#hanguang thigh

[haifoct]

Touch starved but for physical violence or something

My beloved feral chengzhan I commissioned from the most glorious @marshallmigraine. I love them so so much, I will cherish them forever.

[hopingforbrain]

idek why I’m obsessed with phoenix mountain wangxian, but I am

didn’t wwx briefly imagine that some lusty mountain beast was the one that kissed him? we could go that route, or - hear me out, scum villain style papapa plant pollen, with the added bonus of bringing one’s true feelings to the forefront of the whole ‘pls dick me down’ thing that’ll be going on as well. ah yes, mt baifeng, the home of lusty beasts and suspiciously convenient sex plants.

anyways, you can’t tell me that wwx didn’t have at least some very un-het and un-platonic things going on for lwj in his first life.

i want all of that shit to hit him like a goddamn truck.

so. wei wuxian, having had his fill of the sunshine, jumps off the tree and meanders around, accidentally stumbles into a pile of nice-smelling flowers. like, really, unnaturally nice-smelling, in ways that flowers shouldn’t be. more specifically, they smell like sandalwood, which is, obviously, wood and not flowers. strange, isn’t it? and if wei wuxian also happens to be getting weirdly hard from the scent - well, he’s a healthy young man in the middle of a hunt, isn’t he? things happen! dicks happen! it is what it is.

lan wangji, who has been following behind him like the cute little repressed creep that he is, sees wei wuxian sitting unmoving in the flowers, practically coated in a thick layer of dusty ass pollen, two fingers close to a mental breakdown about the state of his dick. and so, understandably a little concerned, he walks closer. when wei wuxian remains unmoving, he does the gentlemanly thing and calls out a regular-old, lan wangji style, not hot and not cold, exactly like room-temperature water, ‘wei ying?’

wei wuxian hears him and. the truck hits. strike one!!!

immediately, he knows who it is, but what surprises him is the way his thighs clench together at the sound (sex pollen let’s go) and more importantly, the sheer amount of feeling that surges into his chest (feelings pollen let’s really go) an all-consuming mix of admiration, joy, desire, and the straight-up burn of love. no running, no hiding, my homegirl pollen lets him know exactly what he’s been repressing, and wei wuxian chokes under the weight of it.

if lan wangji was a two on the scale of concern before, he’s now on a solid eight. hurrying forward, he drops onto his knees next to wwx, reaching out and calling his name again.

(now, sure, the pollen can affect lwj, as a treat, but this ain’t about him. he’s already pretty horny for wwx all the time, plus he’s so aware of his feelings that the pollen is a step down in intensity, actually)

wwx knows that seeing lwj right now is a Certified Bad Idea, but he’s too high on pollen to care much, pulling off his blindfold and springing onto lwj. cue uncontrollable love confession as wwx practically vomits his messy feelings all over the poor guy, who, on one hand, is absolutely elated and also horny bc the way wwx is gripping him is Not Subtle.

But. lwj being lwj, quickly realises something is wrong, figuring out that the pollen is mad suspicious and telling wwx that he doesn’t know wtf he’s saying, let’s just all calm down now and get some help (while horny gripping, lwj u freak)

of course, wwx has to debunk him asap, so he pulls out every embarrassing receipt out of the vault in an effort to get hanguang-jun’s pants off, logically and methodically. their first meeting? wwx was so thrilled that he didn’t actually mind losing his emperors smile. library pavilion days? all the better to see lan zhan’s pretty face with. waterborne abyss near-death experience? heavens, lan zhan’s arms were really…

qishan discussion conference? it was all wwx’s fault. accident what accident. he knew what he wanted, lwj’s attention and his ribbon - even though he didn’t know lwj would get so angry, he just wanted lwj to look at him, okay! you think his hand could slip?? please!! he’s more likely to shoot himself in the foot with an arrow!

xuanwu cave? don’t think he’s weird, lan zhan, but it was kinda nice to spend some time alone together, even if their third wheel was a giant murderous tortoise…

not to mention the sunshot campaign - you think wwx liked leaving lwj in the dust every time he brought up his cultivation? no!! don’t blame him, lan zhan, he just didn’t wanna be dragged to gusu for punishment, nor dirty lwj with all the corpse fumes!! (wow this guy is embarrassing)

after this verbal thesis, lwj is left blinking. wwx, who is about to lose his mind, pounces again. lwj, having all avenues of resistance exhausted, just. does not. resist.

in fact, he is equally if not more enthusiastic as wwx.

yes they get freaky in the flowers. yes lwj has to confess as well, and gets wheedled into a matching play-by-play of wangxian’s greatest hits with wwx being the prompter. yes they get married live happily ever after and lwj gets to fuck a new core into wwx. the enddddd I’m just so so so normal about these two.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Moods

Here's the LWJ (me) being thirsty over WWX fic I've been wanting to write all day and have been enabled to do by @sasumimo <3

Enjoy!!

Today, Lan Wangji has woken up in a mood. What mood?

Guess. It starts with an "h".

Now you might be wondering - isn't he always like that? And the answer is yes, he is, but today it's even more so than usual, and that's saying something.

There isn't even a particular reason. He just woke up at 5 on the dot, like he always does, turned to look at his sleeping husband Wei Ying and had the same realization he has every morning - Wei Ying is alive, in his bed, naked, beautiful and married to him. For some reason, that realization hit so much harder today.

Wei Ying has always been beautiful, even if only just by virtue of being Wei Ying - but his features have always been objectively beautiful even without the added layer of Lan Wangji's adoration.

And now that Mo Xuanyu's body has become more Wei Ying's than ever before, his appearance shifting closer to that of the soul inhabiting it, Lan Wangji can't help but be attracted to him. That's a given, of course, since they're married and also very sexually active - but to be absolutely blunt, Wei Ying has been getting hotter by the day and Lan Wangji feels himself flashback to his teenage years when his beloved's beauty haunted his dreams and his fantasies every night.

Lan Wangji likes to take the time and appreciate what he has every now and then - and today he wants to do so thoroughly. And if he's a little late to his duties today, let the elders dare say something about it.

Wei Ying sighs, wistfully, in his sleep, his lips slightly parted to let the breath out. They're pink and plush and Lan Wangji knows from first hand experience how soft, inviting and insatiable they can be. And how very teasing and skilled.

Wei Ying's nose scrunches slightly at whatever he is dreaming, and Lan Wangji almost moves to kiss the very tip of it. But he knows Wei Ying doesn't like to be woken up so early, even with affection, so he tallies the kiss for later and continues his bout of admiration.

Wei Ying's long lashes nearly brush the tips of his soft cheeks, pulled over his stormy eyes in a serene expression. He looks angelic like this, nestled in white sheets like he is sleeping on the softest cloud in the sky.

His hair falls around him like a veil, the long strands hiding the naked skin of his back where Lan Wangji has bitten his love into so many times last night. The training he has been doing has already started to pay off, muscle rippling underneath the skin as Wei Ying turns on his other side, the blanket riding down to expose even more skin.

Lan Wangji's eyes inevitably draw along his spine, where his body narrows into his thin waist that still carries the finger-shapes bruises of Lan Wangji's hold, a dip like a valley between his torso and his hips.

The blanket covers everything that comes next, but Lan Wangji knows it all too well. The soft plush of Wei Ying's thighs, littered with hickies and bitemarks, the round meat of his ass that Lan Wangji just so loves squeezing and turning red and-

There is an insistent knock on the door of the jingshi and Lan Wangji curses in his mind at that. He did not want his fantasies to be interrupted just yet.

A disciple he doesn't recognize bows deeply. "Apologies, Hanguang-Jun, your uncle wishes to speak with you right now. I was sent to remind you, as you are late."

Lan Wangji sends the disciple on his way and grumbles to himself about the rude awakening from his soft, horny world, and finally proceeds with his morning routine.

Well, he'll get plenty of time to admire Wei Ying later.

---

Lan Wangji is going to die.

Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, he's not in any mortal danger, he's just doing sword practice runs with the juniors right next to where Wei Ying is doing his core strengthening training.

Shirtless.

Why is he shirtless? Who knows, maybe there is some kind of cultivation-related reason, maybe he's just hot.

(He is.)

Either way, Lan Wangji is trying so hard not to embarrass himself in front of his class right now. He's trying to focus on their swordplay and give genuine advice on how to improve - but his eyes linger a bit too much on the way Wei Ying moves swiftly as he wields Suibian, his skin glistening with sweat in the sunlight. And so very full of hickies.

He's focused on his work, eyebrows furrowed, and his ponytail swirls in the wind like a whip - and Lan Wangji is so in love right now, and so distracted. He has never wished to be Suibian more than right now, to be so tightly held onto and moved around with such precision...

And then. And then! Wen Ning shows up. Why is he there? When did he return?

(Sizhui must be back too, what a relief, they've been gone for a long time!)

But Wen Ning and Wei Ying begin sparring after a short conversation and Lan Wangji doesn't know if the display makes him more jealous or aroused. His husband moves so nimbly, so confidently, and he's so powerful even if he has yet to reach the prime of his first life - Lan Wangji doesn't want to be Suibian anymore, he wants to be Wen Ning and get to fight Wei Ying, strategically let him close in the distance between them and pretend to lose his footing and ask to surrender... beg for mercy even...

One of the Lan juniors turns towards Jingyi, who pointedly refuses to look at either of their seniors, a pink blush on his cheeks.

"Should we tell Hanguang-Jun class is over?"

"You tell him."

"Why don't you tell him? What's wrong with him?"

"You don't wanna know."

---

When Lan Wangji doesn't find Wei Ying in the jingshi at the end of the day, his first thought is panic.

His second, the cold springs.

He does remember Wei Ying telling him he will be doing some intensive training today and will need to heal and balance his body after - and what better place to do that than the cold springs.

So, Lan Wangji goes to find him.

And find him he does.

He's submerge underneath the little waterfall that supplies the cold springs, hair curtaining his body as he meditates, water running down the contours of his body like silver rivulets.

Lan Wangji decides he's going to be a voyeur for a little longer, he's going to award himself the pleasure of watching the water drip down Wei Ying's body, shining onto his skin, and he's going to allow himself to fantasize about his hands trailing down the same pathway.

He's going to imagine himself joining his husband in the water, and pressing himself close to Wei Ying under a pathetic guise of seeking warmth... and he's going to find that warmth all over and inside Wei Ying for hours, with only the water as their witnes...

"Hanguang-Jun." Wei Ying's teasing voice comes and Lan Wangji nearly jumps out of skin at the sound. "It is improper to stare when somebody is bathing." And his eyes open, a mischevous glint in the grey pupils. "You either leave, or join in."

Wei Ying swims to the edge of the spring that's closest to Lan Wangji. "And by the looks of it, you've been wanting to join me for a while."

Lan Wangji's ears burn, caught red-handed, but he doesn't deny, proceeding to discard of his many layers of robes.

"I was wondering when you'd break." Wei Ying smiles, dark and seductive and Lan Wangji wonders if he'd regret not undressing properly if he jumped Wei Ying in the water right now. "I know you've been... admiring me all day, undressing me with your eyes... I'm going to catch a cold if you do that so often, you know? Exposure is no joke."

Lan Wangji reaches to undo his forehead ribbon.

"Leave that on." Wei Ying nearly purrs as he puts some more distance between them, taking his place beneath the waterfall. "You'll need something to catch this siren with, won't you?"

[kaurwreck]

14 & 25!

[ask game: send me a number and i'll share an excerpt of my writing.]

for 14 (outside of comfort zone), absolutely stuck in the middle with you/my mdzs juniors quartet foursome stuck-in-a-wall fic! it was my first explicit fic & my first time writing those characters.

explicit excerpt below 🥰 (sarah's well acquainted, but for others: it takes place ten years post canon, so everyone is well into their 20s— and Jin Ling is sect leader, bless his heart)

“Does it feel good?” Zizhen asked.

Jin Ling pouted, looking horribly bullied.

Jingyi pulled back, squeezing the meat of Jin Ling’s ass affectionately. “I kind of just want to fuck him instead anyway.”

“Already? Do you think that’s enough?” Lan Sizhui fretted, while Jin Ling pointedly avoided his eyes.

Jingyi swept a finger along the glistening seam of Jin Ling’s aching vulva, startling Jin Ling into a shudder.

“Yes!” Jingyi said, wiping his finger on Jin Ling’s thigh.

“Filthy,” Jin Ling admonished.

“It’s yours,” Jingyi retorted. He nipped Jin Ling’s backside one last time before standing, his clothes occasionally brushing Jin Ling’s skin as he parted his robes and loosened his pants.

Jin Ling shifted his weight, antsy, and Sizhui drew close to his side, cupping Jin Ling’s face to kiss him tenderly. And then Sizhui pulled away and Zizhen nudged Jin Ling’s face towards himself instead, kissing him just as deeply. They passed Jin Ling back and forth between them, licking and biting his lips each in turn.

Until Lan Jingyi grumbled in unintelligible frustration. Zizhen was kissing Jin Ling, and so Lan Sizhui leaned back to ask, “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Lan Jingyi whined, startling Ouyang Zizhen into breaking the kiss. Jin Ling only just caught himself before he could chase after Zizhen’s lips with his tongue. He was too late, however, to catch the whimper that slid from his wanting mouth.

Lan Sizhui rose to his feet, his robes brushing Jin Ling’s face as he swept past to peek around the divider screen. Sizhui’s robes smelled of cedarwood and iron, balsamic and sharp. Jin Ling inhaled, and his eyelashes fluttered.

Ouyang Zizhen noticed and nosed Jin Ling’s bangs with a quiet huff. “Yeah,” he murmured into Jin Ling’s hairline. “He does that to me too.”

“A-Yi?” Lan Sizhui chirped, leaning around the edge of the divider. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s too high up!” Lan Jingyi said. “I can’t—my hips don’t line up to his.”

Jin Ling snorted. “You mean you’re too short,” he emended derisively.

An eye-wateringly sharp pain bit into Jin Ling’s tender, inner thigh, and he yelped, jerking his head, and groaning when that yanked his ponytail taught.

“Aiyoh, be gentle,” Ouyang Zizhen chided, cupping the back of Jin Ling’s head. “I can’t bear to see you uncomfortable, xingan.”

“Sappy!” Jin Ling accused, even as Lan Sizhui scolded, “A-Yi, don’t pinch!”

“He started it,” Lan Jingyi grumbled, although he patted Jin Ling’s stinging skin apologetically. “But I don’t know if I can fuck Young Master like this. He made the hole too high.”

“I did not make the hole!” Jin Ling lied through his teeth. Ouyang Zizhen kissed the tip of his nose placatingly, and Jin Ling bit his chin for his efforts.

Lan Sizhui stepped to stand beside Jingyi and appraised the situation with a pensive hum disconcertingly reminiscent of Hanguang-jun.

“I really like it when you make that face, Sizhui,” Lan Jingyi chatted. “You look so serious, it’s handsome on you.”

“No self-awareness,” Jin Ling muttered, and Zizhen grinned, winding a lock of Jin Ling’s hair around his finger.

“A-Yi’s too much,” Lan Sizhui laughed awkwardly. Then, he added, “I don’t think you should give up so quickly on playing with A-Ling. This height isn’t bad at all. You only need to—hold on.”

Jin Ling listened as Lan Sizhui’s soft steps drifted away, and then returned. There was a clink, like the lid of a jar being lifted, and then a chilly, thick, viscous liquid dripped down the backs of Jin Ling’s thighs, startling him into popping his hips up.

“Like that!” Lan Sizhui said, just as Jin Ling felt the silken glide of three, slick fingers spreading the slippery substance across the curved breadth of Jin Ling’s inner thighs. Sizhui’s fingers, based on the guqin-roughened callus on the third finger, painted thrilling prickles on Jin Ling’s sensitive flesh. Jin Ling shifted, closing his thighs around that hand with a breathy grunt.

“Oh, that was good, make him make that noise again, A-Yuan,” Lan Jingyi insisted.

[sasukimimochi]

Part 1 Part 2 (you are here) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 ...

