#lan wangji is awake because he dreamed of wei ying
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Honey-Drenched Dreams...
One night when A Yuan wakes, he finds the wall before him bathed in light as golden as a pot of honey. As he blinks blearily at the dark window before him, it's frame lit up in the amber glow, everything feels out of place.
Disorientated, he blinks and blinks until he can no longer assume that this is a dream. He brings his hands up to his face and groggily rubs at his eyes.
His ears feel stuffy. Like they too have been filled with sweet, golden honey. And his hands are having more trouble moving than usual. Maybe they have been dunked in the pot, and are now having trouble trying to move with the sticky sap running all over them.
A Yuan smiles at the thought, and shuffles himself into a better position to look around to figure out what is happening.
Wincing into the newfound light, he finds the shadow of his A-die sat on his bed, shivering where he sits. From his bed, A Yuan frowns at the cowering figure of his A-die. Wrinkling his nose at the curve of his spine, and the shuddering hands covering his face.
‘A-die should be in bed…’ A Yuan thinks. He’s never known his A-die to stay up late into the night, they always get ready for bed together. ‘He’ll be tired in the morning if I don’t get him to sleep soon.’
And with that decisive thought, A Yuan is sliding out of the covers of his bed and wincing as his toes touch the cold floor of the Jingshi. A shiver runs down his spine once he’s stood up, and he quickly pulls the blankets behind him over his shoulders, his gaze never once leaving his A-die.
The patter of bare feet on wood echoes softly through the Jingshi as A Yuan toddles over to his A-die’s bed, the swooshing of soft fabrics rushing after him like A-die’s bunnies. But he pays this no mind, his eyes still honed in on his father’s trembling frame up on the bed.
Once at his A-die's side, he tugs gently on his blankets to get his attention.
Throwing his hands away from his face, A-die startles. But, seeing the small face peering up at him from below, he settles once more.
A Yuan pouts when he sees the telling streaks of tears running down A-die’s face.
“A Yuan, you should not be awake. Go back to sleep.” A Yuan's A-die tells him, reaching out a hand to softly stroke at A Yuan's wild bedhead. A Yuan preens under the attention.
But, still he stares determinedly up at his father, who is now very obviously trying to hide the sorrow in his eyes. A-die needs sleep. He must be crying because he’s tired like A Yuan does sometimes. When he does, A-die always helps him get to bed — so this time it’s A Yuan’s turn!
“A-die needs to sleep too.” He whispers into the side of A-die's bed, his body falling further and further into sleep's grasp with his A-die's ministrations, no matter how determined he is to help his father.
The hand pauses for a moment after A Yuan speaks, but soon returns to it's previous actions.
“Mn. I do.”
Wordlessly, A Yuan raises his arms above his head, and stares pleadingly up at his father. A Yuan watches as A-die's brow softens, and the corners of his lips twitch up.
Before long, there are two gentle arms scooping him and his blankets up into his A-die's embrace. A Yuan melts like ice into his father's hold, but freezes again when he feels A-die start to get up to put him back into his own bed.
“Nooooo…”
A-die pauses.
“No?”
A Yuan sighs and looks up to his A-die — surely this should be obvious. How is A Yuan meant to help A-die fall asleep from across the room? His A-die really is silly.
“I’m staying with you.”
A-die huffs, and smiles down at him.
“Okay.”
Turning them back around, A Yuan lets his A-die tuck him into bed beside him. A-die gently patting A Yuan’s blankets down around him, until he’s cocooned in their warmth like a caterpillar. Before A-die lays down, he flicks a hand, and the world around them goes dark once again.
A Yuan waits for his A-die to shuffle over towards him, and pulls him closer once he has. He reaches up and pats A-die’s damp cheek, smiling up at him in the near dark of a full moon.
“Don’t cry A-die. A Yuan will help you sleep.”
A Yuan feels A-die’s cheek tense with the weight of a smile, just before he pulls it back to grasp at the front of his A-die’s pyjamas.
As their breaths even out once again, A Yuan smiles into A-die’s chest and feels very proud of himself when he notices that it has long stopped shaking.
#lan wangji is awake because he dreamed of wei ying#im cryinf#mdzs#mdzs fanfiction#lan wangji#lan zhan#wangxian#a yuan#wen yuan#lan sizhui#wangxian family#dadji
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It was still dark outside when Lan Wangji woke up. It's not necessarily unusual during winter, but it is not winter, and he can't hear the birds singing to themselves.
He reassesses. He's lying on his side, Wei Ying curled up in his arms, his face pressed against his neck. He doesn't need to relieve himself, he doesn't feel any pain. There are no sounds that he can hear, no foreign presence either.
But he must have woken up because of something.
And then he hears him. The sound of small whimpers, almost unnoticeable if not in complete silence. Lan Wangji can feel them on his skin, the puffy breaths of Wei Ying, the shakiness of them.
He shudders a little, his face crumbles in sleep, brows furrowed and lips down turned slightly. The whimpers are louder now.
Lan Wangji can feel the tears before he hears them, and it's such a devastating sound he immediately emerges from a daze and wraps his arms firmly around him.
Wei Ying is sobbing now, shaking from the force of his tears. Lan Wangji doesn't know if he's awake or not, but that is inconsequential. He holds him tighter and lightly pets the hair that spills all around the bed.
"La- Lan zhan," Wei Ying whimpers, nestling closer to Lan Wangji, resting his ear against his chest.
"I'm here, Wei Ying," he whispers softly over Wei Ying's head, loud enough that he knows he's heard, quiet enough to be gentle.
"You can rest," he kisses the top of his head, caressing his hair and combing through it with his fingers, his other hand stroking his back tenderly.
He feels him gradually calm down. The shaking going down to shudders, sobbing becoming whimpers, the tears receding; and then slowly, he feels him succumb to sleep. Little mumbles falling through his lips, tickling the skin on his throat. He seems to be having a much sweeter dream.
Lan Wangji settles, breathing deeply, closing his eyes now that Wei Ying is asleep. He doesn't stop holding him, and he's still combing through his hair. It's a soothing motion that puts wangji to sleep as much as it does Wei Ying.
Now that all is calm, he lets the weight in his arms comfort him, and allows himself to follow Wei Ying. Hopefully they'll share the same pleasant dream. But secretly, he still thinks there's no sweeter dream than this.
#mdzs#wangxian#wei wuxian#lan wangji#I just had to get this out of my system#tried my best#hopefully it doesn't suck#English is not my first language so pls tell me if there are any mistakes
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Identity Crisis
The first chapter of this fic is now here. I hope you like it!
HERE: Chapter One - Identity foreclosure
NEXT: Chapter Two - Changing perspectives
Identity foreclosure is an identity developed by an individual without much choice.
The first thing Mo Xuanyu becomes aware of is how soft and comfortable the mattress is - undoubtedly expensive, one of those fancy memory foam types for sure, the kind people like him can only test out in mattress stores for a few seconds before moving to the low budget, low quality alternatives they can afford.
He then feels the delicate fragrance of the fabric softener, fresh with an indistinct flowery mix, and the watery feel of real satin bedsheets that he could have only imagined touching in this lifetime.
Floating in the plane between dreams and consciousness, Mo Xuanyu feels himself smiling at the lavish sleeping experience and stretches underneath the light but surprisingly warm blanket.
He notices two more things: one, that he is pleasantly sore everywhere, especially around his thighs and ass, and two, that he is entirely naked, with only one arm draped over his waist in a gesture of both affection and possessiveness.
He burrows into the bedding a bit more, placing his own hand over the one holding him, and he's just about to fall back asleep, when his brain catches up to him and his eyes snap right open.
His pupils move haphazardly around the room, struggling to recognize it - white walls with pastel blue accents, elegant mahogany furniture, tall windows that overlook the city from a double-digit floor number, a mirror above the bed and a vanity in front of it.
This isn't his room and this isn't his life.
Next to him, he feels the strong figure of a man he knows - but not in the way his body tells him he now does. He knows him because he's-
"Wei Ying..." he mumbles, hoarse, half awake and in a way that has Mo Xuanyu's insides twist with both panic and the beginnings of arousal.
Mo Xuanyu's thoughts scramble together in his brain, crashing into each other, like children running around to do the chores their parents assigned them hours ago.
"Hm...?" he finally responds, mimicking sleep, hoping he sounds convincing.
The man doesn't answer, pulling Mo Xuanyu closer to his body, so close that he can feel the outlines of his muscles against his back, the contours of his body and his-
The harsh sound of an alarm clock ruinsthe moment and the tension between the two as Lan Wangji reaches to turn it off. Mo Xuanyu wants to scoot away so badly his joints burn with the unsent command - but he doesn't. He knows it would be out of character, it would raise suspicions.
Instead, he only pulls the blanket over his head and grumbles about wanting to sleep more. That part, at least, is true. Judging by the light filtering through the pristine windows, the sun has yet to fully rise, not at all visible from underneath the horizon despite the sky lighting up with whites, blues and yellows.
