, just to reassure him, but he feels vaguely as though he might not have complete control of his facial features.

He can only strive to keep his expression neutral. He’s starting to feel hot and wonders if he looks flushed at all.

Ye Baiyi eyes him skeptically. “A test, huh?” He seemingly asks the air. He looks around for a moment as though something might jump out of the woods at him, as though Xie’er might have set some kind of trap or prank out here for him.

Then he asks, tilting his chin down and his eyes away to look at him askance, “Why are you kneeling like that in the dirt?”

Xie’er makes a small noise, almost chokes it completely back, but not quite. He’d wanted to stand when Ye Baiyi came down to earth beside him and hadn’t realized he hadn’t.

“Hmm,” he says. He thinks he should not try to stand now. He wonders how he will get back. He feels dizzy and considers just lying down. He should remember the pile of vomit is behind him. He wouldn’t want to fall in it.

His mouth fills with saliva and he thinks he really might puke again. He should, probably, but he swallows it down because Ye Baiyi is here.

Perhaps he can say he is ill and offer no other explanation.

Perhaps Ye Baiyi will grow bored and give him the bun then fly back up the mountain so Xie’er can lie down like he wants to.

Ye Baiyi, who has proved great at foiling Xie’er’s more perilous aspirations recently, ruins that by narrowing his hunter’s eyes and asking in a gentler tone, “Kid, what’s that in your hand? Did you cut yourself?”

“No,” Xie’er replies petulantly as he tries to move his hand behind his back.

But Ye Baiyi is too fast, or Xie’er is also losing motor control–which would be even worse. He probably isn’t though, he only ate one berry.

Ye Baiyi, who is very fast, captures his hand firmly and pries his fingers open to reveal the berries–one crushed, two whole.

“What are these?” He asks, surprise clear on his face.

He glances at the thicket behind Xie’er and clearly clocks the fruit, bright red among the green of the leaves. “You didn’t say you were gonna forage today. I would have come with.” 

“I…” Xie’er fumbles for a lie. “I happened upon them.”

He hadn’t. He saw them here, small and green, days ago. He knew they’d be ripe now.

“I wasn’t planning on being out so long.” He definitely was.

Once he figured out which variety they were, he’d planned to go all the way down the mountain and beg the old apothecary for the use of his tools. There are at least three poisons and five medicines he could make between the two fruits.

It was just that what he could make depended on which kind of berries they were. Only one type could be ingested without significant…side effects. And Xie’er could never remember which one was which.

Ye Baiyi is looking at him like he knows he’s lying. But how could he? Xie’er pouts but can’t hold it because he needs his mouth open to breathe properly. Is he breathing erratically? Too heavily? Is he making a noise? He’s having some trouble focusing on Ye Baiyi’s face.

Ye Baiyi still has a hold of his hand. Xie’er decides to ask, since his vision isn’t in danger of doubling, “How many are there?”

“How many what?” 

“Berries,” he replies with a blink and an emphatic nod at his hand.

“Two,” Ye Baiyi grunts. His expression grows concerned. Fuck. “What's the matter with you?”

Xie’er tries to smile. “It’s hot out,” he replies.

Ye Baiyi lets go of his hand, tipping the berries into his own at the same time. “It’s really not.” He leans forward and sniffs at the berries, frowning enormously. “Are you getting high off these?” He asks. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

//took a small break to drive home from work. Taking more break to eat but will post the rest of what I've written later!

Here's the top of the thread. More coming momentarily!

https://twitter.com/sunshotchampagn/status/1511496702116519940?t=ryNP7ozcpY8eSTkOlWMcQg&s=19

He lifts the poison even closer to his mouth and Xie’er lets out a strangled cry as he slaps at Ye Baiyi’s hand. They fall to the ground and Ye Baiyi gapes at him.

