#and yes i'm still eyeball deep in the sangwang emotional groundwork

[pastelcheckereddreams]

It's so early that it's still dark, and even Lan Wangji shows no signs of stirring. 

Huaisang doesn't know the exact time he had given up trying to sleep and slipped from the bed, his head still reeling from Lan Jingyi’s words. He only rouses from his thoughts as the distant gong signals the start of the fifth watch, realising he has passed much of the night lost in thought.  

He sighs heavily and shakes himself, finally lighting the candle at his vanity with a thin thread of qi - not something he would normally do, but unwilling to strike a match and break the cocoon of his solitude. 

The black wood under his elbows softens in the dim glow of the new flame. Sleep will not come again tonight, and Huaisang reasons that he can slip away until daybreak. 

(A scene from my still very disorganised sangwangxian agenda. At this point, the context is probably something like ‘Wei Wuxian decided to take the juniors on a night hunt in Qinghe to see his husband and Nie Huaisang has feelings about thirdwheeling in his own bed’ or something. 

...Actually it’s like half- that and half-grappling with All His Feelings in general. I don’t know, I haven’t actually wrote any plot for it yet. I just know that Jingyi or maybe Jin Ling says something about Mo Xuanyu ((because wow let’s absolutely explore his lover wearing the face of the kid who Nie Huaisang may have pushed into killing themself to resurrect him)), or maybe Nie Huaisang is actually nervous about meeting Sizhui ((because it’s one thing to suspect he was the little Wen kid in the Burial Mounds, but another to be told about it by Wei Wuxian and then have to face up to the fact that your older brother had a hand in enslaving and ending the kid’s entire sect, and now you’re fucking the kid’s parents.)) 

I’m having so much fun with this 😂 Can you tell I’m having fun?)  

[continued]

Washing briefly in the basin left from the evening before, Huaisang dresses plainly, shrugging on only one extra layer to beat back the chill of the autumn night. He is careful not to wake the two men still slumbering in his bed.

And yet, just as he is fastening one of his last braids in place over his guan, he jumps as a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. 

"Huaisang." 

"Ah-!" 

Huaisang's hands fall into his lap as his eyes find Wangji's in the mirror."Wangji-xiong," he says, voice tipped low to match Wangji's own. "You're up early." 

Wangji's eyes don't leave Huaisang’s as he inclines his head in acknowledgement. "As are you.”  

His tone is neutral, but his eyes are soft around the edges - asking, searching. The weight of Wangji's hand against his shoulder is still both foreign and comforting, and something immediately sticks in Huaisang's throat.  

He reaches for his final pin instead of answering, sweeping his hair over one shoulder to fasten his thinnest braid behind his ear. He feels Wangji's fingers shift, heavy and lingering, and for one wild moment Huaisang imagines Wangji wants to do this for him - feel Huaisang’s hair running through his fingers, the beat of his pulse beneath his fingertips - and Huaisang- 

Huaisang sucks in a harsh breath, trying to stop his lungs from tearing on the jagged emotions that are suddenly too big for his chest. 

"Huaisang.” Wangji’s voice is low and coaxing as his thumb brushes against the bare skin above his collar. Huaisang fears the other man can feel his racing pulse. "Come back to bed." 

Hearing his name so unadorned, so earnest, in Wangji’s low tone makes Huaisang suddenly wish for Dage. Squeezing his eyes shut, Huaisang huffs another steadying breath. His eyes sting hotly, horrifyingly damp, and his hands itch for his fan. He daren't look Wangji in the eyes, afraid of what his own expression might betray; afraid of what he might see. 

Wangji just waits for his words to come. All the while, his hand is a solid, steady presence on Huaisang’s shoulder. 

But a sudden, sleep-clouded grumble floats from the bedchamber, amid the shifting of bed sheets. “"Lan Zhannn... A’Sang... S'cold..." 

Huaisang shoves the tangle of complicated emotions down into his gut. He jumps up with a strained laugh, and sweeps his fan up from the vanity, dislodging Wangji’s hand. 

"Go to your husband, Wangji-xiong," he says. 

#nikkiwrites #my sangwangxian agenda #it's alive and well folks #and yes i'm still eyeball deep in the sangwang emotional groundwork #there's just so much trauma and morality and potential history to play with #sangwang #nie huaisang #lan wangji #sangwangxian #wangsangxian #mdzs fic #cql fic #the untamed fic #nhs whump #nie huaisang whump #wangsang