Lan Wangji huffs, affectionate, and leaves a kiss on the top of Mo Xuanyu's head before getting up from the bed to go to the bathroom. The shower turns on soon after that, and there is a low hum echoing off the bathroom walls.
He must be getting ready for work now, which means it is around 5 am - Wei Ying always complains about how Lan Wangji wakes up so early and he hasto deal with an empty bed when his late mornings start.
Mo Xuanyu can finally emerge from under the blankets, running a hand through his messy bed hair. He's used to waking up to a horror story in his locks, but today it seems to be worse than ever. It's quite obvious why.
His eyes inevitably land on the mirror in front of the bed. It's almost as long as the wall and half its width, with a large dresser underneath it. There are some pictures on it - a wedding day, family vacations and pets - as well as some neatly arranged makeup supplies.
When he looks at himself, Mo Xuanyu is both a mix of pleasantly surprised and downright horrified. With his hair down and a litany of bitemarks all over his neck, chest and collarbones, he looks so much like Wei Ying he almost thinks they've exchanged bodies.
His hand reaches to touch his own face, and he follows the movement in the mirror as if bewitched with it. Briefly, he wonders who he is.
Lifting the blanket only a little, he sees the bitemarks blooming everywhere on his skin, and his eyes catch onto the rope marks around his wrists as well.
He shouldn't be embarrassed, given the nature of his job and all that he's done so far - but he feels a blush climbing up his face ferociously, and he hides into the blankets with a hand covering his mouth. He's impossibly flustered, guilty and satisfied, all at once.
He registers the shower being turned off and hears Lan Wangji emerge from there only to disappear in the walk-in closet. Mo Xuanyu wants to see him when he comes out, dressed to the nines as he always seems to be, elegant and refined and so fucking hot.
But Wei Ying is never awake for this part of the day (Mo Xuanyu isn't either, to be honest), so he fights the impulse to peek from underneath the blanket and only gets up from there when he hears the lock to the front door click closed.
He almost jumps out of the bed after, careless of his state of undress, and rushes into the bathroom. It's so large and so luxurious it looks almost as if it's taken out of a catalog.
Mo Xuanyu pointedly refuses to look at himself in the large mirror and enters the shower. It's not your regular, run-of-the-mill kind - there are so many options Mo Xuanyu feels like he's commanding a spaceship for a moment.
Everything is touchscreen and motion-activated, there is an option for ambient sound and lighting, and there are so many customizable functions for water pressure, spray and temperature - Mo Xuanyu feels at the height of decadence when the led lights turn red at the press of a button and upbeat instrumental music starts filling the bathroom.
Reality crashes on him yet again as he's reaching for a bottle of shampoo he can't even bother to pronounce the brand of. What is he doing? This isn't for him, none of these things are. Nothing here belongs to him. Neither the fancy bottles of body wash and shampoo, nor the futuristic-looking shower, the bedding, the house or the man he's just spent the night with.
This isn't his life. His life isn't luxury and domestic bliss. His life isn't waking up to the love of his life every morning and having passionate, loving sex every night. His life isn't comfort or safety or family.
His life is a dingy apartment in a terrible part of town because he can't afford rent elsewhere. His life is a shitty shower that keeps leaking no matter how many times the landlord fixes it and a sink with chipped off paint. His life is a disgusting strip club that's a front for a prostitution ring where he's having degrading sex for drug money and bills that keep getting higher. His life is loneliness, despair and a man that he doesn't know if he loves or hates, a man that slips in and out of his life at his convenience.
But now, all that has turned upside down.
He gets to take the fancy utilities and the penthouse and the loving, attractive husband because the person that all these things belong to is dead now. Mo Xuanyu found him dead in his shitty apartment and until he finds out what happened, he's going to borrow his life a little bit.
It was Nie Huaisang's idea - surely, the police and everyone would first suspect Mo Xuanyu of foul play, no matter what the truth might be. After all, he's a penniless prostitute and Wei Wuxian is a very rich and successful man - everyone would accuse Mo Xuanyu of murder even if all Mo Xuanyu did was find his friend's dead body lying in his living room.
Nie Huaisang promised he would handle the investigation himself - he knows a lot of people and he's powerful enough to keep media attention at bay. He can keep Mo Xuanyu safe and make sure the truth is uncovered without putting his life in danger.
Nie Huaisang is someone Mo Xuanyu has always trusted, he'll surely do everything within his power to find out who killed Wei Ying. But until then, to ensure secrecy, Mo Xuanyu has to pretend to be Wei Ying.
They look a lot alike, and they spend enough time together for Mo Xuanyu to know how to act like him. Wei Ying is currently not working, so Mo Xuanyu won't raise suspicion by not being as smart or skilled as Wei Ying, and he likes kids, so he's going to get along really well with Wei Ying's adoptive son, A-Yuan.
He gets to live well for a while, and at the end, Nie Huaisang will tell him why Wei Ying was dead. But that's going to take a long time, even with all the strings Nie Huaisang may pull - so Mo Xuanyu doesn't have to think of how he'll tell Lan Wangji, or how he'll react. At least, not for now.
For now, he gets to be loved and pampered - and a liar.
And he tells himself he doesn't mind that the love and care aren't really for him. Wei Ying has had plenty, he won't mind sharing some of it... will he?
Mo Xuanyu comes out of the shower in Wei Ying's fluffy bathrobe and his matching slippers and he goes to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.
The sun has risen now, bright, inundating the apartment with light and warmth. Mo Xuanyu drinks his coffee on the balcony and watches the city awake for the day, traffic and pedestrians moving like ants from his view high above the ground.
He can almost make out the shapes of the buildings in his shitty part of town.
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#xiantober Day 12: Falling
He's not too sure when it started, but it was sometime after moving into the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian finds it a tad odd that this started now that he's finally comfortable and safe. This is the most secure he's ever been and now he has to deal with this?
The first few times it happened, Lan Wangji didn't wake up. He didn't notice because he was asleep and, well, this had never happened before. Also, Wei Wuxian really didn't want to disturb his husband about such a silly little thing.
He's dealt with worse.
The only reason Lan Wangji realises that something is amiss is because Wei Wuxian was still trapped there when Lan Wangji awoke. He saw Wei Wuxian, frozen in silent terror on the bed with eyes wide open.
They had a talk about that after.
So, for quite some time now, Wei Wuxian has been having a recurring dream-memory that results in him waking up and being unable to move his body at all as it aches and things in the shadows reach for him. A part of him knows those things aren't real, but they're real enough.
It's not every night, but it's often enough. Wei Wuxian will be happily sleeping, resting comfortably in bed with his husband, and then he will dream. He will dream vividly of when Wen Chao threw him into the Burial Mounds.
He falls.
And falls.
And then he lands.
Every time, it's the same.
Every time, his body jolts and his eyes fly open.
And every time, he can't move.
It's ironic, almost. When he actually fell into the Burial Mounds he felt the bones in his body break and he couldn't move for the longest time.
Here, he is safely in bed with Lan Wangji, and yet he can't move here either. His body just locks up painfully and he's forced to lay awake, listening to voices in the dark as the shadows move in on him.
It gets worse if he allows his eyes to fall shut, so he forces them open.
After Lan Wangji forced it out of him, he said, "I didn't want to bother you with it. I can deal with it on my own."
He watched as his husband's expression fell. "Wei Ying," he said. "You do not have to do it alone, you are not alone. I am here to walk with you."
It was an emotional conversation for the both of them culminating in very sweet and emotional sex.
His husband is the best, Wei Wuxian truly doesn't know where he'd be without him now. He's so thankful for this second chance.
After that, Lan Wangji is more aware.
Wei Wuxian doesn't know how, but Lan Wangji managed to just... make himself become a light sleeper.
Now, the moment he feels Wei Wuxian's body twitch he's awake.
Lan Wangji lights the room with a ready-made talisman he keeps next to the bed just for this—Hanguang-jun indeed—and then he's holding Wei Wuxian close, murmuring sweet words into his ear to drown out the other voices, and stroking him gently in soothing motions.
It helps.
Wei Wuxian finds that he doesn't stay in that frozen state of terror for very long after Lan Wangji wakes up. Before, Wei Wuxian would be there for a good chunk of the night. Now, it is but a mere moment.
The dream still sucks, but Lan Wangji is there outside of it.
Months later, the dream doesn't come as often, but it still comes. Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian one evening and asks, "Will you tell me about it?"
They hadn't said anything in a while, just silently enjoying the other's company while working on their own thing.
But Wei Wuxian knows.
He knows exactly what Lan Wangji is asking about.
There are only two things in Wei Wuxian's life that he hasn't told Lan Wangji about: his time in the Burial Mounds the first time, and his death.
They are hard topics and not just for Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian sets his brush down and looks at his husband. "Why now?"
"You are still having that dream. Perhaps talking about it would help," Lan Wangji replies. "I do not know for sure if it will, but if you choose to tell me, I will listen."
Wei Wuxian considers that.
It won't be easy, not by a long shot. Wei Wuxian has always prided himself in his ability to hide his pain and downplay his hurt so others don't see it.
So others don't feel it too.