Xie’er clutches at the Immortal’s hand and, unbalanced and falling forward, at his robes as well. “No, no,” he mumbles, shaking his head into the folds of the soft fabric. His tongue feels thick, his face too hot. “They’re bad. The bad kind.”

Ye Baiyi bends, catching Xie’er elbows in an almost too strong grip. He jerks Xie’er once so his head tips back, making him look Ye Baiyi in the eyes as he asks in a low, serious tone, “What did you do, kid?”

There is a terrible sadness and stark fear in his eyes.

Xie’er gasps when he realizes what Ye Baiyi is afraid he’s done. He clutches at Ye Baiyi’s forearms. “Not that,” he says, maybe shouts. He says, “No. No, I told you before. I wouldn't do that.” 

He doesn’t say, “Not to you.”

He closes his mouth, then opens it again because he needs to breathe. He’s definitely wheezing now.

Ye Baiyi doesnt look reassured. He still looks so sad and afraid. “Sweetheart” he says and Xie’er’s chest hurts even more than it had already. “What the fuck are you doing, then?”

“Only one,” Xie’er tells him, gasping still. “It was only one. There’re two kinds. One good ‘n one bad. I didn’t know which they were.”

“A test, huh?” Ye Baiyi growls, his hands tightening until Xie’er lets out a soft whimper.

He pulls one hand up and places his thumb and fingers around Xie’er’s eye, spreading the lids open to look at his undoubtedly blown pupils. “You idiot,” he spits. “You squalling brat. I guess you figured it out, then? Am I supposed to believe you that there was no other way?”

Xie’er thinks that anger is better than despair. “I don’t care what you believe,” he lies. “It’s fine. I threw it up already. This will pass.” It should actually be passing now, but he still feels…very bad.

Cw: emetophobia again

He gathers up his strength and pushes Ye Baiyi away gracelessly. Then proceeds to fall to his hands and turn just far enough away before his stomach upends itself once more among the leaves and detritus of the forest floor.

Ye Baiyi swears emphatically at Xie’er’s elbow. He says something to Rong Changqing that Xie’er doesn't catch because he’s still puking. There isn’t anything left in his stomach when he’s done and Ye Baiyi’s hand is moving soothingly across his back.

He’s guided away from the mess he’s left on the ground and deposited gently onto his ass on a nearby log before Ye Baiyi presents him with the aforementioned bun. “Come on,” he says. “Put something else in there. Soak up the bad stuff.”

Xie’er takes the bun in shaking fingers and looks at it searchingly. He doesn’t think he can fit it in his mouth, so he makes a confused sound. His chest hurts. How will it go down?

“Okay,” Ye Baiyi says, his voice gentling again. Tears spring to Xie’er’s eyes. He takes the bun back and starts tearing little pieces off of it and handing them to Xie’er. “Yep, put them in your mouth, dummy. There you go.”

Xie’er does and it seems a little insane how good it is. It’s definitely just plain steamed bread, but it’s chewy and soft and tastes like freshness, like good things.

Xie’er imagines the little pieces really will fill him up, soak up everything bad inside him and then dissolve it all away. Then he can be a good and fresh thing too. Something that Ye Baiyi should keep high on his mountain for a long time and not catch skulking through the dirt.

He moans around the second or third piece and, oh no, he’s really crying now. Ye Baiyi is making shushing, soothing noises at him. He’s tucking the sweat-soaked strings of Xie’ers hair away from his face.

He’s saying, “All right. All right, now. When you finish, we’re going to go back up the mountain and I’m going to put you to bed.” Xie’er must make some kind of protesting noise because Ye Baiyi hushes him again and says,

“You won’t have to do anything, brat. I’ll carry you up, don’t worry, huh? I’ll make you some tea and you can lie down and close your eyes. And when this is over, and you can talk again without collapsing a lung, you can tell me just what the actual fuck you were thinking today.”

//that's all I have written now! Hopefully more soon???

