#lan wangji

“I knew you liked rabbits”

The untamed brairot has started

ΈΡΩΣ ΑΝΊΚΑΤΕ ΜΆΧΑΝ / LOVE UNCONQUERED IN THE FIGHT

decided to make this illustration exactly like it was in my head when I was listening to mitski’s heat lightning ⚡️

heat lightning, running outside the window

nothing fucks with my baby

inspired by thisvideo

when you move, I moved

wangxian in the fendi fall 2022 sweaters // matching boob window husbands

⚡️⚡️LIGHTBEARER⚡️⚡️

I don’t want anyone but you—it can’t be anyone but you.

he smile‼️‼️‼️

Hanguang-jun has successfully subdued the Yiling Laozu!!

you have to hug your Wei Ying tightly!!

Like a leaf clings

To the tree

Oh my darling,

Cling to me

wei ying and his two favourite boys!!

or: in which Wei Wuxian, for once, doesn’t speak. Set in CQL verse, post-canon.

Lan Zhan is kissing him.

Lan Zhan is kissing him and Wei Wuxian is not sure exactly what is going on.

Lan Zhan is kissing him, lips warm on his, breath soft against his face, and Wei Wuxian is inhaling his scent and absorbing his body heat as Lan Zhan presses him against the wall of the Jingshi and please won’t somebody tell Wei Wuxian what is happening here.

Lan Zhan brought him back here after they reunited on that mountaintop, after months of corresponding by letter, and everything had been perfectly normal until this. Maybe not perfectly normal - when he’d heard Lan Zhan’s voice and then Lan Zhan was there, something deep as instinct moved him and and Wei Wuxian had thrown his arms around him, he couldn’t not. But a hug is totally different, a hug can mean a million things but a kiss only means one, at least a kiss the way Lan Zhan is kissing him only means one, but Wei Wuxian is too shocked to let himself think of what exactly that meaning is and can only concentrate on how did this happen?

They’d conversed all the way down the mountain and up to Cloud Recesses and it had been wonderful, friendly and meaningless, Wei Wuxian regaling him with tales of his travel and peppering him with questions about life as the Chief Cultivator, as though they hadn’t already written all of this to each other for months. And then they were home, the sect leader just out of isolation greeting him with a smile. A smile, but a face gaunt with the aftereffects of grief, Wei Wuxian had noticed, eyes that much dimmer for what they had seen. But that’s one thing and this is another, why is he thinking about Sect Leader Lan when Lan Zhan is cupping his face with one hand, palm brushing Wei Wuxian’s flushed skin, and he’s kissinghim Lan Zhan is kissinghim Wei Wuxian keeps coming back to that…

Lan Zhan is kissing him steadily, breathing soft against Wei Wuxian’s face, a kiss like he’s meditating. Like he’s memorizing the moment, at least, that’s what Wei Wuxian imagines he’s doing, but that would mean this means something, and Wei Wuxian’s not ready to figure out what that is yet.

They’d eaten some horrible Lan Clan dinner and then taken a walk by the waterfall before retiring here to the Jingshi. There was never a doubt that Wei Wuxian would stay there; he’d stayed there before, after all, and nobody questioned it when he’d put his possessions there (such as they are, limited to the contents of one lopsided cloth bag), nobody questioned as they returned. He’d sat down and pulled one half-empty jar of liquor from his bag, and Lan Zhan had sat across from him with tea, and they drank and talked and drank a little more and talked a little less, until they were just blinking at each other in the candlelight. Lan Zhan had gazed at him with that steady look of his.

The silence had been too much, that look had been too much, and Wei Wuxian had jumped to his feet, mumbling some nonsense about bathing before sleep. Lan Zhan had stood, said, “Wait,” and backed Wei Wuxian into the wall and kissed him.

And he’s stillkissing him.