But Lan Wangji has long since learned to see through that part of him.
And Wei Wuxian has stopped trying (as much) to hide the pain from his husband.
He's working on it.
Finally, he sighs. "Okay."
Lan Wangji looks a him with a hint of shock before opening his arms in invitation. Wei Wuxian gladly accepts, crawling onto his lap.
Then, he talks.
He tells Lan Wangji all about his time in the Burial Mounds while idly playing with the ends of Lan Wangji's forehead ribbon. He tells him about the pain, the hunger, the fear, the death. He tells him everything.
He breaks down.
But instead of breaking apart, he's held together by the strong, loving arms of his husband.
The dreams stop after that.
Wei Wuxian is still haunted, the past never fully leaving him, but he looks toward the future while enjoying the present. The past is in the past.
Perhaps someday he will tell Lan Wangji about his death, but for now, he'll continue to live his life, loving his husband and being loved by him.
It's more than he ever could have asked for and he's thankful for it every day.
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Link to thread
#xiantober#wangxian#mdzs#threadfic#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#lan wangji#lan zhan#wei wuxian#wei ying#from twitter#wisedawn13#fanfic#fanfiction
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wei wuxian was not known to be an early riser. if anything, he tends to sleep well into the afternoon if he’s not needed. but today - today - he was bursting from excitement. it took plenty of kisses from his hánguāng-jūn the evening prior to get him to settle down and get some rest. everything was planned. he enrolled their little radish, who then enrolled jingyi and jin ling to make sure they had everything they needed for the special day. he asked lan xichen too, now that he was out of seclusion. he knew his lan zhan’s gē would want to be involved.
everything had to be perfect for lan wangji, and it would be.
the sun was just starting to filter through the windows of the jìngshì. the sun was barely up. that meant the lan clan would soon be rising in accordance to the rules. wei wuxian’s long dark hair was thoroughly ruffled by his restless sleep, and he was still in the arms of his husband. gazing at the restful expression on lan wangji’s face, he was filled with such affection.
his husband.
his lan zhan.
his husband!
wei wuxian cupped his face tenderly, peppering his skin with the softest kisses to help rouse him from sleep. ❝ good morning, my lan zhan, ❞ he cooed, nuzzling him affectionately, ❝ happy birthday. i wanted to be the first one to tell you. i’m going to make all your wishes come true, so keep them coming! ❞
For every rule he has broken, there are many more of which he remains an exemplar. He never works beyond hai shi; and he never sleeps beyond mao shi. Not today, either, and he wakes up with Wei Ying's lips lightly affixed to his forehead. It is a feeling to which he doesn't think he will ever fully grow accustomed- after thirteen years of sleeping with only his memories and dreams for company, now he has the man of those dreams clinging to him in the mornings. That Wei Ying is awake before him is still a rarity, however.
It's tempting to stay bundled with his husband under the blankets, using his birthday as an excuse to procrastinate his duties. But he is a Lan; more so, he is Hanguang-Jun. Thus, he places his hands under Wei Ying's buttocks and lifts him from the bed as he gets to his feet, carrying him towards their bath. "Wei Ying is already awake," he remarks. "Late or early?"
He knows better than to ask his husband what he has plotted. If Wei Ying has either been awake all night or woken up before Lan Wangji, it's because he has something planned. But Wei Ying does not give away his secrets easily, nor would Lan Wangji wish to waste effort on it. He will find out in due time.
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awake
[ cross-posted on AO3 ]
the vague sound of strings being pulled, the wail of a monster, a groan of pain, a screaming sword, resentful and pained, all its wrath and despair slamming into him.
wei wuxian had lost the sense of time, blinking, barely holding on by the rusted hilt, the blade of the sword embedded deep into the beast’s flesh. it could’ve been mere seconds, a few minutes, or maybe even a few hours. he just held on because what else could he have done?
strings drawn taught, a faint yellow light, his eyes slipped shut, and he finally stopped resisting the darkness at the back of his head.
sinking…
WEI YING-...
falling…
WEI WUXIAN-...
dying…
“WEI YING!”
wei wuxian woke up with a gasp, panting, breaths rasp. he couldn’t see, or maybe he could, he had no way of knowing. he wheezed, hands blindly reaching out to anchor themselves on something. they landed on drenched, yet soft fabric. he clutched onto it for dear life, panting.
why is this so painful?
he heard a warm, familiar voice calling for him. bleary, he managed to look up into the blurred face of lan wangji.
and then he saw no more.
a farmer that accidentally stumbled into a crack in the forest floor, a helpless question.
WHAT CRIMES DID I COMMIT?
a warrior, seeking a true challenge snapped up, sword lost in a shell, a harsh murmur.
WHOM DID I WRONG?
an unsuspecting adventurer looking for experience worth boasting, resentment, a loud yell.
WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE ME?
“i- i don’t know-...”
“i’m sorry- i-”
“how can i help you?-...”
join us.
a cacophony of screams and wails and cries.of pain, yelled words of desperation, laments of hopelessness, and wei wuxian, but one man, strung up in the middle like a puppet.
he gasped, trying to escape as cold, ghostly, rotting hands grabbed his robes, pulled his hair, hung onto his arms…
we were wronged!we were murdered!we were killed with our dreams unfulfilled!
so come, young cultivator, join our ranks.
“wei ying…” not pain, not anger, not resentment, not coldness, but warmth and urgency. the abyssal tendrils of smoke surrounding him slowly retreated as he was left alone, once again, on the edge of existence and sanity.
a fire crackling…
wuxian slowly cracked open an eye, feeling a deep ache in his bones, a sting in his chest, and something binding his arm that felt suspiciously like make-shift bandages.
he heard someone sigh in relief, the voice making a strange comfort spread in his system,. “you’re awake.”
but his vision remained blurred, he couldn't see . panic welled up within him as he realized he had no idea what had happened. where was he? how dire was the situation? hell, was he even alive? desperation tainting every word, he rasped, "lan zhan, w- where am i? w- what happened?"
warm, human hands, gentle and reassuring, touched his face. “wei ying is safe. still in the cave, but okay."
he tried to process the concise information given to him, oh he did, but the only thing he registered was the word ‘cave’ and cold fear flared up once again
he blinked his eyes open, struggling against the fatigue that threatened to pull him back into darkness he’d just barely escaped.
“n- no it’ll g- get us- the voices- they want m- me-”
a hand against his shoulder, pushing him back against the soft (?) ground. lan wangji asked softly,
"wei ying, the fight is over. can you see me? how many fingers am I holding up?"
the mentioned teen squinted, his vision slowly clearing. he saw a misty figure before him, and though it was hazy, he could make out lan wangji's silhouette.
he held up his hand, fingers outstretched.
"t- three?" he guessed, slow and uncertain.
a faint, fond smile tugged at lan wangji's lips.
"close enough. rest now."
he felt the firm but not painful grip on his arm tighten a little, and he fell back asleep, just not to screams this time.
a/n : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA okay so
this is heavily, and i mean heavily inspired by the donghua and novel (i haven’t read the book in a long time and don’t have it on me atm but i’m still writing however i remember it!)
it’s basically; what if the sword made wwx live through the resentment embedded in it ft. concerned bf. have fun!
it's short but i swear i tried guys
#whumptober 2023#no.1#“how many fingers am i holding up?”#mo dao zu shi#the untamed#fanfiction#drowning tw#death tw#death#wei wuxian#lan wangji#wangxian
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I love every scene with WangXian being domestic, but this is one of my favorites:
After Lan WangJi took a quick bath and got in bed as well, hugging Wei WuXian in his arms, Wei WuXian continued to be awake for a short while, hazily whispering by his collarbone, “The kids in your sect are quite good at writing essays. They’re just missing that tiny bit when it comes to night-hunting.”
Lan WangJi, “Mn.”
Wei WuXian, “But that’s no problem… I’ll make them cram hard while I’m at the Cloud Recesses. Tomorrow… I’ll take them to wreck the mountain demon nests again.”
[...]
The corners of Lan WangJi’s lips moved slightly, as if he was about to smile, “Today was mountain demons again?”
Wei WuXian, “Yeah. That’s why I said they’ve got more work to do. After all, mountain demons only have one leg. They almost couldn’t escape from single-legged ones, so if later on they meet four-legged lizards, eight-legged spiders, or hundred-legged centipedes, wouldn’t they have to wait for their deaths… Oh, right. HanGuang-Jun, I’m out of money. Give me a bit more, won’t you?”
Lan WangJi, “Simply take the jade token to withdraw the money.”
Wei WuXian let out a muffled laugh, “Apart from letting me in and out of the barrier, that jade token you gave me… can also let me draw money?”
“Yes.” Lan WangJi, “Did you ruin the stall or residence of a passersby?”
Wei WuXian, “No… Of course not… I spent all the money because after the night-hunt, I took them to that Hunan cuisine at Caiyi Town… The exact one you never agreed to go no matter how much I tried to persuade you… I’m so tired… Stop talking to me, Lan Zhan…”
Lan WangJi, “Yes.”