Here's the top again

https://twitter.com/sunshotchampagn/status/1511496702116519940?s=20&t=2RZHUqEBMbUedAHTABIsGg

Xie’er closes his eyes. He pushes Ye Baiyi’s hand away gently when he tries to hand him another piece of the bun.

“You’re full now?” Ye Baiyi asks softly.

Xie’er nods and in the next moment finds himself in Ye Baiyi’s arms.

“There we go,” he says in Xie’er’s ear. He pulls Xie’er’s arms around his neck. “Just hold onto me.”

Xie’er clings. He buries his face in Ye Baiyi’s neck and sighs brokenly. His heart is still pounding and his head aches. His cheeks are hot and streaked with tears.

“You’re all right,” Ye Baiyi whispers to him as they spring into the air.

Xie’er’s stomach lurches and he moans. Ye Baiyi keeps talking to him, but he can barely hear over the rush of air around them and the frantic thudding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

The fuzzy dizziness that’s plagued him for too long settles into a squeamish, anxious feeling low in his belly that he's never felt in the air before. Not even when Ye Baiyi was carrying him on his back, half-frozen, off the Armory’s mountain.

Xie’er tries to let the soothing vibration of Ye Baiyi’s words soak into him. But he finds himself crying again, even more, because he can’t understand him and wants to so badly.

Ye Baiyi plants his foot on the top of a tree and kicks off again swiftly. Xie’er’s stomach swoops once more. He tightens his hold around Ye Baiyi’s neck and Ye Baiyi squeezes him tighter in turn.

After that, Xie'er knows nothing.

//ok, told you it was only a little. Hopefully more soon!!

More of this in a moment!

https://twitter.com/sunshotchampagn/status/1511496702116519940?s=20&t=NmdwVRmugrUHu9HP9zANsg

Xie’er wakes to palms pressed against his back and a steady thrum of qi running through him. For a moment, he feels only warm and safe. He sighs and wonders what could have happened that Ye Baiyi would…oh.

He jerks back against Ye Baiyi’s hands, which yield enough to allow him to twist around on their bed and wave him off impatiently.

“Stop, stop,” Xie’er rasps. “That won’t help.”

Ye Baiyi frowns deeply and replies, “Well, I don’t see how it can hurt, and here you are awake now when you weren’t before, so–”

“So, quit it. I'm–I'll be fine."

What a horrible joke, that the Changming Sword Immortal should use his immense power to realign the energy of a failure such as he, a poisoner so inept he finds his supplies by ingesting each one in turn.

Ye Baiyi had reached his hands out again but when his eyes rest upon whatever expression is on Xie’er’s face, he lets them drop again and looks away. He says, something harder, or brittle, in his voice, "I'll get that tea I promised you, then."

Xie’er's heart quakes. It can't be borne, this kindness, this overwhelming concern, when Xie’er has been so thoughtless with his body. "Don't," he replies, voice still weak and choking with unspoken gratitude. "You shouldn't–"

"What? That not good enough for you either?" Ye Baiyi stands, scowling. His mouth is tense, his eyes shadowed by hurt--oh no.

"That's not it at all," Xie'er says, near tears again. "You--I'm…" He doesn't know how to fix this. How could Ye Baiyi think such a thing? "It's me," he finally chokes out.

Ye Baiyi is looking at him now like he must be delirious.

He crouches down to look Xie'er in the eyes. "What's you?"

Xie’er can't meet them. He lowers his lashes, toys with the blanket Ye Baiyi must have placed over him. It's horribly tangled in his legs now and bunched up with his clothes.

"I'm not good enough," he says quietly. "You shouldn't have to take care of me, because I'm…so stupid."

Ye Baiyi’s brows rise to his hairline and, for just a moment, something in his eyes looks like it's breaking, but then he smiles at Xie’er.

He says, "Brat, I don't have to do anything. Do you hear me?"

He waits until Xie’er nods, slow and a little bewildered, and adds gently, "Of course you’re stupid. Everyone is stupid about some stuff. I’m stupid too, sometimes.”