Overall Warnings: grotesque written imagery, body horror, blood, possession(?) sort of (more like integrating), voices, loss of self (since this isn't really MCD), Darker WWX (he's not classic wwx).

Warnings for this Part: Violence (mood song for this part here).

adding a read more line this time because it's much bigger than part 1!

- Part 2

· ✦ Who are you? ✦ ·

Wei Wuxian’s head tilted as he watched Wen Chao scramble to the hems of his torn robes and beg for his life. The blood red hues stared past his inky lashes, calm and deep at first, but then flaring with bright red fractals and a glow not unlike an iron brand that had once marked his chest.

He kicked the Wen away from his hems and narrowed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as if dealing with a rat rather than the heir of a sect. “Do not touch me.” He lifted his robe slightly so he could sit down, eyes narrowed and locked on to the disfigured pest.

“You think…for even a moment…I would ever have mercy on you?” His expression was so entirely cold, but his hair lifted slightly from the tremendous amount of resentment drifting off of him. “Funny, really. Didn’t you want to make me scream? Cut off my hand?” His eyes narrowed as he turned his hand slowly for emphasis, that resentment billowing around him like a storm. “That’s right…I haven’t done that yet, have I? Should I start with the left…or the right?” Upon the last word, his voice dropped dangerously, venom practically dripping from his tongue.

Wen Zhuliu moved back into the picture, though this did nothing to phase the black-robed cultivator, if anything it only twisted his face further into something unsettling as if he was about to enjoy himself.

“Wen Zhuliu…do you really think you can protect his dog life from my hands?”

“Better die trying.”

The cold laugh that bubbled up from Wei Wuxian’s throat set everyone’s teeth on edge, no trace of his usual sunshine smile left in his voice. “What a loyal Wen-dog.”

The core-crusher opened his mouth, clearly about to continue their argument but then he was suddenly thrown to the ground by tendrils of resentment. Wei Wuxian’s face, shrouded half in shadow, had certainly lost its calm demeanor in the wake of an unsettling darkness. “Just gets funnier and funnier huh? Think I’m going to listen to that nasty bark of yours? If you’re going to act like a dog, I'll make you yelp like one.”

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian froze in his stance but seemed a little disappointed as Jiang Cheng took over by pinning Wen Zhuliu to the floor with Sandu. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, the glare in his eyes and resentment fading back into nothing, crossing one leg over the other as if nothing had just happened.

Wei Wuxian’s clothes were still very torn from his fall and the resentment that had scored his flesh, thighs, arms, shoulders- so much of his body was on display and he didn’t even seem to notice. The wounds were no longer there, but he certainly didn’t look like he was in a state to be running around.

Lan Wangji seemed to visibly hesitate a while longer while Jiang Cheng was double checking that their captives couldn’t escape. “Wei Ying…your clothes…”

Wei Wuxian glanced down to his arm where the most of his skin was visible, turning it slightly as if he hadn’t realized the ripped cloth hanging from it. “They are quite torn.” He shrugs, folding his hands in his lap. “The only replacements I could find were Wen robes, and I found that to be beyond my tolerance.” He stood soon after this, pulling his lapels a bit more properly on his shoulders as if trying to be a bit more modest, though he didn’t seem to care if he actually was. “I have plenty of face to spare, but I do apologize for the rather unseemly appearance I'm sporting in front of Hanguang-Jun.”

Lan Wangji’s expression flickered in conflict, seeming to be torn between two different contrasting emotions, but he finally settled on something neutral, pulling off the outermost robe he wore to drape over Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. “Here…it’s a cold night. Until we get back to the others and get you new robes…”

Wei Wuxian’s head turned slightly to look at the robe on his shoulders. So large and white. His head tilted slightly, hand lifting to touch the embroidered hems in what appeared to be a mild curiosity. “Mmm? I thought Lan Zhan didn’t care for me.”

Lan Wangji’s face twisted slightly, lips turning down slightly as if uneasy. “You’re half dressed…” He insisted, only to falter when Wei Wuxian’s face turned back to him, those eyes crescents in their mirth.

“You’re quite a good man, and I know you’re quite upset with this…” Wei Wuxian gestured to himself, the torn robes and half-healed wounds beneath still as blatant as earlier. “But I'm more concerned about the two guests in the room, and I wouldn't want to turn your white robes red.” He reached up, gently tapping the white-clad cultivator’s nose. “So why not take this back, hm?” He moved to remove the robe, but Lan Wangji’s hand stopped him, a low set to his shoulders.

Lan Wangji sighed deeply. “Keep it. It’s cold.” When he stepped back, he kept his eyes off the eerie smile that Wei Wuxian wore. It felt like he wasn’t really looking at the same man…but he couldn’t just leave him like that. Even if his robes were stained beyond recognition, they were replaceable. Wei Wuxian…he was not.

Lan Wangji visibly paused however when he noticed something dark peeking out of Wei Wuxian’s lapels. “…Wei Ying?!”

Alarmed by the sound of distress, Jiang Cheng quickly joined the group, face set in a serious frown. “What’s going on?”

Wei Wuxian’s lapels were forced open by Lan Wangji to reveal a large black stain on his stomach, trailing up from his abdomen not unlike a cursed mark. However, along the surface wisps of resentment licked his skin and had been streaming languidly from his loosened lapels, now revealed to be leaking out of any even partially open wound beneath. The red hues darkened slightly as if irritated, but said nothing to the sudden exposure. “And?”

“What do you mean, and?!” Jiang Cheng pursed his lips and swat Lan Wangji’s hands away reflexively. “What happened? We were supposed to meet and when you show up you look like…this!”

Wei Wuxian straightened up the lapels quietly, though his face looked strangely quaint it was also quite…calculating. It was strange. “Got caught, got tossed somewhere not so nice…came back.” He shrugged, the unsettling smile returning to his lips. “Don’t worry, I'm feeling quite better than I was a while ago and it doesn’t hurt.”

Jiang Cheng frowned and deflated slightly, having expected…well, just…something different than this. He pulled out Suibian and thrust it into Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Whatever, I've brought your sword, you’ll need it to protect yourself on our way back.”

Wei Wuxian seemed surprised at first, turning the sword in his hands for a moment then smiling once more. “Thank you.”

Jiang Cheng’s face softened, but froze as the other held the sword back out to him.

“But I cannot use it anymore.”

“What?” Jiang Cheng’s pupils shrunk, wondering how his shixiong could have such a normal, smiling expression after telling him that he could no longer handle a sword.

“Well, if I were to use it I would get overpowered.” He sighed and held it out to Lan Wangji instead when Jiang Cheng wouldn’t take it. “Could you hold onto this for me, for safekeeping?”

Lan Wangji tentatively took the sword in his hand, eyes lost as he looked at the scabbard. Eventually he did raise his gaze back to the swirling black on his abdomen and the others’ unusual expression. Perhaps, due to the trauma of whatever he’d been through, he wasn't fit for battle right now. “Wei Ying…you should allow yourself time to recover. It may not be good for you to-“

Wei Wuxian shook his head and smiled eerily, “The dogs over there…” His eyes shifted to the two on the floor a few paces away, red hues glaring. “Me and Jiang Cheng still need to settle a few things with them. Right?”

“But you’re…wait.” Lan Wangji moved in front of Wei Wuxian to stop him from continuing forward again. “You’re currently wounded. Why don’t we just get it over with and take you to camp? We need to take you to a healer.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes darkened as they were lifted back up to the other man. “Lan Wangji, I will happily go after we have taken care of our sect business.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but pressed still despite the sting his courtesy name from the other’s lips brought. “Wei Wuxian! You’re hurt, and this cultivation will hurt you further!” His eyes darted about the other’s face in conflict, before he spoke hesitantly once more. “Come back to Gusu with me.”

“To Gusu?” The man blinked in surprise and tilted his head, frowning and squinting at the other. “Why there? To punish me? Drag me through healer after healer to try to fix me?” His nose bridge scrunched up at the thought, but his eyelashes lowered in a regrettably beautiful and haunting way. “We both know how much your sect hates my cultivation. And as it is…it’s too late to fix me, Light bearer.”