It’s maybe only been ten seconds that Wei Wuxian has thought all of this, but it feels like it’s been minutes, every soft movement of Lan Zhan’s mouth on his has happened in slow motion. Every press and release, the silk-soft texture, Lan Zhan’s lips parting just slightly against his. Wei Wuxian tries to take stock of the situation. One of Lan Zhan’s hands is on his jaw, gently cupping his face and tilting his chin so their lips meet just so. The other hand is pinning his arm to the wall, fingers entangled with his. Lan Zhan’s breathing is coming a little short.

And Wei Wuxian’s own body is … responding. Sparks fly across his vision as Lan Zhan kisses him, and a shuddering wave of heat rolls through his body, slow and delicious. His fingers itch to reach out, to pull Lan Zhan closer. The only reason he doesn’t is because he’s still not sure what’s going on here, and it seems wise to assess the situation before taking action.

Why is Lan Zhan doing this? Is it just that he missed him over these months? Is it some sort of extended welcome-back? But that doesn’t seem right. It can’t be that Lan Zhan likes him, like that, could it? Why didn’t he do anything before now, if that was the case? Certainly a Lan Zhan who liked him would have asked him to stay, all those months ago. Certainly he would have told him.

Because Lan Zhan so often asks for things for himself and so often talks about how he’s feeling? his mind reminds him. What kind of alternate Lan Zhan are you thinking about?

But it can’t be. It can’t, because that would make Wei Wuxian so wildly happy, and he doesn’t get to feel that kind of happiness, usually. It’s so far outside the realm of Wei Wuxian’s experience, and he wants it so badly that he knows it can never happen.

Lan Zhan purses his lips once more and then breaks the kiss, retreating just a few inches so they are face-to-face. It will be just a moment before he realizes his mistake, Wei Wuxian thinks, and then everything will go back to normal. He will be able to breathe easier. But just thinking of it, his heart plummets.

He’s not saying anything. He’s just breathing, looking at Wei Wuxian, in the sort of way that he did before. A soft blink, like a cat’s, and then that unyielding gaze. He’s beautiful, pale skin like a fresh snowfall, eyes clear and shining. Those eyes are telling him something, Wei Wuxian realizes. He gazes back, trying to interpret that message.

What he sees makes him want to cry.

He smiles instead, a slow grin spreading over his face. His breath comes out in a rush, a huff that’s almost laughter. So it’s true then. And what’s more, it’s always been there. How did he not see it before? It’s been in every glance Lan Zhan has ever given him, from the moment he came back to life – no, before that, even. That spark has always been in Lan Zhan’s eyes, and Wei Wuxian never opened his own eyes wide enough to see it.

Lan Zhan takes a breath, opens his lips as if to speak. Wei Wuxian doesn’t let him.

He surges forward and captures those lips again.

His heart is flying and his body is warm all the way through as he cups Lan Zhan’s face in both hands, pulls him close. They kiss and kiss, Lan Zhan’s hands coming down to wrap around his waist, his mouth parting eagerly under Wei Wuxian’s. Wei Wuxian licks into his mouth, bold, and he feels Lan Zhan shudder. Gods, yes, he thinks wildly, amidst the heat and the closeness and the fragmented sound of Lan Zhan’s breathing. At last, at last, at last.

Lan Zhan tugs him in closer, wrapping his arms snugly around him, his hands spread-fingered on Wei Wuxian’s back. He makes a small sound, like a growl, and then his tongue is pressing against Wei Wuxian’s, licking hungrily as he bends Wei Wuxian back at the waist, as though he’s going to lower him down to the floor. Dimly, Wei Wuxian realizes that he’s unleashed something that’s been caged for years, and wild excitement floods him. Lan Zhan thought about him in this way all this time. Since he came back. Maybe earlier than that. Wei Wuxian wants to know when it started. He wants to know why Lan Zhan’s been silent all this time. Oh, there are so many questions he wants to ask.

But not now. Now is for the feelings that can’t be expressed in words, for the love that has just now found its home. His eyes flutter closed, and he surrenders himself to emotion and sensation. For once, the words can wait.

Winter morning