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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 03

(Masterpost)(Previous Episode)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

Wei Wuxian demonstrates the purple nurple technique of the Jiang Clan

Should’ve Used Trivago

The Jiang Clan’s reservation got cancelled while they were on the road, so they are going to wander around this small inn for hours being fussed about it, rather than trying another inn. Yes they say the other inns are all full but…so is this one, now.

The Jin Clan sends an advance party to fancy up the inn for them.

Fuckboi Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian decides to use his considerable powers of prettiness to get them a room. He drops some poetry on Mianmian and brazenly flirts with her before shifting to properly introducing himself and asking for a room.

This actually works.

...until her boss shows up.

(Much much more after the cut!)

Worst Person // Best Jin

Jin ZIxuan is an ass and a snob.

I guess we have to give him credit for having a beautiful sidekick and never hitting on her, given that his dad is a rapist and one of his half-brothers is (reputedly) a sex pest and the other half brother is (definitely) an incest perp. But I feel like it doesn’t take much to be the best Jin of his or his father’s generation.

The Jin folks are snobs and talk about how great their fancy and expensive stuff is. It’s an interesting contrast with true connoisseur Nie Huaisang, who loves everything that is fine and beautiful and can quote stacks of poetry off the top of his head, but is not even a little bit of a snob.

This Tea Smells Like Farts

Ok, let’s talk about generation names in the Jin clan. Ru is the name for Jin Ling’s generation, hence his courtesy name Rulan. The name for the current generation is apparently Zi (子), because both Zixuan and his jerk cousin Zixun have that as their name. Sect Leader Jin Guangshan would seem to be using the generation name Guang, but then names his son Jin Guangyao so…the whole system breaks down.

Anyway, my point here is that even considering generation names, if I had a baby and named it Zixuan, and my sister-in-law promptly had a baby and named it Zixun, I would slap her.

Find you a lover who does not make you feel like this

Jin Zixuan is mildly intrigued by his betrothed, and expresses it by being rude to her in front of Wei Wuxian, starting a chain of events that will culminate with Wen Ning’s fist going all the way through Jin Zixuan’s chest.

Side Note: Look at these young Jiang Brothers and their casual shoulder hugs. Sigh.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat PlayBook

When Wei Wuxian wants to throw down, he starts with smack talk, moves along to boundary crossing, then to direct threats, and then brings out a weapon if he hasn’t won already.

Here he starts shit with Jin Zixuan by complaining at him for taking up too much space and having too many sycophants. Then he goes for the unwelcome shoulder touch.

Having been sufficiently provocative to get someone to draw a sword and threaten him with physical violence, he shifts to formal verbal sparring.

This gets the other guy to back down, because even at this age no-one actually wants to tangle with Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian gets to claim the moral advantage, although he still doesn’t get to keep his hotel room.

Actually Not A Fan of My Sister’s Betrothal

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli have the first of many, many moments of heterosexual ineptitude together. Wei Wuxian quickly rescues them.

Hi, I’m Young Master Cockblock.

Neither of the boys understands what Yanli sees in Zixuan and neither do I, at this juncture. He does improve later after multiple beatings from Wei Wuxian.

This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change

Yanli’s encounter in the Inn is the first step toward the inexorable end of the three of them as a unit, although it’s still a long ways off. They are all growing up and she and Wei Wuxian are both going to fall in love at summer camp, like in a 1980s teen movie but without the virginity betting (presumably).

Meanwhile poor Jiang Cheng is going to be swept along just trying to keep up with events, which becomes the story of his life for the next two decades.

Welcome to Transylvania

We meet Wen Ruohan. He is boring and he sucks. Also I’m summarizing the Transylvania parts out of order because they break up the rhythm of the story. And are boring and suck.

We meet Xue Yang. He seems nice.

Wen Ruohan’s living room is like a shitty nightclub where everyone is too drunk to dance except Xue Yang.

Dee Jay: Undead undead undead, Bela Lugosi’s dead

[OP can’t get a video to embed in this post with looping enabled, so the alternate version of this joke has its own post right here. That will teach OP to get fancy.]

Anyhoo

We meet Wen Qing. She is the bestest most wonderful girl in the world but this isn’t actually when we find that out.

Right now we just find out that she is absurdly pretty, that she loves her brother deeply, and that she is helping Wen Ruohan with his “take over the world by murdering cultivators” project. OKAY, PROBLEMATIC, BUT SHE IS THE BESTEST GIRL OKAY?

Gatekeeping

The Jiang Clan don’t get another inn but they do manage to change into immaculate white robes while they’re out on the street, so - nice work, Jiang Clan. Be free!

They get stuck outside the gate because they don’t know that the secret to getting into Cloud Recesses is to set the gate guard on fire.

Walking Thirst Trap Hanguang-Jun

Lan Wangji shows up and everyone except Yanli, who is already in love with Sir Golden Pants, makes thirst faces at him. Including Jiang Cheng tho he will never admit it. One girl in the background is actually biting her knuckle.

Note: Lan Wangji knows exactly how fine he is. Look at his fucking hairstyle.

He is sixteen years old. The only person in the entire cultivation world with fancier hair is Nie Mingjue, and that’s because he indulges his dìdi’s braiding hobby.

Wei Wuxian loudly stage whispers that LWJ is their key to getting in and LWJ is is like, not fucking likely, person I didn’t glance at yet.

But then Wei Wuxian says a smart cultivator thing about the puppet dude, and Lan Wangji turns around and has the first of many long mutual staring sessions with this boy he totally isn’t going to like at all.

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling about the future: a 2-frame gif

Unrelated gardening note: the red-crack puppet is more commonly grown in Gusu and Dafan, while the black-line puppet is native to Yiling

I Must Arrange a Date with this Uninteresting Boy

The rest of the evening is a series of tests that Lan Wangji puts Wei Wuxian through. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know this and Lan Wangji probably doesn’t exactly know it either.

First he sends WWX back to town to get the invitation. Yes, go get it. Not your entourage; YOU, talky person who thinks he can manipulate me and is smart and looks...intriguing. Go find it and come back.

When Wei Wuxian complains, Lan Wangji silences him, which is literally the most boss move he could have used on smooth talking Wei Wuxian.

You tried, Fuckboi.

Would you like to try some more because I think I would like you to try some more

Jiang Cheng is the Better Baby Brother

Sorry, he just is. Wei Wuxian is all about being taken care of and adoring Yanli without actually doing much for her. Jiang Cheng is the one who thinks about her feelings and giving her what she needs, even to the point of arranging that wedding rehearsal dinner so she can be with her favorite brother again -- the favorite who isn’t him, much as she also loves him.

Date Test 1: Can You Get In.

Once Wei Wuxian is definitely gone, Lan Wangji shows up again and collects the entire retinue, guaranteeing that Wei Wuxian will be stranded outside the gate when he gets back. LWJ doesn’t wait by the gate; he goes and waits up on the roof instead of going to bed or whatever else he’s supposed to be doing. Because he already knows the route Wei Wuxian will be taking.

Wei Wuxian passes the “get in through the wards” test with no problem besides a minor headache and bent fingers.

Is that Xiao Zhan’s hand or did they use a double-jointed hand model?

Date Test 2: Fight Me (Lan Wangji’s Combat Playbook)

As soon as Wei Wuxian shows up on the roof, Lan Wangji picks a fight with him.

LWJ fights all the time; he’s perfectly comfortable when he’s fighting and it’s a good venue for him to express himself. His style is graceful and aggressive.

Attack attack attack strike a pose, vogue, you know it.

He starts by going all in on swordplay, but that doesn’t gain him the advantage; Wei Wuxian fends him off without ever drawing his sword. Which is probably the hottest thing that has ever happened to Lan Wangji in his young life.

Do you like me better when I’m horizontal?

Next Lan Wangji deploys the pettiness by breaking WWX’s wine. Then when Wei Wuxian starts insulting him he upgrades to next level pettiness by dropping another silence spell, this time with the added bonus of preventing WWX from drinking.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat Playbook, Redux

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is running his own fight routine, starting with a charm attack, which doesn’t work at all.

Are you admiring the moon?

He keeps trying to de-escalate for the first phase of their fight, until they reach a pause and he reflects that Lan Wangji has real skills. As soon as he makes that determination he goes on the offensive - with words.

He very formally says he’s too busy to continue fighting, and turns away, which is a pretty solid roast when you say it to someone who’s been trying really hard to kick your ass. Then he continues defending easily until Lan Wangji uses the wine against him.

At this point the gloves come off, with Lan Wangji lecturing Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian making ad hominem attacks, Lan Wangji forcibly shutting him up...

...and then throwing him on the floor in front of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen.

Sincere Grief for the Death of our Colleague

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen feel really bad for their disciple who has been horribly turned into an undead creature. Ha ha j/k

Date Test 3: Face the Authorities

Lan Wangji gets to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment. This probably won’t awaken anything in him.

Surprise surprise, Wei Wuxian actually passes the Authority test with flying colors. Lan Qiren doesn’t like him, but listens respectfully to his thoughts about the undead cultivator. And Lan Xichen clearly does like him.

When Wei Wuxian learns that Lan Wangji was nice to his sister, his entire demeanor changes, to such an enormous degree that Lan Wangji starts to run away.

He’s not going to let this boy (who has passed all the tests oh no he passed all the tests) make out with him in front of his family like he is obviously planning.

But once again, Wei Wuxian’s cultivation knowledge captures Lan Wangji’s attention and breaks through his reserve.

This Hardy Boys moment is the beginning of their cultivation partnership.

Lan Wangji is brave but is extremely constrained: by the authorities in his life and by his own rigid reserve. Wei Wuxian is brave and is also free. His companionship gives Lan Wangji an opportunity to engage with a much broader range of the things that interest him than he’s ever had before.

After Wei Wuxian has been sent to bed, Lan Wangji stands outside and -- just as WWX had suggested at the beginning of their date/fight -- admires the moon, with an expression that’s anything but upset.

Sure, sex is cool (probably), but have you ever analyzed a walking corpse with a beautiful boy in the moonlight?

If you’ve got your true honey Life can be pretty funny If you've got money, money to burn Rooty toot toot for the moon It's the biggest star I've ever seen

The Fine-as-Hell Brothers

Alone together, Lans Xichen and Wangji talk over the various things on their minds.

Xichen: What the fuck is up with you? ...Rooftop fights and dropping spells on boys?

Wangji: You and uncle were ignoring me so I was making my own fun

Xichen: Yeah, we are dealing with this zombie situation; shit’s going to hit the fan

Wangji: what are you going to do about it?

Xichen: fuck-all

Wangji: Well, you can rely on me

Xichen: I totally do. So how about you get to know this Wei kid, he seems like a fun ride.

Wangji: *death glare*

Xichen: You know, since Dad died you’ve become even more uptight. I wonder if I’ve been too strict with you?

Wangji: Um, you think? 3000 fucking rules, dude. Fortunately I’m not going to go off the rails and fall in love with my polar opposite and cause havoc in the cultivation world or anything like that.

Xichen: good, me neither

Outtro

Writing prompt: Lan Xichen’s secret nightly letter to his Mom’s memory or spirit (your choice), in which he confides in her about his day. May be written in flute solo form.

(As always if you use this prompt feel free to post a link to your fic in comments!)

Soundtrack: 1. This Is The Day by The The 2. Bela Lugosi’s Dead by Bauhaus 3. Rooty Toot Toot for the Moon, Greg Brown version 4. Madonna, Vogue

Bonus: FineAsHell-Jun

Episode 04 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Sooo I know I’m abusing the power you gave me (let me send prompts) but I’ve a very good reason, I promise (I’ve Nie brothers feelings and I love your writing) and I need to ask for this “5 times everyone realises that actually NMJ is the pushover in the Nie brothers relationship bc let’s be honest NMJ let’s NHS get away with everything and every time NMJ tries to get NHS to do something he has to bribe him with fans or resign himself to never get that done” and I find that hilarious :p

“Your sons have quite a good relationship, Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Fengmian remarked, but the man didn’t look especially impressed by the compliment.

“Especially given that they’re half-brothers,” Jin Guangshan added, and Jiang Fengmian sighed internally: the addition made the original statement into a taunt, which hadn’t been what he meant at all. “Rare to see such a good relationship in such cases.”

“Would you know?” Wen Ruohan asked, smiling poisonously. “And here I thought you had only one.”

“I’ve tasted pork; I don’t need to know how to butcher a pig. Look at how the older one lets the younger one around follow him around everywhere – certainly I wouldn’t have tolerated such a thing for one so much younger than me.”

“I always liked playing with others,” Jiang Fengmian said mildly. “The bigger the family, the better, in my view…it’s nice to help and be helped.”

“I don’t think the infant being carried around is doing that much helping,” Lan Qiren observed.

“And yet he’s clearly the one calling the shots,” Wen Ruohan mused, his eyes settling on the field where the two were playing – or rather, the toddler was demanding a ride and his older brother complying. “Given how stiff-necked the Nie family is, traditionally, it must be very reassuring to you, Sect Leader Nie, to see your son so – compliant.”

Sect Leader Nie abruptly changed the subject.

Later, he came to Jiang Fengmian, an expression of fury on his face. “It’s not any of my business, so I don’t care what’s going on with your search for that servant of yours and his family,” he said icily. “But I’ll thank you to focus on rearing your own children, and stop drawing unwanted attention to mine.”

Jiang Fengmian felt rather unjustly accused. It was true, he’d been thinking of Wei Changze’s son – of how well he’d get along with his own A-Cheng, if only Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren could be convinced to stop traveling around and come home for a little – but there was no reason for old Nie to be so snippy. There had only been the five great sect leaders around; what was he so worried about?

“You can’t be serious,” Lan Xichen said, pressing his lips together to try to restrain his laughter and altogether incapable of restraining his smile.

His smile only grew when Nie Mingjue’s shoulders rose up somewhere around his ears in embarrassment.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” he replied stiffly, and then he actually bought the – product.

Lan Xichen managed to hold himself back as they continued down the shopping street, and finally when they were back on the unoccupied path back to the Unclean Realm he let out a peal of laughter.

Nie Mingjue shot him a sidelong glare.

“Little Huaisang has you completely under his thumb,” Lan Xichen laughed. “You’re always buying him things, every time I see you – if it’s not new fans to add to his collections, it’s another animal for his little menagerie –”

“It’s not a menagerie.”

“He has a half-dozen birds, a mated pair of pangolins, and that – that beast you got for him –”

“The boar?” Nie Mingjue asked. “I didn’t buy that, I found it, and anyway the plan is to release it back onto the mountain once it gets a little larger.”

Lan Xichen waved his hand, dismissing Nie Mingjue’s little technicalities. “All that’s fair enough,” he says, laughter still in his voice and his eyes still curved up into crescents. “I would buy Wangji anything he liked, if only he had more hobbies. But even I would draw the line at purchasing my little brother erotic art.”

“He likes it,” Nie Mingjue said defensively.

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Lan Xichen said, trying to move his eyebrows suggestively like he’d seen someone do once. Judging from Nie Mingjue’s mildly horrified expression, he wasn’t successful. “Still, don’t you think you’re sending him mixed messages? On one hand, you’re always yelling at him about not practicing his saber enough, and on the other you’re spoiling him rotten –”

“He hasn’t formed a golden core yet,” Nie Mingjue said abruptly, and Lan Xichen’s smiled faded. “Yes, still. It’s late, no matter what standard you hold him to – forget the Great Sects, forget regular sects, even by the children of rogue cultivators usually have the basics of a core by now.”

Lan Xichen didn’t know what to say. Lan Wangji had formed his core very early, earliest out of all his generation in fact – he had never had to worry about his brother’s cultivation, not once.

He wanted to tell his friend not to worry, that it would come in time, that Nie Huaisang would catch up…but he was right, it was late. In another year, they would be sending out invitations for select people to come study at the Cloud Recesses, where Nie Huaisang had been a few times before, but this time would be the first time all the sect heirs were in a single place.

If he didn’t have his core by then, there was a chance he’d never get it. That he’d live only the short life of a common person, shorter even than the shortened life of a Nie cultivator –

That Nie Mingjue would have to watch his baby brother grow old and send him off first.

“So I buy him things,” Nie Mingjue concluded with shrug that was anything but casual. “More things than he needs. If he finally forms a core, there’ll be time enough then to teach him discipline – and if he doesn’t, well. At least he’ll be happy for the few years he’ll have.”

“The answer is still no,” Nie Mingjue said, just he had said the first few times, and without paying the slightest attention to the table Jiang Cheng had just overturned.

“Why not?” Jiang Cheng snarled, incensed. “If we join forces together and win, we’ll strike a blow against the Wens that will be felt across the land –”

“And if we lose, the damage will be incalculable,” Nie Mingjue said, unmoved. He didn’t look up from the correspondence he was reviewing. “We didn’t come here expecting to find a Wen stronghold; neither of us brought enough people. No.”

Jiang Cheng sneered. “We didn’t bring enough people, no, but there are enough at hand if there weren’t exceptions being made.”

Nie Mingjue paused and finally put down the letter, turning to look at Jiang Cheng. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Nie Huaisang isn’t that far away, with plenty of cultivators acting as guards at his side,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms. “If you summoned them, we’d have enough to tip the scales in our favor. But you don’t, just because he doesn’t feel like fighting – why do you let him walk all over you?!”

Nie Mingjue looked at him for a long moment, his gaze dark and angry.

Jiang Cheng began to feel as if he’d made a mistake, but it was too late to retract his harsh words.

“Very well,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jiang Cheng began to brighten. “I’ll write to Meishan while I’m at it; your sister can come bring along the ones who are guarding her, too.”

Jiang Cheng blanched. “You can’t! Jiejie can’t –”

“Why not? Her cultivation is mediocre, but no more so than my brother’s,” Nie Mingjue said, and he was very angry. “Or are you going to say that she’s the only one left in your family but you? That you don’t want the Wens to have a chance to take even more of your family away? Isn’t all that just as true for me?!”

Jiang Cheng hung his head.

“We’re fighting this war to win it,” Nie Mingjue said. “There’s no point in winning if we lose everything on the way. Get out and talk a walk; I don’t want to see you until you’ve beaten some sense into that thick head of yours.”

“Da-ge, you know you can’t keep the secret of the saber spirits from Huaisang forever,” Jin Guangyao said, and his voice was reasonable as it always was – calm and even and to the point, just the way that Nie Mingjue had liked so much when he’d been his deputy.

The tone mostly just irritated Nie Mingjue now – but then, most things did, these days.

“I’m aware of that,” Nie Mingjue said, scowling. His fingers were pressing at his temples – another headache, it seemed. They were happening more and more these days, and that didn’t help the quality of his temper one bit. “He doesn’t need to know all the details yet. He’ll have to bear the burden eventually, but – not yet.”

Jin Guangyao chuckled. “You always let what he wants make decisions for you, da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue ignored him. That was normal, too.

“Let me play for you again, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao said, and his smile broadened. “It might help your headache.”

Wei Wuxian was of the opinion that disturbing the unquiet corpses that had been sealed in the Guanyin Temple in Yunping City was a terrible idea, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices when politics became an issue. The once-more-ascendant-Nie-sect-is-asking-only-somewhat-politely sort of politics.

Every once in a while, Wei Wuxian cursed Nie Mingjue in the back of his mind. Surely, if he hadn’t spoiled Nie Huaisang so much, he wouldn’t have become so demanding – so insistent!

(So incredibly good at finding just the right weak spot to press on…!)

“Your brother is still going to be a fierce corpse when we open that thing,” he said. “You know that, right? He didn’t recognize you then, he won’t recognize you now – he’s an extremely powerful fierce corpse, which is going to make it very hard to control him right away. There’s a great deal of danger involved in being here.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. “I appreciate the warning, Wei-xiong.”

“In light of that,” Wei Wuxian continued. “Don’t you think you should watch from further away?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

Wei Wuxian sighed and lifted Chenqing to his lips, nodding at Lan Wangji, and together they set about unsealing the tomb.

Nie Mingjue’s corpse was just as overwhelming as he remembered, bursting out of the tomb a few moments before they expected it, and the backlash was enough to make Wei Wuxian, with his weak golden core in this life, cough up blood, which in turn made Lan Wangji stop everything to look at him, which meant that there was nothing between Nie Mingjue’s outstretched fingers, curled into claws, and Nie Huaisang, standing there with nothing but a fan in hand.

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to – he didn’t know what, to try something to save someone who really had once been his friend, however he’d ended up and whatever he’d done, and who he still rather liked and who’d had pretty good reasons for things and who at any rate he didn’t want to see dead at the hands of his own brother –

Nie Mingjue’s clawed fingers stopped only a hair’s breadth away from Nie Huaisang’s head.

Wei Wuxian’s breath caught in his throat.

A moment passed, and then another – and then the direction of Nie Mingjue’s hand shifted, and he ran his fingers through Nie Huaisang’s hair with a delicacy that Wei Wuxian, an expert on all things resentful energy, had never thought a white-eyed fierce corpse was capable of.

Nie Huaisang smiled, content. “Da-ge has always let me get away with everything.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #jiang fengmian #jin guangshan #wen ruohan #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #your prompt was very fluffy but the end result turned out not to be #sorry #timetomakeanewwish

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shapeshiftersandfire · 3 years

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You Have To Let Go

for @whumptober2021 day one prompt: “You have to let go.”

@whumpinggrounds @sie-werden-nie-vergessen and thanks to @four-foot-eleven for inspiring the ending :)

cw: mourning/grieving, mentions of death

this is one of the sadder pieces, if not the saddest, for this project. please take care of yourselves while reading this, it’s emotionally heavy.

She lost Verna somewhere along the way.

Stella doesn’t know when it was, somewhere in the turmoil with the Bellows, somewhere where Ephraim and Harold started having their spat in the hallway, giving her enough time to dart away to the basement room that used to be Sarah’s, but what she knows is she’s alone, her glasses have fallen off her head somewhere in the struggle with Ephraim, and Verna is nowhere to be found. She thinks she can hear faint footsteps echoing upstairs in the house—not rotting and covered in cobwebs, but lived in and in the prime of its life. Whether those footsteps are Verna’s or the Bellows’ or Ramon’s or that thing chasing after him, she doesn’t know, she can’t tell.

It’s too hard to hear down here in the basement, in this room that is hardly new but as equally lived in as the rest of the house.

It’s hard to see, too. Stella squints into the dark, at Sarah’s chair, trying to make out what she thinks is something slowly manifesting in the chair. There are shapes and spots and colors jumping around everywhere in front of her in her blurry vision; one spot forming a blob and moving off out of sight doesn’t mean Sarah Bellows herself is going to appear in the chair.

Mangled whispering fills the cracks in the walls. More shapes fill the room, something moves around the chair, something that looks like it could take the form of a person if given enough time.

Stella…

Sarah’s voice, thin and wiry and dripping with anger.

Stella scrambles backwards along the floor, until her back hits the bookshelf, until the books fall around her, narrowly missing her head. This isn’t the Sarah Bellows she had seen in Verna’s video, the one that’s happy and content and safe. This is the Sarah Bellows that’s been hunting her for days, filled with rage and ill-intent, the one that’s only going to stop when everyone who entered the house that night is dead.

One of the books that falls into her lap is one that looks eerily familiar—a seventy-year younger version of Sarah’s infamous ledger. Intact, with clean pages and not a mark on the cover. And the moment Stella has it in her hands, running her fingers over the felt cover, a soft tune echoes through the room, the one from the music boxes, the one Lou Lou had hummed the words to.

Don’t ever laugh as the hearse goes by, or you may be the next to die.

(Upstairs, the warmth of the Bellows house will fade before Verna’s eyes. Delanie’s hand will vanish from her own. The house will go dark, the cobwebs will hang from the ceiling, and that same tune will echo in her mind. Ramon will watch, from his hiding spot under the table, as the woman’s eyes glaze over in a trance, and she looks up, towards something only she can see or hear, entirely unaware of the Jangly Man lurking about the house, whispering, “Sarah?” And she’ll take off, running through the house, shouting Sarah’s name with increased fervor, until Ramon loses sight of her completely.)

When Stella looks again, there in the chair sits Sarah Bellows herself, pale hair draped over one shoulder, her ribcage visible through her tattered dress. She stares at Stella with dark, hollow eyes, head tilted to one side. There’s no emotion in her face, yet she emanates rage. Stella’s breath catches in her throat, her heart drops to her stomach, she scrambles back against the wall, as far as she can, but Sarah stands from her chair and comes toward her, slowly, one step at a time.

“I have another story,” Sarah hisses, every word dripping with venom, “just for you.”

Stella cowers against the wall, covering her head with her arms, as though she could protect herself from Sarah’s wrath.

Where’s Verna? If Verna hasn’t come now, she must be dead already. All of that, all the tears and mourning and pain and it’s all come to an end for the poor woman. After everything she’d done for Sarah…

Tell her the truth.

Stella wrestles with it, as Sarah comes closer and closer, the fear and her own anger, they hadn’t done anything wrong, yet Sarah was lashing out at them with blind fury. Sarah could kill her, but she didn’t have any right to, it wasn’t fair, they didn’t deserve this—the Bellows may have—all they’d done was go into the house—

Finally the anger wins out.

Stella turns and looks up at Sarah; she looks more solid than she had just a few seconds ago, more lifelike, more real. “No. It’s time that you hear a story, Sarah—”

Sarah shuffles closer, her rage melting into curiosity. Something that looks faintly like a frown crosses her face.

“Sarah!”

Their heads snap around to the hallway. They know that voice.

“Sarah!”

Stella’s heart leaps. Verna! She’s not dead after all, she’s still alive, she’s coming—

Sarah whimpers, her voice choked. “Aunt Verna?”

Heels bang on the old wood floor. The sound comes to a height as Verna stumbles toward the entrance to the underground room; Sarah steps closer to the doorway. The darkness fades from Sarah’s face. Stella sees her as she was in life: alabaster white skin, equally white hair thrown over one shoulder, pale blue eyes brimming with tears. She looks young again. Alive, even.

“Aunt Verna?”

“Sarah!” Verna’s heels thunder on the floor as she races down the stairs and into the room, sweeping Sarah into her arms, and immediately Verna is sobbing into her niece’s hair, “Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, my little Sarah, my little Sarah, Sarah…”

“Aunt Verna…” Sarah whimpers into her aunt’s shoulder. “You came back…” Her voice is barely audible over the sound of Verna’s sobbing.

“I’m right here, Sarah, I’m right here,” Verna sobs in one breath, and in the next profusely apologizes for leaving her, for not being there, for not knowing she was hurting and alone and “Sarah I’m so, so sorry, baby girl, I’m so sorry, Sarah…” And Sarah cries to, softer, but no less hard; beneath her own tears, Stella can see Sarah’s shoulders shaking as she cries into her aunt’s shoulder. Somewhere in it all Stella hears Sarah whisper, “I didn’t think you’d come back…”

Verna inhales sharply, whimpering more apologies into Sarah’s hair. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Verna,” Sarah whispers, “I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant to hurt you, Aunt Verna…”

“I’m okay, Sarah.”

Okay, Stella thinks, trying to ignore her own welling tears, for someone who spent two days in the hospital. It’s almost a miracle Verna is alive at all.

Sarah shakes her head. “I didn’t want you to have to hear…”

“I know,” Verna answers, drawing Sarah into a hug. “I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise.”

“I hurt them, Aunt Verna,” Sarah says softly. “I hurt people.”

All Verna does is nod.

Sarah takes a sharp breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, Aunt Verna, I never wanted to, but I’ve been so angry, I’m so damn angry, Aunt Verna. And this town, the things they’ve said about me, my own brother, they said I’m a monster, I’m so damn angry, Aunt Verna, I’m so damn angry…” Again and again and again— “Damn it, it’s not fair!” she shrieks finally, and sobs until she doesn’t have any breath left, all while Verna tries to console her, “I know, baby girl, I know, I’m so sorry…” and Stella doesn’t understand how Verna couldn’t be even the slightest bit angry with Sarah, after she’d taken the Bellows, after she’d taken Stella’s friends…After all that she still loves Sarah with all her heart

Maybe if Verna had been there then, Sarah wouldn’t have grown so furious. Now, Stella isn’t sure anything could stave off whatever rage Sarah has left, not even Verna.

But maybe…

“Sarah.”

Sarah raises her head from Verna’s shoulder, clinging to her aunt, shaking with tears and rage, and locks eyes with Stella.

“I’ll tell your story,” Stella promises, hoping with every word Sarah is going to concede, “the real story, but I—the rage has to stop, Sarah. It has to stop.” She shakes her head. “You can let it go.”

You can let it go.

Sarah still shakes. She leans harder into Verna, but something her face hints she’s considering Stella’s offer. She doesn’t say anything; the silence is filled with her sniffling and Verna’s, and Verna’s sounds like it gets worse as she slowly process what it might mean for Sarah to let go.

“You can let it go, Sarah,” Stella repeats when Sarah doesn’t move. There’s movement from upstairs, floor boards being slammed on, debris being flung across the room. The Jangly Man is still after Ramon, and he’s not going to stop unless Sarah tells him to. “Don’t take him from me, too!”

Sarah freezes, staring wide-eyed. After a moment, she pulls away from Verna—and is nearly stopped by the poor woman who’s so desperate to keep a hold on her beloved niece—and goes to crouch down in front of Stella.

Stella can’t help it, she recoils from Sarah. The girl is too close to her, her face is too close, she needs to back up—

But Sarah pulls something out of her sleeve, something long and thin and cylindrical, ornately decorated on the sides. A pen, Stella realizes breathlessly as Sarah offers it to her. Sarah’s pen. How many stories had been written with this pen? How much had Stella, whether she knew for certain or not, longed to hold the pen that belonged to the town’s most infamous writer? And there it is, inches from her.

She wraps her fingers around the top of the pen, but Sarah doesn’t relinquish her hold right away. She leans forward, and in a voice only Stella can hear, she whispers, “Use your blood.” Then she gets up, and returns to Verna.

“You told me once…you didn’t want me grow up to be like you,” Sarah whispers, taking her aunt’s hands. “So angry—”

Verna whines, coughs a sob. “Sarah—”

“I can let it go, Aunt Verna,” Sarah whispers. She swallows, glances at Stella, and amends, “I have to let it go.”

“No.” Verna grips her niece’s arm “No, no, no, Sarah, don’t, I can’t—I can’t lose you again. Sarah, please, I can’t—” Verna’s voice cracks with sobs. She pulls Sarah into another tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Verna,” Sarah whispers. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Verna cries harder, a mixture of tears and Sarah, please, please don’t leave me, I can’t lose you again, I can’t.

“I love you so much, Aunt Verna.”

Verna wails.

Stella sniffs heavily. She can barely see Sarah and Verna behind the haze of her own tears. What Sarah is asking Verna to do…it’s going to break her heart all over again. The silence of the room is filled with the sound of Verna’s inconsolable sobbing.

“You have to let me go, Aunt Verna.” Sarah puts her hands on Verna’s arms, gently trying to push her away.

“No—” Verna grips the back of Sarah’s dress. “No, no, Sarah, please, I can’t—Don’t leave me.”

“You have to.” This time, she gently but firmly forces herself out of Verna’s arms, and steps back. “You have to let me go.”

“No—”

Sarah turns to Stella. “Promise me,” she whispers. “Promise me you’ll tell them.”

Stella wipes her cheeks again. The pen feels heavy in her hand, the book heavy in her lap. Breathlessly, she answers, “I promise.” I’ll make sure they know.

With that, Sarah Bellows stands back, and unleashes a howl that shakes the house to its foundation.

Verna dives for Stella, wrapping her in her arms. And in that moment, as she’s sure the house would fall down around them, Stella understands why Sarah felt so attached to Verna. Even if the house crumbles, Stella trusts that she’s going to be safe, she’s going to make it out alive. Verna shields her from the worst of it, from the dust and whatever debris might crumble from the ceiling. She hides herself in Verna’s arms until the shaking stops.

When the dust settles, the house is quiet. Stella stays hidden in Verna’s arms a moment longer before she finally dares to lift her head and look around the room. Nothing has changed much. The tree roots growing through the walls are back. The door is rusted again. Cobwebs hang from every corner. The only thing new is—

“Verna!”

Verna pulls away from her.

In the middle of the room, alive and breathing but unconscious, is Sarah Bellows.

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #you have to let go #fandom #writing #fic #scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #begging #grieving #crying #mourning #death mention #sarah bellows #stella nicholls #verna russell #project verna #go tell aunt rhody #i was in TEARS writing this

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zeldahime · 4 years

Text

cql college/job au xiyao edition

because these two have the potential to be the slowest of slow fucking burns and extremely excruciatingly painfully perfectly polite at all times

featuring: ta/student very-much-not-a-relationship, enough ust to set the entire humanities building on fire, corporate espionage, nie huaisang being the sneakiest and sweetest slytherin, background wangxian, nie mingjue being a boss, intense eye contact, let lan xichen say fuck, meng yao stress hours, WERE YOU ONLY PRETENDING TO BE DELICATE AND POOR, summer internship, background wangxian

it got uh. very long. so.

meng yao starts working for nie enterprises when he’s 16 as a part-time janitor. he has two other part time jobs and is studying for his ged.

one day he solves some kind of problem that nie enterprises is having and nie mingjue likes this guy and promotes him to his personal assistant on the spot

nie huaisong is always flitting about his brother’s office etc, and they become friends and meng yao helps him with his homework.

when huaisong is getting ready to go to small posh private university, he will definitely need tutors. mingjue is happily persuaded into converting meng yao’s job into full-time huaisang babysitting tutoring, including paying for yao’s tuition and room and board to get a degree himself; his job is to make sure huaisang gets good grades and not in trouble. meng yao sees this for the golden ticket it is and very happily agrees. this is going to be the easiest job he’s ever had, and he’s got job security as long as huaisang doesn’t mess up too badly.

first day of classes, meng yao is 22 and looking around at the 30-odd 18-year-old trust fund babies with a sinking stomach telling him that he does not belong here.

this is a philosophy and ethics class like. in a literal ivory tower. this is possibly the last place he should be.

and the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen in his life walks into the room with the professor. and he’s introduced as “and this is our TA, lan xichen.”

lan xichen smiles at the room with the kind of look that makes it feel like he’s making eye contact with everyone. and then he makes real eye contact with meng yao. “he’s attractive as hell,” they both think, and then think nothing of it.

but, it’s a small class. and it meets 3 times a week. and lan xichen shuts down someone who pokes at meng yao’s age, and meng yao asks questions perfectly tailored to making sure that huaisang and the other students actually understand the material. and by the end of week 2 they’re both saddled with an extremely unfortunate crush that they both need to get a handle on. for professionalism’s sake. they’re at work goddamn it.

and one day meng yao comes to office hours to ask a question that’s much more advanced than what they’re talking about in class, and in lan xichen’s tiny ta office talking about ethics, they are exceptionally and perfectly polite and appropriate and within the exact bounds of a ta-student relationship.

they are also both about to catch on fire.

this continues all school year, because it’s a two-part class. meng yao comes to office hours, and he and lan xichen are stringently appropriate the whole time, and at no point do they so much as brush fingers. they see each other every single day.

huaisang thinks this is 1) absolutely hilarious and 2) the perfect distraction. he wingmans the hell out of meng yao in class, he third-wheels on office hours specifically to make it worse, and he arranges “chance” meetings between them outside of class. (he got some details about lan xichen’s daily schedule from wei wuxian, who he is eternally surprised is actually somehow getting information from lan wangji the silent wonder)

(he’s not getting it from lan wangji; lan xichen is wingmanning his little brother. the info wei wuxian is passing on is straight from the horse’s mouth.)

nie huaisang thinks he’s being very clever and sneaky in arranging his classes and portfolio to make it look like he’s just taking electives when he’s really planning on switching to a fine arts major at the last possible minute

he is being clever and sneaky, but meng yao knows what he’s doing anyway

meng yao is keeping that ball up in the air as long as he can though, because that’s a later-problem.

in addition to falling in extremely professional love with his ta, his asshole dad has also come out of the woodwork and is trying to involve him in corporate espionage. which is less than super great.

on the one side, asshole dad who hasn’t supported you in 22 years and didn’t care when your mother died when you were 16 and pushed you down the stairs because you had the audacity to ask for help, who will gladly frame you even if you don’t help. on the other hand, your boss, who has treated you well for a boss, but has explicitly told you your job depends on keeping his little brother as out-of-trouble as possible and who you don’t think will believe you

in this au, he’s solidly with the nie clan because: Golden Fucking Ticket, where the strings are “don’t let huaisang fuck up too bad,” and where “fuck up” means like. drunk driving or failing a class. he’ll probably even keep his job after huaisang’s art degree reveal. all dear old dad is offering is a jail sentence.

but he still needs to somehow convince jgs that he’s double-crossing nie enterprises without actually doing that, so that he doesn’t get framed for doing it.

it’s stressful.

lan xichen’s life isn’t roses and pearls either, though it’s not nearly as stressful as playing double-agent corporate espionage while also babysitting huaisang and getting a degree

lan xichen’s life is all about being the Dutiful Eldest Son so that lan wangji can have an inch of freedom

this includes becoming a corporate accountant (a job he’s bored just thinking about) and marrying a Good Girl From A Respectable Family (he is extremely gay), and eventually having 2.5 children and a white picket fence and a dog (he’s a cat person and doesn’t know what to do with children). he tells himself it’s all for lan wangji and it’s almost enough to make him want to do it.

being the ta for his thesis advisor’s philosophy and ethics class was supposed to be his Fun Indulgent Treat because he has no idea what “fun” or “indulgent” or “treat” mean

but now he’s in love with one of his students and that’s. not. good.

he’s all of 21 and he’s pretty sure he’s going to be blacklisted from all jobs for his entire life unless he manages, somehow, to keep anyone from knowing how entirely unprofessional he’s being.

he is trying very hard to distract himself from his gayngst by helping wangji with his own. 18-year-olds can be so oblivious in love, he thinks, failing to see any irony at all.

he’s also been telling his bff mingjue about this extremely painful experience this entire time, under a pseudonym. if mingjue has to hear one more word about “Y”’s dimples, he’s going to scream and then he’s going to force Y into a closet with xichen and not let them out until they’ve solved this. he’s very tired.

at one point when he’s about to pass out from extreme eye contact, he gives meng yao his number so that he can “pass it to nie huaisang, in case he has any questions” and just. prays really hard that meng yao will text him after classes are over and he’s back to just being a grad student and they can be friends.

BUT. BEFORE HE HAS THE CHANCE. IN THAT TIME BETWEEN FINALS ENDING AND GRADES BEING TURNED IN.

lan xichen begins his summer internship at nie enterprises in accounting. and meng yao returns to fill in for an admin on her maternity leave. and they see each other in the break room.

both of them: *internal gay screaming* Hi, what a coincidence, how are you doing?

(boys, you are in different departments, nobody cares if you date as long as you don’t start fucking on the desks. they don’t know this because they’re young and very concerned with being Professional and with Career Advancement.)

they have Very Professional lunch together every day. and will buy each other coffee, Professionally. and it would be much more professional if they would just actually make out and then come to work like normal people instead of clearly wanting to make out every time they see each other and instead being Very Incredibly Professional with their words and actions.

mingjue clues in that this is Y. meng yao is Y. Oh my god, first i didn’t want to know that, second this is going to be so easy, and then i’ll never have to listen to xichen wax rhapsodic about his eyes again, he thinks.

he is incorrect.

the harder he tries, the more vehemently perfect their professionalism becomes. which means he’s watching them have extremely intense eye contact at work and can’t actually say anything about it because, it’s just eye contact? what is he going to say? stop looking at people when delivering tps reports?

he also can’t say anything outright like “just. kiss. him.” because. he’s both of their Entire Boss. at the moment he’s xichen’s boss’s boss’s boss. he can’t do anything without probably violating sexual harassment laws.

mingjue is tired.

meanwhile the corporate espionage double-agent act is still ongoing and meng yao continues to be stressed

mingjue is alerted to meng yao “stealing” secrets and has a freak-out; he hasn’t slept in three days and he trusted meng yao and how could he? was this his plan all along WAS HE ONLY PRETENDING TO BE DELICATE AND POOR

xichen steps between them and insists there’s a reasonable explanation and jesus christ mingjue have you slept when was the last time you’ve eaten you look terrible let’s get you to bed and talk about this in the morning

(meng yao doesn’t realize that he’s clutched on to lan xichen’s suit until after he releases it and lan xichen is trying, very hard, to pretend that it didn’t happen because he won’t be able to think of anything else if it did)

xichen, immediately after mingjue is in huaisang’s care: i believe you, but what the fuck is happening, yao.

(if he wasn’t so rattled by the entire mingjue-reaming thing yao would be able to savor lan xichen saying fuck sooooo much better.)

(once yao explains it is a strain not to kiss him right then and there in that empty conference room but he deserves better than lan xichen, who can’t bring anything to the table and can’t even bring him home to eat at his table, because he is the Dutiful Eldest Son and his closet needs to be made of motherfuckin steel)

(huaisang knows exactly what the fuck is up and talks mingjue down, because meng yao is sneaky but he wasn’t counting on huaisang like. actually caring.)

this is also the exact same day where lan wangji brings wei wuxian home for dinner and this goes. as well as might be expected. given Uncle hates everything about wei wuxian from his motorcycle to his leather to his attitude. but wangji is happy and he’s smiling and that’s why lan xichen is doing this. that’s why lan xichen is doing everything.

the next day the 3-zun make a Plan to trap jgs and then get them audited by the irs, since if he’s doing shady espionage stuff he’s also almost certainly doing shady tax stuff (they’re right, he is)

after the internship is over, that very evening, lan xichen asks meng yao if he wants to “hang out, as friends”

oh, you thought this pining dysfunctional trainwreck was going to end here? buddy. lan xichen is in fucking narnia, he’s so deep in the closet, because he must be Dutiful.

they go on several not-a-dates doing Friend Things. and several study sessions where no studying is done. and eventually.

lan qiren: so when are you introducing me to your boyfriend? he seems like a good kid, nothing like that wei wuxian character

lan xichen.exe has stopped working

lan qiren: what, do you think i’m blind? he either is your boyfriend or he should be. good head on his shoulders. *returns to his newspaper*

turns out lan xichen’s self-sacrificial bargain with the universe was borne from a place of living in a heteropatriarchy and not actually from the reality of his uncle’s beliefs, who knew

(lan qiren loves his nephews and wants them to be happy. he also has eyes, in his head, that connect to his brain. he knew xichen was probably gay by the time the kid was 14, and started reading books with titles like “how to accept your gay son” in the living room. xichen assumed this was about wangji, because he also has eyes and wants his baby brother to be happy. wangji bringing a boy home was actually a big surprise to his uncle. this family does not actually talk to each other about things.)

anyway the next friend-not-a-date that he and yao go on, he asks yao on a real date.

he is bracing for rejection when yao kisses??? him???? for some reason?????

they make out &c. this is the boring part

they have a conversation about their feelings and discover that they’ve both been in love for a year a YEAR a fucking year. then they make out some more because lost time.

fin.

#xiyao #lan xichen #meng yao #jin guangyao #cql #cql fic #the untamed #the untamed fic #the untamed au #edited for typo #temper and circumstance

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i-like-plan-m · 4 years

Text

shades of grey, pt 3

[part 1] [part 2] [Ao3]

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang crept along the wall in the luminous moonlight, keeping carefully to the shadows. They had yet to see Nie Mingjue, too busy wrestling with whatever the hell they had tucked inside their robes.

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and wondered what heinous act he’d committed in a past life to deserve this. At his side, Nie Zonghui chuckled as the boys whispered back and forth to each other, Nie Huaisang trotting desperately after Wei Wuxian on his short legs.

“Wait for meee!” Nie Huaisang whined, stumbling over his robes.

“Shh!” Wei Wuxian hissed. He waved Nie Huaisang on, skirting the edges of the training grounds.

“It’s always some scheme or another,” Nie Mingjue said, shaking his head. “If I’d known the havoc Wei Wuxian would bring…”

“You still would have brought him back,” his friend said with amusement and a knowing look. “He has a good heart. His mischief is never cruel or harmful.”

“Except when he flings himself off of things and breaks all his bones.”

“Just the two, so far,” Nie Zonghui said mildly. “Besides, Nie Huaisang enjoys his company.”

Of course he did, Nie Mingjue thought, rolling his eyes. Wei Wuxian enabled all his brother’s half-brained plots to avoid training and paint all day and chase birds all across the mountain. If it sounded like fun and something the adults wouldn’t approve of, Wei Wuxian was bound to be an enthusiastic participant.

But-- he had to admit, Wei Wuxian’s arrival had brought some of the light back into Nie Huaisang’s eyes, light that had faded upon their father’s violent accident and slow, agonizing death. His mother’s death not months later had turned Nie Huaisang into a shell, a feeble little waif who cried constantly and spent entire days curled up in his bed.

Now, Nie Mingjue had to chase them both around at all hours of the day so the little idiots didn’t get themselves killed. But his brother was smiling again, laughing even, so Nie Mingjue could hold no real grudge against either of them.

He watched as the boys darted past a disciple on watch, around the corner, up the stairs- only to skid to a halt, triumphant faces falling at the sight of Nie Mingjue’s unimpressed stare.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang chirped, inching sideways like he was planning to make a run for it. Nie Mingjue narrowed his eyes.

“Just playing!” Wei Wuxian agreed. The lump under his robes squirmed, and he clamped his arms over it with an innocent expression that only ever meant trouble.

“Do you want to run laps all night?” Nie Mingjue asked severely.

They wilted. “No,” they chorused.

“Hand it over, then,” Nie Mingjue ordered, holding out a hand. Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian traded looks, hesitant, before Nie Huaisang reluctantly pulled the lump out of his robes and placed it in Nie Mingjue’s palm.

The tiny rabbit blinked up at him. Nie Mingjue blinked back, equally surprised.

The bunny trembled, presumably in shock from being unceremoniously kidnapped and smuggled into the Unclean Realm.

“Not this again,” he sighed. How many times were they going to try this?

“I told you he was still mad about the snake!” Nie Huaisang hissed, elbowing Wei Wuxian. Nie Mingjue took a slow breath, temper rising at the reminder, and felt Nie Zonghui’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter beside him, the bastard.

“Give me the rest,” he said once he’d shoved away the memory of walking into his brother’s rooms one night and accidentally picking up a snake that he’d thought was a pile of ribbons thrown haphazardly on the floor. He’d nearly qi deviated on the spot.

“A-all of them?” Nie Huaisang asked, squirming guiltily. Wei Wuxian was looking carefully away from everyone, still clutching his own unknown number of bunnies.

“Yes, all of them, why would I only want-- Wait. Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said with dawning dread. “How many rabbits have you already brought back?”

“Um,” Nie Huaisang hedged. “Maybe… maybe three?”

“Maybe three?”

“Or four!” Nie Huaisang cried. “I don’t know!”

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and resigned himself to chasing stupid rabbits around for the rest of the night. Heavens only knew the chaos if they were left free to roam and reproduce.

“A hawk ate their mom! We saw!” Wei Wuxian piped up, eyes wide and earnest. “It was so gross! Huaisang cried.”

“So did you!” Nie Huaisang accused. He looked up at Nie Mingjue, lower lip wobbling. “Da-ge, it tried to eat the babies, too.”

“We couldn’t leave the rest, so we brought them here,” Wei Wuxian said. His rabbit was steadily making its way towards his sleeve, seeking escape from the boy’s black robes. He did not appear to notice.

“Do I look like I’m running a menagerie here?” Nie Mingjue demanded, sweeping a hand out at the stark ground of the Unclean Realm. Too late, he realized he’d gestured with the hand holding the baby rabbit, which did not contribute to the severity of his appearance. Nie Zonghui was valiantly choking back laughter.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang stamped his foot. “We saved them! They were gonna die!”

Nie Huaisang scowled up at him. Nie Mingjue copied it instinctively, though he was quietly relieved to see his brother’s spark return. Even if he was being a brat.

“If you set them loose in the Unclean Realm, the rabbits will outnumber the humans within a month,” Nie Mingjue growled. “Go get the rest.”

He followed them to ensure they obeyed and didn’t try to stuff any stray rabbits somewhere in their rooms, looming over them while they slid open the door to Wei Wuxian’s room and looked around uncertainly.

“Well?” He demanded. Nie Zonghui leaned against the wall and petted the rabbit he’d liberated from Wei Wuxian’s robes, clearly enjoying himself.

Wei Wuxian scratched at his head. “I don’t know where they went, Chifeng-Zun.”

“Uh oh,” Nie Huaisang said before Nie Mingjue could speak. Everyone turned to where Huaisang crouched in the corner of the room. He stuck his little fingers through a hole in the delicate divider between the boys’ rooms and wiggled them. “Da-ge, I think they’re in my room now.”

Nie Zonghui cleared his throat. “Nie Huaisang, did you leave your door open again?”

A beat of silence, and then- “Oops.”

Nie Mingjue briefly fantasized throttling them both. “Tell the servants to look for them. They can hand them off to the kitchen once they’re caught.”

There was an immediate barrage of noise, so loud the bunny in his hand squeaked and cowered behind the cage of his fingers.

“What! Chifeng-Zun, you can’t!”

“But da-ge, we saved them!” Huaisang wailed.

“Huaisang and I will catch them, I promise!” Wei Wuxian said anxiously.

“I can’t believe you,” Huaisang howled, flinging himself bodily into Nie Mingjue’s side.

His family used to be butchers, Nie Mingjue thought despondently, faced with the threat of tears over the fate of a handful of bunnies. They were respected and feared, both then and now. Where did he go wrong?

“Fine, just go catch them!” He snapped, swatting half-heartedly at the hands tugging on his robes. They brightened so fast that he suspected he’d been played, but they were out the door before he could say anything else.

Nie Zonghui continued to stroke his bunny, now tucked in the crook of his arm and dozing peacefully. “So,” he said, positively brimming with laughter.

“Not a word,” Nie Mingjue warned, shoving his own rabbit into his hands and stalking out the door.

Much later that night, closer to dawn than dusk and only two more rabbits captured, Nie Mingjue dropped into his bed with an exhausted sigh.

Seconds later, a soft noise in his room had him jerking up, Baxia rattling in response as he propped himself up on an elbow and squinted warily into the darkness-

And stared in disbelief at the bunny in the center of his room, twitching its nose at him. They watched each other for a long moment, neither moving, and then Nie Mingjue rolled over with a sound of disgust and went to sleep.

#shades of grey #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #nie zonghui #nie brothers #qinghe nie #nie sect #wei ying #fics #ficlets #my fics #ao3 #the untamed #mdzs #nie sect wwx

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lightshadowverisimilitude · 4 years

Text

Cicada

For @mdzsnet, One Year with The Untamed. Day 2: Favorite Scene (Resurrection of Wei Wuxian from Mo Xuanyu’s POV).

TW: suicide, self harm.

Mind the cut, lovelies.

~*~

The oncoming evening was a creeping, caterpillar-leg feeling up his arms and around his shoulders. He shifted restlessly in his clothing and tried to ignore it. By morning he would never feel it again. By morning, he would be passing those caterpillar legs onto someone else.

Someone else. Ha. The Yiling Patriarch wasn’t just someone else.

