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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, no happy ending, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Night Hunts (Módào Zǔshī), Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Song: Inquiry (Módào Zǔshī), Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Demonic Cultivation (Módào Zǔshī), True Love, Goodbyes, Tragedy, Unhappy Ending, Melancholy, i might have cried while writing this

Summary:

Jingyi dies in a night hunt, but his spirit remains bound to the earth, at least for a little while, long enough for Sizhui to play Inquiry and try to say goodbye

Jingyi realizes with fear and horror that he’s dead. Slowly, the darkness seems to fade, and he finds himself in the same clearing. The world seems faded, gray, and cold as if winter had struck. He watches as Sizhui falls to his knees beside his body, hands glowing with spiritual energy, and trying desperately to save him.

It’s too late.

Jingyi doesn’t think, doesn’t so much as hesitate, as the demonic cultivator’s demon dog lunges for Sizhui’s throat, he just throws himself between Sizhui and the beast. The beast's claws dig into his shoulders, and the teeth sink deep into his shoulder. Blood gushes. The unnatural strength of the dog carries the pair of them to the ground as Jingyi cries out in pain.

Jingyi struggles to raise his sword as the torn muscles in his shoulder scream. The world seems to freeze as the dog bares its yellow fangs inches from Jingyi’s face. Above him, Sizhui lunges with his sword, an expression of panic across his face.

Sharp teeth tear into the exposed skin of Jingyi’s neck. Sizhui’s sword plunges into the dog, through its spine, and out its heart. Blood both red and black sprays.

The edges of Jingyi’s world go black as Sizhui opens his mouth to scream. Jingyi never hears the sound. He sees, through a falling twilight, as Sizhui’s lips form the shape of his name, but then everything is cold and dark and silent.

It’s too late.

Sizhui must realize it because he turns his face towards the demonic cultivator, and his face is a mask of grief and rage so powerful that, even as a ghost, Jingyi trembles.

The rage in Sizhui’s eyes kindles something in Jingyi’s spirit, and he turns to face the man who had killed him, who had taken him away from Sizhui.

His eyes, he supposes he’s still seeing with his eyes, settle on the demonic cultivator and resentment rips through Jingyi like a roiling, unstoppable tide. The man strides towards Sizhui, intent on ending what his hound had started, and Jingyi throws himself between Sizhui and danger again.

With a snarl, Jingyi attacks the man; a blade of black and red mist seems to coalesce into his hand as he does. He plunges his blade into the man’s chest and blood erupts

The demonic cultivator screams, clutching his chest. His eyes go wide, and he looks almost directly at Jingyi. Before he can try any trick to bind Jingyi’s spirit to his will, Jingyi stabs him again and again until his chest is riddled with blade marks, and the resentful energy filling every fiber of Jingyi’s ghost existence fades.

The demonic cultivator crumples to the ground when Jingyi steps back, and Jingyi turns back to Sizhui.

Sizhui’s halfway between kneeling and standing, frozen and staring at the dead body of the demonic cultivator.

“Jingyi?” he asks. There’s something between hope and fear in his voice that breaks Jingyi’s heart.

“It’s me,” Jingyi says and steps towards his lover, his partner, his– no, not his life, not anymore.

It’s obvious that Sizhui can’t hear him.

“Jingyi?” he asks again, louder, staring around him in desperation.

Jingyi, in his ghost form, drops down to his knees in front of Sizhui, ignoring his own body.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.” But it’s useless.

Tears begin to form in Sizhui’s eyes, and he screams Jingyi’s name again.

“Sizhui! I’m here! I’m here. Please,” he says, though he doesn’t know who he’s asking, “please let him hear me!”

Jingyi’s heart shatters at the sight of his sweet, sunny Sizhui so heartbroken, and for a moment, the sheer force of the emotion in his chest gives him energy. He’s not sure how to describe it, but for a moment the world of the living seems brighter, closer.

He reaches for Sizhui, trying to embrace him. His arms go through Sizhui’s form, but Sizhui’s eyes widen, and the tears halt for just a moment. He looks around desperately for his guqin, probably to try Inquiry, but it was damaged at the beginning of the fight.

Tears once again falling down his face, Sizhui reaches out, and his hands go straight through Jingyi’s incorporeal frame. Desperately, Jingyi tries to take his hand, to hold him, to do anything to make his presence known.

Slowly, Sizhui’s hand lowers until it falls almost lifelessly against the blood-soaked grass before him. Sizhui looks so broken at that moment that Jingyi almost screams. He’s not sure he can bear this.

Sizhui stumbles to his feet and lifts Jingyi’s broken body before stepping on his sword and turning back towards Gusu. Jingyi’s blood paints Sizhui’s usually pristine robes crimson, and Sizhui cradles Jingyi’s body to his chest. The wind whips the tears away from his eyes. Jingyi goes with him.

He sticks with Sizhui, trying not to look at his own body. As they fly, the world around him seems to get greyer and the chill in his limbs turns to numbness. Instinctively, he knows that he’s drifting further away, further away from life and into death.

Into death, where he is supposed to go. But, as always, he goes with Sizhui. He fights the grayness and the numbness. He keeps his gaze on Sizhui’s face, on the tears glistening in his eyes. He can’t go yet, not when Sizhui still needs him.

Everything except for Sizhui seems to fade. There’s no breath of wind on his face nor any sound of rushing air. He’s only vaguely aware when they land in the Cloud Recesses. The familiar buildings are more impressions than actualized forms. He can feel the wards and talismans designed to keep out resentful energy and vengeful spirits pushing at him, but he’s not a vengeful spirit, is he?

Jingyi’s spirit drifts through the Cloud Recesses, never leaving Sizhui’s side. He hears the familiar sound of Hanguang-jun and Senior Wei’s voices, but can’t make out the words no matter how hard he tries. He watches as Sizhui sobs into his hands and his fathers try to comfort him and can do nothing but watch. He longs to pull Sizhui into his arms, to tell him that it’s going to be okay.

But it’s not, is it?

He can’t go back? Can he?

He can’t even make his presence known.

Sizhui is alone now. Jingyi is alone now.

Jingyi always thought that he’d fight through the underworld for a way back to Sizhui, and he still thinks he would, but there’s nothing here for him to fight.

Sizhui’s pain is so hard to watch, but Jingyi can do nothing. His presence feels futile. No matter what he does there is no sound, no touch, no hint of his existence for Sizhui to sense. As time wears on, the world seems to drift further and further away, but he stays by Sizhui’s side, refusing to leave. His thoughts drift. His memories drift. His very essence seems to drift.

The sound of the guqin brings Jingyi back to himself.

The greyness seems to pull back like a curtain as the notes of Inquiry wash over him. His eyes lock on Sizhui, seated with a guqin, with Wangji, before him in their room. The sight of their shared bedroom sends a pang through Jingyi’s heart. All around him are signs of their life. Their bed, their books, and their clothes, all signs of a life he will never have again.

Grief lances through Jingyi’s chest, and he turns back to Sizhui. Sizhui, who he can never be with again. Despite himself, Jingyi reaches for Sizhui, needing to touch him, but his fingers pass through Sizhui’s skin, and Jingyi pulls his hand back to his chest as if burned.

The introductory notes of Inquiry fade.

“I’m here,” Jingyi says before Sizhui even asks.

Sizhui’s eyes go wide, and his inhale is jagged like broken glass.

“Jingyi,” he whispers. His hands fly over the guqin strings, “are you here?”

“I’m here,” Jingyi says, kneeling before the guqin. “I am always here.”

Sizhui’s breath is shaky, and a tear slides down his face. Jingyi’s heart aches to see Sizhui, normally so stoic and composed, falling apart like this.

“I’m sorry,” Sizhui says, and the guqin notes tremble as his hands do. “The night hunt, I–”

“Hush,” Jingyi says, reaching out in a futile attempt to wipe the tears from Sizhui’s eyes. “It’s not your fault. I would give up my life to save yours again if I had to.”

Sizhui shakes harder.

Jingyi stares at Sizhui. He looks so young right now, sitting alone and huddled up as if bracing against a storm, and he is young, too young to be a widow. They are young, not even twenty-five. They were supposed to have their whole lives. This was supposed to be the beginning of the story, not the end.

“I am so sorry,” Jingyi says, grateful that Sizhui cannot hear his voice break. “I am not sorry that I saved you, but I am so sorry that I had to leave you alone. I didn’t mean to leave. I just wanted to protect you. I know that I promised to be by your side, and I failed.”

The guqin plays, translating his words into sounds that Sizhui can hear.

“I–” Sizhui says, and his hands are shaking too hard to play the guqin. Tears spill down his cheeks.

Jingyi lunges forward to comfort him, and for a moment the surge of his emotions brings him close enough to Sizhui that his fingers trace along the curve of Sizhui’s cheek before returning to their ephemeral state.

Sizhui claps his hand to his cheek, and his hand goes straight through Jingyi’s. His eyes are wide as he looks right through Jingyi.

“I love you,” Jingyi whispers, and the sound of the guqin resonates, carrying his words to Sizhui.

“I love you,” Sizhui says, unable to play the guqin any longer, but Jingyi hears him. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I never meant to live without you.”

Jingyi strokes Sizhui’s hair, though he knows that Sizhui can’t feel it.

“I never meant for this to happen,” he murmurs. “Never.”

Sizhui’s eyes close, and he wraps his arms around his waist as if he is trying to hold himself together.

“They say that I should play Rest, that I should set you free, but I’m not ready.”

Jingyi doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, but he won’t say that.

“I will be here as long as you need me.”

“What if I need you for the rest of my life?” Sizhui’s voice shakes.

“Then I will go into the afterlife right after you.”

Sizhui sobs, and Jingyi reaches out to him again, wishing desperately that he could touch him, could offer him even an instant of comfort.

“I will let you rest,” Sizhui says, but he sounds like he’s convincing himself. “I will not be selfish, but I can’t do it yet.”

“I have nothing but time,” Jingyi says, realizing with horror just how true it is. “I can wait.”

He pauses. The idea of drifting here in this greyness, only really coming to his senses when Sizhui calls for him isn’t pleasant, but the idea of Sizhui lingering over a guqin day after day and year after year just to hear Jingyi’s words is worse; the very thought breaks his heart. He doesn’t want that for Sizhui. Sizhui deserves to live, really live.

“One day you will be ready. Then you can say goodbye.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Sizhui says.

“Live the life I saved for you.”

“I don’t know how to let you go. I don’t want to let you go!”

Jingyi doesn’t want to let go either, but he doesn’t say that.

“Just remember me,” Jingyi says. “Just remember me as loving you.”

#zhuiyi #the untamed #fanfic #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #mdzs #ao3 link

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Sand, almost hot enough to burn, slides under Jingyi’s feet and salty air fills his lungs as he runs. Mr. Lan and Mr. Wei’s white summer house sits high up on the beach, safe from the tides, and Jingyi and Sizhui race the distance over the burning sands.

Jin Ling and Zizhen, who are the only other people staying at the house, approach the beach at a much more reasonable speed.

But Sizhui and Jingyi, in a time-honored fashion, run straight until they crash into the surf. Jingyi splashes into the waves first, yelping at the cold water. Sizhui laughs at him, but it only lasts a few heartbeats because then he too crashes into the waves.

Quickly, before Sizhui can recover from the shock of the cold, Jingyi grabs him around the waist and lifts him clear off his feet, carrying him deeper into the water.

“Don’t you dare!” Sizhui cries, but his voice is half laughter.

“Are you going to stop me?” Jingyi asks, knowing that Sizhui can’t escape.

Sizhui squirms anyway, grinning and breathless.

Jingyi hefts him higher, giving him a moment of warning, before plunging both of them into the cerulean waves.

The cold drives the air out of his lungs, and he immediately tries to stand, but Sizhui, in retribution, shoves him back under. Jingyi moves his arms, pushing himself out of Sizhui’s reach before popping out of the water.

He pushes his dripping hair out of his face and eyes Sizhui’s neat braid with jealousy. Sizhui’s eyes dance, and he doesn’t have to say ‘I told you so’ because Jingyi can read it in his face.

On the beach, Zizhen and Jin Ling set up camp under a massive beach umbrella, watching Sizhui and Jingyi with amusement and incredulity respectively.

Without needing to put the agreement into words, Sizhui and Jingyi start swimming toward deeper water. The water here is shallow for quite a ways, and they’ve been swimming here since they were children with floaties on their arms and Lan Wangji hovering over them.

They swim until only their heads are out of the water. Sizhui has to stop before Jingyi and his soft lips turn down in a pout. Jingyi grins and opens his arms for Sizhui. Sizhui drifts towards him in the salt water until he wraps his arms around Jingyi’s neck. Jingyi loops his arms around Sizhui’s waist. He doesn’t need to hold him, but he wants to.

Together they look back towards the beach, and hundreds of memories flash before Jingyi’s eyes. Each year they swam until they were standing on their tip toes in the water, proving who was taller. Each year they’d swam further and further away from the beach on their first go.

“What are you thinking about?” Sizhui asks. “You have a distant look in your eyes.”

“Us,” Jingyi says. Sizhui tilts his head in question. “Or my memories of us.”

Sizhui nods in understanding, looking back towards the beach with a reminiscent expression of his own. Then, after a moment, he turns his gaze back out to the larger ocean.

“Let's keep swimming.”

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #fanfic #ao3 link

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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On the back hill, in the field where the rabbits now reign, Sizhui and Jingyi lay among the wildflowers, with their buckets of vegetable scraps already emptied by the rabbits. The first breath of summer warms the air and paints the world in vivid colors and golden sunlight.

Jingyi lays stretched out on his stomach, watching the flowers dance in the wind, and Sizhui sits beside him close enough to run his hands idly over Jingyi’s hair, which spills freely over his shoulder.

They are quiet, and it is a comfortable quiet, different than the strict, hushed quiet of the Cloud Recesses. It is as open and warm as the sunlit field and filled with the sort of comfort they can only find together.

Sizhui hums idly, and the soft sound melds with the sounds of birds, rabbits, and wind in the trees. It is not a song he learned, but something unintentionally devised at that exact moment. His thoughts drift, and he props his chin on his free hand, gaze distant.

Meanwhile, Jingyi plucks one of the flowers before him and spins it with his fingers in idle contemplation. He glances from the white blossom to Sizhui’s dreamy expression. A dozen memories of them, together, in this field across more than a dozen years blend together in his mind, and a smile spreads across his lips.

One specific memory stays with him, and he remembers Sizhui’s small hand reaching out to drop a crown of flowers on Jingyi’s head. He remembers the two of them with their heads pressed together as Jingyi tries and mostly fails to learn the trick of weaving the blossoms together.

Jingyi picks a second wildflower and, with a small furrow between his brow, begins trying to weave a flower crown. It takes him a while to get it right. His fingers have the nimbleness they’d lacked in childhood, but his memory is far from perfect. However, eventually, he holds up a slightly wonky coronet of multicolor blossoms before rolling over and sitting up to drop it on Sizhui’s head.

Sizhui blinks when Jingyi moves as if coming back to the present from very far away. Confusion gives way to an expression of sternness for just an instant before that too is replaced by a radiant smile. Jingyi just smiles back; he knows that momentary solemnity. He too has those moments, the moments when the Gusu Lan teaching is the first thing that comes to your mind before even your own thoughts.

“Do you remember?” Jingyi asks.

“Of course I do,” Sizhui says. “You did much better this time.”

Jingyi laughs and shifts to lay with his head in Sizhui’s lap. Sizhui’s fingers continue to trail through Jingyi’s hair, but he picks a flower with his other hand and slips it into the black silk of Jingyi’s hair. With great care, he picks blossoms one by one, weaving them into Jingyi’s hair in a neat, crown.

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #ao3 link #fanfic #lan sizhui #lan jingyi

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: vampire lan jingyi, Witch Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Anal Sex, Top Lán Jǐngyí, Bottom Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Making Out, Knife play but with vampire fangs, Teasing, Blood Play, Magic Summary:

The brush of soft lips against Sizhui’s neck over his thundering pulse is followed by the almost imperceptible scrape of razor-sharp canines, and Sizhui tilts his head back, baring his neck further. Jingyi smiles, and Sizhui feels the brush of his lips and the curve of them, cold against his heated skin. Adrenaline spills through Sizhui’s body at the danger, sharpening the desire that had sent them tumbling into the bed, but his heart is calm. Even as fangs tease along the delicate skin of his throat and his instincts cry out, his heart is calm.

“Do you trust me?” Jingyi asks, lips brushing against Sizhui’s neck, and, in the dim light, Sizhui trembles.

Jingyi’s voice is soft as the silk sheets under Sizhui and as warm as Jingyi’s skin is cool.

“Yes,” Sizhui says, and the tremor in his voice isn’t from fear.

In the low light of flickering candles, the long, lean lines of Jingyi’s body are painted in fair highlights and deep shadows, and Sizhui’s fingers dance over his cold skin.

Jingyi’s hands brush along Sizhui’s body, in exploration and admiration, and Sizhui’s hands settle on the broad, chiseled planes of Jingyi’s back. His skin is chill to the touch but slowly warms as Sizhui’s body heat becomes theirs.

One moment, Jingyi’s soft lips are tracing their way along the line of Sizhui’s collarbone, and the next minute, a sharp sensation across his skin draws a gasp from Sizhui’s lips. Two lines are drawn parallel to the collar bone, as neatly as a work of art. The cut was done so fast and by fangs so sharp, that there are a full two heartbeats before small beads of blood begin to bloom like dark flowers. Jingyi’s lips and tongue trail along Sizhui’s collarbone, so cool and gentle that it soothes any hint of pain, leaving only an electric tingle which causes Sizhui’s heart to jump in the best way.

Jingyi turns his gaze to Sizhui’s face, and their eyes meet. His eyes are black in the low light and deep as the night sky. There’s no hint of vampiric magic in his eyes, no spell to ensnare Sizhui and draw him in, to capture his mind and make him a slave. He doesn’t need it. Sizhui is his, and the only magic involved is the oldest magic, that of the heart.

Sizhui draws Jingyi’s lips to his. He needs Jingyi the way he needs air. He craves his touch and longs for their time together with a yearning in his heart that even the best magic cannot fake.

Jingyi’s lips are surprisingly warm against his, and the taste of his mouth is tinged with salt and iron. His lips ghost along Sizhui’s jaw with no hint of sharpness. His touch, as he makes his way down Sizhui’s body, is verging on worshipful. The gentle brush of his hands and lips is contrasted by the sharp sting as his fangs leave shallow cuts that barely bleed. Sizhui’s heart beats faster and faster at the heady mix of pleasure, pain, and desire.

Sizhui’s fingers trace sigils over the smooth, strong planes of Jingyi’s back and leave sparks of magic in their wake. Jingyi doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t so much as pause in his exploration of Sizhui’s body as Sizhui weaves magic tighter and tighter around them. This is Jingyi’s answer to that simple and dangerous question: do you trust me? With magic, Sizhui could make Jingyi a slave to his whims. He could, but he would not, and he doesn’t need to. Instead, his spell is a small thing, designed to sharpen the senses and amplify pleasure, to ensure that even the slightest of Sizhui’s touches sings in Jingyi’s empty veins.

The magic settles, and Sizhui draws his nails down Jingyi’s back, delicately scraping the flawless skin, and Jingyi gasps, eyelids fluttering in surprise. Sizhui can’t help a smile of satisfaction. Two can play at teasing.

The teasing touches become fewer, hastier, and Sizhui can sense the urgency growing in Jingyi’s touch, and he feels satisfaction like warmth curling in his chest at breaking that immortal patience.

Jingyi settles in between Sizhui’s thighs, his hands tracing their way slowly up over the pale skin before pulling Sizhui’s legs up over his shoulders. There is a hunger on his face that has nothing to do with blood and everything to do with their naked bodies. His cheeks are faintly flushed with Sizhui’s blood, and his eyes dance as he looks down at Sizhui.

Sizhui meets his eyes, and his expression is heavy with expectation, and the burning in his eyes is almost a command. Jingyi grins, canines flashing white in the dim light against lips that are a little too red.

“You are too tempting.”

