Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandoms:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Collections:
Loving Jin Ling hours
Stats:
Published:
2021-08-03
Words:
2,921
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
33
Kudos:
330
Bookmarks:
60
Hits:
2,591

Hold On Just A Minute More

Summary:

In CQL canon, Jin Ling is choked for 7.5 minutes in episode 49. That is way too long for him to be conscious and mostly okay.

Have some whump!!! and comfort (a bit)
--
Jin Ling looks out across the cavernous temple as the wire tightens against his throat, and can only think, oh fuck, Jiujiu is going to kill me for this.

He can’t breathe. The pressure against his throat is terrible, he wants to lift his arms, to grab at the wire, anything to relieve the building strain on his throat, but when he twitches, Jin Guangyao tenses, and tugs in warning. Jin Ling gasps, and everyone’s gazes shift to him, he coughs as the cord is pulled tighter in warning. The panic sets in at his second rasping cough, when he realizes there is no air for him.

His uncles are shooting tense words back and forth, trying to figure out where the weapon came from, but Jin Ling can’t focus on their words, just on the ever-increasing pressure that is making his lungs flame and the cord pulling a line of fire across his exposed neck. He feels warm blood run down his neck, as the wire slices into his skin, and he chokes on nothing, there is nothing left, nothing in his burning lungs.

Notes:

im a angry little bitchboy who wants someone to care for me. Of course im projecting on Jin Ling.

Heres Jin Ling passing out and having a Bad Time and Jiang Cheng helping him.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Jin Ling looks out across the cavernous temple as the wire tightens against his throat, and can only think, oh fuck, Jiujiu is going to kill me for this.

 

Wei Wuxian yells his name as Jin Guangyao moves, but it is too late, he is too slow to react, and now there is a terribly sharp cord around his neck. Zewu Jun manages to stop Su She, and Jiujiu is looking at him with fear in his eyes, fear that doesn’t belong there, because his Jiujiu should be mad, not scared, mad at Jin Ling for being a fool, for getting in harm’s way, being used as a hostage.

 

The cold breezes blowing through the windows and rustling the silks on the ceiling, had kept him uncomfortably cold, even with his layers of robes, and the metal wire that his uncle was holding tight to his neck was uncomfortably warm, maybe even wet.

 

Jin Guangyao had been disarmed, no weapons left to threaten them with, but now he was restraining Jin Ling, wire terribly tight against his throat, and everyone was looking at him with panic in their eyes. 

 

Well, not looking at him. Looking behind him, at Jin Guangyao. 

 

He can’t breathe. The pressure against his throat is terrible, he wants to lift his arms, to grab at the wire, anything to relieve the building strain on his throat, but when he twitches, Jin Guangyao tenses, and tugs in warning. Jin Ling gasps, and everyone’s gazes shift to him, he coughs as the cord is pulled tighter in warning. The panic sets in at his second rasping cough, when he realizes there is no air for him.

 

His uncles are shooting tense words back and forth, trying to figure out where the weapon came from, but Jin Ling can’t focus on their words, just on the ever-increasing pressure that is making his lungs flame and the cord pulling a line of fire across his exposed neck. He feels warm blood run down his neck, as the wire slices into his skin, and he chokes on nothing, there is nothing left, nothing in his burning lungs.

 

Jin Guangyao yanks at the cord, tipping Jin Ling’s head back and increasing the pressure. More blood spills, probably staining the collar of his robes, and Jin Ling has a blurry view of the ceiling, marred by the tears in his eyes, tears that should not be there, that are weak, but the harder the knife-edge of the wire is pulled into his neck, the more they cloud his vision. It hurts , and he makes a fractured sound, a noise that barely squeezes itself out of his constricted throat. 

 

He hears Jiang Cheng call for him, quick and worried, tone barely restrained, and it makes some small, selfish part of him feel better, to know that his Jiujiu cares. But he can’t focus on that, his throat is burning, and he coughs, then coughs again, unable to stop, but none of the coughs help him pull air into his body. His head spins, and his knees weaken, but he keeps trying, desperately straining to breathe. All his focus is on air, and he barely registers Jin Guangyao’s offer, to be let free, to use Jin Ling as a hostage for his own escape. Jin Ling wants to struggle, wants to protest, but his limbs are heavy, and he cannot stop coughing.

 

Jiang Cheng’s plea seeps through the confusing whirl of noise and pain, his offer to have Jin Guangyao take him instead, and Jin Ling tries to take a breath, to get any amount of air so he can yell back, tell Jiang Cheng how stupid that idea is, that Jin Ling can handle himself, but he just chokes again, and the stupid tears fall, sliding down the sides of his face. 

 

He sees Wei Wuxian make an aborted move forwards, stalled by something Jin Guangyao says, but he can’t make out the words, he is too busy coughing and gasping. He struggles, and the sharp metal of the wire cuts into the skin of his neck. Jin Guangyao only squeezes him tighter, and the air in his lungs is dead, disappearing like the ashes of a fire talisman and there is nothing for him to breathe. The cool gusts of wind, of air in the temple might as well be back in Lanling for all the good it is doing him. 

 

He can faintly hear a new burst of thunder echoing in his ears, but his own coughing has turned echoey and faint, and he can’t understand what Jin Guangyao is saying to Zewu-Jun anymore, the words twist up like tangled ribbons and slip away from his panicked brain.

 

When everyone turns to the door after the sound, Jin Guangyao’s grip loosens, and Jin Ling pants for breath, for air he can finally, barely reach. His shaky arms tremble, but he knows better than to try anything, to reach for the wire or his captor. 

 

Jiujiu had always been strict on that account, his face more serious, more scary, than him at his angriest. Jin Ling knew he would never actually hurt him, no matter how many times Jiang Cheng threatened to not let him come home, to break his legs. 

 

When Jiang Cheng had sat him down and quietly explained how important it was that he behave in a hostage situation though, he had been completely serious.

 

“Don’t be a fool, and try to get out. They’ll take any opportunity they can to hurt you, so don’t piss them off,” he had said, “Just keep your mouth shut and stay put until I can get to you.” Jiang Cheng had glanced down at that, finally making eye contact.

“I will always find you, A-Ling. I’ll always come for you. Could you imagine the fuss if I didn’t?” 

 

He had grumbled the last bit, smoothing his robes and standing up, but A-Ling had seen, had heard the sincerity in his voice. I will always find you.

 

“If you come up with some bad escape idea, it could interfere with whatever I’m doing to help, understand? Just try to stay in the same place, and don’t give them any reason to hurt you.”

 

He had promised to be good, to not try and escape, to not make things harder. Don’t give them any reason to hurt you.

But Jin Guangyao didn’t need a reason, Jin Guangyao had hunted down his siblings, the other bastards of Jin Guangshan, so they couldn’t possibly challenge him or his power. People who had little to no ambition for Jin Guangyao’s position. And his own son, little A-Song, so he couldn’t reveal his father’s dangerous secret.

 

Jin Ling has the sudden, terrifying realization that his position as heir to the Jins made him a threat too.

 

Air was slightly easier to get, with Jin Guangyao’s loosened grip, but when the gate burst open with a crash, he spun to face it, dragging Jin Ling with him by the neck. The pull of the wire slices even deeper into his throat, and he gags, air cut off again. Sizhui is flung through the gate, through the door, into the temple, landing near him, but Jin Ling cannot focus, can only claw desperately at Jin Guangyao’s hands, all resolve to stay calm disappearing with his panic. 

He was just able to breathe again, and now the air is gone, it’s right there but he can’t reach it, and the wire doesn’t loosen. 

 

The conversation behind him fades in and out, through the rushing in his ears, the panic racing through his head like the crashing of a waterfall, dragging his resolution to stay calm down into the depths and suffocating it on the bottom, just like how he is being suffocated, the world blurring and shifting like he, too is seeing it through deep water, looking up from the bottom of a pool.

 

His hands slip on the blood, scratch into the cut on his neck, desperately trying to reach the wire, to make it stop , but all his air is gone and he can’t float to the surface, he is left to struggle in the depths, faint light from the lightning and candles flickering in an unsteady dance in front of his eyes.

