Wangxian Oneshots

herd 'em like cattle

Summary:

Lan Wangji is going to make this man suffer and wish he'd never been born. He is going to empty the cylinder of his gun in that worthless piece of shit, shot after shot after shot. He is going to make sure he is unrecognizable for daring to lay a hand on the person Lan Wangji holds in his heart.

or: wwx attends a fundraiser alone and gets kidnapped. lwj goes berserk.
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Lan Wangji runs his thumb over the WX engraved on the side of his Colt .45 Peacemaker, the gentle touch a juxtaposition of the pure, unadulterated rage he feels coursing through his entire being. The gun was a gift from Wei Ying for his 35th birthday— custom made in light blue and white gold, the handle engraved with their initials and the Lan Clan motif. He was so excited when he gave it to Lan Wangji the smile on his face was radiant.

That was two years ago, and Lan Wangji has used no other gun. He has killed numerous people since then, the feel of the trigger against his pointer finger as familiar as Wei Ying’s lips against his. He is about to make one of his most important kills yet, and it’s only fitting he does it with the gun Wei Ying made for him. It’s poetic, in a way.

“We are going to play a game,” Lan Wangji begins, straightening his tie and leaning back against the chair he’s sitting on, the metal of it warm from both his body and the humidness of the room he’s chosen for this special occasion. He looks at the man who is tied to a chair in front of him, at his shaking eyes and chattering teeth. “A game of chance,” he smiles, small and terrifying, rage mixing with excitement.

Lan Wangji is going to make this man suffer and wish he was never born. He is going to empty the cylinder of his gun in that worthless piece of shit, shot after shot after shot. He is going to make sure he is unrecognizable for daring to lay a hand on the person Lan Wangji holds in his heart.

No one harms Wei Ying and lives to tell the tale.

The man swallows thickly and, with a trembling voice, asks, “A… game?”

He looks awful, disgusting, and the sight of him unraveling brings satisfaction to Lan Wangji. Sweat is running down his purpling, swollen temples and red neck, soaking his dirtied dress shirt. He’s terrified— Lan Wangji can see it in his eyes. His pupils are vibrating, unable to stay focused for more than a second and, despite trying to hide it, there is a growing patch of wetness between his thighs.

“A game,” Lan Wangji confirms, nodding once. “It is all you will get.”

< < <

Lan Xichen has always insisted on and found pleasure in hosting fundraisers. He claims they are important and beneficial for the Lan Clan imagine and, although he would never admit it, Lan Wangji knows he finds enjoyment in socializing and talking to people about not only business deals and logistics but also personal matters. He thrives in such environments.

Unlike his brother, Lan Wangji has never cared for such matters. He has never cared about fundraising or maintaining an image the public finds… good. He has always supported his brother, of course, because he can never say no to a soft Wangji… that’s accompanied by a gentle smile. Lan Xichen knows his weaknesses and finds so shame in exploiting them, much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin.