#to the extent that nmj and lxc like...went and got drinks a couple times. they were bros. lxc has Strong Protective Feelings about nhs.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

prompt: modern MDZS, Wen Qing berating someone as she does DIY bullet removal

Leverage AU, huh?  Sounds like you want to talk about a Leverage AU.  For this H/C ask meme!

“Everything was under control, Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian says, smiling through clenched teeth.  There’s drying blood gluing his slacks to his skin and sweat beading on his forehead and throat, but his hands don’t tremble as he lowers himself into a chair.  He at least has the good grace to sit at the table, so that she’ll have somewhere to put her supplies.  She’s going to murder him anyway, but it’ll be much more convenient to kill him in a kitchen chair than on the couch.  Wen Qing likes her couch.  She intends to keep it blood-free.

“Clearly it was not,” Wen Qing half-snarls, and she snaps a hairtie around her bun to keep her hair out of her face as she glares down at him.  A quick rummage in her pockets produces several purple exam gloves, liberated from the hospital during a shift and forgotten.  “A-Ning, get me a towel from the kitchen, one of the flour sack ones, and a bowl of warm water, and the shears kit from the junk drawer.  Everyone else, figure yourselves out, I’m not running a daycare.”

A-Ning, who’s always been a good boy even if Wen Qing is taking pains not to know what he does with his time these days, vanishes like a cat into the kitchen.  Mianmian, who has sense, promptly knocks her knuckles against Wei Wuxian’s head and says, “Be good, Yuandao,” before she flops down onto the couch without regard for her regal evening gown and apparently goes to sleep.  Nie Huaisang, who knows when he’s no longer needed, picks his way across the room to Wen Qing’s only armchair, and folds himself up like an origami figure that looks very unlikely in his suit.  

Lan Wangji, who has never done anything convenient in his life, remains standing beside Wei Wuxian’s chair and blinks at Wen Qing.

Wen Qing has no idea why everyone pretends Lan Wangji is completely unreadable.  He couldn’t be clearer if he printed make me move, I dare you on his forehead.  He’s smeared with blood, all down one side from half-carrying Wei Wuxian to her doorstep, and he’s bruising up blue on one cheekbone, and there’s a table knife tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, bent out of shape into makeshift brass knuckles.  Wen Qing doesn’t really feel like fighting the point just now.

“Fine,” she snaps, “just stay out of my way.  And you,” she adds, pointing at Wei Wuxian.  He cringes a little, because he’s smart.  “We’re going to have a talk.”

“Jiejie,” A-Ning says, reappearing with towels and trauma shears in hand.  She doesn’t twitch when her brother pads up behind her and lays the lot on the table.  Wen Qing is used to her brother drifting around like a ghost, and to his wide-eyed expression of trying to get on her good side.  “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I am very mad at him,” Wen Qing says.  “Bring me the water or I’ll be mad at you too.”  Wei Wuxian snorts out a breathless laugh, and Wen Qing grabs the trauma shears from her tidy pack of tools to shut him up.  “So,” she says, crouching down and briskly cutting up the seam of his pants toward his knee.  “What the fuck happened?”

“Got shot,” Wei Wuxian says, helpfully.

“I can see that,” Wen Qing says, and only barely resists the urge to give his leg a shove and see if that makes him focus up.  She cuts the extra fabric away, straight across the knee crease, and gives a light tug on the rest, just to check if she might be able to get it off immediately.  Wei Wuxian makes a breathy noise, like a swallowed gasp, and she absently touches his calf, a soothing gesture until the trembling eases.  “Can I get a little more detail?  Was it a cop?”

“No!  I’m--I’m just a hacker, people don’t shoot hackers,” Wei Wuxian says with completely false confidence.  “People shoot, I don’t know, cat burglars and hitters.  Lan Zhan’s been shot, right, Lan Zhan?”

“Clearly, people shoot hackers too,” Lan Wangji says flatly.  But then, because he’s weak, he adds, conciliatory, “But yes.  Five times.  It is my job.”

“My brother’s never been shot, right?”  Wen Qing raises her voice at the end, over the rush of water in the other room, and hears a squeak of alarm.

“Uh--that’s right, A-jie!”

“Because I would kill him,” Wen Qing tells Wei Wuxian matter-of-factly.  “And then I would kill his entire team that got him shot.  You understand that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nie Huaisang confirms from the armchair, because he might be a ruthless son of a bitch when he feels like it, a mastermind whose best game is poker and has the mask to prove it, but he’s also a well-trained younger brother and he’s never once had the guts to fuck with Wen Qing.  “Wen Ning has never been shot.”