Mo Xuanyu had been uncertain, at first, about who to summon. There were any number of lunatics and killers he could have whistled up, and he’d had a list. Each name carefully examined, this one disregarded because the characters of his name had been ugly, that one because she had been a poisoner and his enemies deserved worse than poison. He’d kept the list on his flesh, the only thing his bastard cousin couldn’t tear up - ha! Couldn’t. He did. He did tear it up a lot, but rarely in a way that marred the words beyond recognition.

He’d settled, for a while, on Nie Mingjue. It would have been fitting for that man to get the life choked out of him by the sworn brother he had betrayed. When he’d probed into the spirit world, Nie Mingjue hadn’t responded no matter how hard he’d tried, no matter how much Mo Xuanyu cajoled and threatened and screamed. He could feel the edges of where Nie Mingjue should have been, but something else had anchored him.

It didn’t matter. He had a bigger fish on the hook, a better fish, sharper teeth.

Mo Xuanyu ran a finger over his own teeth and wondered, wondered - maybe? Maybe he should file them down. Someone said once the Yiling Patriarch used to eat people. Corpses. Babies. Sharp teeth would be better.

If it hadn’t been for that old storyteller, Mo Xuanyu might have made a big mistake and summoned Wen Ruohan - fitting, also, fitting - but he had been in town for paper and brushes to replace the ones that piece of shit destroyed, and there was that old storyteller. The Yiling Patriarch, the most feared, the most reviled, the strongest cultivator of an age.

It was the most fitting. Mo Xuanyu hadn’t even put him on the list. Wei Wuxian had been Mo Xuanyu’s teacher, his confidant, his friend. Reading Wei Wuxian’s journals was like talking directly to him. He had a soothing voice, he sat with his back to Mo Xuanyu’s in the sunlight and explained the nature of the universe. Such a person was not dead to Mo Xuanyu, but, ah, he’d forgotten that Wei Wuxian was dead to everyone else.

Dead and dead and dead and dead. Dead as much because of that man as because of Sandu Sengshou. It would be like a gift Mo Xuanyu could give his teacher, his friend. It wasn’t so much to ask in trade, was it? Three miserable, cruel lives and then Wei Wuxian free to take their revenge on the demon that had killed them both.

Mo Xuanyu was already dead, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?

He drew the array carefully. He couldn’t do it all in blood, he didn’t have enough in his body, and the Yiling patriarch would need some at least. He mixed his blood with rouge and wine. He spilled a lot. It didn’t matter, as long as the array was perfect. He drew the talismans and strung them together with strips of his second under robe, and then he stopped to look at them. They made a nice sound in the air. They looked pretty.

Ha! Mo Xuanyu was pretty. He would be giving Wei Wuxian his pretty, young body. He looked down at it, patted his stomach, his chest. Thin. Maybe he should apologize for not having a stronger core. Maybe he should apologize for being so scrawny, but he couldn’t help that. All he had to offer was pretty. For someone like the Yiling Patriarch, it would be enough.

The moon inched upward and the sound of it was ocean waves and sand in handfuls. The caterpillar-leg feeling got louder. He shut it down.

Sitting in the middle of the array, careful not to touch any of his hard work, he took the knife and drew it four times over his forearm. He said their names as he did, he whispered spiritual power into the syllables, he rebuilt every part of their faces, their beings, their voices, their breath until he could see them standing around him.

Blood dripped down, silent. It wasn’t his blood. It was their blood, ghosts formed while they were still alive, smiling and laughing and unaware they were already dead and dead and dead and dead.

“Wei Wuxian,” he called to the moonlight.

“Wei Wuxian,” he called to the wind tripping lightly through the leaves.

“Wei Wuxian,” he called to the cicada hum of the hot evening.

It was coaxing, not pulling. It was cajoling. It was snaking between the shadow and the earth, it was a flicker of movement to catch the attention of the one he wanted. A crooked finger, a smile, a wink for his teacher, his confidant, his friend.

“Wei Wuxian,” he called as the moon dropped heavy behind the trees.

“Wei Wuxian,” he called as the sunlight soaked blood-silent into the clouds.

“Wei Wuxian,” he called as the first morning song bird whistled the new day.

Finally, an answer, a hand slipping slowly into his, a weight settling across his legs. Mo Xuanyu felt himself drifting back to make room for that weight. He lost first his fingers first, and then his toes, and then his chest rose, shivering, without him.

“Mo Xuanyu,” he said in triumph, because Wei Wuxian was his friend and should know his name. “Mo Xuanyu!”

“Who is Mo Xuanyu?” his own voice asked without his breath behind it.

Ha! Who? Who, indeed. It wasn’t him anymore, he was a ghost, staring at his own body with Wei Wuxian’s breath in its lungs. “It’s you,” he said, gleeful now. “I save you with all my heart. From now on, you are Mo Xuanyu. I didn’t want to use the spell to offer my body,” the ghost explained, “but they crossed the line. Kill them for me. Kill them all!”

The ghost knelt before his body. He reached out for the cuts on Mo Xuanyu’s forearm. “Wei Wuxian. Take revenge for me!”

It was a command as much as a plea, the last order he could give the body of Mo Xuanyu, the last time the body would have no choice but to obey him.

Wei Wuxian opened Mo Xuanyu’s eyes in the sparkling dawn, and the ghost, satisfied with this at least, stepped away.

#mdzsnet #the untamed #mo xuanyu #wei wuxian #tw: suicide #tw: self harm

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

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a bow for the bad decisions: 24

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(on ao3)

chapter warning: alcohol, drunk kisses

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, as nonchalant as he can, “hold onto something for me, alright?” Lan Zhan turns to him with a question in his brow, but he doesn’t hesitate to offer out his hand when Wei Wuxian extends his fist. He drops the five nails in a little tinkling pile, and a small furrow develops between Lan Zhan’s brows. Wiping his hands off on his skirts, Wei Wuxian tugs the dizi from his belt and spins it between his fingers. “Yin iron,” he says by way of explanation. It’s not that he thinks he’ll go crazy and start commanding puppets again or something. He’d have to reforge them anyway, try to remake the entire Seal — but he’s never been very good at leaving things alone. For now, maybe it’s better if he’s not the one holding onto them. Lan Zhan studies him a long moment before giving a short nod. The nails disappear into one of his giankun pouches, and Wei Wuxian breathes a little easier.

The kids are still weeping, huddled around a-Qing’s little grave. Watching them, he feels hollowed out, emptied, carved. Lan Zhan stands quiet beside him, but there’s a tightness to his stillness like he’s hiding a stab wound. Taking a breath, Wei Wuxian drags up a smile and claps his hands together. “Come on, kids, enough crying,” he says. “You’re going to shrivel up like plums. Let’s go.” They’re still sniffling, but they scrub their wrists across their faces and nod obediently. Good kids, Wei Wuxian thinks a little distantly. Good kids, to cry for the bravery of a girl they never met, to lament the tragedy of men they would never know. It’s a long walk back down to the next town, and he spends it gritting his teeth against the encroaching thoughts of everything they witnessed. Lan Zhan walks in silence, his gaze downcast. Behind them, the juniors are quiet for the first part of the walk before they start murmuring amongst themselves again. “But what will Song-daozhang do?” cries the Ouyang kid. Endure, Wei Wuxian thinks, or not. He probably will. With Xiao Xingchen’s spirit, fragmented and despairing, in his care, Song Lan will probably keep walking until his feet wear down to nubs. Wei Wuxian sneaks a sideways glance at Lan Zhan, feeling his stomach sink further as he catches the pinch of his brow. He wants to reach out, wants to give his wrist a gentle squeeze or brush his hand against his elbow, draw his attention here and now and away from whatever terrible seclusion his thoughts are folding around him. His fingers curl into his palm instead. Lan Zhan looks so rigid, so brittlely strung. Wei Wuxian thinks of the cast of his eyes when Song Lan turned and walked away, and he looks away. He's been avoiding remembering his death so much he hasn't even thought about Lan Zhan at the time. Now, with the memory of Xiao Xingchen's broken spirit like a weight in his palm, he can't think of anything else. Lan Xichen had said cultivators had tried to summon his spirit with Inquiry and other rituals. He can't know for sure, won't ask Lan Zhan, but he has a feeling these weren't the half-hearted attempts of punks trying to raise a scary ghoul. And he knows the cultivator most skilled in association with spirits. There's a heavy hollow in his chest, in the space behind his solar plexus. He doesn't remember being dead, but he remembers moments of dying. He knows enough about broken spirits to make a good guess at what happened. His soul was already in fragments by the end, cracked and splintered by the Burial Mounds and the war and the Seal and all he'd done to survive. Spirits that badly damaged follow three paths: either they're completely destroyed in death and fall out of the cycle completely, they shatter and disperse till they're absorbed back into the world's qi and either repaired or simply subsumed, or they cling. Stuck to whatever is nearest, whatever is strong enough to hold onto their fraying thread: a loved one, a spiritual weapon, a project the owner spent hours pouring their intention into. Spirits like that, spirits that have been so utterly ruined, don't answer any song. Their music has been broken, the strings snapped, the bamboo split. They don't want to be persuaded, are too damaged to have any desire to pull on. The only way to bring them back is to command them. Drag them back with blood and fierce intent. Lan Zhan spent so many hours after the war searching for music to heal Wei Wuxian, to turn him away from demonic cultivation and purge him of resentment. Did he spend those same hours searching for a way to bring him back, trying to figure out why his spirit didn't answer any call? Did he play for him, waiting for a reply that never came till Dafan Mountain? How many nights did he wait, hoping into the silence? He's grateful when they get to an inn and it's serving liquor. He can't be too reckless in front of the little juniors — some ingrained part of him still fusses at making sure they're safe and keeping an eye out for them — but he can down three bottles at dinner and only feel warm, a little softer. His thoughts don't hook quite as sharply onto the same clawing spirals. Lan Zhan's weirdly permissive, the way he was when they met Nie Huaisang. It's...nice. He can imagine shijie's worried frown, but Lan Zhan is a warm shoulder against him and he doesn't even scold Wei Wuxian for drinking too much in front of his little Lan disicples. Lan Jingyi does, however, scowl at him like he's somehow corrupting their esteemed Hanguang-jun. "I don't see why we can't drink if you can," Jin Ling objects, stabbing at his pickled cabbage. "Because you're a baby, Young Mistress," Lan Jingyi sniffs. "Babies don't get wine." "You!" Before Jin Ling can lunge across the table to Lan Jingyi, Lan Sizhui shifts up a little on his knees to block his access. Jin Ling huffs out a breath and sits back down. "Whatever. Father’s let me try some wine at least," he says. "I bet you couldn't even hold a cup." Lan Jingyi's eyes narrow like he can tell he's being prodded but can't quite figure out an answer. Swishing his third bottle absently by the neck, Wei Wuxian leans his shoulder into Lan Zhan's and shakes his head. "Drinking before you're old enough to fly? Jin Ling, what would your mother say?" he scolds. In his periphery, he can see Lan Zhan's gaze slant toward him as if at hypocrisy, and he hides a snort by taking another drink. "Mother can outdrink Father," Jin Ling says dismissively before freezing, eyes going wide and face flushing. "I mean! My mother isn't a drunk. She'd never—" "Being able to hold your liquor is an important skill in Yunmeng," Ouyang Zizhen says with all the authority of a fifteen-year-old who's probably never been drunk. "Da-jie says you should never underestimate a noble lady with fine wine.” Biting his bottom lip, Wei Wuxian tries not to laugh at the solemnity with which he offers this advice. It's not wrong, really. Shijie had taught Jiang Cheng and him drinking games on the end of the docks when they were old enough. She'd been able to go toe-to-toe with them before the war. He still remembers the first night they all returned to Lotus Pier after the war. How they'd wound up in a pile at the foot of the lotus throne, drunk and sobbing into each other's shoulders. They'd all woken up hungover, heads pounding and stomachs uneasy at the scent of food. For a few moments, though, as he slid into sleep with shijie and Jiang Cheng's arms wrapped around him and each other, he'd felt safe in a way he hadn't in years. "Yunmeng wine is the richest," he informs the juniors now. "Emperor's Smile is the best, of course, but Yunmeng has the most complex flavors. Qinghe's alright but the mare's milk takes a while to get used to."