[westiec]

WIP Word Search

In other WIP Wednesday games, @theleakypen tagged me with the following words:

sleep | sky | press | breath | bud

Dear Charming Future Boyfriend,

Were you able to sleep, or did you think of my hands? Did you imagine me gripping your sexy thighs and feeling the give of hard muscles as I set them to quivering? The question of what you’re wearing is an academic one—I do my best work on bare skin.

— from the Zhancheng Magic Boyfriend Journal AU I'm writing with @bideroo

Nie Huaisang wrinkles his nose, rather ruining his image of refinement. "Nie er gongzi would invite his fellow scholar to be less formal, and begs their forgiveness for not remembering their name."

"Li Shuitian," Jiang Yanli says.

"As in—" Nie Huaisang gives a pointed look to the stream full of splashing disciples and then the blue sky overhead, and chuckles when Jiang Yanli nods. "Well then, Li-xiong, from one sneak to another, I'm glad you're here this summer."

— from yet another accidental threadfic, this one where novel!JYL goes to the Cloud Recesses lectures by pretending to be a boy

Song Lan sighed, and resumed stroking over the hard, fluttering whatever-they-were that made Xiao Xingchen keen in three different pitches and the smell of the air before lightning. "I just wish I could see what I do to you. For all the tentacles, it seems my eyes are still too human."

The rhythmic motion in his dantians stopped as Xiao Xingchen froze.

Song Lan frowned. "Xingchen? Did I do something wrong? I don't mean to press."

"No, no, of course not," Xiao Xingchen said. "It's just — I have such an awful lot of eyes..."

— from glorious and strange, the hypothetical eldritch songxiao sequel to Puck's Taste You In My Core

"Hanguang-jun!" shouted the Wen captain, "and the Demon of Yiling himself. Surrender! We have you far outnumbered, and I can see you are missing your weapons."

Wei Wuxian drew breath against the complaints of his ribs, ready to call up any resentful spirit in earshot and show this Wen dog how dangerous he was, even unarmed, but Lan Wangji was faster. Across the courtyard before Wei Wuxian could even blink, Lan Wangji seized the captain around the throat and tossed him into the line of men behind him. Wei Wuxian had fought beside Lan Wangji for months now, seen his fatal grace in action more times than he could count, but the way he moved now held a power and a ferocity he had never seen. Lan Wangji ripped through the rows of Wen soldiers like they were nothing more than an army of papermen, spinning and striking with dizzying speed and overwhelming force.

— from the Lanpires AU with @bladedweaponsandswishycoats

I didn't have "bud" so have a "buddy":

“I have already offered to replace your cake,” the man says… irritably? Probably irritably. His words are short and clipped, and his expression is utterly flat. It’s honestly impressive, in a scary sort of way. Not the kind of guy Wei Wuxian would want to piss off. Still, he could try to act a little more apologetic. “Either allow me to do so, or let me be on my way.” Sheesh.

Wei Wuxian braces for the fireworks, but Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Wei Wuxian can practically see him discarding another round of invective, which hey, good job, buddy! “It was a custom order,” Jiang Cheng grits out. “They won’t have time to just remake it.”

Unbothered Dude’s face does something that might, generously, be called a frown.

— also from Zhancheng Magic Boyfriend Journal :D

This is a fun way to do this! I'll tag @bladedweaponsandswishycoats @bideroo @therealfailwhale @dragongirlg-fics and anyone else who wants to play with the words:

shake | wonder | four | over | beat

[yishuns]

@lightsmartyr, continued.

nie huaisang drinks his wine, rolling the taste over his tongue and allowing it to coat the dying embers of rage in the core of him where it compounded bitterness upon itself to overflowing. he wants badly to be the bigger person, to match lan wangji in his propriety for once, but that same bitterness within him unravels unendingly, filling his mouth like bile, and as he swallows, finds himself unable to answer without some measure of it slipping out.

“hanguang-jun should know better than to ask questions he already knows the answers to,” he says, frowning as the words come out different from how he meant it. perhaps all this revenge business had truly rotted his soul, he reflected; he did not know anymore how to get the things he wanted without underhanded scheming or manipulation, did not know how to feel better about himself without trying to drag someone else down.

then, feeling all of a sudden childlike, he adjusts his robe to spread over the ground just so, cushioning his body from the cold floors of their teahouse as he curls up into himself, impudently letting his head fall on lan wangji’s thighs where he knelt. “i gave you wei-xiong back,” he says into the quiet, petulantly this time, a hint of pleading underlying his words as he curled them to be as small as he felt, and where he means to say you should do something for me in return instead comes out as: “…it’s not fair.”

[sectleaderjiang]

[ LEGS ]

Send a smutty and intimate prompt

[ LEGS ] for receiver to slow kiss from the ankle all the way up to sender's thigh.

Of all the positions he could have been in, Jiang Cheng didn’t think this could be one of them. He gazed up at Lan Wangji for a moment, quickly averting his eyes when the stare he received in return was far too much. This wasn’t something tender or loving - this was a farce, something they could fool themselves into believing until their time together was done. The only thought that really lived in Jiang Cheng’s mind was that none of this would be happening at all had he not accidentally drawn Subian from its sheath, and that Lan Wangji wouldn’t be here at all had he not done so.

Because the great and esteemed Hanguang-jun was desperate for whatever part of Wei Wuxian he could have, even after death.

That was the only thing that made sense, anyways, for the man to be looking down like that. Jiang Cheng was already growing uncomfortable from sitting on his knees, crouched between Lan Wangji’s legs on the hard floor of the Jingshi. He’d obviously been tricked to come back here somehow, half dragged after finally giving in to Lan Wangji’s insistent requests, and now he was trying to think of where to begin. Robes had been parted, and pristine long legs were splayed out for Jiang Cheng to touch as he pleased.

How would Wei Wuxian have touched you? he wonders for a moment. He takes one of Lan Wangji’s ankles in hand and lifts the leg with ease, until he is able to press a kiss to the knob of his bare ankle. Slowly. Gently. Some nips of teeth if he really wanted it. Jiang Cheng mimics his thoughts, even daring to lick along the warm skin beneath his hands, feeling every muscle jump and tense with every slow kiss he gave. He worked up from ankle to calf, licked over Lan Wangji’s knee and hesitated when he reached thigh, feeling the powerful muscles underneath his lips. Wei Wuxian would’ve talked the entire time he worked, but no words come to Jiang Cheng as he does.

Instead, he reaches to his core and lets some spiritual energy touch Lan Wangji’s. At this, Lan Wangji really does flinch, but doesn’t try to draw away as Jiang Cheng continues kissing up his thighs. He’s working his way towards the cock that has been hard since they arrived, and knows eventually his lips will touch there, too. He’s never touched anyone’s other than his own, and he’s stalling, spending as much time as he can get away with tucking his face against Lan Wangji’s warm skin. He feels a hand in his hair working the pins away, until Lan Wangji can find a proper grip in loose strands that fall down Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. 

@thirteenwaited

[parlerenfleurs]

I am LIVING with this MDZS reread!! I don't know if it's the translation, or the fact I'm reading on paper this time (screens... have never been my favourite) or simply my familiarity with the story, but it's the first re-read where I notice so many details and understand them so well! I already felt I understood Lan WangJi very well before with how much I can relate to him, but this time I really understand him, wow.

He's soooo jealous, petty, and possessive, and he's being sooo brave about it <333

He's so jealous that Wei WuXian played Wangxian to Wen Ning and that he's so kind and protective of him! He's so jealous that the liquor store waiter gets all chummy and physical with him! He's so jealous that he smiles and talks so long with the village women outside of Yi City! He's sooooo afraid Wei WuXian will leave before when they split to catch Nie Huaisang/take care of Jin Ling but he's, again, so brave about it!

He makes such earnest and passionate eyes at Wei WuXian when he's drunk the first time that he makes the mighty Yiling Laozu weak in the knees! While telling him that he's his!

He averts his eyes when Wei WuXian rolls up his pant leg up to his thigh!! And Wei WuXian wants to tease him about it because he's being so, so obvious, and he thinks Wei WuXian knows of his feelings and he's trying so hard to be respectful!