Wei WuXian, “… I told you to stop talking… Even if you say just one word, I won’t be able to hold myself from responding… Okay, Lan Zhan, let’s sleep. I… can’t anymore… I really have to sleep… See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan…”
He kissed Lan Zhan’s neck, and indeed soon fell heavily asleep.
It was all darkness and silence amidst the Jingshi.
A moment later, Lan WangJi planted a gentle kiss in the center of Wei WuXian’s forehead.
He whispered, “Wei Ying, see you tomorrow.”
(Chapter 120, ExR translation)
The love in this scene is palpable: LWJ’s fondness, their contentment to be in each other’s presence, WWX telling LWJ to stop talking to him because otherwise he can’t hold himself back from responding -- WWX adores talking to LWJ and knowing LWJ always gives him his full attention.
I have so many feels every time I think about how happy LWJ must be with WWX in his arms, after everything he’s ever dreamed of came true against all odds. LWJ never even expected WWX to come back, let alone return his feelings. He’s living the dream and he deserves all of this happiness. They both do after everything they went through.
I also love that they always sleep hugging each other. No matter how much time they spend together and how close they are, it never seems to be enough for them. WWX and LWJ love each other so much and it’s clear from all of their interactions.
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A classic: angsty serious whump? LWJ getting stabbed perhaps? Drowning?
Lan Wangji didn’t mind dying. God knows he’s tried over the years - but so far all he’s successfully managed was a confusing, lucid dreaming like state.
He first tried drowning himself about a hundred years after Wei Ying died. He was just walking by the cold pond and thinking of their last time together there, before Wei Ying’s meager core couldn’t keep up with his frail body, made all the more fragile with age.
Lan Wangji walked in, sat at the deepest point and just went under, clearing his mind, stilling his natural impulse to breathe and letting the water envelope him.
He woke up much, much later. When even Sizhui was an old man. And that was when Lan Wangji knew he was never going to get that peace.
He gets melancholic, despite the seclusion, the meditation… or perhaps because of it.
The next time he tries was when he realizes he was forgetting Wei Ying’s laugh.
He can see the scene in his mind’s eye but the corners are getting blurry. On a tiled rooftop, two bottles of Emperor’s Smile swinging from his love’s hands. Oh how young they were then… before everything. He sees the moonlight shining, the teasing smile on Wei Ying’s face. But he can’t remember his laugh.
He digs up the dusty bottles of Emperor’s Smile. The brewery had shut almost two hundred years ago, but like everything he has managed to preserve of his life, the talismans were strong.
The wine spills as he downs the sweet, sharp liquid. the jars shatter, and if Lan Wangji took the sharpest shard he could find and brings it to his wrist to see the blood flow (Red, like Wei Ying’s ribbon. Alive like Wei Ying is not), well, he doesn’t remember it anyway. When he awakes, the remains of his rotted mountain cabin surround him, worn away by time.
As with all things, he adapted, despite clinging on to everything he knew. He woke to a new world and there were new weapons, new drugs, new things he could try with, but none of them really worked. Sure they provided a respite, a decade or two, a hundred years if he was lucky (the slower the “death”, the longer the sleep) but he was so so tired.
So of all things, a bullet from a stray gunshot walking home was the least of his worries.
Lan Wangji was ready for his next sleep, maybe with the small sliver of hope that it would be the last one, but he knew it wouldn’t be so - he could hear the sirens, people over him, he was being lifted onto a stretcher.
“Hey man, stay with me ok?,” a slightly anxious voice said over him, blurring over his consciousness. This voice… was familiar. But it sounded wrong. It should be laughing, teasing, happy, home.
Struggling to open his eyes, Lan Wangji finally met a pair of silver ones. A pair of eyes that he’d never ever forget. And for once his wish changes - he couldn’t wait to wake up.
———
Wow I didn’t expect myself to write this but thank you for the prompt. A lot of trigger/content warnings here and I’m not sure if I tagged correctly and I hope it’s ok!
You can also find me on Twitter @weakforwx
#trigger warning#mdzs#the untamed#wangxian#wei wuxian#lan wangji#cql#mo dao zu shi#suicide#blood#drowning#gun#angst#content warning#fic#mdzs fic
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Pastime (with good company) (ao3) (aka NMJ/WWX/LWJ) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, past 5, part 6, part 7
-
Wei Wuxian still wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji had convinced him to come to Qinghe in the middle of the night, even flying through the middle of a thunderstorm to get there.
Possibly he’d still been thinking with his lower half at the time that he’d agreed – he’d been so close to the edge, skating on it, holding himself back intentionally so that the eventual peak would be even better, and to have it snatched away at the last moment had been brutal.
Or maybe it had been the panic in Lan Wangji’s eyes. The worry, the fear.
The realization that someone knew.
He hadn’t been all that concerned with pleasure after that.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he’d begged, desperate. “Please, Lan Zhan – not anyone! No one can know!”
Lan Wangji had wavered, seeing how much it mattered to him and wanting to honor his wishes, wanting to help him - Lan Wangji always wanted to help him - but also needing to share the unexpected burden. In the end he had insisted: “One person. Wei Ying, a marriage cannot be founded on a lie.”
Nothing else in the world would have worked to convince him, given the risks of disclosure, the risk that if more people knew that the secret would get out, that Jiang Cheng would find out, but that –
That did.
Lan Wangji was right: it was one thing to enter a marriage for convenience, for political gain; if that was all there was to it, then Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have needed to say anything. He could have hidden it forever, refused to dual cultivate beyond acting as a passive vessel; he could have presented himself in the marriage not as Wei Wuxian but as the Yiling Patriach, with all the benefits and disadvantages that came with it, and that would be that.
But it wasn’t just that.
Maybe it started out that way, but it wasn’t that way now. Not with the way Nie Mingjue had smiled at him, the way he’d looked at him, intense and serious, after that spar – the discussion they’d had afterwards, when he’d raised his proposal again, serious this time, that they would all marry, the three of them. When he had made clear that his offer could be rejected at will without insult, that he meant it as something that was not for politics, not for need, just…to be married. To be together, the three of them, all three of them, to exchange bows and vow to live together as husbands for the rest of their lives, simply because they wanted to.
Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji both - they’d been clear about what they wanted, and they wanted a marriage with Wei Wuxian, and not his reputation.
Lan Wangji was right.
A marriage like that – a marriage like the ones his parents had, when his mother had picked an outstanding servant over all the other more promising or well-respected men she could have had simply because he made her laugh, the type of marriage he’d always dreamed of, the type he’d always wanted for himself – couldn’t be founded on a lie.
And so they were on their way to Qinghe.
The journey was long, even by sword, even for someone with cultivation as high as Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian had not enjoyed flying on a sword since the he’d been thrown into the Burial Mounds, refusing Wen Qing’s occasional well-intentioned offers; he tried to get some enjoyment out of the fact that his arms were wrapped around Lan Wangji’s waist, his front pressed up against Lan Wangji’s back (he wondered if Lan Wangji would let him rut up against him like this, put himself between those white thighs until they were dirty –) but even the most sexually charged fantasies faded away into the cold reality that he was going to need to talk about this.
And that was before it started raining.
The last shichen of the trip was in complete silence, and only the warmth of Lan Wangji’s hand against his, his spiritual energy flowing calmly between them, kept Wei Wuxian from true panic. And then they were in Qinghe, landing in front of the door, and the guards at the gate were letting them in and then –
Nie Mingjue was there, waiting the entry hall.
Beautiful Nie Mingjue, who was only half-dressed, his hair unbound and with only an outer robe over his underclothing that he’d thrown on but hadn’t bothered to belt before rushing to the doorway, concern clearly written all over his face.
“What happened?” he asked.
“There’s no emergency,” Wei Wuxian said, and when Lan Wangji turned to glare at him, he raised his hands. “There isn’t! It’s been like this for months, Lan Zhan, and nothing will change if we let Mingjue-xiong get some sleep; we really didn’t have to fly here in the middle of the night –”
“To confirm – no attack has broken out, and no one is imminently dying?” Nie Mingjue interrupted.
Even Lan Wangji was forced to nod at that.
“In that case, you can come inside and have some tea while you explain,” Nie Mingjue said, waving his hand at one of the deputies that was lingering there. “I don’t mind being awake at this hour, but our sentries saw you coming through the storm and I thought it might be a situation where we would need to raise the army.”
Wei Wuxian’s shoulders hunched up. He should have thought about that, they both should have thought about that: Nie Mingjue was not merely a sect leader but a general, not merely a general but the leader of the Sunshot Campaign, the general that had given orders to generals; of course he would think first of war. “Nothing like that.”
“My apologies,” Lan Wangji said. “Our urgency was only my eagerness.”
“Don’t apologize,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Matters can be urgent even without a battle; it’s only a question of scale. Follow me.”
He led them to a small receiving room – it wasn’t the one usually used for guests, which Wei Wuxian had been to before, but something more intimate, warmer: the wooden furniture was sparse in the way it always was in Qinghe, with a restrained sort of charm, but there were intricate metal whorls on the walls that caught the eye and soft tapestries that made the cold stone feel less hostile.