Jingyi takes him then, no more teasing, only the movement of their hips as he thrusts into Sizhui in a long, slow motion. Sizhui’s breath catches at the end of the teasing, the promise of pleasure, and the sharpness of anticipation.

Jingyi’s soft lips brush against the pale skin of Sizhui’s inner thigh so gently, that Sizhui hardly would have noticed, except that his gaze is fixed on Jingyi. In a motion so fast, the Sizhui barely sees it, Jingyi’s teeth sink deep into the subtle skin.

The move is so fast and his teeth so razor-sharp, that the first sensation that hits Sizhui isn’t pain, but surprise. He gasps, and then the sting of the injury hits him, but Jingyi’s hips roll, and pleasure blooms and pleasure and pain become one and the same.

Jingyi’s eyes are half-lidded, and there’s an expression of pure ecstasy on his face as their bodies move together. His lips are gentle on Sizhui’s skin as blood slowly spills into his mouth. His touch is firm as iron, keeping Sizhui in place, but his lips are soft as silk. Sizhui can’t look away from him; he’s transfixed, as if by magic, by the erotic beauty of the scene before him. He wishes he knew the right spell to capture this moment forever in his mind but he’ll forever remember it in bits and pieces: the flex of his abs, the midnight black of his eyes, the curve of his cock, the moon-pale expanse of his muscled chest.

Sizhui’s breath is growing faster in his chest, and his heart is racing, and even though Jingyi does not need to breathe, he’s breathing heavily and quickly, his breath almost in time with Sizhui’s. Sizhui moves to reach out to Jingyi, to pull his lover to him, but before his fingers touch Jingyi’s skin, which has grown warm from the heat of Sizhui’s body, Jingyi moves.

His fangs sink deep into the skin of Sizhui’s other thigh, mirroring the first bite, and Sizhui gasps somewhere between surprise and excitement. This time, however, his lips don’t linger, and blood spills down Sizhui’s pale skin, nearly black in the low light.

Again and again, Jingyi’s teeth slice into Sizhui’s skin. It hardly seems to hurt. Instead, it sends a thrill through him, sharper and more exact than the bright, but slow-built fire of pleasure already threatening to consume him.

“Sizhui…” Jingyi moans his name, and the sound sends tremors through Sizhui. Jingyi’s hand clenches hard into Sizhui’s leg, hard enough to bruise, and his teeth sink further into Sizhui’s skin as his jaw tenses.

“Jingyi, please,” Sizhui says, but can’t find words to say what exactly he’s asking for. He’s so close, desperately close. The sensations build until he thinks he can no longer possibly contain them.

The motion of Jingyi’s hips stutters as he comes. A gasp leaves his lips and blood drips down Sizhui’s leg.

Sizhui’s hands clench onto Jingyi’s arms, hard, and Jingyi’s fingers wrap around Sizhui’s cock even as he keeps fucking Sizhui. Sizhui trembles under the force of it all. Jingyi’s teeth sink into Sizhui’s upper thigh, and Sizhui gasps, head tipping back and back arching as his release finally crashes over him.

Sizhui collapses against the bed, trembling and tired, but filled with bone-deep satisfaction. He reaches out to pull Jingyi down to him.

The flickering candlelight catches on the razer edge of Jingyi’s teeth, flashing bloody red for just a moment, sending shivers of a deep, unnameable primal fear through Sizhui’s body. Then, as fast as the image came it was gone as Jingyi’s mouth closes for a moment and then he smiles again, and there is nothing but a neat row of white, human-looking teeth and a single drop of crimson that spills over for a moment before he catches it.

Jingyi wraps his arms around Sizhui’s waist, holding him tight and pulling him close. Sizhui smiles and wiggles a little closer.

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #ao3 link #fanfic #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #blood #smut

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: Selkies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Love Confessions, Difficult Decisions, Selkie Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Human Lán Jǐngyí

Summary:

At age sixteen, Lan Jingyi chanced across a selkie boy on the beach, and they fell in love. Seven years later, he returns to the beach, hoping for a chance to see Sizhui again. They reunite, but Sizhui can only stay one day, unless Jingyi steals his sealskin and hides it. Sizhui has to choose, Jingyi or the sea.

Heedless of the misty rain, Jingyi makes his way down the beach to the slate grey waters just as he has every day since the first day of spring. He pulls his windbreaker a little tighter, but walks right down the shore, where the sharp wind drives the salty sea spray into his face.

He looks out over the grey water and remembers standing in this exact spot seven years ago. He remembers a beautiful boy with black hair and bottomless black eyes.

“I will return when I can,” Sizhui had said. “When spring has come again for the seventh time, wait for me if you will, and I will come.”

Part of Jingyi has always wondered if he imagined the selkie boy, but he doesn’t think his imagination could have come up with Sizhui. His teenage brain hadn’t exactly been focused on folktales.

He feels a little foolish standing alone by the sea in the rain. He’s not sixteen anymore. He has a degree and a job, but if there’s a chance to be with Sizhui again, he’s going to take it.

The sun is hidden behind clouds, and the ocean is grey and cold, so it takes him a while to notice a disturbance in the waves, but as soon as he spots it, his heart lurches in excitement.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting with bated breath, with hope fluttering its wings in his chest. When the seal is close enough for Jingyi to make out its entire shape, his heart lurches. The seal lumbers onto the sand before him, and Jingyi politely turns around.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be here,” Sizhui’s soft voice comes from behind him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would return,” Jingyi says, slowly turning around.

Sizhui is, as he had been last time, completely naked, and Jingyi forces himself to fix his gaze on the other man’s face. They had appeared to be the same age when they last met, but now Sizhui looks younger than Jingyi as if he’d aged only a few years in the last seven.

“Seven years a quite a while for humans, isn’t it?” Sizhui asks.

“It is,” Jingyi agrees.

“But you returned?”

“But I returned.”

Sizhui’s black eyes sparkle, and Jingyi’s throat goes dry.

To give himself something to think about, Jingyi drops his backpack on the ground and reaches in to pull out a blanket.

“Do you get cold?” he asks. “It was… much nicer when last we met.”

It had been one of those glorious spring days, the ones that make people say spring is their favorite season, but really only occur a handful of times a year. They’d sat under the sun and let the chilly water run over their feet.

Sizhui tilts his head in a not-exactly-human gesture of curiosity before he slowly says, “I might… like this?” he gestures to his human form.

“I brought extra clothes, if you want,” Jingyi says, “or a blanket.”

Sizhui’s eyes soften.

“That is kind of you.”

Jingyi pulls out sweat pants and a shirt. “It’s a gift freely given,” he tells Sizhui. He might not have cared for folklore before he met Sizhui, but after, after was different.

