#and ik everybody wants to see zrs whumped and i respect that i do

[dinomight]

I’m literally about to be a whole slut in ur inbox because I love u and also WHUMP 👀👀👀👀

Ok the first one that caught my eye was #18 with Zhang Rishan/Liang Wan because I’m notoriously predictable but I will probably be BACK with more soon so feel free to ignore/do whichever ones speak to u!!

...slutspeare? being a whole slut? in my inbox? it's more likely than you think--

Anyways jokes aside sniffles ilyt thank you so much for sending these in! <33333 I had so much fun with this one you don't even know

Read on ao3 here.

18. The Doctor is In

“What,” Liang Wan says flatly, “is that.”

If she hadn’t seen him face down impossible horrors with nothing but his bare hands, maybe the innocently blank expression on Zhang Rishan’s face would work on her. But right now, with the throbbing gash in her leg, and the perfect view she has of the goddamn sewing needle and gold thread in his hands—Liang Wan is not amused.

“You need stitches,” explains Zhang Rishan, like she hadn’t been the one to say that all but two minutes ago.

She stares at him. The fabric of her favorite cream cardigan, currently tied around her thigh, is slowly turning red. “Yes. Stitches. With a sterilized needle. And sterilized thread. That is meant for stitches, and not embroidery.”

“...I’ve used these on myself before,” he says with a little frown, looking at the needle intently. “It worked fine.”

“How many—” A fresh wave of pain shoots through her thigh, and she has to bite her lip to keep from groaning. “Never mind, we’ll—later, later issue. I stashed a suturing kit in one of your weird cabinets the last time our date got interrupted.”

It’s a testament to how well he knows her by this point that he doesn’t have to ask any questions to know which one she means. He pulls out the kit and brings it over, crouching down next to her.

“Pull out the wipes first, I need to clean my hands before I put on the gloves,” Liang Wan says, holding one hand out as she runs through the steps in her head.

“No.”

Liang Wan blinks. “No?”

“You are not giving yourself stitches,” Zhang Rishan says—no, orders, in that firm tone she’s heard him use on Luo Que. He doesn’t wait for a response before starting to clean his own hands.

“But—” she splutters, pain temporarily forgotten as she shakes her head. “I’m the doctor!”

“And you’re the one who is injured,” comes the infuriatingly level reply, followed by the snapping of gloves on skin.

“Do you even know how to do stitches?”

He nods.

“With actual medical supplies?”

“I imagine it wouldn’t be harder than without them,” he points out, fixing her with that dark, unreadable gaze that hides a century’s worth of love and loss behind it. The look that Liang Wan’s been helpless against since she first met him. “Whatever I don’t know, you can teach me.”

She pouts, like she always does, but gives in. “Fine. But if it gets infected and I lose my leg, I’m going to make you carry me everywhere, president or not.”

The corners of his mouth tug back in that tiny hint of a smile that might as well be a grin coming from Zhang Rishan. “I wouldn’t dare assume otherwise,” he says as he readies the supplies.

It takes less time than she’d expected, though maybe that’s just her pain-addled mind playing tricks on her. Zhang Rishan is, as always, a quick study with his study, she walks him through the process twice before she has to curl forward, bracing one bloodied hand on his thigh, and just try to breathe, but he takes it smoothly from there. By the time it’s done, she’s shed more than a few tears and wants nothing more than to lie down right there, on the floor of Zhang Rishan’s office, and go to sleep.

She must’ve said the last part out loud, or else some part of her expression gave her away, because when he’s done packing away the kit, Zhang Rishan doesn’t hesitate before slipping one gentle arm around her back and the other under her knees, and scooping her up off the floor.

“My leg’s not gone,” she mumbles into the collar of his soft sweater. Distantly, she can still feel the ache in her thigh, but she’s so tired it can’t quite reach her.

“I know,” he says quietly, with a hint of amusement, bending down his head for a moment to brush his lips against her forehead, his grip not shifting in the slightest.

One of his hands is curled tight around her shoulder—it’s that shoulder, she realizes. There’s an instinctive part of her that wants to pull away, to hide, even though she knows the tattoo can’t possibly be visible with the shirt she has on. It wouldn’t matter if it was, though. Zhang Rishan’s seen it. He’s seen all the worst parts of her; he’s seen her jealous, angry, half-starved and terrified out of her mind, even seen her red-eyed and struggling to breathe through the pepper in her throat. To be fair, he’d been responsible for that last one, but still. He’s seen all of that, and he’s stayed.

“Thank you,” Liang Wan murmurs, not even sure he can hear her as he maneuvers them both into his room. But then comes his equally soft response:

“Always.”

#dmbj #sha hai #prompt fill #liang wan #zhang rishan #do they like. even have a ship name #riwan #kinda hate that ngl but I got nothing #dinomight writes #logistically ik the more sensible take on this prompt is the other way around #and ik everybody wants to see zrs whumped and i respect that i do #i just think liang wan can have a littol whump too <3 as a treat <3