“All right,” Nie Mingjue said as he strode into the room. “There’s tea in the corner; one of you can prepare it. Now tell me what the matter is.”
Wei Wuxian looked at him.
“…perhaps Sect Leader Nie would like to get dressed first?” he suggested, a little desperately.
It was a stalling method, yes, but also – really. There was a certain amount of stress a man could be under at one time, and trying to actually tell someone about everything that had happened would be bad enough without having to also figure out how not to stare at the part of Nie Mingjue’s white under-robes that had started gaping open at the chest, a glimpse of supple flesh and the barest hint of pink –
Nie Mingjue huffed, though it was unclear whether it was out of annoyance or recognition of the effect he was having. “Very well. Wangji, the tea?”
The second he left, Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji. “I know we’re here for a very serious reason and we’re going to need to talk about things and all that, but you saw that, right?”
Lan Wangji’s ears went red.
“Oh, you saw it all right,” Wei Wuxian said, and grinned. “Did it make you want to bite?”
“Wei Ying.”
“All right, all right, I’ll stop. And yes, I’ll – I’ll explain. To both of you.”
A marriage cannot be built on a lie.
Wei Wuxian wanted this marriage to work. He wanted it to be a partnership, like the one his parents had, not – not what Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu had.
The only way he could get what he wanted was if he told them the truth: that he had lost (given up) his golden core during the war, that he could no longer cultivate the orthodox path of the sword, that demonic cultivation was not only a choice but a mandate.
(They didn’t need to know about Jiang Cheng.)
When Nie Mingjue returned, now fully dressed and his hair pulled back in the simplest possible crown, no braids or anything, Wei Wuxian didn’t hesitate.
Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji were mercifully silent during his explanation, interrupting only long enough to ask some questions – good ones, thoughtful ones. Some were aimed at understanding more of what he went through in the Burial Mounds, while others gently pointed out flaws in his story, sometimes embarrassing ones; if he were ever to tell this story to others, he would need to cover those up better.
They knew he was hiding something, but they let him hide it.
They trusted him.
(Maybe he would tell them about Jiang Cheng after all. But – not yet.)
When he finished, they were quiet for a long moment.
“Thank you for telling me,” Nie Mingjue finally said, and he meant it, too; he was Nie Mingjue, he didn’t say things lightly. If he was angry, he would have shown it, just as he had when Wei Wuxian had described what Wen Chao had done to him before rushing ahead and making clear that Wen Qing had helped him (a deliberate blurring of the timeline, but there was nothing he could do about it) but now there was no anger anywhere on his face, just thoughtfulness. “It explains – a great deal.”
Lan Wangji nodded in agreement, and Wei Wuxian felt the stickiness of guilt: would Lan Wangji think of all those times he’d begged Wei Wuxian to come with him to Gusu, to stop using demonic cultivation, and think himself a fool? Would he think Wei Wuxian had been laughing at him, knowing it was impossible?
He wouldn’t, of course, but Wei Wuxian felt guilty regardless.
“Not to get stuck on technical matters,” Nie Mingjue continued, “but curiosity compels me to ask. What forging are you using as the channel?”
Whatever Wei Wuxian might have expected Nie Mingjue to say, whether scolding or sympathy or even pity, it wasn’t that.
He didn’t even understand that.
“What?” he said blankly.
“Is it that seal of yours? Or something else?”
“Forging?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked as confused as Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying uses his flute to cultivate.”
Nie Mingjue’s frown deepened. “Resentful energy corrodes the protections of the souls if used for too long without a venting channel – without a proper outlet, the corrosion will build up in the meridians and dantian, and will ultimately lead to a backlash…are you saying you aren’t using one at all?”
“Are you saying you know about the effects of resentful energy?” Wei Wuxian asked, eyes lighting up. “I’ve never heard anything about venting, corrosion, or build-up – though it makes sense, actually, given some of the other aspects of resentful energy that I’ve observed or theorized. Gathering resentful energy has an exponential effect, the reason why a bunch of drownings in one place don’t just make more water ghouls, but a Waterborne Abyss, and why a battlefield is easier to raise than a single grave…everyone says demonic cultivation affects the temperament, but there’s never any detail. I haven’t been able to find any books on it.”
“Nor I,” Lan Wangji said. “Even in the forbidden portion of the clan library.”
“There aren’t many books,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Demonic cultivation is well known to be forbidden, so most of the knowledge is handed down orally.”
Lan Wangji’s back got even straighter, if that was even possible, and Wei Wuxian understood the implication a second later: the Nie sect had always been a bit of an outlier from the other sects, Qinghe with its reputation for oddity, with its strange rituals and bizarre customs, its pride in having descended from butchers, a bloody profession associated with resentment, rather than gentry –
“You use demonic cultivation,” Wei Wuxian breathed.
“Not the way you use it, we don’t,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “Let us not take away from the magnitude of your achievement in creating an entirely new cultivation path, Wei Wuxian, and one that can be used by those who cannot cultivate in the traditional fashion no less. We do not cultivate the ability to manipulate fierce corpses through their resentful energy, I’d never even heard of such a thing before, but we do utilize resentful energy in a fashion that other sects do not.”
“What do you use it for?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked as fascinated as Wei Wuxian was – really, he wasn’t that hard to read at all, once you had an idea of what to look for. All of his expressions were in the little things, the way his eyes curved or narrowed, the redness of his ears, the corners of his lips.
Nie Mingjue’s fingers flicked, a seemingly casual movement, but only a few seconds later the door slammed open as his saber flew into the room, hovering for a moment before whistling through the air as it made its way to Nie Mingjue’s hand.
Wei Wuxian turned to stare.
“The personal quarters of the Nie clan aren’t anywhere near this hall,” he said slowly. “You clearly left your saber behind when you came to greet us, which I appreciate as a gesture of trust even though we wouldn’t have taken insult if you did…you summoned it all the way from here, and it came on its own? How could you guide it through all those hallways without using hand seals?”
“For something so straightforward, Baxia does not require guidance,” Nie Mingjue said, and held the saber out lengthwise for them to look at. “You asked what we use resentful energy for: this is the answer.”
“Only the most powerful spiritual weapons have enough awareness to recognize their masters,” Lan Wangji said, leaning forward. His eyes were bright with curiosity, with not a trace of judgment for the unorthodoxy they were discussing, and Wei Wuxian would spare some time to think about how beautiful Lan Wangji was in full scholar mode if he wasn’t equally entranced by Nie Mingjue’s revelations. “Much less find their way through a complicated series of hallways when their master wants them, without even a single hand seal acting as a summon…the Nie sect’s sabers have always been regarded as the finest weapons one can use against resentful beasts.”
“Very good as always, Wangji,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Wangji looked pleased at the recognition. “The founder of our sect was a butcher as well as a cultivator. As you know, occupations that require blood are notoriously considered bad for cultivation, the resentful energy from the work affecting their temperament and potential – take the traditional example of the fate of the executioner, who might arise as a fierce corpse despite lacking any resentments of his own. But my ancestor realized that the resentful energy of the beasts he slaughtered could be channeled not in the wielder of the saber, but the saber itself, and in doing so it would grow more powerful in its own right – power that could then be used to supplement the traditional orthodoxy of the dao of the sword and saber.”
Wei Wuxian’s brain was bubbling full of new ideas that had never even occurred to him before. The approach wasn’t as unorthodox as his own cultivation, nor perhaps would it be as reviled – the resentful energy of yao would be far less pernicious than the type he used, which came from humans, and using it as a whetstone to sharpen a sword’s spirit was far less intrusive than manipulating it directly as if it were spiritual energy – but it was fascinatingly different from everything he’d grown up hearing.
“What’s the cost?” he asked, because that was important. There had to be a cost, something the Nie sect was willing to pay that others weren’t, or else the secret would have gotten out at some point and become widespread.
“The difficulty in managing the process as the saber strengthens,” Nie Mingjue said. “The saber can store resentful energy, but we are the ones to cultivate it; it passes through us, and in time the strain will become too much unless we break through the limits of our cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound. We trade the latter half of our lives for the power to make a difference in the first.”
“Qi deviation,” Lan Wangji murmured. All the Nie sect leaders had died of it, eventually; the fact of it was well known.
“Every generation tries some new means to mitigate it, some of which work better than others,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “I had meant to make it clear to both of you before the wedding, but chances are high that the two of you will outlive me – though with luck the time is still some distance off.”
Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled together into fists in his lap, and he sees the stiffness in Lan Wangji’s spine that has nothing to do with pride; he didn’t need to share glances with him to know that they were both in violent agreement that something would need to be done about that.
After all, neither of them were interested in becoming widows, and together they could do marvelous things, unthinkable things – especially if Lan Wangji were willing, as Wei Wuxian for the very first time thought he might be, to help him research the more esoteric possibilities, to delve into the mysteries of his demonic cultivation and find out its reaches, the benefits and the costs that could be extracted from it.
If Nie Mingjue thought his husbands would just placidly accept a future without him, he would just have to wait and see what they would do.