As Jingyi lays a large beach blanket on the ground, Sizhui fumbles with the clothes, looking slightly perplexed, but he figures it out before Jingyi has to intervene. Jingyi’s eyes wander over the beach, and his gaze catches on the discarded seal skin on a rock not far from them. He jerks his gaze away from it. He knows about selkies and sealskin now, though he hadn’t seven years ago.

“Can’t you stay?” Jingyi had asked.

“There is one way,” Sizhui had replied.

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you.”

Sizhui comes to sit next to Jingyi, and Jingyi watches with faint amusement as he wiggles his fingers and toes.

“So time really passes differently for humans and the sea folk?” Jingyi says, studying Sizhui’s youthful face.

Sizhui studies him right back.

“Yes,” he says softly, “it seems that it does.”

Jingyi has so many questions about Sizhui’s life, and he could listen forever to Sizhui’s soft voice, but Sizhui has just as many questions about Jingyi’s life, about the world above the water.

They talk and talk. The rain soaks Jingyi so thoroughly that he might as well have climbed into the ocean itself, but he doesn’t mind. Time slips away as they chat and laugh. The sound of their laughter is muffled by the wind and rain, but the weather cannot dampen their spirits.

Jingyi pulls out lunch and offers Sizhui all sorts of things to try, just because. He chuckles as Sizhui turns a candy bar over and over in his hands curiously, and then makes a confused expression as soon as he bites into it. Jingyi has the immediate desire to capture a picture, to be able to look back at the furrow of his brow and the quirk of his soft lips. Jingyi reaches for his phone out of habit and pauses with it halfway out.

“What’s that?” Sizhui asks, eyes alight with curiosity.

“It’s my phone,” Jingyi says. “I can talk to people all over the world, or take pictures, or play music.”

“All that?” Sizhui asks, looking at the small phone a little skeptically.

“All that,” Jingyi agrees.

“Do you want to take a picture?”

Sizhui tilts his head again in that not-quite-human gesture.

“Is it safe? It doesn’t capture your soul or anything?”

“Completely,” Jingyi says. “It’s science, not magic.”

Sizhui just looks at him for a long moment, and Jingyi realizes that he probably doesn’t even know what science is.

“Alright,” Sizhui says. “I trust you.”

The words are like a blow to the gut, and Jingyi has to focus on his phone to turn on the camera.

“Come here,” he says to Sizhui, urging the other boy close enough to attempt a selfie.

“That’s us!” Sizhui says, pointing to the phone screen.

“It is!” He snaps the selfie and brings it closer to show Sizhui, whose whole face lights up.

“Again?” he asks.

“Of course,” Jingyi says. It was easy to forget as they talked, but now, Jingyi can’t help but think how after the sun goes down, all he will have for the next seven years are these photos.

He shoves the thought out of his head as he teaches Sizhui how to use the camera and watches as he captures many, mostly blurry and poorly angled, selfies.

Somewhere in the laughter and the shaky photography, Sizhui kisses Jingyi’s cheek. Jingyi’s cheeks flush, and his memories flash back to seven years ago.

Reaching out, Jingyi strokes Sizhui’s cheek, pushing the damp strands of his hair away from his handsome face. Sizhui leans into his touch, looking back at Jingyi with those eyes that are deeper than the ocean.

“May I?” Jingyi asks. Last time, Sizhui had kissed him, but that had been seven years ago.

“You may,” Sizhui says with a smile that flashes slightly too sharp teeth.

Sizhui’s soft lips taste like sea salt and the ocean. A smile turns up the corner of Sizhui’s lips when Jingyi pulls away, and he reaches out to trace Jingyi’s cheek with a cool hand.

“I dreamed of that,” Sizhui says, not looking away from Jingyi’s eyes for an instant. “For seven years.”

“Me too,” Jingyi admits.

His friends had tried to get him to date, and he’d gone on one or two first dates, but his mind always circles back to Sizhui. It’s not that he’s unearthly beautiful, though he is, it’s something about the way they fit together as if they have always been. Being with Sizhui feels right.

Jingyi wraps an arm around Sizhui’s shoulders and runs a finger through his long damp hair. It’s too thick with salt to be very soft, but Jingyi doesn’t mind in the least.

Sizhui leans against him and looks out at the sea and the sun, which has now passed the height of noon. Jingyi glances at it and feels his heart teetering on the brink of breaking. Part of him had almost hoped that Sizhui wouldn’t appear or that Jingyi’s imagination had gilded his memories of Sizhui, but it’s not the case. He holds Sizhui in his arms and knows that he’s going to have to let him go. He also knows that he’ll be here again in another seven years.

“Has a human ever come to live in the water with you?” Jingyi asks. “Some of our legends say you live in human form deep under the sea.”

Sizhui hums, considering.

“I do not think one could survive the swim. You cannot hold your breath very long.”

“Only a few minutes,” Jingyi admits.

Sizhui shakes his head.

Jingyi’s expression falls.

“Would you have come?” Sizhui asks.

“I’d certainly think about it.” he pauses. “Would you want me to come?”

Maybe he had misread this whole thing. Sizhui has his own life with the other selkies, after all. Maybe even a partner.

“I had not imagined it could happen. I never imagined a human under the water. I always imagined…” he trails off.

“Imagined?” Jingyi asks gently.

“Imagined exploring the human world,” Sizhui admits.

“I wish I could show you,” Jingyi says, softly. He would show Sizhui the world, if only he had more than 12 hours.

“You could,” Sizhui says very softly.

Jingyi looks down at him.

“The sealskin,” Jingyi says just as softly. His gaze goes to the sealskin of the rock not far from them.

Sizhui doesn’t respond, and Jingyi takes that as a yes.

“Our legends say that a selkie trapped on land will always dream of home,” Jingyi says, tightening his arms around Sizhui. “They say that the sea longing possesses them.”

“When a selkie is captured and trapped on shore,” Sizhui says, “she will mourn for the life she lost.”

“And if he chooses to remain on land?” Jingyi asks. He needs to know.

“I do not know,” Sizhui says. “I do not know if it has ever been done.”

“I won’t trap you,” Jingyi says. “I couldn’t say I love you while I trapped you here to waste away.”

The word ‘love’ slips through his lips too easily. He freezes, but Sizhui doesn’t react.

“And if I wanted to stay? What then?” Sizhui asks, he takes Jingyi’s hand in his and squeezes it. His eyes are on the ocean, though.

“Then I would welcome you for however long you wished.”

Jingyi leans his head against Sizhui’s as they both stare out at the ocean. Silence falls and except for the incessant whisper of the rolling waves.

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #fanfic #ao3 link

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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The back hills are quiet except for the soft sound of the wind through the trees as Jingyi and Sizhui walk side by side out to feed the rabbits. Jingyi is unusually silent as they walk. This moment is at once infinitely familiar and wildly new. It feels odd for them to slip back into life as if nothing had changed, when everything had changed. It’s not that Wei Wuxian is back or that Sizhui is a Wen or that he’d been away from Gusu for three months. It’s not even that he’s in love with Sizhui because he now knows he’s been in love with Sizhui for years. It’s that he now knows that he’s in love with Sizhui.