 

His legs are weak, terribly weak, and he sways, the horrible, sharp wire catching in the skin of his neck, keeping him upright through the force of its user. He can no longer see the room behind him, but it’s quiet. He faintly wonders how his Jiujiu is doing, if he’s okay. That was a lot of blood. There is a lot of blood on him, too, on his hands and his neck and siding uncomfortably down the front of his robes.

 

He can hear Nie Huaisang call out for his brother, and then the wire somehow tightens even further around him, and he can’t even gasp in protest. His arms feel stiff and wooden, and he skims the edge of full unconsciousness, his odd vision making the shadows around the figure in the courtyard dance and grow, before they are covered by the fuzzy darkness in his vision.

 

But then it lets up, just for a second, and he is startled, gasps so desperately for air, almost gets in a full breath, wheezing and sobbing for air, for any release, but then the wire is back, grip tight again, and he tries so desperately to fight it but his arms are as weak as blank talisman paper, despite the blood staining them, and he is pulled back under, taken again right to the edge, the blurring of his vision accompanied by the grating screech of a metal sword blade being dragged across the courtyard.

 

Jin Guangyao is skilled, he thinks idly as the rain and shadows in the courtyard twirl in his vision, to take him so close to unconsciousness and back, and then pull him under again. He must be supporting all of Jin Ling’s weight now, because his legs are too heavy to hold up his body, he has no control over it, over his hands or his air or his breathing, he just coughs and gasps and there is nothing there, nothing for him



Again, he is pulled back at the last moment, barely aware enough to gulp for air, but then desperately coughing, trying to breathe. Jin Guangyao allows him a few tiny breaths, a glance out at the Ghost General advancing across the courtyard, and applies the pressure again, increasing inexorably and slowly, cutting off his air. 

 

His head is full of spinning confusion, and thinking is like trying to fly straight in a windstorm. Jin Ling can’t get his hands up, can’t try to stop it from happening, they just twitch at his sides. His limbs spasm, and he has no energy to fight back. The flashing, swirling mess behind his eyes only grows, and he dimly thinks that this might be it. That he will die here.

He slips away from consciousness to the sound of a whistled note, held carefully and filled with power.





But he doesn’t die, blinking out of a darkness he was unaware he had sunk into with a faint gasp that shifts into a rattling, weak cough. Wheezing, choking on the huge gasps of air his lungs take, like he forgot how to breathe and they are desperately trying to teach him. His limbs are weak, and he sees a faintly spinning and dark room, hears the continuation of a melody that is piercing, sharp and charged with energy. The pounding in his head is louder than his heart, than any sounds around him, and it pulses so strongly he is sure the world moves with it.

 

“Happening? … Wen… listening ...me? He hears, through the terrible beat in his head, and drags his focus back, in time to clearly hear Hanguang-Jun’s reply.

 

“He is possessed by the blade spirit.”

Jin Ling feels Jin Guangyao tense behind him, and doesn’t even have time to think before the wire is pulled terribly, the angle different this time, cutting into the sides of his neck just as strongly as the front, applying awful pressure on his whole throat, and panicked, not methodical, an instinctual jerk of strength, of fear. He loses his balance, weight pulling on the wire, listing to the side, and he can tell that this time, he won’t get up, he won’t be blinking awake again.

 

Emptiness rings hollow in his ears, shadows push against his eyes, and the pressure is so much Jin Ling feels he will crack in two.

He doesn’t have the strength to feel anything else.









Shadows. 

 

Light.

 

Blurred shapes move around him, and he blinks, eyelids sliding closed slower than a portcullis.

 

He can feel hands on him faintly, and blinks again.

 

Then he coughs, gasps, desperately sucks in air that cuts at the sides of his throat and pools cold and uncomfortable in his lungs. Everything feels wrong , his body twitches on the cold floor and he coughs and coughs, unable to gather energy for anything else. Jin Ling’s breath hitches, stalling in his chest, and he panics, hands scrabbling at the floor, body shaking, trying to pull the air back but only choking futilely. It doesn’t feel like his hands, his body, it feels heavy and clumsy, and he can’t get any air, he needs air, anything, he has to run, to escape, he has to do something, he needs-



His lungs ache and ache, but they let him gasp in another breath, then more. The ringing in his head, the slow shifting of the world around him slows, and he can make out shapes again, shapes and shadows and movement, things looking over him. He flinches back out of the hands- arms- holding him, falls, and his head cracks against the cold floor, bringing the ringing back, the throbbing.