“The tendency towards qi imbalances cause by our way of cultivating is aggravated by the hereditary Nie temper, which is said to be aggravated by the cultivation style in turn,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little dry; he was clearly well aware of his faults. “That’s one of the reasons I want to leave my sect to Huaisang in the future – he might not be the strongest cultivator, whether due to his naturally weaker talent or just because of how lazy he is, but he’s calm and thoughtful instead of temperamental, capable of great patience, and he cultivated a golden core using our traditional methods without losing those qualities.”
“I mean, I guess I’ve seen him with his saber,” Wei Wuxian said, a little doubtfully. “Not to be rude, but has he ever used it?”
Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes. “Not as much as he should, but yes, he’s even cultivated the spirit within it. Unfortunately, the saber and the master reflect each other, which means his saber turned out to be a lazy plonk that would rather act as a paperweight than actually stab someone.”
Wei Wuxian tried, and failed, to hide his smirk. He wondered if he could somehow use Nie techniques to regain control over Suibian, despite lacking a golden core – how wonderful it would be, if that were possible!
He thought there was a good chance Nie Mingjue would agree to teach him what he needed to know to do it, too.
“I had assumed you were using the Stygian Tiger Seal as a channel in a similar manner to the way I use my saber,” Nie Mingjue continued, frowning again. “That’s clearly not the case, and that means your demonic cultivation is even more radical an innovation than I had previously considered it to be. However, with your consent, I would like to build you a channel for you to try to start processing your cultivation through, in the hopes that it will work to ease the strain of it on you. My clan uses forging, a mixture of metal and qi, to create a base that can be built up into a saber, though I suppose in your case it doesn’t have to be. Tonight, if you’re not too tired.”
Wei Wuxian nodded. He’d known that backlash was a possibility, had already accepted that he’d likely have an early death as a result of it, had arrogantly assumed he’d be able to come up with something to prevent it, but just because he was doing something new didn’t mean he couldn’t try to supplement it with something that had been practiced for generations – especially since given how he’d used demonic cultivation so far, any backlash would probably end up with him ripped to pieces by a thousand fierce ghosts.
Not really his ideal death.
Especially not before he managed to marry these two!
“I don’t want other people to know, though,” he said, his fingers twisting in his robes at the mere thought. The same anxiety as before: the more people knew his secret, the more chance there was of someone slipping up, of someone finding out – of Jiang Cheng finding out, and his shidi wasn’t stupid, merely too trusting to those he loved; he’d figure it out as soon as the pieces came together. “How many do we need to tell to do it?”
“None,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian started in surprise. “Are you not my intended husband? I can do it myself.”
He paused a moment, and then smiled. “Thank you.”
Wei Wuxian blinked at him. “For what?”
“For allowing me the opportunity to finally get Huaisang off my case about picking your betrothal gift.”
Lan Wangji huffed in amusement, as if some guess had been confirmed, and Wei Wuxian thought that maybe there was a chance this whole thing wouldn’t be a disaster after all.
#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#nie mingjue#my fic#my fics#academic discussion of demonic cultivation#for those following along you may have a hint of what happens next chapter#pastime with good company
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Sleepy bunny
Lan WangJi stirs awake as soft feet pad over to their bed and a teary voice sniffs, “Papa?” far too close to his ear.
Wei WuXian sleeps as he always does: his face smushed into Lan WangJi’s chest, a veritable dead-weight over his husband. Lan WangJi sleeps on his back, perfectly content with this.
Between them, Lan WangJi is the light sleeper without question and young as he is, Lan SiZhui knows it. If he needs something he wakes Lan WangJi.
“A-Yuan? What’s wrong?” he drags himself the rest of the way to consciousness—awake because his son needs him.
Dislodging Wei WuXian takes effort, but he untangles himself so he can swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Immediately Lan SiZhui climbs into his lap and buries his face into Lan WangJi’s stomach.
He’s leaking tears so Lan WangJi curls a comforting arm around him and reaches to flip the lamp on with a silent apology to Wei WuXian.
Lan SiZhui is dressed in his bunny pajamas, his favorite stuffed bunny clutched in the hand that’s not holding Lan WangJi’s shirt in a death grip.
“A-Yuan,” he thumbs tears off of rounded cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Lan Zhan?” Wei WuXian mumbles sleepily behind him.
Lan SiZhui sniffs, tipping his whole head into Lan WangJi’s palm. “Bad dream. Want Papa.”
“I am here,” Lan WangJi soothes.
Wei WuXian is more awake now, plopping his chin sleepily on Lan WangJi’s shoulder and leaning into his back. “Is that my little bunny I hear?”
“Daddy,” comes out at nearly a wail.
Lan WangJi maneuvers them properly on the bed, Lan SiZhui cradled against his chest and Wei WuXian plastered against his side.
“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Wei WuXian peppers kisses all over the top of Lan SiZhui’s head. “Daddy is here too.”
Lan SiZhui scrunches his face up like he’s trying not to cry anymore and can’t quite seem to stop. Lan WangJi pulls the blankets up so that he’s tucked in properly.
“How about you sleep with us,” he suggests, gently tweaking Lan SiZhui’s nose.
Wei WuXian grins, getting comfortable against Lan WangJi’s shoulder. “Would you like that, A-Yuan? Daddy will even sing you to sleep.”
Lan SiZhui nods, rubbing his cheek against the material of Lan WangJi’s pajama shirt. His death grip has loosened and the tears are starting to slow.
Lan WangJi wonders what sort of dream could have upset him so, but asking will probably make it worse.
“Which song would my little bunny like?” Wei WuXian coos, pushing a strand of hair back from Lan SiZhui’s face.
“Bunny song,” Lan SiZhui mumbles, waving his stuffed toy.
“Ah, of course of course,” Wei WuXian nods wisely. “A bunny song for my bunny. Lan Zhan, sing with me?”
“Mn,” Lan WangJi agrees.
Wei WuXian gives him a curved half smile before clearing his throat. “See the bunnies sleeping, till it’s nearly noon.”
“Shall we wake them with a merry tune?” Lan WangJi picks up the next verse, accustomed to this routine.
They trade back and forth for the entirety of the bunny song before transitioning to another one of Lan SiZhui’s favorite songs. He starts to doze somewhere along the way, his stuffed bunny tucked under his chin.
Wei WuXian starts the notes of their song and Lan WangJi falls naturally in with him. He studies his husband in the soft light, appreciating the way it accents the soft features of his face as Wei WuXian lets his eyes drift shut.
The last notes fall into the space between them and Lan WangJi is content.
“He’s out,” Wei WuXian whispers fondly as he leans over to peek at their son.
Creating space for him is a little challenging but they manage to get him tucked in on his own spot of mattress between them without waking him. Lan WangJi leans over to steal a kiss from smiling lips before reaching up to turn the light off.
“Love you, Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian says into the darkness.
“Love you, Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi answers.
“Odds he wakes right at six?”
“He will wake at six,” Lan WangJi confirms.
Wei WuXian groans quietly. Lan WangJi doesn’t disguise his amusement—it earns him a gentle pinch of admonishment. Wei WuXian has never liked to get up early, but with a toddler sleeping right next to him he won’t have a choice tomorrow.
“I will rise with him.”
“Lan Zhan, I knew there was a reason I married you!”
Lan WangJi likes getting up early with Lan SiZhui, but even if he didn’t, he’d still do it to let his husband sleep a little extra.
“Sleep,” Lan WangJi hums, reaching until he finds Wei WuXian’s hand in the dark. He squeezes it, and gets a squeeze in return.
“Mmmm. Goodnight, Lan Zhan.”
“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”
When Wei WuXian wakes in the morning, it is after ten and the smell of breakfast cooking and a child’s delighted laughter fill the air.
It’s a blessed life that he lives.
#mdzs#the untamed#wangxian#lan wangji#wei wuxian#just wangxian being super soft dads#no angst here just cuddles :')#the two verses of the bunny song are from a legit kids song lmao#Kris hush#my writing#anyway enjoy some drabbles
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October Drabbles 21-25
More drabbles
21. Late Night (post-canon Wangxian fluff, mildly NSFW)
It’s past the time that Lan Wangji should be asleep—and he was, actually, until Wei Wuxian crawled into bed with him. Often, Wei Wuxian will just curl up beside him, or perhaps wrap his arms around Lan Wangji and tangle their legs together, and then go quietly to sleep. Tonight, though, he woke Lan Wangji up with kisses on his neck turning into soft nips to his collarbone, pulling his clothing aside to reach further down.
“Go to sleep,” Lan Wangji murmurs, half awake, a soft rumble under Wei Wuxian’s mouth on his chest.
“I will.” Wei Wuxian’s lips flutter against his skin and Lan Wangji shivers. “After.”
Wei Wuxian continues to move downward, kissing a meandering path across Lan Wangji’s stomach. Lan Wangji reaches down, half thinking about pushing him away or pulling him up to settle beside him, but in the end, he only rests his hand on Wei Wuxian’s head, fingers sliding into his hair. “Is that a yes?” Wei Wuxian smugly murmurs into Lan Wangji’s lower stomach, tongue venturing out to trace a line between his muscles while he waits for an answer.