Just!! Lan WangJi!!! HanGuang-Jun!!!! Aaaaaaah!!!! <3<3<3>3>3

[besanii]

paper-thin

[ WangXian ; XiXian ]

--

The war is won!

Gusu is victorious!

Hanguang-wang is alive!

--

A sizeable crowd has gathered on the streets outside of the palace gates by the time Lan Wangji arrives, freshly bathed and changed out of his travel-weary and battle-worn armour into his formal robes. He dismounts as the guards approach, keeping the reins in his hand as he shows his pass; they grant him passage with a low bow, moving to the side as he leads his horse through the gates as quickly as decorum will allow.

The maids and eunuchs he passes on his way to the Hall of Mental Cultivation pay their respects with low bows and bent knees, lowering their gazes as they murmur his title with something akin to awe. He nods curtly in response but otherwise does not halt in his progress—it would not do to keep the Emperor waiting, war hero or not.

It's been over a year since he went to war, defending Gusu's coast against the invading forces of Dongying. The war had been harrowing and brutal and there were many times Lan Wangji where hadn't been sure he would survive. But he'd fought on with grit and tenacity, acutely aware of his role as a member of the Imperial family to lead and inspire his troops by example. That is, until a well-aimed arrow caught him in the shoulder between the plates of his armour, and sent him overboard in the midst of battle.

He’d survived. Barely.

The doors to the Imperial study are open when he arrives, and the eunuchs kneeling on either side of the door touch their foreheads to the ground in greeting. He walks up to the eunuch standing closest to the door.

“I am here to see the Emperor,” he says.

“Yes, Wangye,” the eunuch replies.  He gets to his feet and turns to the door, raising his voice to announce: “Huangshang, Hanguang-wang begs an audience.”

They do not have to wait long for a response.

“Enter.”

The Emperor is still dressed in his court robes despite the lateness of the hour—the afternoon court session had been over for at least two shichen already—the black silk sleeves stark against the embroidered gold draped over the desk where he works. He puts his brush down as Lan Wangji parts the beaded curtain hanging from the archway leading into the main chamber, a smile already forming on his lips as he watches Lan Wangji kneel in the centre of the room.

“Your humble servant greets Huangshang,” Lan Wangji says, touching his forehead to the floor. “May our Emperor live for ten thousand years.”

“You may rise, Hanguang-wang,” the Emperor says. "We are very pleased to see you returned to the capital alive and well. Your service to the Empire will be duly rewarded."

Lan Wangji rises to his feet, sweeping over the invisible creases of his robe and shaking out his wide sleeves.

"Huangshang gives your subject too much credit," he replies. "I live to serve the Empire and will gladly give my life a thousand times over in its protection."

"Your devotion is recognised, Hanguang-wang, and appreciated," the Emperor says. "Nevertheless, a great victory such as this should be rewarded. Come, brother, is there anything you would wish for? Name it and it shall be granted."

Lan Wangji's hands curl into fists by his side.

"Huangshang would grant anything your subject wishes?" he asks quietly.

The smile on the Emperor's face freezes. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he swallows; he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. The smile smooths into something cooler, but no less genial.

"Anything within reason," he clarifies.

Lan Wangji exhales and bows his head.

"Your lowly subject dares to presume Huangshang knows what it is I wish for," he says, keeping his voice carefully level. "There is only one wish—one request—your lowly subject would make."

He hears the Emperor sigh, a low, disappointed sound, and his stomach sinks with realisation. But he had not dragged himself out of the depths of hell and back here to give up so easily. In the three months he had allowed himself to be presumed dead, laying feverish and close to death with an infected wound, it had been this one hope, this one wish that had kept him clinging to life. If he survived the war, won the war, then nothing would stop him from coming back and finally—finally—asking for the one thing he's wanted more than life itself.

When he chances an upward glance, the corner of the Emperor's lips are drawn in tight and the crease between his brows have deepened. Lan Wangji has had years to learn the shape of the Emperor's moods, even the ones he hides behind pleasantries and polite smiles, and he knows the Emperor is displeased.

"We would advise Hanguang-wang to make another request," he says finally. Do not continue to pursue this.

Lan Wangji drops to his knees. "Huangshang, you know there is nothing else I would ask for.”

“Wangji, enough!” The room stills. A sigh. “Leave us.”

The eunuchs and maids turn in unison and bow, backing out of the chamber without a word; the door to the study shuts behind them. Lan Wangji curls and uncurls his fists against his thighs, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles to get his heart rate back under control. He hears the rustle of fabric, followed by footsteps from behind the desk coming towards him, but he dares not raise his eyes.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says in an odd, stilted tone Lan Wangji has never heard before. “There is something you should know.”

--

Eunuchs and palace maids alike cower in the wake of his fury, scattering to the winds as soon as he passes. No one stops to question why a male member of the Imperial family aside from the Emperor and his sons is here, unaccompanied, within the gilded walls of the inner palace. Perhaps word had been sent ahead of his arrival, perhaps they had been expecting him--whatever the reason, Lan Wangji knows he would cut down anyone who dares stand in his way right now.

His mind is still reeling as he turns the corner along the once-familiar path that winds through the Imperial gardens, his feet following the route ingrained into him as a child still living within the palace walls.

He hasn't walked this path in close to fifteen years. Not much has changed: the trees and the flowers are the same--still the delicate gentians favoured by the previous mistress of this particular courtyard—only now there are also lotuses surrounding the small pavilion in the heart of the man-made pond, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. And inside that pavilion, an entirely different person is silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

A skirmish arose between Yunmeng and Qishan involving Qishan-hou's second son. 

Wen-er-gongzi was injured in the confrontation.

He takes a step forward, his feet suddenly heavy as though weighed down by boulders, dragging along the gravel. The person in the pavilion is still too far to have noticed him, but Lan Wangji has a clear view of the long black hair twisted up into a half-knot to expose the line of a long, slender neck, held in place by a fanzhan made of silver and set with blue sapphires. The sight of it makes his throat run dry.

Qishan demanded retribution for the injuries inflicted on Wen-er-gongzi. The life of his attacker.

Both Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen were each presented with a set the rare jewels at their coming of age, a mark of their status as members of the Imperial family. To see the same jewels adorning the familiar head of hair—

We believed you dead, Wangji. 

He drags his feet another step forward, the breath catching in his throat as the person in the pavilion half-turns at the sound.

We needed to protect him.

“Who goes there?” a eunuch calls, hurrying around the corner along the path around the pond. “This is Wei-xuanyi’s private garden, outsiders are not perm—”

“It’s alright, let him through.”

A lump forms in his throat so large he can barely breathe around it without pain; whatever hope of this being a cruel joke is crushed at the familiar voice. How many times in the past year has he heard it in his dreams? How many times has the memory of that voice called him back from the gates of Hell itself, when the rest of the world thought him dead?

The eunuch drops to his knees on the side of the garden path and bows his head; Lan Wangji takes this as a sign to proceed.

As a child, the garden path had always seemed wide and inviting; it had always led to his mother, the late Empress, the only source of light and happiness and home in his childhood. And yet now all he feels is dread, cold and dark, seeping out through the cracks in the surface of his façade with every step.

Lan Xichen’s words ring in his ears.

Wangji, it was the only way we could save him.

He stops at the bottom of the steps leading into the pavilion. Four steps. Just four steps, and yet his legs refuse to move, to take even just one more step forward; it is as though his body is fighting with everything it has against it. He can't move.

He is unsure how long he stands there at the bottom of the steps boring holes into the paved stones—it is difficult to keep track when one's mind is filled with the deafening roar of one's own heartbeat. It is not until the sound of footsteps, followed by a rush of activity in his periphery as the palace maids and eunuchs fall to their knees in unison, does he finally raise his eyes.

There, standing at the top of the steps, clad in soft, flowing robes of Gusu blue and Yunmeng purple, with Lan Xichen's jewels in his hair—

Wangji. Wei Wuxian—

Wei Wuxian lowers his head and bends at the knees, his fingertips clasped lightly by his hip. A demure greeting, wildly unsuitable for a member of the gentry.

“Hanguang-wang,” he murmurs. He raises his eyes slightly, enough to peer at Lan Wangji from beneath his lashes. Demure. Restrained.