“Good,” Wen Qing says forbiddingly.  “Because I don’t ask questions about what you get my brother into,” she continues to Wei Wuxian.  “Just like I didn’t ask questions about how my brother paid for my degree.  But that doesn’t mean you get to show up on my doorstep at eleven on a Saturday night with a bullet hole in your leg, and answer no questions.”

“That’s fair,” Mianmian says, without opening her eyes.  “You have to give her that one, Yuandao.”

A-Ning slips back into the room and puts a metal bowl of warm water on the floor next to Wen Qing’s knee, and then walks into the bathroom, because he’s a good boy and he knows what she’ll need before she can even ask for it.

“This is going to hurt,” she tells Wei Wuxian, quiet and serious.  "Keep talking, it’ll keep you awake.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he complains as she wrings out a cloth until it’s only damp.  “You won’t even let me pass out?  I got shot!  I got shot taking down the CEO of an oil company, by the way, you should--fuck!”

Wen Qing’s free hand locks around Wei Wuxian’s lower leg, a practiced grip to hold him in place as he startles at the pressure on the wound.  “Hold still, and it’ll be quicker.  Tell me about your latest idiot crusade, Wuxian.”

She soaks the blood-stiff cloth until it can be cut away and lets Wei Wuxian’s shaking voice wash over her, barely listening.  Something about an oil spill, and a family whose entire town was crippled when the fishing industry went belly up.  It’s all very idealistic.  It’s all very Wei Wuxian.  They got the guy on camera shooting a civilian, though, which is apparently just icing on Mianmian’s grifter cake of very illegal bank transfers and a burgeoning RICO case.

“Okay,” Wen Qing says, when she’s cut away the rest of Wei Wuxian’s pant leg and exposed the bullet wound--halfway up his outer thigh, blessedly clear of the artery, but clearly a very small caliber, the kind of thing a CEO might be able to get into a benefit without looking excessively paranoid.  Which brings her to...  “Well, this is going to suck a lot,” she says.

“It already sucks a lot,” Wei Wuxian says, and his laugh is a little hysterical.  “What in particular are you thinking about?”

“Next time,” Wen Qing says, carefully dipping her tweezers in rubbing alcohol, “get shot with a bigger gun.”

“Absolutely not.  What?  I’m not getting shot again, and definitely not with a bigger gun, what is wrong with you?”

“This bullet didn’t go all the way through,” Wen Qing says.  “So I’m going to have to take it out.  A-Ning, come here and hold a light.  Lan Wangji, hold him down.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breath and it trembles, but for all his dramatics, he’s never been a coward.  Once, when Wen Qing was in undergrad and she and her brother were surviving the fallout of the Wen mob going to prison in droves and Wei Wuxian had just been kicked out of the Jiangs, he cut open his palm with a broken glass.  He sat on the floor and let Wen Qing pick shards out of his skin for twenty-five minutes, and joked and teased the entire time.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says.  “I’m ready.”

It’s a bad hour, as Wen Qing pulls the bullet from his thigh and then puts two stitches in the hole.  Wei Wuxian doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry, just takes shallow, shuddering breaths and doesn’t move.  Sometimes he even laughs, a ragged sound of apparently genuine amusement when A-Ning wonders aloud if Jiang Yanli is going to kill them before Wen Qing gets the chance, and a bark of vicious humor when Nie Huaisang reports that their target’s been arrested on more fraud charges than you could shake a stick at.

“We’re not telling A-Li,” Wei Wuxian says when Wen Qing finally tapes down gauze and collects her bloodied tools into the emptied water bowl.  “She’ll come look sad at me.”

Wen Qing summarily ignores him.  Instead, she looks at Lan Wangji, who looks nearly as shaken as Wei Wuxian.  He’s not holding him down anymore, but his hands are still resting on those stiff shoulders, a thumb smoothing over the skin at the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck just above his collar.  Wei Wuxian’s head tips a little toward that side, resting lightly on Lan Wangji’s forearm without apparent concern for the blood on the hitter’s wrist.  Maybe Wei Wuxian’s, maybe whoever got to experience the pleasure of being punched by one of the Twin Jades.  

“Don’t let him do anything stupid,” Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji firmly.  "I can get him antibiotics--you are taking them, Wei Wuxian--but I’m not getting him painkillers, because the second he feels okay he’s going to get A-Ning to teach him to free climb a building or something, and A-Ning is going to do it because I raised him terribly, I guess.”

“Hey,” A-Ning says.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I will keep Wei Ying from doing anything stupid,” Lan Wangji recites obediently, and goes up a few notches in Wen Qing’s estimation.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Qing-jie,” Wei Wuxian says, stirring like he’s going to get up, and Wen Qing stands and sighs and scowls, and peels off her gloves to make a neat little ball of latex in one palm, all the blood concealed inside.