Lan Wangji hesitates for only the briefest of moments before answering, “Yes.”
22. Blushing (post-canon Wangxian fluff, more mildly NSFW)
It was so easy for Wei Wuxian to fluster Lan Wangji when they were young. All he had to do was make a nuisance of himself, say something blatantly flirty (despite not realizing himself that he was flirting), lean into Lan Wangji’s personal space, and he’d be rewarded with subtle hints of panic, yelling, red ears and, if he was really successful, a blush spreading pink and pretty across Lan Wangji’s cheeks.
Since his death and return, though, the tables have turned and it’s Wei Wuxian who finds himself flustered more often than not, all his shameless behavior backfiring on him. Even now, when he understands that flirting with Lan Wangji will never turn him off, Wei Wuxian can’t seem to find a way to tease that doesn’t end in him blushing, usually with Lan Wangji’s lips on his or in other more interesting places. Lan Wangji has become very good at shutting him up, sometimes making an absolute mess of him in the process and sometimes only making Wei Wuxian desperately wish he would, holding tight to his wrists or pinning him down so he can’t get what he wants until Lan Wangji says he can.
And worse still, sometimes when he flirts obnoxiously, Lan Wangji will turn and just give him this look, not quelling, not threatening, not even promising, but just so fond, so openly, unabashedly in love that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to with it. He loves Lan Wangji just as much, but it’s still a shock sometimes that anyone could love him so deeply and unshakably. It brings heat to his cheeks, but more so a warmth to his heart, and a feeling that it doesn’t matter if he can’t tease Lan Wangji anymore; all that matters is this.
23. Poetry (modern AU Wangxian fluff, feat. songwriter LWJ)
Lan Zhan writes a lot of songs for other people, working hard on the kind of poetic lyrics and dramatic orchestral music he loves, and which he’s managed to make a name for himself with. He’s only written one song for himself, though, and not so much for himself as for Wei Ying. It’s one of the first songs he ever wrote, when he was an idiot teenager in love wondering if he’d ever fulfill his dreams of being a songwriter, or of having Wei Ying by his side, not just as an annoying classmate and maybe friend, but as someone who knew how Lan Zhan felt and loved him back.
There’s a part of Lan Zhan that always cringes when he hears Wangxian, which (mercifully) exists only as a demo recording sung by him. What was he thinking with that title, or those painfully unsubtle lyrics? But mostly it makes him smile at how quickly and helplessly he fell in love with Wei Ying, even before he particularly liked him, and how he’s only fallen more in love with the passage of time. It also makes him smile because there’s so much hope, not explicitly in the lyrics, but in the feeling of the song, translated from how he felt when he wrote it—and he knows now that he was right to hope.
“I still can’t believe you wrote me a love song when I thought you hated me,” Wei Ying says once when he convinces Lan Zhan to play the demo again. “A sappy as fuck love song.”
“I never hated you,” Lan Zhan responds, a fond smile playing at his lips at the memory of when he tried to convince himself that he did. “And I know perfectly well that you love this song.”
Wei Ying grins and gives him a kiss. “I do love this song, and I love you.”
24. Spicy (unspecified Wangxian fluff)
Wei Wuxian finds it impossibly cute when Lan Wangji tries to eat spicy things for him, especially dishes he cooked which no one in their right mind would try to eat. (He thinks they’re good, but he’s aware that other people are weak and wrong—uh, have different opinions.) It’s not that he wants Lan Wangji to suffer, but it’s sweet that he loves Wei Wuxian enough to try, and it’s simultaneously adorable and hilarious how he tries to hide the effects as his cheeks flush and he starts to sweat and he blinks furiously, his eyes watering and his lips pressed tightly together to hold back a cough.
On the other hand, Wei Wuxian loves Lan Wangji and wants him to be happy always, and that’s why one night when he’s cooking for the two of them, he makes a sincere effort to make the most bland and inoffensive food he can manage. It looks so pale and dull and his hands itch to douse it in pepper, but he restrains himself, setting the dishes on the table as is and calling Lan Wangji in.
He can see the moment Lan Wangji notices, his brow furrowing ever-so-slightly as he scans the table and then looks up at Wei Wuxian, his expression midway between confused and affectionate. “Well, go on. Eat!” Wei Wuxian prods.
It’s the most boring meal Wei Wuxian has ever eaten in his life (when he had a choice, anyway), but it’s worth it for the way Lan Wangji actually seems to enjoy eating it instead of having to brace himself before each bite, and for the fond, appreciative looks he flashes Wei Wuxian in between. “It was very good,” he says at the end, entirely unprompted.
“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian says, “but I’m not making any promises about it happening again soon.”
Lan Wangji smiles softly and shakes his head. “I would expect nothing less.”
25. Clothes (pre-canon WWX gen, feat. Jiang sibs & JFM)
For the first few years in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian accepts whatever clothes are provided to him without complaint. He’s grateful to have a place to live and food to eat and clothes without any holes in them to wear. What those clothes look like isn’t important—and even if it was, he’s afraid to object to anything, afraid of being too greedy in case Jiang Fengmian decides it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep him. Even when Uncle Jiang asks what he wants, he’s hesitant to really ask for it
Eventually, though, he starts to feel more comfortable, more secure in his place here. (If Madam Yu hasn’t managed to kick him out by now, he’s probably safe, right?) And one day, when a tailor comes to measure him and Jiang Cheng and Shijie for new clothes, Uncle Jiang asks, “What color robes would you like this time?”
“Black!” Wei Wuxian answers. He imagines he’ll look very grown up and manly in black, not to mention have an easier time sneaking around at night if the mood strikes him.
Belatedly, he worries that he’s being too demanding, but Uncle Jiang only smiles and says, “Black it is, then.”
“Only black?” Shijie asks. “You don’t think it’ll look nice with some color underneath?”
“I suppose.” Wei Wuxian considers, trying to picture himself in his new robes. “What color do you think, shijie?”
“Decide for yourself,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but Shijie ignores him and says, “I think you’d look great in red.”
Wei Wuxian beams as though she’s given him high praise. “All right, then. Black and red for me.” He can’t wait to see how he looks in his new robes.
#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#cql#the untamed#mdzs fic#cql fanfic#the untamed fic#wei wuxian#lan wangji#wangxian#yunmeng trio#wangxian fic#mine#fic#flufftober
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Lan Wangji had been reading in bed, something that he had only started to do because Wei Ying decided the bed was too comfortable to use only at night, and proceeded to use it to sleep anyway. Lan Wangji, still accustomed to his sect's sleeping routine, often ended up awake in bed with a sleepy husband using him as a pillow.
Wei Ying was laying over his chest while Lan Wangji caressed his hair, holding the book with his other hand, when suddenly he felt a puff of air hit his chest, and then a huff. He looked down at Wei Ying, who had his lips pursed, but still seemed to be peacefully asleep, and assumed it had just been him dreaming.
A few minutes passed until he heard it again, followed by a whispered "Lan Zhan," that sounded more annoyed than fond. He wondered if Wei Ying was having an argument with him while asleep, and couldn't help the small fond smile that graced his lips. He pressed a kiss to Wei Ying's forehead and went back to reading his book.
And then there wasn't a book anymore, because Wei Ying, presumably still asleep, decided it had occupied enough of his attention and slapped it straight out of his hands with a huff, using that arm to hug Lan Wangji close and climbing more comfortably on top of him. By then Lan Wangji had given up on doing anything other than cuddling Wei Ying, and hugged him tighter with a small laugh. Wei Ying let out a suspiciously self satisfied hum and went straight back to sleep.
#mdzs#wangxian#lan wangji#wei ying#wei wuxian#writing#listen its 5 am#this isn't the best#i just wanted smth cute to end the night on a good note
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Real
They're laying in bed in the jingshi, listening to the crickets and the night owls as a soft summer breeze wafts through the green branches of the surrounding trees.
Wei Ying is curled against Lan Zhan's side, happily talking about whatever invention he's been working on, playing with the ends of Lan Zhan's hair as he does.
It's soft and quiet and domestic and perfect - Lan Zhan couldn't have ever asked for more. He's listening, of course he is, but he gets a bit too into admiring Wei Ying and thinking about how happy he is, and suddenly Wei Ying is on top of him with a playful pout.
"Lan Zhan, you're not paying attention."
"Mn. I am."
"Lying is forbidden, isn't it?"
"I am not lying."
"Then what was I saying?"
Lan Zhan sighs and pulls Wei Ying into a deep, breath-taking kiss. Though happily reciprocating, Wei Ying breaks apart, still pouting, with kiss bruised lips.
"That's deflecting!"
"It is not. Wei Ying looks so beautiful I could not help myself."
"Lan Zhan! You can't always use that excuse!"
"It is the truth."
Wei Ying laughs sweetly and Lan Zhan wants to kiss him again -
"Well, it doesn't matter, you know?" Wei Ying says, smiling. "None of this is real anyway!"