He pauses, contemplating the liquor he last had in Lanling before realizing the juniors are all looking at him a little funny. There were only two tables left in the room when they arrived, and so their party is huddled around them like ragamuffin sprouts. "Senior Mo, have you traveled so much?" Lan Sizhui asks, and bless him, he sounds genuinely curious. Has he traveled a lot? It doesn’t seem so. He’d always wanted to as a kid, had grown up chasing stories of grand adventures and mysterious lands, but then the war had happened and then everything else and then, well. “When did you travel so much?” Jin Ling demands. “You never left Jinlintai and then everyone said you were locked up because you went mad.” “Jin-xiong,” Ouyang Zizhen hisses, looking appalled. Lan Sizhui’s staring resolutely at his empty bowl, his face white as his robes, and Lan Jingyi’s eyes are about bugging out of his head. Wei Wuxian kind of wants to laugh, but there’s a well of melancholy rising in him, too. How horrible was this Mo Xuanyu’s life? His wrist pangs, and he reaches absently to close his hand around the hidden cut. “What? It’s true and anyway he’s my — well, he was in my sect. So,” Jin Ling says, crossing his arms again. “He is worthy of your respect.” Lan Zhan’s voice is a low vibration through Wei Wuxian’s bones, spreading from the point where their shoulders are still pressed together. He doesn’t speak sharply but firmly, like it’s imperative Jin Ling listen. Wei Wuxian swallows, throat abruptly dry. It’s not like— well. He knows Lan Zhan holds him in — in some kind of esteem. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that oblivious. There was a time, once, when he was bleeding open and snarling at anyone who came close, when he thought Lan Zhan just viewed him as a project to fix, yet another example of Hanguang-jun’s righteousness. But he knows that wasn’t fair, couldn’t even hold onto that anger for too long — not when Lan Zhan got so upset when Wei Wuxian wouldn’t talk to him, not when he insisted he was still his soulmate, not when he stepped aside at Qiongqi Pass. He can’t quite understand why, but he’s accepted the abundance of evidence that Lan Zhan, for reasons comprehensible only to him, thinks he matters. It’s different to hear that aloud, to hear it in firm words and Lan Zhan’s most adamant tone. Something wobbly and warm tips over in his chest, like a jar of wine tilted precariously on edge. As fond as he is of the juniors, he suddenly doesn’t want to stay down here anymore. He wants to be able to hear Lan Zhan say his name again, the way the syllables are so soft and full in his voice. “Hey, Lan Zhan, we ought to check on our buddy,” he says, looping a careless hand around his wrist. “It’s been a while since we played for him.” Lan Zhan blinks up at him, brow wrinkling a little like he's worried something's wrong, and Wei Wuxian can't help smiling back at him. So much is wrong — the whole world's spinning on a bad axis — but he's here and Lan Zhan's here with all this stubborn loyalty and for this one instant, Wei Wuxian's greedy heart doesn't want anything else. He snags another couple bottles on their way up the stairs, and Lan Zhan's frown deepens a little but he says nothing. Upstairs, they set the giankun pouches careful distances from each other and settle into their nightly routine: Suppression, then Calming, then Cleansing, then Rest. It's not a perfect system, but the set works well enough to keep the various body parts from tearing through their giankun pouches as long as they do it regularly. It's gotten more difficult with the addition of each new body part, and now that they've added the torso and arm from Yi City, they wind up playing through each song three times before the pouches finally settle and stop rustling. Humming in quiet satisfaction, Wei Wuxian leans on his elbow and lets his gaze fall on Lan Zhan as he puts away his guqin. He does it all with such exquisite care, such unified focus. Not like Wei Wuxian, whose thoughts scatter and ricochet off each other in all the directions of the wind. He laughs a little, and Lan Zhan looks to him in question. "Hey Lan Zhan," he says, "remember when we first met Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan back in Yueyang?" A hint of sadness enters Lan Zhan's eyes, his eyelashes flicking down as his brows furrow. Wei Wuxian spins the bottle absently within the circle of his middle finger and thumb. "Back then, I thought we might be like them," he says. "You know, going off to fight evil and protect the weak."

He'd been so delighted, awed, over meeting his shishu and his companion. Looking at the two of them, their sure confidence and easy trust in each other, he'd nearly tripped over his own feet to show how he and Lan Zhan were like them. He’d felt something unclick in his chest at the sight of them, understanding like a lotus bloom unfurling. Now, he thinks of Shanghua a white gash across Song Lan's back, and he thinks of Lan Zhan's desperate voice in the rain of Qiongqi Pass. How naive, how hopeful. "Who would have thought such noble cultivators would meet such terrible fate," he remarks. “Ended so miserably for something that had nothing to do with them.” The thought makes him a little morose, dampens the pleasant golden fuzz that’s been filling him. “The world is truly unpredictable,” Lan Zhan says, flat. His fingers brush Wei Wuxian’s, pluck the bottle from his hand as deftly as any pickpocket. Wei Wuxian gapes, staring as Lan Zhan tilts his head back and downs the last of the bottle. “Lan Zhan?” he squeaks. Setting the bottle down, Lan Zhan blinks a little into space. Oh no, Wei Wuxian thinks. He vaguely remembers getting Lan Zhan drunk once in Cloud Recesses and a deep sense of exhaustion from wrangling him. This time, though, Lan Zhan makes no move to get up. His hand moves slowly to prop up his forehead, and he nods forward, eyes closing. Wei Wuxian stares. “Lan Zhan?” he prompts, leaning forward. No answer comes except for Lan Zhan’s slow, even breaths. A laugh bubbles up out of Wei Wuxian, and he claps his hands over his lips to stifle it. Oh no. This is too cute. He reaches out, smiling, to brush a lock of hair out of Lan Zhan’s face. It’s as soft as it’s always looked, sleek and silken against his hand, and Wei Wuxian runs his hand absently back against the crown of Lan Zhan’s head. “So pretty, Lan Zhan,” he hums, swaying a little as he leans against the table to study Lan Zhan’s face. “We really are lucky, aren’t we?” Relaxed in sleep, he looks so young. Wei Wuxian’s seized with an absurd urge to protect him, to bundle Lan Zhan up and take him far away from the world and its greedy, demanding hands. Lan Zhan deserves better. Lan Zhan should never look so desolate, so horribly alone as he did watching Song Lan walk away. “Young master?” Wei Wuxian startles hard enough his elbow slips on the table and he nearly cracks his chin on it. He whips around, a little unsteady and hand tight around his dizi. Wen Ning’s eyes blink at him from upside down through the window. It takes a long moment for him to make sense of the position. “Wen Ning?” he demands. “What are you doing?” A flurry of grey and black, and Wen Ning lands neatly inside the room. He’s wearing a dull blue-grey, the color some of the outer Jiang disciples pick for night hunts or training, and his hair’s been pulled up into a neat bun on the back of his head. Wei Wuxian squints. "I'm sorry, Wei-gongzi," Wen Ning says, still kneeling where he landed. Wei Wuxian frowns, crossing his arms and tilting his head. The shackles are gone from Wen Ning's wrists, which is good, though he still has — well, a lot of questions. Is Wen Ning part of Yunmeng Jiang now? Did Jiang Cheng adopt him? He tries to remember if Jiang Cheng ever mentioned wanting a little brother and finds himself looping back without an answer. "Come on, Wen Ning," he says. "Stand up, won't you?" Wen Ning's head dips lower, so that Wei Wuxian can see the plain grey ribbon wound round his hair. Well, at least it doesn't have lotuses embroidered on it. He'd have even more questions then. "Ah, well then," he says, and flicks back his skirts to kneel. "I guess this is alright." Wen Ning looks up with a jolt, brown eyes going wide. "Gongzi!" he yelps. "No, you mustn't!" He tugs on Wei Wuxian's elbow as if to lift him up to standing, and Wei Wuxian uses that to pull him up as well. He keeps a hand on Wen Ning's arm to make sure he doesn't kneel again and raises his eyebrows. "See? It's much better to talk like this, isn't it?" he prompts. Wen Ning doesn't look convinced, but he stays upright, so Wei Wuxian counts it as a win. Releasing him, he drops his hands to his hips. "Now, what's happened?" he asks. "What do you remember?" "Not much," Wen Ning admits, shaking his head a little. "I remember being chained up somewhere dark. Someone would come check on me, I think. I don't remember what they looked like, but they smiled a lot. I remember them putting the nails in my head." Wincing, Wei Wuxian swallows. He'd hoped that Wen Ning didn't remember that part at least. "It must have been Xue Yang," he says. "He also used nails to control Song Lan." "Why?" Fatigue settles into Wei Wuxian's bones like a heavy blanket. Trust Wen Ning to still question why someone would want to seize power over another, even when faced with the man who first did the same to him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he presses his palm to his inner arm till it pangs just a little. "Probably at the behest of the Jin sect. He was a guest disciple there for some time, Lan Zhan said," he explains. Wen Ning accepts this with a slight nod. There's a dismal cast to his eyes and brow, like he's about to wade into some task he'd really rather avoid. "Jie told me some of what happened since, and I heard from some others," he says. Wei Wuxian brightens at the mention of Wen Qing. For all that she maintained a horribly professional facade of indifference, she was great at gossip. She probably had all kinds of insights into the last thirteen years. "Jie said that the Burial Mounds are gone," Wen Ning says. "Our family...they're all gone." The wind cuts out of Wei Wuxian's sails abruptly, and he inhales sharply. He hasn't let himself think about this. If he thinks about it too much, he'll have to wonder if the seals he painted on their houses gave them any protection or just trapped them where the sects could burn and murder them. His stomach gives a funny, nauseous flip. "Young master, I heard that Jiang-zongzhu killed you," Wen Ning says. He sounds miserable, like he's revealing some great failing of his own. Wei Wuxian's shoulders sink and he sighs, waving a hand. "No, that's not how it is," he says. "Jiang Cheng didn't kill me. It was the backlash of the Stygian Tiger Seal." Has the whole world been left thinking Jiang Cheng killed him? Maybe it's for the best. Yunmeng Jiang had still claimed him up to the end, after all. They would have been in a tricky situation, too clear a scapegoat for the Yiling laozu's misdeeds. If everyone thought Jiang Cheng killed him, at least that would clear some of the blame. At least Jiang Cheng would know the truth. As long as he didn't blame himself, it wasn't such a bad arrangement. "Young Master, you died in such an awful way," Wen Ning says, and then his knees are bending, dropping back down to the floor. "I shouldn't have left you." "Wen Ning," Wei Wuxian gripes, tugging on his arms. "No, enough of that. You didn't leave me. I – I shouldn't have sent you away like that. I never should have threatened you." Wen Ning looks up at him with big, sad eyes that would be tear-filled if Wei Wuxian hadn't taken that away from him, too. Swallowing hard, he pulls on Wen Ning's wrists till he's standing again. His shoulders are still bowed forward, but it's an improvement. "What else have you heard?" he asks, already dreading the answer. Wen Ning looks up, his eyes brightening a little. There's such a terrible earnestness to his expression, that childish hope he'd seen first in Cloud Recesses. He can't help smiling a little reflexively at it. "Ah, young master," he says. "We have a niece! She's very kind and energetic. And jie is expecting another baby. She thinks it's going to be a boy."

