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  • fledgling by chubsonthemoon (Kurapika/Leorio)
    #c:m/m #f:hxh #n:postcanon #p:kurapika/leorio #t:fic | postcanon domestic fluff

    “You know one day I’m going to leave, right?” Kurapika says one morning, while he’s washing the dishes. Leorio’s trying to get the toaster to work, because while he’s not cheap he is frugal, and they probably should've gotten a new one by now but they haven’t.

    “Okay,” Leorio says, not looking up.

    1 month ago | View Shared by zeiat
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  • it may be that it doesn't matter by Wildehack (JC/WN)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #p:jc/wn #t:fic | “Are you crying?” Jiang Wanyin asks him, and Wen Ning frowns. Pats his cheek with one hand. “No.”
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • shape me something new by perilously (LWJ/WWX)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:bodysharing #n:postcanon #p:lwj/wwx #t:fic | “Mo Xuanyu’s revenge,” Lan Wangji says dully. “It is finished.” Wei Ying hangs onto Lan Wangji’s hand, his palm clammy. “I guess that means I’m finished too. He got what he wanted.” “You are not finished.” Lan Wangji grips his hand tighter and pulls him closer. “We are not finished.” (Or: the one where Wei Wuxian shares Lan Wangji's body with him after the sacrificing curse ends and takes his body with it.)
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • tonight, i wanna light up the world between you and me by dejabloo (JL/LJY)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #p:jl/ljy #t:fic | Ouyang Zizhen is turning twenty, and he’s invited all of his friends to celebrate. There at the party, Jin Ling meets one of Zizhen’s more... forward friends. Also, Lan Jingyi gets drunk. (Maybe). // TEENS!!! the one where jingyi fakes drunk to rescue jin ling from a suitor.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • gather jewels from graveyards by LuckyDiceKirby (LXC/NHS)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #n:♥ #p:lxc/nhs #t:fic | Nie Huaisang stole happiness from Lan Xichen. He stole peace. If he could just see him, and see for himself exactly what he’s done, and know—that will be enough. Then he’ll be able to paint again, and his hands won’t shake as he does it, and he’ll remember why he ever in his life bothered to put brush to ink to paper. After all, a man should have to live with his mistakes. There is no other way to learn from them. His brother believed that. // this fic is fucking KILLER. post-canon, xisang, and the slow dissolution of nhs's persona.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • anyway, here's wuji by kakikaeru (LJY/LSZ)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #p:ljy/lsz #t:fic | The melody gets a little clearer when he breaks out of the trees, and Jingyi changes course with certainty, barreling down the back hill and through the Cloud Recesses, dodging scandalized disciples left and right. He throws open the doors to the Receiving Hall without announcement and bows nearly double, eyes on the floor instead of on the shocked faces of the Mei delegation and the impenetrable gaze of the Chief Cultivator. "Forgive this disciple," Jingyi shouts, because he's going to get punished for rule breaking regardless. "From the back hill, Hanguang-jun, there is a song in the wind!" Lan Jingyi comes of age.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • 花无百日红; the flower that withers by yiqie (LWJ/WWX)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #n:timetravel #n:♥ #p:lwj/wwx #t:fic | Lan Wangji opens his mouth. He closes it. He is blisteringly aware of how absurd it sounds for him to say, I am you, only happier. The truth, perhaps, is not always the best choice. // absolutely killer. I've legit never recovered from reading wwx talking to his past self at the height of his trauma, or lwj thinking about how even in time travel he can't see wwx as he was before he gave up his golden core. also, this quote: “Solitude suits me.” Lan Wangji looks at this boy—this boy, who will not understand his pain for months, months, years, decades. All he knows now is cold. When you are born in winter, when you are raised in winter, when you are planted and watered and nurtured in winter, all you can ever know is ice. All you will ever know are hands too frozen to bend, feet too cold to feel.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart (LWJ/WWX)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #p:lwj/wwx #t:fic | The funny part is - and it is a little funny, even if Wei Wuxian has no one left to share the joke with - they never have. Not anything. He has never kissed any part of Lan Zhan besides his slim hands; never been even partially undressed with him anywhere besides a miserable, xuanwu-infested cave. It’s always been like this between them, this simmering need, this desperate understanding: a knowledge so deep that it lives somewhere in his bones, that if he wanted to have Lan Zhan he could have him, and if Lan Zhan wanted Wei Wuxian he could have that too. But they never have. // this is the fic with the tag about how the working title was Ethical Edging
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • and i will go this way by detention_notes (LWJ/WWX)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #p:lwj/wwx #t:fic | Ah, what else to say...this will be a quick letter, as I want to send it off before I head out in the morning. Of course there’s too much to express—especially when I lack the gorgeous poetry of your voice, which you’ll be pleased to know has prevented my peaceful rest on many a night. It is wrong enough that you lay beyond the edge of the clouds, and I lay alone under feverish rain. I can only hope that I also disrupt your evenings, else life would be far too unfair. Your Wei Ying // between parting and reuniting on a mountainside, wei ying and lan zhan exchange love letters.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • my age has never made me wise by idrilka (LWJ/WWX)
    #c:m/m #f:mdzs #n:postcanon #p:lwj/wwx #t:fic | “We hear that His Excellency might be married by summer’s end,” the merchant’s wife says and Wei Wuxian freezes, his heart in his throat. “The Gusu Lan sect has been buying enough red silk and brocade that the merchants in Caiyi can’t satisfy the demand.” He feels himself grow brittle inside, like a flick of a finger to his temple might make him shatter. His ears are ringing. “Who’s the lucky bride?” he asks despite himself. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Or: The story of a marriage.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat

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