Lan Zhan blinks, confused.
Wei Ying laughs again, a bit more... unhinged. The air in the room becomes colder. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
"You're talking nonsense, you are not-"
"Dead people don't come back to life, Lan Zhan." His voice is serious now, dark, his eyes glint red. "And I have been dead for a very long time."
Lan Zhan reaches to touch him, show him that he's wrong, that everything is real, ask why he's talking like that, but his hands can't seem to find purchase. Wei Ying looks at him pitifully. "When are you going to accept the truth, Lan Wangji? I am dead and there is no us. You never said anything. You never helped me. You weren't there. I died alone."
Wei Ying leaned over him, lips barely touching, whispering. "If you loved me so much... You should have died with me."
___
Lan Zhan jolts awake, barely restrains himself from screaming as he does.
He's breathing hard, almost painfully, and he's crying, struggling to come back into himself. That nightmare... maybe Wei Ying was right, Lan Zhan should have just died with him, maybe he should just die right now-
But on his side of the bed, Wei Ying, the real one, stirs, mumbling something about the time before realizing what is happening and reaching to wrap his arms around his husband.
"Lan Zhan. Hey. Hey, look at me."
Reluctantly, he does. Wei Ying is quick to wipe his tears. "It's okay. I'm here and we're safe. It was just a dream, but now this is real and we're okay."
"Is it?" Lan Zhan finds himself say, his voice small and lost and broken. "Is it real? Are you?"
"Yes, it's all real, I'm real." And Wei Ying takes his hand and puts it over his heart. "Feel that?"
Lan Zhan nods. "Fast."
"Because I love you and I'm worried about you. But I'm here, alive, no matter what your dreams say."
Slowly, they settle back into bed, Lan Zhan's hand still over Wei Ying's heart.
"I really think we should go to that mind healer, Lan Zhan. She can help with the nightmares, both yours and mine."
Lan Zhan decides to hold Wei Ying tighter to his chest and sighs into his hair. "We will go."
#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#wangxian#writing attempts#i had a much worse ending planned out for this one but i chose peace#i wonder if i should write that initial ending
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Monday NR, E, & M reading
The usual
Finished
Not Rated:
in longing, we will meet again, by seachronicles
"Guilt is like a parasite. It sticks to its victim and eats them from the inside out. It eats them from the inside out the same way it has been eating every part of him, bit by bit until there is nothing else to eat. It has eaten every inch of his brain until there is only rotten flesh made of regret".
-
Or:
During a night hunt, Lan Wangji makes a mistake -a miscalculation- that leads to Wei Wuxian's death.
He doesn't handle it well.
He dreams.
He wakes up on the Burial Mounts.
Explicit:
I spy, by Anonymous (2 chapters)
Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling all think Wei Wuxian's claims that he is tired because of sex are bullshit. They decide to spy on him and Lan Wangji to prove that he was mocking them.
They were not expecting Wei Wuxian to have been completely serious about that. They, or at least Lan Sizhui, was not expecting himself to enjoy it, either.
Sod's Law, by h0peless_oblivion (2nd in a series)
“Please Lan Zhan, just this once?"
“Wei Ying, you know we can’t.”
“Why not?” he whined, petulantly pouting some more.
“Because it’s not safe. I promised Xiongzhang we were taking precautions; he’ll kill me if I get you pregnant now.”
"We are taking precautions, I’m on the pill; the chances of you putting a lil bun in my oven are tiny!"
----
or
Omega Wei Ying wants his alpha boyfriend to take him raw, just this once. Lan Zhan has concerns but he is ultimately but a horny teen in love.
What could possibly go wrong?
Mature:
these fragile bodies of touch and taste, by lazulisong (2 chapters)
Lan Wangji knows that Wei Ying is awake by the way he shifts and shudders around him, luxurious and sweet.
Unfinished
Not Rated:
An Imperfectly Remembered Life, by prettieburd (avadedrahetarra)
Mo Xuanyu didn't know when he took the internship at one of the largest companies in the city that he'd be running into a face he'd thought (hoped) he'd never see again. Filled with regret and guilt over the accident, and a dark secret about his life before the Jiang family took him in, Wei Wuxian can only hope that Lan Wangji doesn't recognize him and that he can survive the internship unscathed.
This Mo Xuanyu sparks traces of memory in Lan Wangji the day he shows up to start his internship. He can't place the too-familiar face and it bothers him, though he tries to deny the familiarity. But the more it eats at him, the harder it is to ignore the dark haired man with the easy smile that keeps reminding him of something... something important... something that's been missing...
Title from this quote:
“An imperfectly remembered life is a useless treachery. Every day, more fragments of the past roll around heavily in the chambers of an empty brain, shedding bits of color, a sentence or a fragrance, something that changes and then disappears. It drops like a stone to the bottom of the cave.”
― Barbara Kingsolver, The Lacuna
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MDZS Mixtape Fic Exchange
a time when I’m without you
rating: T
Pairing: Wangxian
Word count: 2178 words
A preview of my entry for the @mdzs-mixtape exchange and gift for @yabakuboi~
This song was honestly food for my little angsty soul, and I hope you like it!
Song: Every Time You Walk Away by D.A. Wallach
It’s not like I need you
Or need to be around you…
It's not like I'd die if there's a time when I'm without you.
Lan Wangji gasped awake, tendrils of lightning shot through his body and shattered his nerves until he was nothing but a mess of convulsions. A vague sense of someone shouting behind him slowly tethered him back to his body. The spasms turned into pain incarnate. The lightning transformed into searing aches that rattled his muscles. But a control of his body returned with a languid swell of back and forth and back and forth.
With practiced decorum he breathed slowly and deliberately.
“Wangji.”
His brother was the first to enter—that must’ve been who had yelled earlier—followed by a doctor. Staring dully at the two, Lan Wangji managed to force himself to sit up despite the protests of Lan Xichen. The doctor eyed them both warily, as if he didn’t quite want to be there.
As irritating as it was, Lan Wangji could not blame him. He did not wish for the physician’s presence either.
The doctor sighed and sat at his bedside. He did not bother retrieving his tools from his sash. “Have you been taking the pain relievers?”
“No need.” If it wasn’t for the look of utter distress on his brother’s face, he would not have answered period. But he knew that the only person left on his side...the only person left...was his brother.
“Then,” it was a curt and brusque huff, and the physician stood immediately, the skirts of his robe swishing noisily over the floor.
How uncultured, Lan Wangji almost sneered. Almost. Because sneering would’ve made him so too. So he stared politely, quietly, and with the slightest upward tilt of his chin.
“Zewu-Jun.” The doctor nodded stiffly, “Hanguang-jun. Please ensure to take your medicine.”
After what may have been the shortest of doctor’s visits, Lan Xichen took a heartbeat to recover. It was a stagger followed by baited breath being released. Then it was a swirl of pristine and elegant gossamer jacket and outer robes, and the warm and heavy cotton of his main dress. To the outside glance it would've been like a gentle and slight walk, but Wangji knew his brother was practically storming towards him.
“Wangji, we are not your enemy." Lan Xichen's voice never rose above a murmur, the tone dulcet and perhaps concerned.
But again, the underlying storm only apparent to a younger sibling, was as visible as the still-bleeding scars on said younger brother's back. Lan Wangji found that he lacked the ability to argue, hanging his head though—he knew that it was clearly visible, his disbelief in his brother’s words that is. He knew Lan Xichen could see it, because his shoulders physically sagged and his wide brown eyes narrowed with grief. After that, their eyes refused to meet. Even upon drinking tea with their lunch, even with Xichen cleaning his wounds and rewrapping the bandages on Lan Wangji’s.
It's not like I care that much,
not like I need this that bad.
It's nothing that deep...
It's not like that.
Sleep fitfully fluttered in and out of his mind, and it was rare for it to stay among the constant spasms along his spine and shoulders. But every now and then, Lan Wangji would find himself blinking into existence in another world, in another place, in another time.
This night, he sat in the classroom of his youth, his uncle nowhere insight nor any other students that would normally have attended.
Lan Wangji cleared his throat, and his voice rumbled lighter than it would have in reality. He looked down at his hands—slender and far less calloused than they would become. A wry smile built on his lips, after all who else could see it except himself. It seemed the only place he could find comfort were in the bygone hues of his teenage years. Confusing and uncomfortable at the time, he supposed there were charming moments to them. Afterall, Wei Ying was—
A tremor rocked through his back.
He stared at the notes on his desk. Even in this dream, he knew why there was pain and how since the pain began, he’d tried so diligently not to think of that name.
Although it wasn’t that he hated the name or the person who belonged to it.
“Lan Zhan!”
He felt his blood chill and his body move against his will.
A smiling boy, with hair drawn back in a flowing ponytail and his body clothed in the most brilliant of amethyst uniforms, approached him. “Lan Zhan!” He called again...
Read the full story on AO3!
#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#wangxian#angst#mild hurt / comfort#lwj#wwx#the untamed#cql#mdzs mixtape fic exchange#lan wangji#wei wuxian#grief / mourning fic#song fic
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