Tears sting Wei Wuxian's eyes unexpectedly, and he gives out a shaky laugh. Of all the outcomes in the world, he never expected to see both sides of his haphazard family brought together like this. Even if he never gets to meet this little niece and her expected brother, he knows they're safe and happy. It's enough. "Yeah?" he says. "What are they going to name him?" Before Wen Ning can answer, there's a blur of white in the corner of his eye and then a boot on Wen Ning's chest and then— Wei Wuxian stares at the new hole in the wall where Wen Ning and Lan Zhan both disappeared before shrieking and chasing after. He was asleep! How did this happen? Outside, Wen Ning is picking himself up off the ground while Lan Zhan frowns down at him. He’s left Bichen and his guqin behind and seems to be planning on staring Wen Ning into defeat. It’s not a bad plan, really. No one has as intimidating a glare as Lan Zhan. “Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, what are you doing?” Wei Wuxian bleats, grabbing hold of him around his middle. Lan Zhan turns to him and gives a solemn nod that answers absolutely nothing except that he’s clearly still drunk. Wei Wuxian groans. “Ahh, Wen Ning, are you alright?” he asks, leaning around Lan Zhan’s side. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just drunk.” “I’m alright, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says. Still pressed close to Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan frowns and leans a little to the side as if to block his view of Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian has to stifle a laugh even as he wants to groan. Lan Zhan would be so embarrassed if he saw himself. “Will Lan-er-gongzi be alright?” Wen Ning asks. “Yeah, I’ll just take him up to the room and he’ll sleep it off,” Wei Wuxian says. Lan Zhan turns a little towards him, still tucked up close, and it’s like a parody of a lover’s hold with him nestled in the circle of Wei Wuxian’s arms. His heart skips a little at the thought, at the jolt of want that shoots through his chest. To have it be real, to have a reason to hold Lan Zhan like this that isn’t corralling his drunk shenanigans. Clearing his throat, he lets himself tighten his arms around Lan Zhan and look over at Wen Ning. “It’s probably best if we talk another night,” he says. “Be careful and stay safe, okay?” There’s a hint of a smile on Wen Ning’s face as he bobs his head in an emphatic nod before turning and disappearing into the woods. A hand closes around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, and he looks up to find Lan Zhan staring intently at him. “Wei Ying,” he says. “Don’t go.” A giggle escapes Wei Wuxian and he stifles the grin he can feel slipping out. Where is he going to go? “Lan Zhan,” he teases, “what are you going to do? Tie me up so I can’t run off?” Lan Zhan blinks at him a moment, and Wei Wuxian’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Mn,” Lan Zhan says abruptly and reaches up behind his head. By the time Wei Wuxian’s brain has kicked back on, Lan Zhan has removed his forehead ribbon and started wrapping it neatly around his wrists. He watches, mouth parted in silent shock, as the white loops around and around, neatly covering his bracers. Lan Zhan ties it off in a series of knots that look almost like a braid, and Wei Wuxian tests it absently. It’s firm but not uncomfortable, the metal medallion resting just below the notches of his wrists. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Wuxian looks up. “Stay.” His eyes are honest and sad, like he really thinks Wei Wuxian’s going to leave him standing drunk in the forest without his forehead ribbon. Reaching up, Wei Wuxian pats his chest awkwardly with both hands. “Don’t worry, Lan Zhan,” he soothes. “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s just go back inside, alright?” Lan Zhan nods and starts toward the door with a tug on the loose end of the ribbon. Wei Wuxian trips after him, trying desperately to stifle the giggles that keep bubbling up out of him. He feels young again in a way he hasn’t for years, like they’re still just kids in Cloud Recesses, trying not to get caught by Lan Qiren. Only it’s not Lan Qiren who catches them this time. Entering the dining room, they find all the juniors still there — now trying frantically to hide the wine they’ve clearly picked up in Lan Zhan’s absence and gawking at the two of them. “Ah! Hanguang-jun,” Lan Sizhui greets, a little too bright, “how did you—” Right. They’d been upstairs before Lan Zhan kicked a hole in the wall. Wei Wuxian scrambles for an answer. “Lan Zhan heard something outside,” he says, “but it turns out it was just you all sneaking liquor.” He tries to make his voice sound disapproving, but he’s not sure how well it works. He is...not sober. Whoops. Lan Zhan gives a little tug on the ribbons, as if to start toward the stairs, and Wei Wuxian stumbles forward with it. There is a gasp too loud to be anyone but Lan Jingyi. Oh no. All the juniors are now staring at his wrists and the Lan juniors have gone white as death. He knows he read rules about the forehead ribbon back when he had to memorize them all. Something about restraint. Restraint, restraining— “Right! Lan Zhan was just showing me a special use of your clan forehead ribbon,” he says quickly. “To erm restrain fierce corpses when you need to take them back for further study.” “That’s not—” Before Lan Jingyi can finish, Lan Sizhui has clapped a hand over his mouth and is smiling brightly at the two of them. “How clever!” he chirps. “I thank our seniors for showing us such a hidden skill.” Lan Zhan gives another tug, this time more adamant, and Wei Wuxian gives a little wave to the juniors as he’s led up the stairs. They really look horrified, all big eyes and open mouths. Back in their room, Lan Zhan leads him to the bed and sits down carefully on the edge to face him. He’s so serious! Wei Wuxian laughs, letting his hands fall between them. “Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s tone is almost helpless and his fingers are light as a feather as they brush against the curve of Wei Wuxian’s cheek. He looks up, laughter fading as he catches Lan Zhan’s steady gaze. On impulse, Wei Wuxian turns his head just enough that his lips graze Lan Zhan’s palm. There’s a quiet breath, but Lan Zhan makes no move to pull away as Wei Wuxian’s hands lift up to cradle his. “Lan Zhan,” he murmurs against his knuckles. “Lan Zhan, you’re too sweet. Too sweet, too sweet.” He presses a kiss to his fingertips, to the base of his thumb, the point on his wrist where he can feel his pulse jumping. He looks up through his lashes and Lan Zhan is watching him with lips parted, eyes dark and intent. “Do you like this?” Wei Wuxian asks, still watching as he slides Lan Zhan’s sleeve back a finger’s width to press his lips to the skin there. Swallowing, Lan Zhan gives a slight nod. Wei Wuxian hums and pulls him closer by his wrist, hands settling over his chest. His heart’s beating so quickly, like a rabbit racing under Wei Wuxian’s palms. “Lan Zhan,” he says, looking up at him, “tell me. Did you burn joss paper for me?” There’s a beat where they’re sitting there, suspended, Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled into Lan Zhan’s collars and then Lan Zhan moves. His lips are soft, form, his fingers tangling in Wei Wuxian’s sleeves. Wei Wuxian gasps softly in surprise and then presses in, crowds into Lan Zhan’s space.

Gods, Lan Zhan is kissing him. He’s kissing him, all that impossible focus bearing down on Wei Wuxian like his lips are a new field of study, the noises escaping him a new score for Lan Zhan to learn. Lan Zhan is kissing him. Oh gods. Lan Zhan is kissing him. Lan Zhan is drunk and he’s kissing him and Wei Wuxian started this and is kissing back and— He jerks away, shoving them apart with his hands on Lan Zhan’s chest. Lan Zhan stares at him, eyes wide and reddened lips parted as if he were still kissing Wei Wuxian and — and then Lan Zhan’s eyes widen impossibly and he reaches up a hand to smack the heel of it into his forehead. He collapses backwards, unconscious, onto the bed. “Oh fuck,” Wei Wuxian breathes, covering his face. In the morning, at least half the group is hungover — including Wei Wuxian. His head’s pulsing with a fuzzy thickness, like someone’s drumming cotton-wrapped mallets against the back of his eyes, and even breakfast left him feeling queasy. He can’t meet Lan Zhan’s eyes, but he can summon up all his unused uncle instincts and round on Jin Ling as they prepare to depart. “Stop arguing with your uncle when you get back,” he scolds. “Don’t come out night hunting alone anymore. You’re too young! Why are you in such a rush?” “I’m not a child!” Jin Ling snaps back. “That dog Wei Wuxian wasn’t much older when he killed the Xuanwu of Slaughter, wasn’t he? If he can do it, I can beat him!” Recoiling, Wei Wuxian grimaces before reaching back to rub at the nape of his neck. He’s pretty sure that’s not right. They were older than Jin Ling when they got stuck in that cave, and anyway— “Isn’t Hanguang-jun the one who killed it?” he protests. Jin Ling stops short, lips twisting to one side like he’s tasted something bitter. “You and Hanguang-jun… Whatever. I know about the Gusu Lan headband so if it’s going to be like this, then” — he swallows, two bright red spots rising in his cheeks — “just make sure to stay by his side properly. Don’t bring any more shame to Lanling Jin.” “The headband?” Wei Wuxian echoes, feeling some new horror growing in his belly. The headband just means restraint — right? It’s just an old tradition. “Shut up! Stop being so shameless. I’m done talking about it,” Jin Ling snaps. He looks away, crossing his arms. There’s something about his frown, the way his eyes have focused on the ground a few steps to his left that makes Wei Wuxian cant his head, waiting. After a moment, he looks sideways up at Wei Wuxian. When he speaks, his voice comes out small. “Are you really Wei Wuxian?” he asks. Wei Wuxian’s heart stutters in his chest, but he just raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Do you think I am?” Jin Ling studies him a long moment before huffing out a breath and dropping his arms. He looks almost…disappointed? “I don’t know,” he says. “No. Cousin Yu always said he was a great cultivator and you’re clearly not. And jiujiu said he was taller than Hanguang-jun. So.”

He clears his throat and turns, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Behave yourself and don’t, you know, get yourself killed. I guess,” he says over his shoulder. A fond smile curls up Wei Wuxian’s lips at the brusque care. What a little monster. As Jin Ling returns to his own disciples, a Jiang disciple approaches. She’s the eldest of their group, tall and angular with a placid expression that nearly rivals Lan Zhan’s. He’s caught her looking at him funny over the past day, and every time, some sense of familiarity niggles at the back of spine, but he can’t quite place her. “Thank you for assisting us,” she says, saluting neatly before reaching into one sleeve. “I believe Jiang-zongzhu would like you to have this. Our da-shixiong designed it.” The talisman she hands him is familiar, the calligraphy for a different reason. His breath catches, eyes going a little wide as he looks back up to her. “Little pirate?” he asks. Sun Hai smiles abruptly, like a crack breaking through glass. There are tears in the corners of her eyes as she gives a quick little nod. “Little pirate!” he exclaims, something like grief and elation together winding tight around his chest. “Not so little anymore — you’ve grown up so much! You were as little as Jin Ling when I saw you.” The last time he saw her, she’d just hit a growth spurt that left her gangly and awkward and mortified by the lack of control she had over her own limbs. In the last weeks before the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, he’d promised to help her practice modifying talismans in exchange for her not hiding away in her rooms every time she stumbled doing sword forms. Now, she’s lean and tall and carries herself with the kind of grace shared by dancers and swordmasters: fluid, strong, and quick. With her sword at one side and other arm folded at her waist, she looks all grown up. “It’s good to see you, shixiong,” she says, smiling even as a tear slips loose down her cheek. “We’ve really missed you.” Oh. His fingers tighten a little around the tracking talisman in his hand before he catches himself and makes them relax. He gives an unsteady smile. “Yeah,” he says. Clears his throat. “Yeah. Me, too.” She lingers another moment before drawing in a breath and straightening up. With another quick bow, she turns and heads back to where a little cluster is waiting for her, watching curiously. Wei Wuxian watches a moment before turning his gaze back down to the talisman in his hand. He recognizes it, though it’s been a long time. He originally designed it to keep track of a-Yuan when he went racing off around the settlement, dashing away from supervision. Had he sent a copy to Jiang Cheng? He must have. He sent so many absent ideas in his letters back then, anything he thought might be of use, anything that to help make up for the trouble he was causing. His throat feels thick with something, the headache clustering with something unsteady and unsure fluttering in his heart.

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #wangxian #untamed fic #my writing

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enbyleighlines · 4 years

Note

For your modern au prompts, how about Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang best friends going on a shopping trip?

Oooh, sounds good to me!! I hope you don’t mind that I took liberties with what constitutes as a shopping trip! This idea popped into my head, and I wanted to explore it~

—

The bell on the front door gives a twinkling little jingle as they enter. Immediately, the familiar aroma of Wei Wuxian’s favorite arts and craft store rubs against his nostrils like an affectionate cat.

Beside him, Nie Huaisang walks with a spring in their step. In the crook of their elbow, they carry a small but finely crafted handbag, as though they’re a rich socialite on a shopping spree in the big city. “Here we are,” Nie Huaisang says, excitement giving their voice a fun lyrical quality, “Where shall we start, Wuxian-xiong?”

Wei Wuxian can’t help the wide grin that breaks across his face. He scoops up one of the shopping baskets by the entrance. “We should start from the ground up,” he decides, logically, “Let’s go see how sturdy their poster board is.”

“We can always glue a layer or two of cardboard to the base,” Nie Huaisang points out.

“True, true.”

The two friends make their way towards the poster aisle. They’re on a mission, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have fun.

They’re making a diorama as their final project for freshman biology. Thankfully, they were allowed to pick their own partners, and since they’ve become quick friends over the course of the year, it was a no brainer.

Their plan is to create a miniature factory, with its walls, machines, and workers, but then label everything as though they’re the parts of a human cell. Wei Wuxian is certain that it will appeal to their teacher’s quirky sense of humor, and earn them a grade worth bragging about. Nie Huaisang is less convinced, but they’re just happy for the opportunity to show off their talent for arts and crafts.

They sift through their manyu options, poster boards of all different sizes, material, colors, and even textures.

Nie Huaisang pulls out out of the rack and gasps delicately, as though they’re holding a precious treasure. “Wuxian-xiong,” they say, “Feel this one. Isn’t it just like the gritty texture of cement?”

Wei Wuxian runs the tips of his fingers over the rough surface. “Oh wow, you’re right! But won’t that make it difficult to glue things to it?”

“Ah, I hadn’t considered that!” Nie Huaisang gives the poster board another longing-filled stroke. “Perhaps we can use little metal stands for the figurines, and stick the metal through the poster?”

Seeing that his friend’s heart is set on the poster board, Wei Wuxian nods. “Yeah, that could work! We’ll definitely need to add some cardboard to the base, though. We get a bunch of cardboard boxes at the restaurant from shipments and stuff. I’m sure Jiang-shushu won’t mind if we take one.”

Nie Huaisang eagerly takes the paper board and rolls it up. It’s still too long to fit in the basket, but at least they could carry it one-handed. “What next, Wuxian-xiong?”

“Metal wire for the stands, probably,” Wei Wuxian answers, “And maybe some of those things they use in gardens, with the names of plants on them? We can use those to label stuff. Would they have those here? If not, we can probably make our own...”

“There’s a gardening store around the corner,” Nie Huaisang says helpfully.

Wei Wuxian nods sagely. “That’ll do. Oh, and we should probably be keeping track of how much everything costs. How much did Nie Mingjue give you to spend?”

Nie Huaisang gives Wei Wuxian an incredibly self-satisfied smirk. They dig into the handbag and fish out a stack of folded bills. “Oh, we don’t need to worry about money,” they assure Wei Wuxian smugly, “My Gege gave me more than enough.”

Wei Wuxian whistles.

Nie Mingjue, Huaisang’s half-brother, took over management of the family business recently. He’s also been the one looking after Huaisang ever since their parents retired to travel the world. Mingjue likes to pretend that he’s a strict disciplinarian, yet he spends money on Huaisang like it’s going out of style.