“You can stay here,” she says.  “You can take A-Ning’s room and he’ll sleep on the couch.  Everyone else, you have to get out unless you want to sleep on the floor, though,” she adds, pointing to the two in her living room.

“I will stay,” Lan Wangji says.

“Yeah,” Wen Qing says, already distracted by the odds of being able to find a pharmacy open at this hour.  “A-Ning has a full, you’ll fit.”  Wei Wuxian makes a choking noise, which she ignores.  “I’m going out to get ahold of some meds for you.  Don’t do anything stupid, and lock up if anyone leaves.  A-Ning, don’t let this idiot leave.”

“I won’t, A-jie,” A-Ning says obediently, and Wen Qing stomps into her bedroom to change into something not speckled with blood.

[notapaladin]

#the untamed#mdzs#wen qing#wei wuxian#wen ning#leverage au#fic meme#ask meme#starlight writes stuff#YOOOOOO SORRY THIS IS LONG BUT IT WAS SO MUCH FUN#okay so here's the deets on the leverage au#ex-insurance-investigator-turned-mastermind!nhs grifter!mianmian hacker!wwx hitter!lwj and thief!wen ning#wen qing and wen ning were already disowned by the wen empire when the wens went down because wq refused to be a mob doctor#she and wen ning observe a strict Don't Ask Don't Tell policy about his payment for her medical degree#but he's really good at stealing and they're mutually PHENOMENALLY well-educated on every crime possible#golden tower insurance used to employ the nie bros but nmj died and nhs blames them and got hired to oversee some thieves#before lwj worked with leverage (which was actually wwx's idea that he brought to nhs and continues to spearhead)#he worked with lxc as a grifter/hitter team (the so-called twin jades) that the nies hunted for literally years#to the extent that nmj and lxc like...went and got drinks a couple times. they were bros. lxc has Strong Protective Feelings about nhs.#they bring lxc in as a guest grifter sometimes as well as sometimes using jc and jyl as Legitimate Business comrades#meng yao still works for golden tower and the endgame shit here is taking down the ceo of golden tower#and installing his son in his place because jzx gets to be kind of unexpectedly tight with leverage inc over time#the rest of these will not be so long but i got hype about this one#i'm not going to queue this i'm just gonna post it#tanoraqui#asked and answered

(OP’s tags preserved)

prompt: modern MDZS, Wen Qing berating someone as she does DIY bullet removal

Leverage AU, huh?  Sounds like you want to talk about a Leverage AU.  For this H/C ask meme!

“Everything was under control, Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian says, smiling through clenched teeth.  There’s drying blood gluing his slacks to his skin and sweat beading on his forehead and throat, but his hands don’t tremble as he lowers himself into a chair.  He at least has the good grace to sit at the table, so that she’ll have somewhere to put her supplies.  She’s going to murder him anyway, but it’ll be much more convenient to kill him in a kitchen chair than on the couch.  Wen Qing likes her couch.  She intends to keep it blood-free.

“Clearly it was not,” Wen Qing half-snarls, and she snaps a hairtie around her bun to keep her hair out of her face as she glares down at him.  A quick rummage in her pockets produces several purple exam gloves, liberated from the hospital during a shift and forgotten.  “A-Ning, get me a towel from the kitchen, one of the flour sack ones, and a bowl of warm water, and the shears kit from the junk drawer.  Everyone else, figure yourselves out, I’m not running a daycare.”

A-Ning, who’s always been a good boy even if Wen Qing is taking pains not to know what he does with his time these days, vanishes like a cat into the kitchen.  Mianmian, who has sense, promptly knocks her knuckles against Wei Wuxian’s head and says, “Be good, Yuandao,” before she flops down onto the couch without regard for her regal evening gown and apparently goes to sleep.  Nie Huaisang, who knows when he’s no longer needed, picks his way across the room to Wen Qing’s only armchair, and folds himself up like an origami figure that looks very unlikely in his suit.  

Lan Wangji, who has never done anything convenient in his life, remains standing beside Wei Wuxian’s chair and blinks at Wen Qing.

Wen Qing has no idea why everyone pretends Lan Wangji is completely unreadable.  He couldn’t be clearer if he printed make me move, I dare you on his forehead.  He’s smeared with blood, all down one side from half-carrying Wei Wuxian to her doorstep, and he’s bruising up blue on one cheekbone, and there’s a table knife tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, bent out of shape into makeshift brass knuckles.  Wen Qing doesn’t really feel like fighting the point just now.