Sizhui glances at Jingyi as they feed the rabbits, a small furrow appearing on his brow. As the bunnies pile onto the food, he finally speaks.

“Jingyi, are—” he starts.

“I’m in love with you,” Jingyi blurts out.

“—you all ri—“ Sizhui cuts himself off at Jingyi’s words.

Jingyi’s eyes go a little wide, and he looks away from Sizhui with pink appearing on his cheeks.

“I mean,” he says, obviously casting around for something to say.

“Jingyi,” Sizhui says softly.

“I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Jingyi.”

“I know you probably don’t feel the same way.”

“Jingyi!" Sizhui steps closer to Jingyi.

“I just wanted to say it.”

Realizing that Jingyi is too busy panicking to listen to what he has to say, Sizhui takes a short step forward and puts his hand on Jingyi’s cheek. Jingyi immediately goes silent, his eyes meeting Sizhui’s.

Sizhui closes the distance between them, and their lips brush together for just a moment. Sizhui can feel Jingyi’s eyelashes flutter and the way his breath hitches.

“You didn’t let me answer you,” Sizhui says, pulling back. “I love you too.”

Jingyi clutches Sizhui’s hand in his. Their hands, lined and spotted with age, hardly seem to be their own. Sizhui’s hands, which had always been slender and elegant, have become thin and worn, and Jingyi can feel the trembling in his fingers.

He sits now, in their bed, with Sizhui’s too thin frame held in his arms, and listens to the death rattle of his breathing. It won't be long now. Not for Sizhui, and not for him. For there is nothing in this life for him when Sizhui has passed.

Pressing his lips to Sizhui’s hair, which has long since gone white, Jingyi tries again to find acceptance. But he can’t. More than a hundred years they’ve been together, a long life on anyone’s account, but when he closes his eyes, he still sees the young men they’d once been.

One hundred years by Sizhui’s side hasn’t been nearly enough.

“Do you remember,” he whispers, “the day we met? The sun was shining.”

A smile appears Sizhui’s lips, and his face creases along well-worn lines. He opens his mouth, but Jingyi softly whispers, “save your breath, love.”

“Your eyes,” Sizhui says anyway. His voice is strained, and Jingyi leans forward to catch the quiet sound. “I never knew before that gray was so warm.”

Jingyi’s throat feels tight at the words, and he feels tears in his eyes. No, he’s not ready to say goodbye.

Sizhui’s gaze is far away. His eyes are as warm as ever, and Jingyi has hundreds, no, thousands, of memories of those eyes. Of the way that sunlight turns them to liquid, the way they flash with danger, or go dark with desire. He even knows the distant look in Sizhui’s eyes that has crept up over the last year as his mind slipped further and further into the past.

There’s a sound at the door, but Jingyi doesn’t look. He knows it’s the doctor coming to check. There’s nothing they can do now. Their journeys have reached an end.

Jingyi’s hand tightens on Sizhui’s with only a fraction of the strength they once would have.

“I’m tired,” Sizhui whispers.

“I know,” Jingyi says, and it takes everything he has to sound calm. “Rest. I’m here.”

He presses his lips to Sizhui’s hair. Sizhui’s eyes close, and Jingyi’s breath shakes.

“I love you,” he says, hoping Sizhui can still hear him.

The expression on Sizhui’s face is peaceful, smiling.

But part of Jingyi is screaming. Part of him wants to shake him, to tell him not to close his eyes, tell him to keep fighting. But there’s no use.

“I’ll see you again,” he whispers so quietly he doubts Sizhui can hear him. “In the next life. I swear it.”

Sizhui takes another rattling breath and another. Then nothing.

Jingyi closes his eyes.

His heart breaks.

#zhuiyi #mdzs #the untamed #fanfic

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán/Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn Characters: Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán, Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn, Lán Jǐngyí, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, Hurt No Comfort, What if Jin Ling DIDNT get his head out of his ass, Toxic Boyfriend Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán, Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships Summary:

A universe where Jin Ling doesn't outgrow his spoiled brat with anger issues act. Zizhen loves him, but his "I can fix him" attitude can only stretch so far. Eventually, Zizhen has to walk away.

Jin Ling tips back the rest of the oak barrel-aged whiskey in his glass and looks at his phone again. It’s dark, just like every other time he’d checked in the last two days. He’s turned his music up almost to the max, but it can’t keep the thoughts out of his head. At least, he thinks, it keeps his xiaoshu from bothering him. If he’d been at his Jiujiu’s house, he’d have smashed in the door by now.

Jin Ling looks at his phone and then at the bottle of whiskey on his desk. His thumb hovers over the phone button, as he fights the temptation to unlock the phone, but Zizhen isn’t answering his calls or texts, and he’s not sure he can bear another cycle of false hope and disappointment.

Groaning, he presses his hands into his eyes. He’d even broken down enough to text Lan Sizhui, the more reasonable of Zizhen’s closest friends, for help. When he’d begged Sizhui to tell him what to do, he had, in the most polite manner possible, told him that the answer was probably therapy. Then he’d equally as politely said that if he broke Zizhen’s heart again, he wouldn’t be able to stop his boyfriend from trying to break Jin Ling’s nose again.

Jin Ling throws his phone at the wall hard enough that he hears some kind of crack. He jerks upright, realizing that if he has to replace his phone, he’ll lose all of Zizhen’s messages and pictures. He stumbles as he tries to grab the phone, but eventually picks it up and breathes a little easier when it turns on.

No messages.

He flops back on his bed, closing his eyes and going over again the last time he’d seen Zizhen.

Keep reading on AO3

#zhenling #the untamed #mdzs #fanfic #ao3 link #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #lan sizhui #lan jingyi

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Characters: Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn, Lánlíng Jīn Disciple(s) (Módào Zǔshī), Bālìng Ōuyáng Disciple(s) (Módào Zǔshī), Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Lán Jǐngyí Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Demonic Cultivation (Módào Zǔshī), Demonic Cultivator Lán Jǐngyí, Protective Lán Jǐngyí, Don't underestimate Ouyang Zizhen, Lan Sizhui heritage reveal Summary:

The truth of Sizhui's Wen heritage is revealed, and a group of cultivators from Lanling Jin, Baling Ouyang, and Pingyang Yao captures Sizhui and Jingyi. Jingyi refuses to allow Sizhui to meet the same fate the rest of his family, and with Zizhen's help, he gets Sizhui out, and Sizhui and Jingyi run for their lives. In desperation, Jingyi turns to demonic cultivation and, in doing so, adds his own name to the death warrant.

“Cowards!” Jingyi snarls.

His spiritual energy has been blocked, and two older Yao sect cultivators have his arms twisted behind his back, but he doesn’t stop struggling. His shoulders scream, and he doesn’t really have a chance of breaking free, but he refuses to let them drag him away.