 

It takes Jin Ling a long time to realize he is lying on his back, looking up at a familiar ceiling.

 

Oh, someone is talking. The voice is distant and distorted, and he can’t make out any of the words, but then it’s close, terribly close, and he tries to shift away, but his limbs fail him, and he curls into a messy, shaking ball, pressing his pounding forehead against the floor, surrounded by confusing words and a loud wheezing noise. 

 

It’s him, he realizes distantly. He’s the one making the noise. 

 

The movement over him blurs, and he tries to curl back, no, no, please don’t, not again- his eyes still don’t focus right, and the purple blur is closer, he almost cracks his head against the stone floor again, but there is something- a hand?- beneath his head, and it doesn’t add to his pain. His flailing cannot dislodge the hand, but he curls and shifts away from the blurry person, desperate to get space, air, he needs to make sure no-one can take the air again-

 

He doesn’t get far. More hands join the first set, holding Jin Ling in place firmly, and he can feel tears slipping down his cheeks and it only makes his head throb more.

 

The hand on the back of his head lifts it gently, comfortingly.

 

“Easy, A-Ling, don’t strain yourself.”

 

The room spins around him, suddenly unstable, ceiling decorations twisting in unreasonable loops, and he reaches out desperately for anything, anything to grab, to tether himself to. He is falling off of the floor, and it is so far to the ceiling, he doesn’t want to fall, please-

 

Hands grab his, holding them in a warm grip, just as nausea makes itself known in his stomach. He is helpless to control it, and he coughs, tilts painfully as the room spins around him, turns his head and lets it go, emptying his stomach as the hands turn him onto his side. It burns coming up, like his throat is full of needles, or the shattered tips of swords, it hurts, it hurts. The noises are still there, voices and words turning into mush inside his throbbing head, and he feels terrible .

 

He is lifted onto something warm, hands around him, arms cradling him like he’s tiny again.

 

“A-Ling, please, can you hear me?”

 

He coughs, and more tears slip out of his eyes. His voice is barely there, soft in a shattered way.

 

“Jiujiu?”

 

The noises around him are confusing, shouts and swords and a piercing, haunting, terrifying melody, but he is in his Uncle’s lap, and everything will be okay, it has to be. 

 

“You’re okay A-Ling, Jin Ling, stay awake, okay?”

 

He is held so gently, he feels almost safe, but the cavern inside his lungs is full of shattered glass and sharp stones line his throat, and every breath tears at him. His eyes are closed again, and he can feel the other hands return as the noise dies down, feel his head tilted to the side, his body moved until he is curled on his side on the terrible, comforting, cool floor. Distantly, he wonders who is helping, who is moving him, who, if anyone, of his family aside from Jiujiu are still alive.

 

But the world hurts, and his uncle’s hand is on his forehead, his cheeks, wiping away the sticky sweat and tears. The world is big, and painful, and Jin Ling rests.

 

He fades out of consciousness to determined, quiet voices, and a cold pool of comforting energy pouring into his veins.

Notes:

yes, he has a golden core, whatever.
hes been in a cave for 3 days with no food and is also a bitchass teenager, he can't last 7.5 minutes without breath.

Would Jin Ling passing out and not immediately being okay change the canon showdown?? Absolutely!! But that's not mine or Jin Ling's problem, and he's not awake for it anyways.

I watched it again, and JC spends the whole rest of the denouement next to Jin Ling and not fighting. So maybe after everything goes wrong then LXC or someone can give JL spiritual energy. Whatever, i just wanted some whump. suspend your disbelief
i had to watch the ep bit by bit to puzzle out when he would have been shocked enough to loosen the garotte. this took so long.
also, a garotte is a TERRIFYING weapon and JGY isnt pulling TOO hard bc he doesnt want a dead hostage. And also because otherwise, JL would be dead within under 10 seconds, and I would have no fic to write.
comments make me very happy,.,.,,.
have a wonderful day, and sit up straight, damnit!!! just for a bit!