To hear Nie Huaisang tell it, they’ve always been a spoiled child. But it seems as though it’s gotten even worse ever since Nie Mingjue became Huaisang’s primary guardian.

Nie Huaisang giggles behind their wad of cash. “So, yeah,” they say, “Money is not an issue.”

Wei Wuxian might be jealous if he was the type of person to get jealous. Instead, he only laughs in delight. “That’s good to know! Let’s take proper advantage of your Da-gege’s generosity, then!”

—

They quickly fill up the basket and have to upgrade to a cart. They take their time choosing the plastic figurines. There aren’t any factory workers, but there are some crossing guards, and a man in an astronaut suit, and they figure they can just pain over them. Nie Huaisang already has a decent collection of paints, but they also grab some new brushes, along with a fine point pen.

Then it’s off to the gardening store for some plastic plant markers, with tips sharp enough to pierce through paper and cardboard. While they’re there, they also grab some short two-inch fences and some mesh to use in constructing the cell walls.

They bring their haul back to the Jiang residence, because it’s closer.

The Jiang house is unusually quiet. Jiang Cheng is at soccer practice, and Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan are both at work at the restaurant. Jiang Yanli is home, though. She greets them at the door, and then immediately moves to prepare tea and snacks for them.

“Your supply run went well, I see,” she says, as she putters around the kitchen.

Wei Wuxian makes sure to plant a big, loud kiss to her cheek before he starts unloading things onto the dining room table. “It went great, actually,” he says, “Jiejie, you have to see all these awesome things we found!”

Nie Huaisang hovers a tad awkwardly in between the kitchen and dining room. It’s not the first time they’ve been to Wei Wuxian’s house, but it’s not a routine experience, either.

Glancing over her shoulder, Jiang Yanli examines the enormity of their haul with a worried expression. The cause of her concern becomes clear when she says, “I hope you didn’t have to use up all of your allowance on this school project, A-Xian.”

“Nope!” Wei Wuxian beams at her. “I didn’t spend a penny. Huaisang-xiong’s rich Gege footed the bill.”

“That... was probably not the best way to phrase that,” Nie Huaisang murmurs to Wei Wuxian, “Please let your Jiejie know you meant my actual Gege, and not an older guy who spends money on me like I’m his sugar baby.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. And then he starts snickering loudly. “She’s not going to assume that,” he assures them.

“What will I not assume?” Jiang Yanli places a plate of rice crackers on the kitchen’s island, and raises one of her brows at them.

Nie Huaisang grabs Wei Wuxian’s arm to stop him, but it’s too late.

“Huaisang-xiong doesn’t want you thinking they have a sugar daddy,” Wei Wuxian confesses, “So they want me to emphasize that, in this case, I used the term ‘their Gege’ to refer to Nie Mingjue.”

Nie Huaisang looks like they want to melt into the floor.

But Jiang Yanli only giggles, demurely, behind the cover of her hand. “Well, I’m glad you clarified that,” she teases both of them, “Both of you are too young to have sugar daddies, anyway. Come, and have some rice crackers while the tea steeps.”

The two freshmen each hop up onto one of the stools obediently. Wei Wuxian stuffs his mouth without thought, while Nie Huaisang carefully nibbles at their cracker like a timid mouse.

There’s a bit of companionable silence. Jiang Yanli pours them each a cup of green tea, and then moves the sugar bowl within their reach.

Then she sits on one of the stools opposite them, and asks, “How are your other final projects coming along?”

Wei Wuxian heaves a dramatic sigh. “Bo-oring,” he singsongs, “It’s all essays and making flashcards for the exams. The same old generic stuff we did in middle school.”

“I get to make a poster for home ec.,” Nie Huaisang offers.

“Ooh, about what?”

“We have to try to design the food pyramid,” Nie Huaisang answers, “Other kids are just making collages out of newspaper clippings, but I want to try my hand at painting the food. I’ve never had a reason to paint food before, except for maybe an apple, back when we were learning how use shading.”

Jiang Yanli smiles. “That sounds fun,” she says, “Just don’t get so caught up in your fun projects that you don’t leave any time for the boring ones.”

“Right,” Nie Huaisang answers automatically.

Wei Wuxian is more lax. “I’ll be fine,” he assures his Jiejie, “Besides, I get my best work done at the last minute.”

Jiang Yanli gives her Didi a look. “That’s not how that works.”

“It is how it works! That spike of adrenaline really helps me get things done,” Wei Wuxian insists, and taps the edge of his nose with a cheeky little smirk.

“But it doesn’t leave you much time to go back and edit, does it?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I make less mistakes on my first drafts than everyone else does on their final copies! If I start turning in perfect papers, then people might think I’m just showing off.”

“You ARE showing off,” Nie Huaisang snips.

That makes Jiang Yanli giggle again. She shakes her head at Wei Wuxian, but in a fond sort of way. Neither try to continue the argument.

“What about you, Jiejie?” Wei Wuxian asks suddenly, “Any fun final projects?”

“Just exams,” Jiang Yanli answers. She’s a high school junior, two years ahead of them. “Though, my math teacher said that anyone who already has an A in the class doesn’t have to take the final exam.”

“Let me guess,” Wei Wuxian says with no little hint of pride, “You have an A.”

Jiang Yanli hides her mouth behind the rim of her teacup. “I do,” she confirms, and her smile is audible in her tone. “So that’s one less thing for me to worry about.”

“That’s my Jiejie! Smartest girl in the whole world!”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Think so? I know so!”

Nie Huaisang smiles at that. Though the dynamic between Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian is completely different from their relationship with Mingjue, there’s still something vaguely familiar about it.

Just like Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang, really. They’ve got completely different temperaments. Wei Wuxian is a natural leader, charismatic, bold, and optimistic. Nie Huaisang tends to follow the herd, being as indiscisive and anxious as they are. Yet the two of them are often on the same wavelength.

That’s probably why, even though they only met for the first time that year, it already feels like they’ve been friends for a long time.

#asks #anon #anonymous #mo dao zu shi #mdzs modern au #drabbles #leigh’s writing

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lefthologramdeer · 6 years

Text

Nightmare or Reality Part 7

Abraham Ford, x Reader, Maggie Rhee x Reader, Glenn Rhee, Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon

Word Count:1514

Warnings: mention of anxiety

A/N: i honestly want to thank everyone for loving this series as much as i do. And thank you to @dragongirl420 for giving me the confidence and the push to write and post it ❤❤

Y/N sat in the RV for awhile, trying to remember which way Abe, Rick, D, and Glenn should have taken.

“They should have taken the forest on the right” she spoke to herself out loud, her head following the direction.

Hoping that she wasn’t far behind them, Y/N jumped out of the drivers seat and headed for the door.

As she placed her hand on the door handle, she saw something out of the corner of her eye, laying on the tiny kitchen table in the middle of the RV.

Abe’s coat, the one he was wearing when they had first met was laying on the tiny table, and she felt her entire world fall apart.

Y/N sunk to her knees and pulled his coat to her chest. Somehow, seeing his coat left in the RV gave her a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Abe needed her, and she couldn’t help him by sitting in the RV crying. Y/N stood up and wiped the tears from her cheeks and pulled his jacket on, before searching to see if the guys had left any weapons behind.

Searching through the trees with only the knife from Maggie’s, Y/N tried to keep all negative thoughts out of her head. “I’m going to find them safe and bring them home” she thought to herself quietly as she listened for any sounds that would confirm that she was going in the right direction.

Looking up to the sky breaking between the trees Y/N knew she didn’t have much time before the sun started setting and Maggie sent out the search party.

Y/N walked a little further before she heard the rustling of leaves ahead of her. Not knowing if it was a walker or if the noise was from guys, she continued slowly and as quietly as possible.

As Y/N got closer to the noise, it stopped and she started to think that the noise was coming from some sort of animal. Until she saw a flicker of bright red in all the brown of the trees, and she took of running towards it.

“Abe!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as her feet pulled her closer to the love of her life.

As she got closer she could make out not only the bright, fiery red of his hair but also the broadness of his shoulders. Her eyes followed the length of his body, and her heart felt like it was about to burst.

Y/N was only 20 feet away from being back in the arms of Abe again and she begged her legs to move faster, his giant coat weighing her down slightly. Before she could move any further the guys turned around, Daryl had his cross bow aimed and ready to shoot whatever was heading towards them.

Abe’s eyes met Y/N’s and she watched as a giant smile appeared on his face. She couldn’t help but start to cry, he was alive and breathing right in front of her.

Abe closed the distance between them and pulled her into a bear hug, before lifting her completely off the ground. When he finally placed Y/N on her feet, she peppered his face with kisses.

“Alright love birds, lets get back to the RV” Rick whispered as he quietly walked by headed in the direction of the road, the others following behind him.

Y/N placed a kiss to Abe’s lips then happily intertwined her hand into his and followed quietly behind Daryl.

Y/N clung to Abe on the small couch in the RV, not wanting to let go of him, and played with his fingers that were still intertwined with hers.

Rick, Glenn, and D were all chatting to themselves in the front of the RV, allowing for Y/N and Abe to have some time alone.

Y/N took a deep breath and brought her hand up to Abe’s face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “What happened?”

Abe chuckled and took her hand off his cheek to kiss it. “I’m never going to doubt anything you ever tell me.” He laughed again and pulled Y/N to his chest.

“We started for the route we wanted to go, the one with the first barricade. Halfway down the road we just decided to take the last road, the one without the barricades just to put your dream to the test. The road was completely clear and we made it to the warehouse in 45 minutes. We stocked up on as much food as possible then started to head back home.”

Abe felt Y/N sigh in relief and he kissed the top of her head before continuing.

“Then we all got curious and started to look for the area near the clearing you were telling us about.”

Y/N smacked his chest playfully, “that’s why I found you surrounded by a bunch of trees.”

Abe smiled, “yes that’s why. We wanted to see who these people were that you told us about.”

“We wanted to see if you were crazy!” Daryl shouted from the passenger seat.

“Shut up!” Y/N giggled as she chucked a pillow to the front of the RV and hit Daryl right in the back of his head with a thud.

“So, am I crazy?” She asked, turning her attention back to Abe.

“Not even the slightest. Like I said, I will never doubt anything you tell me ever again.” He kissed the top of her head and continued. “The guys were there, talking to someone named Negan. Not really sure which one was him but none of them looked very friendly. We were there watching them quietly for about half an hour, and then you showed up.”

“And scared the crap out of me!” Glenn added.

Y/N giggled out a sorry to Glenn and began to breathe a little lighter. Knowing that Abe and the guys were safe and sound calmed her anxious heart. But as she thought about the trouble this new group of people could cause in the future her anxiety grew.

“What about this new group though? Do you think they will eventually cause a threat to us?” She asked everyone, thinking about how their quiet life in Alexandria could be ruined.

“It’s something we will have to deal with in the future” Rick answered looking at Y/N in the rear view mirror, “but for right now, we are okay.” He finished, with confidence in each word he spoke.

Y/N relaxed again, nuzzling her face into the crook of Abe’s neck.

She started to drift off from the comfort of being in Abe’s arms again and from the soothing motion of the RV driving down the road.

Before her eyes completely closed she looked down and remembered that she was still wearing Abe’s coat. “Hey baby,” she started, looking up at him inquisitively “you still haven’t told me why you left your jacket in the RV.”

Abe chuckled again and he cheeks began to flush a bright red. “If something happened, I wanted you to have my jacket. I know how much you love it. Did you…..did you um…did you read the note I left in the pocket?”

Y/N sat up straight, “note?” she asked and immediately began searching the jacket pockets.

She found a little folded up piece of paper on the left inside pocket.

I’m usually not the sappy, love note writing type of person but here I am writing one for you. From the moment I met you I knew that you were the one for me. I know it has taken a while for us to get to the point where we are now but I’m glad that we are finally here. That reminds me, we really should thank Maggie and Glenn for getting us together….maybe we can name our future kids after them. Just in case something happens to me on this run, I want you to have my jacket. I know it’s not really much but I know how much you love it and I will never forget the look on your face when you first saw me in it. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you and that I put this note in the pocket closest to your heart because no matter what, that’s where you will always be.

Love Always

Your Abraham

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, she had no idea that Abe felt the same way from the beginning. And she smiled at the thought of having to thank Maggie and Glenn.

“I love you too.” She whispered to Abe and she placed a loving kiss to his lips. He kissed her back and pulled her close.

Y/N laid her ear against Abe’s heart beating in his chest and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Y/N woke up and looked around confused not sure what time it was or when she had gotten home but smiled when she remembered the dream she was just having.

“Freya Lux Ford” she whispered to herself as she sat up and looked over at a still sleeping Abraham, “I like the sound of that.”

Tags: @dragongirl420 @padasteph-nie @xxdragonagequeenxx @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle @kazosa @waywarddaughter

#abraham ford x reader #abraham ford #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #daryl dixon #maggie rhee #glenn rhee #negan #my fic #nightmare or reality

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