“Loyalty is an admirable trait, little Lan,” says the oldest of the cultivators who ambushed Sizhui and him, a man dressed in Lanling Jin gold and with more white than black in his hair. “But the Wen dog isn’t worth your loyalty.”

“Advice and admiration from cowards and traitors are worth less than nothing,” Jingyi spits at him.

Jingyi glares at him, simmering with hate and anger.

“Lan Sizhui is worth more than all of you combined,” Jingyi snaps, trying again to jerk his arms free.

The older man just sighs and shakes his head.

“They did say he was hot-headed,” one of the men dragging Jingyi down the hallway says.

“An unusual characteristic for a Lan.”

“Fuck you!” Jingyi snaps. He’s been told hundreds of times that he’s not very Lan-like but he will be damned if he will take that from these cowards.

“Put him in a room to cool down. The Wen boy has obviously blinded him to what is right,” the older man orders.

“The only one blinded here is you,” Jingyi snaps. “Blinded by your own desire for revenge. Do not hold grudges. Be trustworthy. Even Gusu Lan toddlers know better than you.”

“Make sure his spiritual energy is blocked,” the man says, ignoring Jingyi. “We need to give him back to Gusu Lan uninjured.”

“You are a bunch of filthy cowards who lay traps for honest men and ambush them. You can’t even challenge two junior disciples on even terms. How dare you call yourselves cultivators?”

They reach a door, and the two men holding Jingyi tighten their grip as a third man reaches out to block Jingyi’s spiritual energy, again. He steps back and opens a door, and the two men holding Jingyi throw him in, sending him flying almost into the far wall of the small room. Jingyi immediately turns and lunges towards the door, but it’s closed well before he can reach it. He hears the lock click, and he slams his fists against the door.

“Cowards!”

The wood of the door rattles under his blow.

keep reading on AO3

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #fanfic #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #ouyang zizhen #ao3 link

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Music so loud that the bass vibrates through Sizhui’s whole body fills the nightclub. He leans against the edge of the bar, sipping on something that tastes like raspberry lemonade that Jingyi had purchased but not finished. His gaze is fixed on the dance floor, on one figure dancing under the shifting lights.

Jingyi’s hair is down, shifting with the rainbow color of the lights as Jingyi dances, and Sizhui itches to bury his hands in it, but he stays where he is. Jingyi moves to the music, often with his eyes closed, apparently oblivious to the attention on him. Sizhui isn’t the only one watching. Dressed in dark, fitted, and torn jeans, and a mesh tank top that accentuates more than it hides his muscled chest, Jingyi draws attention. There is no small part of Sizhui, a part that he rarely indulges, that feels a sort of possessive pride at how good his partner looks and at the attention it garners.

Jingyi doesn’t dance alone for long. A tall blonde man approaches him first, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear even as the pair of them dance close enough to touch. There’s no hope of Sizhui hearing what’s being said, but he doesn’t need to; he can guess. Whatever Jingyi’s response, the man seems to sense his disinterest and quickly moves on. But he’s only the first of the night, and certainly not the last.

Each time a man’s hand settles on Jingyi’s body Sizhui feels the acid hook of jealousy and a darkening of that possessive pride. He knows that he could walk over and dance with Jingyi himself at any minute, but then the game would be over.

Sizhui finishes one drink and then another, and the crowd on the dance floor gets drunker and closer. A man with dark hair that might be blue or might be black, leans into Jingyi, sliding a hand up the muscles of Jingyi’s arm in a way that makes Sizhui’s hand tighten on his glass until the ice clinks, the sound entirely lost under the thunder of the music.

Whatever the man says makes Jingyi chuckle, and Sizhui’s gaze darkens as Jingyi leans in to hear what the man has to say. The shirtless man moves closer to Jingyi, so their bodies are almost touching as he slides his hand across the hard line of Jingyi’s shoulder. In the shifting lights, Sizhui catches a hint of a smug smile on the man’s face.

Sizhui’s now empty glass is on the table, and he’s several steps towards the dancefloor before he makes the conscious decision to move. Jingyi doesn’t even glance at him, but the other man does. Sizhui cuts through the crowd, barely bothering to move his body to the rhythm of the music, instead of focusing on reaching Jingyi and removing the other man’s hands.

The man’s expression turns from confident to confused when it’s obvious that Sizhui is heading for them. Jingyi’s head shifts only a fraction towards Sizhui, just enough for Sizhui to catch the lowering of his lashes and the hint of a smirk on his face.

Sizhui doesn’t say anything; the words would only be lost to the music. Instead, he puts his hand on Jingyi’s hip, turning him and dragging him closer. Jingyi turns into him, moving away from the unknown man of his own accord. Sizhui drags Jingyi’s lips down to his, not caring that he’s shorter, and kisses him until the smirk vanishes from his face and he’s breathless.

Hardly anyone looks at them, except for the man who’d been dancing with Jingyi, who takes a confused step backward.

Sizhui’s hand slips into Jingyi’s back pocket as he drags him away from the dancefloor. There’s a teasing smile on Jingyi’s lips as he follows Sizhui as if he’d won the game, but the game is far from over, and neither of them can lose.

They don’t stop moving until they are in one of the shadowy back booths, and Sizhui can fall back against the fake leather, drawing Jingyi down with him, onto his lap. Sizhui lets go of that tight hold on the possessive part of him, and Jingyi, sensing the change in his grip, shivers in anticipation.

Sizhui tangles his fingers in the silky length of Jingyi’s hair, drawing him down into a rough kiss. Jingyi straddles Sizhui’s thighs, and Sizhui’s hand slides down to grip his ass. Their tongues tangle together, and Sizhui forgets about everything but the two of them as Jingyi melts against him, willingly surrendering himself to Sizhui’s desires.

Their position is shadowed but certainly not strictly private, and Sizhui lets himself indulge the possessive, proud part of him, as he slides his hands over the lines of Jingyi’s body. Soon, he wants more than what he’s willing to do in public.

“Home?” he says, and it’s barely the shape of a question.

“Yes,” Jingyi says with that devil-may-care smirk that has Sizhui dragging him out of the club faster than any words ever could.

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #fanfic #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #ao3 link

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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“It’s so early,” Jingyi whines. “No one should have to be awake this early. It’s unethical.”

“It’s four am, Jingyi,” Sizhui says with faint amusement. “We’d be up in an hour anyway.”

“No one should have to be awake at five am either,” Jingyi says stubbornly.

“Good luck with that one.”

Jingyi just huffs and crosses his arms. He doesn’t speak as they walk through the silence of the Cloud Recesses to the kitchens. Unlike Jingyi, Sizhui doesn’t mind mornings. He appreciates the deep quiet before anyone wakes, the cool morning breeze, and the soft light. The only sounds are the distant, melodious twittering of birds.