The ground crumbles beneath Lan Wangji’s feet.

—I have taken Wei Wuxian as a consort.

--

Translations

Wangye (王爺) - equivalent of a Duke, usually Emperor’s brother or uncle

Huangshang  (皇上) - the Emperor; as per usual, I only use the pinyin when the term is used when directly addressing LXC

hou (侯) - equivalent of Marquis, second highest rank after 王

xuanyi (宣儀) - lit. ‘Propagator of Deportment’, a variant of the Tang dynasty concubine ranking pin (嬪) that doesn’t use feminine qualities; the second highest rank after furen/zande (夫人/贊德), used between 662-670 (possibly under Wu Zetian’s influence)

fazhan (髮簪) - hair ornament/pin

--

Notes

Title is taken from the Chinese phrase boming (薄命), which means to have an unlucky fate (usually in reference to women). It literally translates to “thin life/fate”. Inspired by a line in the song 雪落下的聲音 (the sound of snowfall; Story of Yanxi Palace OST):  此生 如纸般薄命 - this life, my fate is as thin as paper.

For those of you wondering where the hell I’m going with this—I have no fucking clue lmao. I just wanted to write WangXian angst with a dose of XiXian that doesn’t involve Dark!LXC for once. I also cannot be bothered to look back on this anymore, so any mistakes are purely cos I’ve given up working on this any further hahahahahaha *dies*

Inspired by a mish-mash of Story of Yanxi Palace (Fuheng x Yinglou reunion anyone???) and Empress of China (mostly the OST, but also the gorgeous costuming and setting of the Tang Dynasty).

Will I continue it? Maybe??? It took me weeks to even get my ass into gear to write this one snippet, I honestly don’t know if I will get around to writing more. But if it interests you, send me an ask about the ‘verse and I’ll try and expand more on it, even if it’s just headcanon form and not fic.

--

buy me a ko-fi!

--

[haifoct]

Twin Lotus of Yunmeng

In the hot summers of Yunmeng, when the setting sun caresses the skin, lotus ponds shimmer with a promise of cooling freshness, Lan Wangji feels particularly light in Jiang Cheng's arms as they gently navigate through the calm waters, relishing the serene embrace.

Lotus husbands commissioned from endlessly talented naoki_dead.

[disastermages]

“Lan Zhan,” Lan Wangji’s eyes open and stare up at Wei Ying from where he lays with his head in Wei Ying’s lap, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as Wei Ying’s head eclipses the sun with something brighter and far more beautiful. “Lan Zhan, did you think about me a lot while I was gone?”

Lan Wangji does not need to ask Wei Ying to clarify, he knows that his Wei Ying does not mean the night hunts where he accompanies and oversees the juniors, he knows what his Wei Ying means, and it makes him turn his face into his palm and kiss it long and hard for a moment. “Every day. Constantly.”

Without hesitation, Lan Wangji reaches up and traces the swell of Wei Ying’s bottom lip, the shape of it familiar and comforting. He’d spent well over a decade wishing that he’d pressed his fingertips to Wei Ying’s lips sooner, wondering why he hadn’t tried, and wishing that he’d been allowed to commit them to memory before the option had been taken away from him.

Wei Ying had been ripped away from him, and Lan Wangji had mourned him like a second heart.

Lan Wangji had missed Wei Ying like one misses a lover’s arms wrapped around them in an embrace, fingers pressing into one’s back with bruising desperation.

Lan Wangji had given Wei Ying those bruises before, and he’d had them returned to him just as quickly.

Something softer is murmured, but Lan Wangji does not hear it at first, too caught up in memories while he watches the slope of Wei Ying’s jaw like a starving man. “Wei Ying?”

“I said, Hanguang-jun is too honest.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers, resting against Wei Ying’s chin, brush against his cheek now, and they find pinkening heat.

“I will not lie.” Lan Wangji smiles now, his hand sliding down the length of Wei Ying’s neck and waiting for the other to join it before he rolls the swell of his thumbs into the sides of Wei Ying’s neck, as gently as Lan Wangji can bear to be. “Wei Ying deserves the truth.”

Wei Ying deserves much more than the truth, he deserves everything Lan Wangji has to offer him and more, but the truth and himself is what Lan Wangji can offer him now, and he does. His fingers at the nape of Wei Ying’s neck press down until Wei Ying starts to bend low, his legs starting to shift under Lan Wangji’s head by the time their noses brush.

Lan Wangji arches himself upward to kiss Wei Ying properly, as if he could press nearly two decades worth of longing into one kiss.

He cannot, he knows, he’s tried before, many times, and each time Wei Ying had looked drunk with affection.

“I think of you when we are apart,” Lan Wangji starts, settling back against Wei Ying’s leg’s again, though he turns his head and kisses the inside of his thigh, “I think of you when you lie next to me at night.”

A whine climbs higher and higher in Wei Ying’s throat, and it only spurs Lan Wangji on, “Wei Ying is in my heart always, I want him nowhere else unless he is in front of me or beside me.”

A tear rolls off of Wei Ying’s cheek and down his chin before it drops onto Lan Wangji’s forehead, splashing against the ribbon and soaking in because Lan Wangji refuses to wipe it away.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying’s voice is muddled, and Lan Wangji longs to kiss his throat until it is no longer swollen with emotion.

“There is no need.” Lan Wangji says it as he sits up, and he means it all the more as he guides Wei Ying until his mouth is hidden against Lan Wangji’s neck.

Wei Ying topples them both onto the grass and wraps his arms tight around Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji allows it.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Dancing through the night

@incorrectly-quoting-mxtx here is the ficlet that resulted from your prompt marinating in my brain for the past two days. Thank you for the wait and the sweet words, I hope you like this!

If any of you have any ideas you'd like me to write, feel free to mention me in a post and I may write it if the inspiration gods bless me!

---

"Is there anything you can't do to perfection?" Wei Wuxian begins, a fond look in his eyes and a teasing smile on his lips as he and his husband walk into their inn suite. "I don't think there's anything you don't excel at!"

Lan Wangji's eyes color a light pink at that as he sits at the table, a pot of wine awaiting, courtesy of the innkeeper.

Though he is used to hearing such words left and right, praise an appanage of his reputation, his heart always stutters whenever Wei Wuxian sets on a tirade about how great his Hanguang-Jun is. The words flow so easily out of him, like he's laying out obvious facts that anybody would see, poorly pretending to be unaware of the effect he has on Lan Wangji. It hasn't been a rare occurence for the man to have to shut Wei Wuxian up with kisses - otherwise he would have gone on for hours, waxing poetic about his husband's everything.

However, tonight is going to go different.

"There is something." Lan Wangji responds, pouring a cup of wine for Wei Wuxian, who gratefully downs it before taking his seat on Lan Wangji's lap, arms coming to circle his neck loosely. The closeness is both comforting and electric, eyes locked lovingly.

"What could there be that the great, unparalleled Hanguang-Jun hasn't mastered yet?" Wei Wuxian asks, letting one of his hands cup Lan Wangji's face, thumb stroking his cheek.

"Dancing."

"Oh?" Wei Wuxian feigns shock, "We cannot let such a simple skill evade someone as amazing as you, can we?"

Lan Wangji lets his hands caress over Wei Ying's thighs, parting robes. "Hm? What do you suggest?"

"Fortunately for you, I am an amazing dancer, and I can teach you!"

Before Lan Wangji can protest, Wei Wuxian pulls him up to his feet, and he has to catch himself out of the saccharine sweetness of having been held and holding his beloved before he falls flat on his face.

"We need music." Lan Wangji attempts a protest, though his hands come to rest around Wei Wuxian's slim waist nevertheless.

Wei Wuxian smiles, winding his arms around Lan Wangji again and begins humming a familiar tune, his voice melodious around the unspoken lyrics. He urges Lan Wangji to move, steps slow and close together, a simple sequence of moving together into an imaginary circle.

Lan Wangji's brows furrow in concentration, and Wei Wuxian finds the sight adorable enough to let a small giggle escape him before he leans to leave a butterfly kiss on the tip of his husband's nose. He stops humming to do it, and Lan Wangji stills, embarrassed.