“Fine,” she snaps, “just stay out of my way.  And you,” she adds, pointing at Wei Wuxian.  He cringes a little, because he’s smart.  “We’re going to have a talk.”

“Jiejie,” A-Ning says, reappearing with towels and trauma shears in hand.  She doesn’t twitch when her brother pads up behind her and lays the lot on the table.  Wen Qing is used to her brother drifting around like a ghost, and to his wide-eyed expression of trying to get on her good side.  “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I am very mad at him,” Wen Qing says.  “Bring me the water or I’ll be mad at you too.”  Wei Wuxian snorts out a breathless laugh, and Wen Qing grabs the trauma shears from her tidy pack of tools to shut him up.  “So,” she says, crouching down and briskly cutting up the seam of his pants toward his knee.  “What the fuck happened?”

“Got shot,” Wei Wuxian says, helpfully.

“I can see that,” Wen Qing says, and only barely resists the urge to give his leg a shove and see if that makes him focus up.  She cuts the extra fabric away, straight across the knee crease, and gives a light tug on the rest, just to check if she might be able to get it off immediately.  Wei Wuxian makes a breathy noise, like a swallowed gasp, and she absently touches his calf, a soothing gesture until the trembling eases.  “Can I get a little more detail?  Was it a cop?”

“No!  I’m--I’m just a hacker, people don’t shoot hackers,” Wei Wuxian says with completely false confidence.  “People shoot, I don’t know, cat burglars and hitters.  Lan Zhan’s been shot, right, Lan Zhan?”

“Clearly, people shoot hackers too,” Lan Wangji says flatly.  But then, because he’s weak, he adds, conciliatory, “But yes.  Five times.  It is my job.”

“My brother’s never been shot, right?”  Wen Qing raises her voice at the end, over the rush of water in the other room, and hears a squeak of alarm.

“Uh--that’s right, A-jie!”

“Because I would kill him,” Wen Qing tells Wei Wuxian matter-of-factly.  “And then I would kill his entire team that got him shot.  You understand that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nie Huaisang confirms from the armchair, because he might be a ruthless son of a bitch when he feels like it, a mastermind whose best game is poker and has the mask to prove it, but he’s also a well-trained younger brother and he’s never once had the guts to fuck with Wen Qing.  “Wen Ning has never been shot.”

“Good,” Wen Qing says forbiddingly.  “Because I don’t ask questions about what you get my brother into,” she continues to Wei Wuxian.  “Just like I didn’t ask questions about how my brother paid for my degree.  But that doesn’t mean you get to show up on my doorstep at eleven on a Saturday night with a bullet hole in your leg, and answer no questions.”

“That’s fair,” Mianmian says, without opening her eyes.  “You have to give her that one, Yuandao.”

A-Ning slips back into the room and puts a metal bowl of warm water on the floor next to Wen Qing’s knee, and then walks into the bathroom, because he’s a good boy and he knows what she’ll need before she can even ask for it.

“This is going to hurt,” she tells Wei Wuxian, quiet and serious.  "Keep talking, it’ll keep you awake.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he complains as she wrings out a cloth until it’s only damp.  “You won’t even let me pass out?  I got shot!  I got shot taking down the CEO of an oil company, by the way, you should--fuck!”

Wen Qing’s free hand locks around Wei Wuxian’s lower leg, a practiced grip to hold him in place as he startles at the pressure on the wound.  “Hold still, and it’ll be quicker.  Tell me about your latest idiot crusade, Wuxian.”

She soaks the blood-stiff cloth until it can be cut away and lets Wei Wuxian’s shaking voice wash over her, barely listening.  Something about an oil spill, and a family whose entire town was crippled when the fishing industry went belly up.  It’s all very idealistic.  It’s all very Wei Wuxian.  They got the guy on camera shooting a civilian, though, which is apparently just icing on Mianmian’s grifter cake of very illegal bank transfers and a burgeoning RICO case.

“Okay,” Wen Qing says, when she’s cut away the rest of Wei Wuxian’s pant leg and exposed the bullet wound--halfway up his outer thigh, blessedly clear of the artery, but clearly a very small caliber, the kind of thing a CEO might be able to get into a benefit without looking excessively paranoid.  Which brings her to...  “Well, this is going to suck a lot,” she says.

“It already sucks a lot,” Wei Wuxian says, and his laugh is a little hysterical.  “What in particular are you thinking about?”

“Next time,” Wen Qing says, carefully dipping her tweezers in rubbing alcohol, “get shot with a bigger gun.”

“Absolutely not.  What?  I’m not getting shot again, and definitely not with a bigger gun, what is wrong with you?”