They reach the kitchens about one minute before their shift in the kitchens is scheduled to begin, and find the kitchen already is already a bustle of motion and noise even though it’s not at full capacity yet.

Sizhui glances around as they step into the kitchen. The elderly woman who runs the Gusu Lan kitchens with an iron fist is in the middle of delegating the day’s duties. Most of the people in the kitchen are servants or female disciples and cultivators, but there are a few other male cultivators who are also on kitchen duty.

“There you are,” the head cook says, spotting them almost immediately. She studies them for a moment. “I don’t want you,” she gestures at Jingyi, “anywhere near my stoves. So you’ll be chopping vegetables. You can chop vegetables, right?” She eyes their swords.

Slightly abashed, Jingyi looks down at his feet as he nods his agreement.

“Good,” she says, pointing them towards baskets of vegetables that are sitting at the end of a heavily worn and scarred wooden table. “Make sure the pieces are nice and even!”

Together, Sizhui and Jingyi make their way to the table, not paying any attention to the other people in the kitchen even though several of the young female cultivators take notice of them.

“I’ll peel and you chop?” Sizhui suggests.

“Sure,” Jingyi says.

Sizhui takes up a kitchen knife, sharpened to a razor's edge, and starts with the bucket of carrots closest to him. He slides the peels into a discard basket and slides the carrot to Jingyi.

“How are you supposed to make even pieces out of something that's not evenly shaped?” Jingyi mutters under his breath, but his hands move deftly, easily slicing the carrots into chunks of consistent thickness.

“Just do your best,” Sizhui suggests.

They work in silence for a while with nothing but the background noise of the kitchen to distract them, but even when he’s tired, Jingyi can only be quiet for so long, and eventually, they slip into a quiet conversation.

The kitchen isn’t loud exactly; nowhere in the Cloud Recesses is ever truly loud, but it’s enough for their conversation to feel mostly private.

Their conversation meanders over the course of the next hour and a half, as conversations do. They talk about their lessons, their plans to meet with other Gusu Lan junior disciples in Caiyi town this weekend, and the upcoming night hunt all the way to Mo Manor. Sizhui feels anxiety swirl up as he thinks of the night hunt. It’s his first time leading a night hunt unsupervised, after all. Jingyi, of course, reassures him, but it’s not his words that ease Sizhui’s anxiety, rather it’s his absolutely unshakable faith that Sizhui will not fail.

When they finally leave the kitchen with a steaming bowl of dumplings each, Sizhui has a smile on his face. They huddle together to eat the food that they, technically, helped prepare, and Sizhui finds himself looking at Jingyi again and again. He doesn’t have words for the feelings stirring in his chest just then, feelings that go well beyond gratitude or comfort or even friendship. But he knows that as long as Jingyi is with him, he can do anything.

#zhuiyi #the untamed #mdzs #lan sizhui #fanfic #lan jingyi #ao3 link

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useless-slytherclaw · 2 years

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Jingyi rushes down the side alley towards the cafe where Zizhen works. His breath turns white in the cold air around him, and even though he’s running, he pulls his leather jacket closer for warmth. He’s late for class, but he already sent Zizhen his order, and he desperately needs the caffeine. He barrels down the stairs to the underground entrance, his bag slamming into his back with every step. The old-fashioned bell over the door rings as he bursts into the cafe. He weaves around mismatched tables to get to the counter.

“Running behind?” Zizhen asks with a smirk as he pulls up an extra-large coffee.

Jingyi doesn’t bother to answer.

“Do you still have the vegan biscotti? I need food, and please tell me there’s actual caffeine in that drink,” he says as he pulls his wallet out.

“Enough caffeine to stop your heart. Don’t blame me if this gives you tachycardia,” Zizhen says, handing over the coffee and a chocolate and orange biscotti.

“Perfect,” Jingyi says, handing over the money.

“Excuse me?” A soft male voice sounds from over Jingyi’s shoulder, and both Zizhen and Jingyi turn to look.

A boy in an oversized sky blue sweater and wearing glasses that do nothing to hide the kindness in his brown eyes is standing there. He’s beautiful, and Jingyi is so stunned that he nearly drops his wallet and has to catch it with his other hand. Zizhen snorts, and the boy’s smile widens.

“You dropped your phone,” he says, holding Jingyi’s phone out between them.

“Thank you!” As he reaches for his phone, he scrambles for something to say, “can I buy you a coffee?... To say thanks?”

Part of Jingyi is wondering what the actual fuck he’s doing when he’s already late for class and he doesn’t even know if this man is gay, but the other, larger, part of him can’t think about anything but the boy’s smile.

“Sure,” the boy says.

Jingyi steps aside and gestures for him to order.

“Don’t you have class?” Zizhen asks Jingyi.

“I’ll send Dr. Stein an email, tell him I died and went to heaven or something.”

Zizhen snorts, and the boy chuckles at Jingyi’s stupid joke, a good sign as far as Jingyi is concerned.

“What can I get you?” Zizhen asks him.

“Large cinnamon spice tea latte, please?”

“Coming right up,” Zizhen punches the order into the system and then turns around to make the drink.

“I’m Jingyi. Lan Jingyi. I didn’t get your name?”

“Sizhui,” the boy says. “... Lan Sizhui.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he says with a warm smile.

Zizhen sets Sizhui’s latte on the counter and looks at Jingyi, who is too busy looking at Sizhui to notice.

“Don’t you have a quiz in class today?” Zizhen asks. “That’s why you preordered the death coffee in the first place.”

Jingyi grimaces. He does have a quiz, but the class has lots of quizzes. He can probably afford to miss one, but he’ll hate himself if he never sees Sizhui again because he ran off.

The smile on Sizhui’s face shifts towards gentle amusement as he turns his cup in his hands.

“It sounds like you need to go to class.”

Jingyi looks at the ground a little crestfallen. It had seemed like the boy was into him too, but apparently not.

“I’ll take a rain check on the coffee date though,” Sizhui says, and Jingyi’s gaze darts to his face, a hopeful smile appearing on his lips.

“Absolutely,” Jingyi says, regaining his energy. “A coffee or lunch or whatever. Just let me know.”

Sizhui’s warm eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Zizhen has my number,” Jingyi tells Sizhui and points at Zizhen. “He’ll give it to you.”

With that, he heads out, a grin on his face that certainly had not been there when he entered the door. He throws open the door but stops for just an instant, only the time it takes to call out, “So glad to meet you!” and then takes the stairs two at a time.

Back in the cafe, Sizhui takes a sip of his latte and turns to look at Zizhen.

“Are you going to tell him that you pickpocketed his phone so you could talk to him?” Zizhen asks as he pulls out his own phone to get Jingyi’s number.

“Eventually.”

#zhuiyi #mdzs #the untamed #fanfic #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #ao3 link

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