"Wei Ying. The music."

"You know it too."

Lan Wangji wraps an arm around Wei Wuxian's waist, firmer, and fills up the tiny space between them. He picks up the song where Wei Ying left off, and tries to mirror the movements Wei Wuxian just showed him.

He thinks of the way he composed that song, how easily it had come to him and how difficult it had been for him to understand what he was feeling for this annoying, rule-breaking, intelligent, beautiful man that's now his companion for life.

He thinks of how he hummed this song thinking of him, when he was missing, when he wasn't himself, when he died.

He thinks of how he'd sang it as lullaby for A-Yuan.

He thinks of how it had been the first song Wei Ying played when he returned.

They move in tandem to their song, little circles around the wide room, and some time between gazing at his beloved like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and delighting in how easily he picked up those simple movements, Wei Wuxian joins in the duet.

They hum and dance like that for a while, unhurried, enjoying one another and the memories they had with their song, adding yet another one to cherish with Wangxian as a background melody.

One day, perhaps, they'd write a sequel.

[weiying-lanzhan-fics]

No Talk of Milky Thighs by DeviyudeThoolika

It was soo interesting… there were so many unexpected moments and I absolutely loved the end. Due justice for sure.

Also, lots of snarky dialogue! Very different from any other story I have read in the fandom.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Quotes:

(WY POV)

He had heard from one of the other teachers that Sizhui was from a very very wealthy family.  With a father who doted on him.  Clearly.  This is the second complaint Sizhui’s father had sent in about him in less than a month.

The headmaster had shown him this one.

And he had read it with some level of amusement.  Especially the line, “While I appreciate the wealth of knowledge your new teacher, Yiling Laozu, appears to possess in certain niche fields, I am afraid I am yet to be convinced of the merits of passing along such specialized knowledge to 8-year-olds who have neither the moral compass nor the inhibition to look beyond the excitement of raw power.”

He had read that line three times, trying to figure out what about those words sounded familiar to him.

The kicker of it was the end. 

The letter had been signed,

-A concerned father.

Not with a name, nor the family name, not even as Sizhui’s father, but simply A concerned father.

The headmaster had been of the opinion that, just like Sizhui, his father too was a humble man, despite his illustrious heritage and generational wealth.

Wei Wuxian cared not one whit for illustrious heritage and generational wealth.  He cared even less about which family Sizhui belonged to.

But he knew faux humility when he saw it.

A Concerned Father was not a signature signifying self-effacement.

A Concerned Father was, in fact, the man’s announcement that he spoke on behalf of fathers everywhere, and not on concern for solely his son.

The audacity.

————

(WY POV)

“May I carry you?”  Lan Wangji asks Sizhui instead.

Sizhui looks at him and smiles before turning to Lan Wangji to nod with a, “Yes, dad.”

Lan Wangji moves closer to them to take Sizhui from his arms and the sandalwood gets stronger, making him turn his face away.

There’s a slight scent of disinfectant too, but not enough to drown out the sandalwood.  Not even close.  Back in med school, he had asked Huaisang and MianMian whether they could smell it too.  They could, they said, but it was a faint sort of thing, a skin scent, not at all like how he could… as if he smelled it with his whole body rather than just his nose…  And sometimes from a room away.

He had told Lan Wangji that this is how he got seduced, with a scent that made him cloudy eyed with lust.

And Lan Wangji had whispered in his ear that he thought it was the other way around.  Wei Wuxian had seduced him with the honey of his skin.

Hindsight now offers him the wisdom that horniness had made them both cringey as fuck. 

He is glad he is older now.  Wiser.  No longer beleaguered by sandalwood.

————

(Meng Yao POV)

This dumb motherfucker.

Nine years have passed.

And he still hasn’t learned.

He aims for one and goes all out trying to seduce the shit out of them… and hardly notices the rest of the mortals all around dropping like flies.  Not flies.  But like moths.  Flying right into the flame, not realizing that they’re about to be burned up because he has no interest. 

In fact, he doesn’t even see them. 

Wei Fucking Wuxian.

No no.

Yiling Fucking Laozu.

The asshole was like Rasputin.

You could cut him up and spread him wide, limbs strewn about all over the world. 

And somehow he regenerated. 

No golden core anywhere to be seen.

But somehow all the more powerful for it.

E, 88k

Summary:

They had been a med school thing.
A 1st year and a 4th year.
He had thought it a love thing.
Turned out to be a sex thing.

Nine years later finds them as,
Hanguang Jun, widower, father of 8-year old Sizhui.
Sizhui, who has taken quite a liking to his new teacher, the venerable Yiling Laozu.
And Yiling Laozu, who realizes that the parent sending complaint letters about him to the school headmaster is none other than his old med school flame.

And thus ensues a tale of revenge, misunderstandings, feigned amnesia, arranged marriages, the best kids ever, sibling bonds, golden cores, unexpected pairings, secret plots, Chenqing ...
You know, typical Wangxian.

Portions of the above summary have been submitted by several lovely readers.

[stiltonbasket]

This might be a bit vague for a prompt, but I would die for anything with parents!LWJ & WWX in the Qin Su verse or with Sizhui in that verse in general

After everything settles down, Wei Wuxian spends most of his time in the rabbit field with A-Yuan. The little clearing in the bamboo forest is always still and peaceful, with nothing to remind him of the chaos going on in the world beyond the Cloud Recesses--and best of all, his son is here with him, alive and well and grown up into a young man while Wei Wuxian wasn’t looking.

“But Xian-gege,” A-Yuan protests, while Wei Wuxian puts a drowsy rabbit into his lap. “You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t leave me at all!”

“I didn’t look for you before I left,” Wei Wuxian sighs, leaning back into the soft grass. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I just sat down and thought for a moment. I should have known that Wen Qing would never have taken you along to Lanling, she loved you like you were her own--but I ran out and left you alone, and if Lan Zhan hadn’t come for you...”

Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes. That particular if does not bear thinking about, and the only thing worse than reliving the moment of his shijie’s death would have been coming back to life in a world where A-Yuan had died of hunger and thirst because Wei Wuxian never bothered to search for him before journeying to Koi Tower.

He doubts that he could have lived in such a world, even for Lan Zhan’s sake.

“I love your fuqin dearly, you know,” he murmurs, watching the clouds drift by overhead. “I’ve loved him since I was eighteen, when I first met him, even if I didn’t know it back then. But I’ve never loved him for anything more than I love him for bringing you back, and raising you, and claiming you for his own. To me he is Hanguang-jun for that, above all other things.”

Sizhui’s eyes mist over. “Xian-gege.”

“Who are you calling Xian-gege in such a voice, ah? You’re not two years old anymore!” Wei Wuxian scolds, trying not to cry onto the rabbit clutched in his arms. “If you are, then you can still eat my spicy radish stew without complaining, right? I’ll go and make some for you right now.”

“Senior, no! Fuqin would be so disappointed!” A-Yuan cries. “You’re not supposed to strain yourself, bofu said so! And he’s a doctor, so you should listen to him!”

“Brother-in-law can’t tell me what to do. And spice is good for you, so I’m going to feed you some.”

His son leans over and grabs his thigh, and his hands--much larger than the hands of the baby Wen Yuan from their days in Yiling, but still much smaller than Jingyi’s, or Jin Ling’s, and even Wei Wuxian’s hands in this new, borrowed body--they cling just like they used to when A-Yuan was a child, and Wei Wuxian’s heart gives a treacherous quiver before he gathers A-Yuan up into his arms and kisses the top of his head.

“You’re a good child,” he says, trying not to cry. “You’re the best child that Lan Zhan and I could have ever asked for, and I would have had the world turned against me and my heart broken a thousand times over, for you.”

“You can’t keep saying that,” Sizhui says solemly, patting the new curve under Wei Wuxian’s blue robes. “My didi is the best child, too. My A-Niang grew him for me.”

Wei Wuxian throws his head back and bursts into laughter. “A-Yuan! You still remember?”

“I remember crying while you drew talismans, and asking for a baby brother,” his son tells him. “I never thought you would give me one like this, though.”