“This bullet didn’t go all the way through,” Wen Qing says.  “So I’m going to have to take it out.  A-Ning, come here and hold a light.  Lan Wangji, hold him down.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breath and it trembles, but for all his dramatics, he’s never been a coward.  Once, when Wen Qing was in undergrad and she and her brother were surviving the fallout of the Wen mob going to prison in droves and Wei Wuxian had just been kicked out of the Jiangs, he cut open his palm with a broken glass.  He sat on the floor and let Wen Qing pick shards out of his skin for twenty-five minutes, and joked and teased the entire time.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says.  “I’m ready.”

It’s a bad hour, as Wen Qing pulls the bullet from his thigh and then puts two stitches in the hole.  Wei Wuxian doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry, just takes shallow, shuddering breaths and doesn’t move.  Sometimes he even laughs, a ragged sound of apparently genuine amusement when A-Ning wonders aloud if Jiang Yanli is going to kill them before Wen Qing gets the chance, and a bark of vicious humor when Nie Huaisang reports that their target’s been arrested on more fraud charges than you could shake a stick at.

“We’re not telling A-Li,” Wei Wuxian says when Wen Qing finally tapes down gauze and collects her bloodied tools into the emptied water bowl.  “She’ll come look sad at me.”

Wen Qing summarily ignores him.  Instead, she looks at Lan Wangji, who looks nearly as shaken as Wei Wuxian.  He’s not holding him down anymore, but his hands are still resting on those stiff shoulders, a thumb smoothing over the skin at the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck just above his collar.  Wei Wuxian’s head tips a little toward that side, resting lightly on Lan Wangji’s forearm without apparent concern for the blood on the hitter’s wrist.  Maybe Wei Wuxian’s, maybe whoever got to experience the pleasure of being punched by one of the Twin Jades.  

“Don’t let him do anything stupid,” Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji firmly.  "I can get him antibiotics--you are taking them, Wei Wuxian--but I’m not getting him painkillers, because the second he feels okay he’s going to get A-Ning to teach him to free climb a building or something, and A-Ning is going to do it because I raised him terribly, I guess.”

“Hey,” A-Ning says.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I will keep Wei Ying from doing anything stupid,” Lan Wangji recites obediently, and goes up a few notches in Wen Qing’s estimation.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Qing-jie,” Wei Wuxian says, stirring like he’s going to get up, and Wen Qing stands and sighs and scowls, and peels off her gloves to make a neat little ball of latex in one palm, all the blood concealed inside.

“You can stay here,” she says.  “You can take A-Ning’s room and he’ll sleep on the couch.  Everyone else, you have to get out unless you want to sleep on the floor, though,” she adds, pointing to the two in her living room.

“I will stay,” Lan Wangji says.

“Yeah,” Wen Qing says, already distracted by the odds of being able to find a pharmacy open at this hour.  “A-Ning has a full, you’ll fit.”  Wei Wuxian makes a choking noise, which she ignores.  “I’m going out to get ahold of some meds for you.  Don’t do anything stupid, and lock up if anyone leaves.  A-Ning, don’t let this idiot leave.”

“I won’t, A-jie,” A-Ning says obediently, and Wen Qing stomps into her bedroom to change into something not speckled with blood.

[arelsee]

YOOOOOO SORRY THIS IS LONG BUT IT WAS SO MUCH FUN#okay so here’s the deets on the leverage au#ex-insurance-investigator-turned-mastermind!nhs grifter!mianmian hacker!wwx hitter!lwj and thief!wen ning#wen qing and wen ning were already disowned by the wen empire when the wens went down because wq refused to be a mob doctor#she and wen ning observe a strict Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy about his payment for her medical degree#but he’s really good at stealing and they’re mutually PHENOMENALLY well-educated on every crime possible#golden tower insurance used to employ the nie bros but nmj died and nhs blames them and got hired to oversee some thieves#before lwj worked with leverage (which was actually wwx’s idea that he brought to nhs and continues to spearhead)#he worked with lxc as a grifter/hitter team (the so-called twin jades) that the nies hunted for literally years#to the extent that nmj and lxc like…went and got drinks a couple times. they were bros. lxc has Strong Protective Feelings about nhs.#they bring lxc in as a guest grifter sometimes as well as sometimes using jc and jyl as Legitimate Business comrades#meng yao still works for golden tower and the endgame shit here is taking down the ceo of golden tower#and installing his son in his place because jzx gets to be kind of unexpectedly tight with leverage inc over time (@words-writ-in-starlight)

prompt: modern MDZS, Wen Qing berating someone as she does DIY bullet removal

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