Xie’er sniffs. “About what?”

Ye Baiyi gives him a secretive smile. “Well, I have been. We don’t have to talk about it now. What’s important here is, you being stupid about what you put in your body shouldn’t make me, or anyone, want to take care of you less.”

He takes Xie’er hand, squeezes it once as he meets his eyes significantly, then lets go as he stands and turns towards their small kitchen. “I’ll get the tea,” he says, leaving Xie’er to sit with himself and his choices.

Xie’er lays back down and pouts at the ceiling. He feels awful.

//more to come after this but I have to type it up first.

//ok just a little more then I have to do holiday things.

Not only physically, Xie'er realizes. Of course, his head and his body ache. His empty stomach is in knots. His hands shake as he clutches weakly at and works the bedclothes free from around his legs.

But he slowly understands there is something else he is feeling. Guilt.

And that is unbearable, abhorrent, even.

He remembers the last time he felt this rare aching sickness.

It was at the banquet of the Five Lakes Alliance after Ye Baiyi spoke up for him and Yifu acknowledged Xie’er place in his house, seemingly giving him everything he’d ever wanted, all while Xie’er was embroiled in a plot to punish him, to take from him everything he’d ever won.

But that feeling, thick and deep as it was, lasted only as long as the ruse that such a welcome, such grace and favor, could ever last if it came from Yifu’s mouth.

The gifts Yifu had given Xie’er were never really gifts at all. They were payment for work Xie’er had always thought he was doing for free, for their family, their future.

After Liu Qianqiao revealed Yifu’s final, unsurprising yet still gutting betrayal, Xie’er thought there was no room left in his heart for guilt.

He’d been cured of it, he told himself, every time he looked at Yifu’s still body, at his resigned expression in the face of his silent defeat.

But now, Ye Baiyi returns with a tray laden with a pot of tea, two cups, and another fluffy bun. The look on his face is soft, but there is still a watchful concern in his eyes.

He looks Xie’er over carefully as he approaches. The intensity of his gaze prompts Xie’er to look away self-consciously.

//That's all for now! Happy various weekend holidays, folks!

Ye Baiyi sets the tray on the bed within Xie’er’s easy reach. But when he sits up to pour for them, Ye Baiyi makes an impatient face and knocks his hand away, grumbling, "Lay back down, brat. You think I’m too good to pour for you?”

Xie’er makes a face even as he retreats. “Is it not good enough or too good, old man?” He mutters, then immediately wishes he could take it back.

“You tell me,” Ye Baiyi shoots back. He makes his own face of consternation. “Or, rather, don’t. You’re an idiot. You don’t know. I can pour tea. You can sit there. End of story.”

Xie’er sniffs but doesn’t protest further because Ye Baiyi has presented him with his favorite ginger blend, one he drank almost daily during the last vestiges of winter on the mountain.

It’s far into spring now, but it makes him think of curling close to the fire, feeling Ye Baiyi’s banked stare from across the room.

He murmurs his thanks as he’s raising the steaming cup to his lips. Ye Baiyi’s eyes are soft on him, close enough to a caress that Xie’er shivers, just slightly.

In the next moment, Ye Baiyi is up and striding away to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Xie’er calls after him, twisting uncomfortably as he turns to look, knowing exactly what the old man is doing and frowning about it. “I’m fine!”

“Stay there!” Ye Baiyi shouts, clearly opening the cedar chest at the end of their bed. “You’re not fine. You threw up and passed out!”

Xie’er huffs. He sips his tea. It tastes wonderful.

//Here's the top of the thread. Not sure if I'll add more tonight, but I swear I'm still working on this!

https://twitter.com/sunshotchampagn/status/1511496702116519940?s=20&t=2COkSGANFl2hiNGsuea5Yw

//okay let's pretend I said spare room instead of bedroom because I definitely already said Xie'er was on their bed. 😅

@threadreaderapp unroll