“It might be a girl,” Wei Wuxian reminds him. “Xichen-ge wasn’t able to tell. I have more yin energy in me than most women do, so he said that the little one would probably be a little Lan-guniang instead of another xiao-gongzi.”

Sizhui smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m sure the baby will be a boy,” he insists. “I had a dream about him.”

This is news to Wei Wuxian, since he always believed that such dreams only ever come to the parents of an unborn child. “Oh?”

“I was in the jishi scolding him,” Sizhui recalls. “He stole some of your talismans, actually. I think he was trying to stuff them down his shirt.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath catches in his throat. “What did he look like?”

“Like he couldn’t wait to get into trouble,” his son replies, with his lips twitching upward at the corners. “His ribbon was crooked, and he had moon-cake crumbs on his cheeks, and his hands were so black with ink and soil that I could barely see his nails. He was beautiful.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then--

“I think his name in the dream was Lan Yu,” Sizhui says quietly. “Yu for rain, and his courtesy name was Xiaohui.”

Suddenly, the light breeze in the clearing seems to fall silent, as if the trees themselves were spellbound by the name; and as for Wei Wuxian, he finds himself repeating Lan Yu, Lan Yu, Lan Yu, like the forgotten refrain to a lullaby sung in his childhood long ago.

“Sizhui and Xiaohui,” he whispers, holding both of his children close as he squeezes A-Yuan even tighter. “Perfect.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello! If this prompt is to your liking - something along the Ladyhawke plot? Basically, during the day LWJ is turned into an animal while WWX is human, and in the night returns to human but then WWX is turned into an animal :) Or, for simplicity’s sake, I‘d just like to see LWJ turned into a bunny XD attempting to communicate with WWX who is oblivious, as you’d expect. Thank you! Your writing is amazing and I’m so pleased to read it always.

The f‎irst thing Wei Wuxian was aware of in his new life, before he ever recalled his name or recovered his cultivation, was the feeling of safety and security that came from being held in the palms of two hands, strong but soft.

Wei Wuxian had been the last and smallest of a too-large litter, causing his mother to bare her teeth at him and chase him away no matter how pitifully he cried. By the laws of nature, he should have died, unloved, but even before he remembered his past deeds he was never one to be bound by those laws. He was lucky: the soft hands came for him then, lifting him high off the ground, letting him shiver against a warm breast and even faithfully feeding him milk from a hollow reed every time he was hungry.

After some time, the haze of infancy cleared from his eyes and, for the first time, the soft hands offered him a leaf instead of milk. It was a good leaf, too. Crunchy and firm, unmarred by any insect bites and still wet from the morning dew.

Wei Wuxian gnawed on it, quite content, and reached up with his left hindleg to lazily scratch at his long floppy ear. For a rabbit, this was the very definition‎ of paradise.

Not bad at all, he thought to himself, quite smug, and not for the first time considered himself rather lucky in comparison to his stronger brothers and sisters, who were probably being taught to forage even now. They might have a mother, but Wei Wuxian has a pair of soft hands framed by long, sweeping white sleeves, and he thought that he did quite well out the bargain.

With such thoughts, he was naturally reluctant to be left behind. He followed those hands on their daily rounds, hopping‎ down dabbled forest pathways made of stone and painstakingly climbing steps to sit in cold rooms that smelt of sandalwood while the soft hands plucked at the strings of a guqin. He wouldn't hold himself back, either: he would nuzzle a kneeling thigh or try to clamber onto the man's belly to sleep, and he was never rejected. Even when he couldn't keep up, he shamelessly cried until the hands came and gathered him up close, letting him rest his sable head against the stark white robes and listen to the comforting sound of a strong heartbeat.

All things considered, Wei Wuxian was quite pleased with his life, a state of affairs that lasted right up until the first time the hands wrapped up the guqin in a white cloth, drew an ice-pale sword from its sheath and took to the air, leaving Wei Wuxian behind, abandoned and bereft.

Obviously, this was absolutely intolerable.

Wei Wuxian settled himself down on the bed and began loudly crying. Other pairs of hands, smaller ones that sometimes brought treats, sought to comfort him‎, but he remained steadfast in his misery, lying prone on his side and weeping until he fell asleep and then waking up and starting all over again.

"He missed you a lot," the white-clad ‎child murmured anxiously to the soft hands when they return a few endless days later. "He wouldn't even eat - I even tried offering him some of the pickled cabbage he's always stealing from your table, but he wouldn't take it. Forgive me, Hanguang-Jun -"

"Forgiven."

Something about that voice echoed in his mind as familiar, but Wei Wuxian was distracted by picking himself up and throwing himself at his pair of soft hands at once, unable to hold a grudge and act indifferent the way he'd schemed he would, taking a mighty leap that did not even begin to trouble his pillar of stability though it did make the child giggle.

"I told you he missed you!"

"En."

The soft hands caressed Wei Wuxian quietly, then - as if familiar with the pain of separation, the torture of longing for what is not there - did not put him down. Instead, they brought close a dish of leaves and grasses for him to eat while still pressed up close to that broad chest, his ears full of that strong heartbeat that showed he was still alive, warmed by the bright golden core within.

Wei Wuxian, as always, forgot his woes, and was happy.

He was full, he was warm, tucked in safely into the collar of long white robes embroidered with clouds‎, and he could think of nothing at all that might disturb his joy.

That state of affairs lasted for about an hour, until another voice, also familiar but less so, said, "I am pleased that you have returned safely, Wangji."

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, startled out of his planned nap.

Wangji? Lan Wangji - Lan-er-gongzi - Lan Zhan -

White robes, like mourning; clouds, to signify the main family; soft hands, a gentle voice, upright manner, the guqin -

His soft hands were Lan Wangji!

‎Wei Wuxian remembered, suddenly, all of his past life of toil and hardship - his carefree youth at Yunmeng, his brief time at the Cloud Recesses, his wide broad road turning narrow and dark -

He dismissed the latter part as unimportant.

"It seems your pet rabbit had also missed you," Lan Xichen, now recognizable, added, his voice slightly mischievous in a way that was familiar as well.

"En," Lan Wangji replied, calm as ever.

Wei Wuxian began cackling at once, little huffing rabbit sounds.

Who would think, he thought to himself gleefully as he raised up his head to take a look, that Lan Wangji, of all people, would break the rules of his sect to adopt ‎-

To adopt -

A rabbit.

A rabbit!

He was a rabbit! Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying, Yiling Patriarch, demonic cultivator -

He was the rabbit Lan Wangji had broken his sect's rules to adopt!

Wei Wuxian's head lolled back, stunned into a daze that did not abate even when Lan Wangji gently caressed his small head with his soft hands.

Of course Lan Wangji would adopt a demonic cultivator rabbit, he thought. That would just be his luck, breaking his precious rules for me of all people. But what did I do wrong to be reborn as an animal?

Well, actually, he'd done rather a few things wrong, come to think about it. And even if he was a rabbit, he'd had the best possible‎ life as one - he barely had to twitch his nose for a half dozen Lan disciples, not to mention the great Hanguang-jun himself, to scurry over to tend to his every need, so clearly the heavens weren’t intending on punishing him that badly.

Not to mention, he ‎seemed to still have his spiritual awareness - something of a new development, in fact, as he'd only noticed Lan Wangji's golden core for the first time today.

Of course, that didn't really matter. What use was spiritual awareness to a rabbit? All it meant was that he was now a yao, capable of cultivating and, if he turned evil, to be a target for a night hunt led by righteous cultivators.

He'd had quite enough of tha‎t in his last lifetime, thank you.

No, there was no benefit, except maybe the possibility of one day cultivating enough to form a beast core and transform into a human being -

Hm.

"Are you sure you will head out again so soon?" Lan Xichen asked. "You are still barely recovered from your injuries; for you to go out alone could be dangerous -"

Wait, what? Lan Wangji? Injured? Alone?

Absolutely unacceptable!

Clearly Wei Wuxian was going to need to get on that yao cultivation business sooner rather than later. Someone needed to take care of Lan Wangji, if he wasn’t willing to do it himself – and why not him?

After all, Lan Wangji was his pet human.